“Say hello to your uncle Tommy,” I said, when he reached us. Tommy popped out and came around to shake Aaron’s hand, laughing at the look of astonishment on our nephew’s face. Aaron studied Tommy for a moment before his eyes settled on his neck.
“I like your tattoo,” he said.
Tommy’s fingers went to the blue star on his throat as he answered. “Thanks.”
“Did you get it because of the golden ratio?”
“Uh, no, what’s that?”
“It’s a special proportion found between the line segments that make up the star. It appears in a lot of natural structures. Architects and artists use it in their work. They say Pythagoras was the first to discover it.”
“Wow. Well, no, for me, it’s just a star. And a kind of reminder.”
“Of what?”
Tommy offered Aaron a smile instead of an answer, then pointed downstream.
“How’s the fishing?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t got the line into the water yet.”
“Want a hand?”
“Uh, sure. Thanks.”
I was tempted to call Tommy back. He’d taken his pack out of the back of the truck, and for a moment I worried about him disappearing again. But as I watched his head bent close to talk to Aaron, something told me he wouldn’t run.
When I parked the truck at Kidney, I found Aida alone at the picnic tables by the long stone grill that stands at the edge of the field. She was placing rocks on the paper plates she’d set around the table for dinner. Her face brightened when she saw me, and I wondered if she’d come to embrace me. But by the time I thought that maybe I should make the first move to hug her, the moment was gone.
“Can I help?” I asked. “Where is everyone?”
“Katahdin Stream. Gram wanted to see the falls.”
“That’s a mile from the campground, two miles round trip. She up for that?”
“Yeah,” Aida replied. “She kinda has a bee in her bonnet about visiting all the places you and Mom went to as kids.” Aida looked down at the frozen hamburgers she was peeling apart before she continued, “I should probably warn you. She’s kinda pissed at you. Mom too.”
“Yeah, I figured. What about you?”
“We’re cool, Uncle Paul,” she said, giving me a smile. And with her use of that name, I knew we were.
I didn’t mention Tommy. I wasn’t about to explain the mess he’d made of things. He could tell our family himself how he’d ended up at Davis.
I went to Loon’s Nest to dump my gear and took a quick dip in the pond, detouring by the woodshed on my way back to snag a few wedges of split maple and kindling. Back at the picnic table, I pulled the metal grate off the grill and in a little while had a fire going. I began to tend it while Aida opened packages of hot dogs and hamburgers. I poked at the wood, waiting for it to burn down into the coals that would cook our dinner. Moving from one side of the grill to the other, I tried to keep out of the drifting smoke that seemed to always find my face.
The shadows from the trees behind me had completely covered the field by the time Kim’s Range Rover pulled in. She held my mother’s arm as they crossed the grass, but with her injured ankle, I wasn’t really sure who was leading. Robert followed a few paces behind them, his face blank below his dark sunglasses.
I turned back to Aida to see her looking over my shoulder to the path in front of the cabins.
“Who’s that with Aaron?” she asked. But Kim saw him first and shouted before I could answer.
“Tommy!” I saw her head tip toward Mara’s, and then she started to run across the field, lurching and hobbling as fast as she could. Tommy quickened his pace, and the two of them embraced. Mara joined them, the three hugging, laughing, and crying. I was so astonished, I dropped the long metal fork I’d been using to stir the coals right into the fire. During the long drive around the mountain, I’d wondered how Tommy’s reunion with the family would go. But in all the scenarios I’d imagined, none mirrored the joyous celebration I was witnessing now.
I wasn’t the only outsider watching it all. Robert had stopped several feet from the group, his hands in his pockets. He’d taken off his sunglasses and was looking straight at me.
“Look, Uncle Paul!” I jumped to find Aaron behind me. He held my fly rod in one hand. The other was lifted high, holding the loop of my stringer with three fat brookies writhing on the line. I looked from the fish to his face. Aaron reached up to push his cockeyed glasses straight over a wide grin.
