The Sisters of Blue Mountain

by Karen Katchur

  Jake jotted down what notes he’d need for his article. Someone from the National Wildlife Health Center was expected tomorrow. Plans were being made about the best method to dispose of the carcasses. Another warning was issued to the townspeople about not touching the birds as a safety precaution.

  “We’ll let the experts handle this,” the mayor said.

  “What about the doc?” someone called from the back of the room. More chatter erupted about someone they referred to as the Bird Man. “What does he have to say about all of this?”

  “Where is he anyway?” another man asked. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

  Jake leaned toward the man sitting next to him. It was obvious he wasn’t a journalist since he wasn’t holding a notepad or a recorder or other electronic device; instead, he worried his hands in his lap.

  “Who’s the Bird Man?” Jake asked him at the same time Linnet spoke up.

  “My father’s working with a professor from the university now,” Linnet began. The room grew quiet. All eyes were focused on her. “He’ll have the answers you’re looking for as soon as he can.”

  Someone behind Jake whispered, “I wouldn’t count on it. Not after what I saw of him this morning.”

  Jake turned around. “What does that mean?”

  The man sitting next to Jake shouted, “What about fishing season? We’re coming up on opening day. The dam has to be cleaned of those birds by then.”

  There were more outbursts from the crowd. The mayor was trying to calm everyone down.

  Jake looked up in time to catch Linnet slipping out the back door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Linnet had taken firm control over any and all decisions the sisters made around the time she’d turned ten years old. It had started one day in early fall when the leaves on the trees had begun to change. She and Myna had been playing hopscotch on the sidewalk in front of the elementary school. Linnet had been clearly beating Myna by two squares, but she’d purposely tossed her rock outside the lines to give her sister a chance to catch her.

  Myna stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth, concentrating hard on her next toss, when the hollering started. There was yelling, voices coming from the playground behind the building. They stopped the game to listen.

  “Come on,” Linnet said, and dropped her rock. Their mother was late picking them up again. They both knew it would be awhile before she’d remember she had two daughters who needed a ride home. Every third Wednesday, Linnet and Myna stayed after school to work on an art project, a mosaic that would cover a section of the outside wall on the side of the building. Only the best artists in school were asked to participate. Today had been the sisters’ day to take part in the school’s beautification project.

  They snuck along the side of the building, staying close to the brick wall. Linnet’s arm scraped the rough surface, scratching her skin, but she pretended not to notice. They peeked around the corner.

  A few of the boys from Linnet’s class were standing in a circle. One of them had a ball tucked under his arm. A cloud of dust kicked up around their feet and billowed around their legs. Skyler, a boy she recognized from gym class, picked up a stone and threw it. Another boy that looked much older darted from the group and picked up more stones. Some of the others copied him.

  “Look,” Myna said, and pointed to the center of the circle. “It’s a robin.”

  The boys started chucking rocks at the small bird, laughing and yelling, “Come on, you stupid bird, fly!”

  “Yeah, fly!”

  “Why doesn’t it fly?” Skyler asked, and threw another stone. The robin fluttered its wings, but it wasn’t flying away. More rocks were thrown. More of the boys shouted, “Fly, you stupid bird!”

  Linnet had never seen something so horrible, so ugly. She wasn’t thinking when she rushed onto the playground, screaming for the boys to stop. Myna was by her side, arms flailing, shouting. The boys stopped to stare. Myna continued shrieking, tears on her cheeks. Blue chalk stained the front of her white T-shirt. Her curls stuck up in all directions.

  “Gonna run home and tell your daddy, cry baby?” the older boy said, pointing at Myna and laughing.

  Linnet shoved him. The other boys laughed and continued throwing stones at the injured robin.

  “Knock it off,” she said, pushing the boys, trying to get them to stop. When they wouldn’t, she ran into the center of their circle to protect the bird, putting her own body in harm’s way. A stone struck her cheek. More stones were hurled, pelting her arms and legs. Before she realized what was happening, Myna had darted behind her and snatched up the small robin in her hands. The next thing she knew, Myna was running and yelling for her to follow. Linnet took off after her, but not before the last stone struck her in the back of the head. For a moment, everything went black. “Babies!” someone called. When her vision cleared, she ran to the front of the school, where their mother’s car sat idling.

  “What do you have there?” their mother asked. She was wearing her bathrobe.

  “It’s a robin, and it’s injured,” Myna said, holding the bird up for her to see.

  “Well, what are you waiting for then? Get in.”

  “The bird, too?” Myna asked.

  “Yes, the bird, too.”

  Linnet picked up their backpacks and blue chalk. Myna held the robin in her lap in the backseat.

  “You’re bleeding,” Myna said, and pointed to Linnet’s face.

  Linnet touched her cheek. Her fingers came away bloody. She caught her mother looking at her in the rearview mirror. Their eyes met. Linnet turned away, toward the bird perched between her sister’s legs, and gently stroked the feathers on its back.

  When the car stopped in the driveway, both sisters scooted out. “We need to find a shoe box,” Myna said. “And fill it with grass.”