“Did Tommy catch those?” I asked.
“Uh-uh. He helped me, but I got every one!”
By now my family had converged on the picnic table to reintroduce Aida to Tommy. I was surprised to see him reach out and give her a hug, and even more shocked to see her arms tentatively embrace him in return. Kim looked up to give me a glance but not much else. I watched Robert pass behind her, heading off to the cabin as my family jabbered on.
I grabbed a thick length of kindling and took Aaron’s fish down to the pond. Squatting by the bank, I spread them out on the line, clamped my jaw, and brought the stick down sharply three times. One by one they quivered, the motion traveling down their spines as they stiffened, then went limp on the ground.
I slipped my father’s knife from its sheath on my hip and slit their stomachs open, scooping the slick guts out with the tips of my fingers before walking into the woods to cast them into the brush. Then I walked back to the pond and knelt to wash my bloody hands.
When I carried the fish back to the fire, I found the conversation had become even more animated in my absence.
After putting the fish on the edge of the grill, I stirred the flaming logs with a stick, pushing at them to break them apart. Robert walked out of Sentinel holding his big plastic mug in one hand. I could smell the scotch on his breath when he came over and spoke.
“So the prodigal son returns,” he said, tipping his head toward Tommy. “I guess your fatted fish there will have to do in place of a calf.”
I didn’t answer. I just poked and stirred while the smoke found me again, wincing as I watched my family through the flames.
32
Loon’s Nest
I didn’t say much during the picnic dinner in the field. Tommy told his story well, censoring the more graphic details of his life before rehab and focusing on the lessons he learned in recovery. When Aida started to ask about his addiction, Robert cut in to steer the conversation away. He’d finally offered Tommy his hand before we sat down to dinner, but I could tell he didn’t have a lot more than that for my brother. I couldn’t say I blamed him. I had no idea how much money Kim had spent on Tommy’s failed attempts at recovery, but I guessed her husband did.
Kim and the kids took Tommy to show him his bunk in Sentinel after dinner. Robert disappeared to refill his mug, and Mara and I cleared the picnic table. She’d sat by Tommy’s shoulder the entire dinner, barely touching her meal while her eyes followed him. She was humming something to herself now. I couldn’t place the tune, but I knew it.
“What’s that song?” I asked, as she wrapped the leftover burgers in foil.
“Hmm? Oh, most people call it ‘Morning Has Broken,’ but I like its original name: Bunessan.”
“What’s a Bunessan?”
“Not what, where. The hymn’s melody came from a traditional Gaelic tune. Bunessan’s a tiny village off the coast of Scotland. Your great-grandfather came from there. Nanna used to sing the song to me when I was little. And every time she did, she’d tell me the story of her father, who was a Scottish weaver. I guess that’s where I get my love of needlepoint.”
“I never heard about him before.”
She looked up quickly. “Oh, I’m sure I told you.” She went back to wrapping the burgers. “We get busy, and we forget things, don’t we? But you should never forget your roots, Paul. There’s nothing more important than family.”
I took a bowl down to the pond and filled it with water, then came back and emptied it on the
last of the dying coals in the grill. When I looked up, I saw Mara placing plastic forks on folded napkins around the picnic table.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “I’m setting the table for dinner.”
I rested my hand her on her shoulder. “Mara,” I said, “we already ate.” She didn’t look up, but I felt her body stiffen under my hand. She froze there for a moment, holding a plastic fork in midair. Then we worked in silence together, clearing the table of all of the things she’d so carefully arranged.
I hefted the cooler when we were done, and she followed me back to Sentinel. Everyone was on the back porch, and we heard Kim and Tommy telling the story of our first trip to Kidney Pond. My father had built up the trip as a surprise, refusing to offer clues for the entire eleven-hour car ride to Baxter.
Mara walked to the back door to join them, opened it, and turned to me.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
I stood there for a moment, lured by the tale of our common past. But I shook my head and gave my mother a wave instead. “It’s been a long couple of days, Mara. I think I’ll turn in.”
***
I didn’t. I went to the field and sat on the top of a picnic table, listening to the sounds of campers settling in for the night. My body was beat from my day on the mountain, but my mind raced, chasing the snippets of conversation I’d overheard during the last couple of hours. I’d been amazed by the absence of any rebuke aimed at Tommy. And the unconditional forgiveness showered upon him by my mother and Kim seemed to open doors to him for Aida and Aaron as well. It seemed that every memory and joke they shared drew them closer, weaving a bond I found it hard to make my way through.
Finally, the campground grew still. I stretched my arms behind me on the table, tipped my head back, and looked at the full moon above. It floated in a mackerel sky, ducking in and out of dark blue-gray clouds, rolling between them to open and close like a great golden eye—searching for the secrets the night hid below.
A fan of light swept the field, and I followed it to the parking lot. When a truck door squeaked a moment later, I saw Cassie walking across the field. She was headed for Sentinel but spotted me before she got there. She was out of uniform, wearing a pair of shorts and T-shirt with a simple, white cardigan. Even her walk was different when she wasn’t packing a badge and a gun—slower, lighter, even gentler somehow. On her feet she wore a pair of thin leather sandals, and I caught the flash of a silver anklet before she started speaking to me from a few steps away.
“Well, it took a bit of talking, but your brother’s in the clear.” I hopped off the table and moved toward her while she continued. “Gary was great. He knew just how to handle headquarters. He called it in and—”
I didn’t let her finish. I reached around her to put one arm on the small of her back and let the other float up to cup the back of her head. I guided it gently toward mine to kiss lips that yielded easily to my touch. She moved without a flinch, meeting my mouth with hers and throwing her arms around my waist, letting me draw her closer as my fingers found their way from the base of her neck to lose themselves in the smooth tendrils of her hair.
I led her by the hand across the moonlit field, into the night’s shadows, to Loon’s Nest. Then I did every single thing I’d wanted to do to her, and with her, and for her for so long.
33
Tote Road
Cassie left early. I listened to the light scratch of her sandals on the path behind Loon’s Nest, my mouth still warm from her last kiss. The sound of her “good morning,” called to some other early-riser, trailed behind her before her steps faded away. I turned my head, breathing in the faint smell of soap mixed with her scent. My eyes closed as I rested my face on the edge of the depression in her pillow, careful not to crush that soft echo of where she had lain.
***
“—up, Uncle Paul?”
I sat up and saw that the light was wrong; the day had started without me.
“Uncle Paul?” Aaron’s voice was followed by the slightest knock on my door.
I jumped up and opened it to find him standing on the step with a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes.
“From Mom,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the plate and cup from his hands. “And yeah, I’m fine, why?”
“Well, it’s kinda late. We thought maybe you were sick or something.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten.”
I laughed. “I haven’t slept this late since I was your age.”
“Well, we’re packing up. Gram wants to have lunch up at Ledge Falls. Mom asked if you’re coming.”
I took a sip from my mug and held up the plate. “I’ll be there as soon as I empty this.”
He smiled and left. When I shut the door, I realized that Aaron thought I wouldn’t come. It was Thursday: I had only three days left to fulfill my bargain with Mara. As much as I looked forward to returning to the simpler rhythm of my solitary life at the pond, for the first time I felt the sting of just how much I’d miss Aaron, and Aida as well.
***
I was headed to Sentinel, but I saw Robert standing by a beached canoe at the landing. I forced myself to walk over to him, hoping that my time away might have cooled things off between us. When he saw me coming, he surprised me with a nod and a small smile.
“Morning,” he said.
“A beauty,” I answered. He jingled the change in his pocket. I shifted my feet. Now that we’d talked about the weather, I struggled to find something to say. I looked over at the boat on the ground beside him. “Did you go for a paddle?”
“Huh?” He looked at the canoe and shook his head. “Oh, no, that’s been sitting there all morning.”