  Their mother got out of the car and came to stand beside them. She not only was in her ratty old bathrobe but she was also wearing her worn, fuzzy slippers. She lifted Linnet’s chin with her finger and inspected the cut on her cheek. Her breath smelled stale.

  “Come inside and let me clean that up for you,” she said.

  Linnet and Myna exchanged a look before following her into the house. Myna carried the bird to their bedroom in search of a shoe box, while Linnet followed their mother into the bathroom. She hoisted herself onto the counter at the sink. Her mother wiped the blood and dirt away with a soft wet towel. Then she dabbed at the cut on Linnet’s cheek with Bactine.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked.

  Linnet shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about the mean boys and ruin the moment of having her mother near and doing the kinds of things she used to do when Linnet was younger, covering scrapes with Band-Aids, reading her books, holding her close, all the things she’d stopped doing around the same time she began locking herself away, unable to leave her bedroom.

  Her mother caught her staring. “What is it?” she asked, and looked over Linnet’s shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. She touched her hair, the dark strands limp and oily. Something sad moved across her face. She pulled Linnet into her arms and kissed the top of her head. Then she stepped back and wiped her watery eyes. “You better go find your sister and take that bird to your father.” She helped Linnet down from the countertop. She shooed her out the bathroom door.

  Linnet stood for a moment in the hall, hearing the click of the lock. She reached for the knob, wanting to tell her mother to please let her back in, to tell her why she’d been so sad these last months and what she could do to make her happy again. But she stopped herself for reasons she couldn’t fully explain.

  She made her way to the kitchen, where she found Myna sitting at the table with the bird in a shoe box.

  “Are you okay?” Myna asked.

  She touched her cheek below the cut. “Yes,” she said, looking back over her shoulder toward the hall and bathroom. “Let’s go find Pop.”

  Myna picked up the box and followed her
outside. They walked the stone path to his study. A breeze blew. The first autumn leaves fell to the ground.

  “Should we tell him that Mom picked us up late again, and she was wearing her bathrobe and slippers?” Myna asked.

  “No,” she said. “It will only upset him.” It felt like something they should keep to themselves, something private and wrong that shouldn’t be talked about, not even with Pop.

  They burst through the door of the guesthouse. “Pop!” they called.

  It would be the first of many secrets the sisters kept.

  * * *

  Linnet returned home from the town hall meeting to find Ian waiting for her on the front porch swing with a bottle of wine. She plopped down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. The scent of him, the cologne he wore in the daytime, lingered on his skin. The smell was so soothing she wished she could curl up inside it, never leave the safety of his arms.

  “Did Hank get his homework done?” she asked. She hadn’t seen Hank for more than a couple of minutes. The day had been one thing after another. She’d felt Hank pulling away from her in the last few months. It was a normal part of growing up, but on occasion, if she was lucky enough to get him alone, the little boy she’d remembered would show up, relaying the gossip of the school day, giving her a play-by-play of baseball practice. “Maybe I should go check on him.”

  “He’s fine,” Ian said. “A little more tired than usual, but it was a long day.”

  “All the more reason I should check on him.” She went to get up, but Ian pulled her back down.

  “Just sit for a minute.” He handed her a glass of wine. The swing rocked slow and steady. “What happened at the meeting?”

  “There’s not much to tell. The Wildlife Health Center was contacted. They’re expected to send someone tomorrow. They’re going to start the cleanup then.” She’d left the meeting relatively unnoticed. There was a moment when someone had mentioned Pop and her heart had leapt into her throat, but she’d responded calmly. The conversation had then been redirected, people shouting over each other. No one was being heard. Reporters were everywhere. She’d recognized the journalist she’d chased off her property earlier in the day. There was something about his face that was strangely familiar, unsettling even, but she was almost certain they’d never met before.

  She rested her head against Ian’s shoulder again, balancing the glass on her thigh. “How’s Pop?”

  “He seemed good when I saw him about an hour ago. The younger guy, Professor Coyle, he’s still with him.”

  “Okay,” she said. At least Pop wasn’t alone. “That’s good.”

  Ian continued. “The Rapps have gone out for the evening,” he said. “And I don’t think that other couple has left the room.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  They were quiet. The chains on the swing creaked. The crickets chirped. Darkness, thick and black, spread across the sky. The two big maple trees and the cherry blossoms blocked the view of the mountain road.

  “This is going to hurt the town, isn’t it?” she asked. She didn’t buy into the theory that any attention whether, it was good or bad, was a positive thing. All of those news vans parked in front of the town hall and all of those reporters rushing around with their cameramen created chaos, panic. Fear.

  “I don’t think it’s going to be good for business,” Ian said, no doubt checking the numbers of the guests that had already canceled for the weekend, the money they’d lost. He was a numbers guy after all. “And it’s not just our business that’s going to be affected either.”

  The swing continued to rock.