I squatted down. There weren’t as many this time, but I could still see traces of circles printed into the sand. I stood up and moved to the bow. “Mind giving me a hand? Paddlers are supposed to rack their boats when they’re done, but I guess this guy couldn’t be bothered.”
“Even a place like this must draw its share of assholes,” he said as he helped me lift the boat. I bit my tongue and smiled.
If Robert was up for a truce, so was I. The breakfast Kim sent had been a good sign too, and I just wanted to get through the next three days in peace. When we joined the rest of the family in the parking lot, the kids asked Tommy to ride with them to the falls, so I volunteered to take Mara in the truck. Tommy came over to me with my fly rod in hand.
“Mind if we take this?” he asked. “Aaron wants to give it another go.”
“Be my guest,” I said. “You got a lot further with him than I did. I have no idea how you taught that kid to fish.”
Though the day sparkled with sun, the weather report Tyler had posted in the kiosk by the parking lot said it might not last long. Rain was due tomorrow, bringing colder weather in its wake.
I gave plenty of space to the Range Rover, falling behind so I wouldn’t have to eat Robert’s dust for the entire ride. He disappeared quickly, and Mara and I drove in silence, the sunlight filtering through the fall foliage, spotlighting the road ahead with a broken pattern of darkness and light. The deep greens of late summer were all but gone now, and the thin blue pines were mixed with walls of yellow birch leaves, their color burning brightly within the shadowed tunnel of the road.
I looked over at my mother: her face was blank as she stared through the windshield at the world outside. A tiny green spotlight danced across the dashboard with each rumble of the truck, cast from the emerald on her finger.
“Where are we going?” Mara asked quietly.
“Ledge Falls, Mara.”
I could feel her looking at me as I watched the road ahead.
“Stop!” she said suddenly. “What’s that?”
I slowed and watched her head turn behind us. “Go back,” she said.
I put the truck in reverse until we came abreast of a small white cross.
It was posted at the end of a rough rectangle of rocks holding a slightly raised bed of earth. A few early leaves were strewn across the ground, but there were more collected on the grave, creating a tableau of gold and brown framed by the gray-green moss-covered stones.
Mara read the small carved sign posted beside it. “The Unknown River Driver,” she said. “Has that always been there?”
“Yep. You’ve seen it before.”
“How long?”
“Well over a hundred years.”
“But why . . . how did he die?”
“The men who worked these woods drove tree trunks down the river. When the logs jammed, someone had to break them apart. He was probably crushed between the logs.”
“Or drowned.”
“Or drowned.”
I put the truck in gear and pulled away. It was another moment before Mara spoke.
“What do you think that’s like?” she asked.
“What’s like?”
“To drown . . . ,” she asked, her voice trailing off. I glanced at her and saw the dappled light streaming over her tired face. I didn’t know how to answer, After a while, she either forgot or abandoned the question. It was getting harder to tell what motivated her silences. They seemed to get longer every time we talked.
I would have liked to give Mara some words of comfort about Jordan. But I could see no sense or plan in the random chain of events that constitutes this life. The illusion of our immortality is a thin veneer we cling to just to make it through each day. It takes only a single slip—whether from a log or a canoe—to reveal that final lie.
34
Ledge Falls
When we got to Ledge Falls, we found the family spread thin. Mara and I got out of the truck, walked over to the wide, flat shelf of granite running by the river, and stood there wondering where to go. Aaron was far downstream, assembling my fly rod as he scouted the river. Tommy sat cross-legged nearby, watching him. Far upstream, Aida was spread out on a beach towel, lying on her back in her sunglasses and bikini, with her arms outstretched to catch every ray of sun. She’d positioned her towel well away from her mother, who sat with her head tipped toward a paperback, fifty feet downstream. Standing in profile and positioned in the middle of them all was Robert. His face was screened by sunglasses, but it pointed downriver at Tommy and Aaron.
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