  She thought about the boat rental shop, the stores and restaurants in town that counted on the birds to bring in the tourists. She thought about her own B&B, and what it would mean to her and her family if they were to lose more reservations. But what troubled her most was how the snow geese continued to pass them over throughout the long day. Climate impacted migration patterns, but a dam full of dead geese could have the same effect.

  “What if the birds stop coming?” she asked, allowing a much deeper concern to surface.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Ian said. “Let’s wait and see what kind of explanation the lab comes up with. Things may turn around once the dam is cleaned up.”

  He was right, of course. They’d have to wait and see, but waiting wasn’t her strength.

  Headlights cut across the yard. She lifted her head from his shoulder. A car pulled into their driveway.

  “Who the heck is that at this hour?” he asked.

  But Linnet knew who it was. She’d felt it all day underneath her skin, deep inside her bones, the essence of the other half of her, the presence that had been silent for far too long. She squeezed his thigh. “It’s Myna,” she said.

  Her sister had come home.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Myna had been so preoccupied during the flight thinking about Ben, about what he’d asked of her, that she hadn’t been prepared for the rush of memories that flooded her when she pulled into the driveway of The Snow Goose. It had been five years since she’d stopped coming home. She was at once struck with a physical ache, a kind of homesickness she hadn’t felt since the day she’d left. The feeling was so strong she clutched her chest.

  By the time she stepped out of the car, she was hit with another wave of emotion, but this one was much deeper, darker.

  She unloaded her luggage from the trunk of the rental, a hideous neon blue compact, and debated whether or not she should use the kitchen entrance on the side of the house or use the front door like a guest. Technically, she was an unexpected visitor in her sister’s home, unless of course Hank had warned his mom she was coming.

  She decided it was best to use the front door since she wasn’t sure what kind of reception she’d receive. She used the walkway toward the porch, rolling the suitcase behind her, struggling with the wheels on the pavers, tripping the motion detectors. Another large bag containing her laptop was slung across her shoulder, weighing her down on one side.

  “You’re right. It’s her,” she heard her brother-in-law say.

  The chains on the porch swing creaked. Ian rushed down the steps. “Well, this is a surprise.” He took the shoulder bag from her.

  “Hank told me what happened, but I gather he didn’t tell you I was coming.” She looked past Ian, finding Linnet standing on the porch leaning against a post. She couldn’t read Linnet’s face. There was a time when all the sisters had to do was look at each other and they’d know what the other was thinking, feeling. Tonight, she blamed the shadows, the dark night, for her inability to interpret her sister’s mood.

  Ian glanced over his shoulder, motioning to Linnet, coaxing her off of the porch. He didn’t understand the sisters’ relationship. That much was clear. He’d told them once after they had gone through a long silence that had lasted for months that he thought they’d made it more complicated than it had to be. But there was so much he didn’t know, Myna thought now. The things between sisters they’d never share.

  Linnet smoothed her straightened hair. Myna was suddenly conscious of her own unruly curls crowding her face and neck, the flyaway strands breaking free in the damp air.

  “Aunt Myna!” Hank called, and burst out the door, running down the steps and into her outstretched arms. She pulled him close. “I missed you guys,” she said, and looked up at her sister, who hadn’t moved from the porch.

  “I thought you were in bed,” Linnet said to Hank.

  “Come on,” Ian said, taking the handle of the suitcase. “Let’s all go inside.”

  They walked up the steps to where Linnet was waiting. She gave Myna a quick hug. Then Linnet picked up a bottle of wine she and Ian must’ve been sharing before Myna had crashed their party. Hank grabbed Myna’s arm and pulled her inside.

  She stepped into the familiar foyer that opened into the grand living room and den where the guests were welcome to spend time. The heavy draperies, the woodwork, the le
ather furniture had a warmth that was inviting, and yet she’d spent very little time here. Her memories were stacked in the kitchen, where she and Linnet had shared meals and played card games, spied on their mother. Other memories were tucked safely inside the bedroom, where she’d slept in the same bed with her sister until she’d moved out after graduating college. Those two rooms had been her home. The rest of the house had belonged to the strangers who had visited.

  Myna plopped down in one of the chairs at the big kitchen table. “So tell me about the birds,” she said.

  Ian and Hank sat across from her. Linnet took a position by the counter.

  “There are hundreds of them in the dam, and they’re all facedown like they’re looking for something, but they’re not, you know? They’re not looking for anything anymore,” Hank said, sinking lower in the chair.

  Linnet went to him. She put her arm around him. He pulled away. Myna wondered if there was something else going on with Hank that she didn’t know about.

  Ian began filling Myna in on the recent events. So far, Linnet had avoided talking to her directly.

  “What does Pop have to say about it?” She looked to her sister to answer.

  Linnet had moved back against the counter again, putting distance between them. “He doesn’t know. They have to collect samples, run tests. But he did say it’s not as unusual as people might think. Large flocks of birds have dropped dead from the sky throughout history. The causes vary. Some known. Some unknown.”

  “Well, Pop would know,” Myna said. “He must be really upset. Maybe I should go see him now.” She stood up.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Linnet said.