In the water she bobs up and down with the waves as she sorts out the rope and gets situated on the board. She signals that she is ready to go, and Kyle starts to accelerate. You start on the kneeboard lying on your stomach and then pull yourself up after you get up to speed. Once she is kneeling on the board, she fastens the strap over her thighs. She can go in and out of the wake pretty easily, but the most fun is spinning around on the board. It helps to wear ski gloves so you don’t tear up your hands on the rope—the kind that don’t have fingers. First Marcie pulls the rope handle into her chest and holds it with one hand. Then she turns in the opposite direction from that hand with her knees, pulling the rope handle close into her back and literally skiing backwards, with her hand holding the rope behind her back. She grabs the handle with her other hand, lets go with the first hand, and finishes the turn so that she is facing forward again. It all happens very fast, and if you are good you can turn circles one way and then another or spin really quickly in one direction. Marcie hasn’t gotten quite that good yet. One or two turns is about all she can do.
When Marcie returns to the boat, Kyle brings up the Sunday Regatta. “I don’t think we should race in the Regatta this weekend. We don’t want to tip our hand to the competition too soon. We all have enough racing experience that I’m not concerned about our first real race together being the 4th Regatta. What do you guys think?” They all agree that it will be fine to skip the race on Sunday, although Marcie doesn’t know why it would matter. Lots of people race in weekend regattas. She thinks winning the race may be a little more important to the others than it is to her.
Conner goes out next on the slalom ski. Kaitlyn and Marcie are sitting together in the front of the boat, but they are still spotters for Conner. Kaitlyn says, “We saw the article in the paper this morning about my dad’s development in James Woods.”
“You did?” Marcie says in a small voice. She had been waiting to see if Kaitlyn would mention it.
“We didn’t even know he was planning to build houses there. He always has some kind of deal he’s working on.”
“Was he mad about the article?” Maybe he was just acting like he wasn’t mad with her and her dad.
“No, he just laughed about it. He says there’s always someone who wants to try and stop progress. Why do you want to stop him from developing James Woods? It’s just trees and reeds. My dad says they’re going to keep part of it as a walking and biking trail.”
“It’s our special place. It’s one of the last natural parts of the shoreline left.” Marcie finds it hard to express to Kaitlyn exactly why they’re opposed to the development. “James Woods has always been there, even before my grandfather was a kid. It just doesn’t seem like we need any more luxury homes on the lake.” Even to Marcie’s ears, it sounds kind of lame. She doesn’t want to say that building really expensive homes makes the lake more exclusive and unavailable to anyone but wealthy people. The Swyndalls are just the kind of people who could buy those homes.
“I can see why you might feel that way, but, I mean, it’s just trees. Dad says there isn’t anything that can be done. He has all the permits. It’s all approved and perfectly legal.” Kaitlyn stretches her legs out across the seat in the bow of the boat and leans her head back to catch the rays of the sun. With her eyes closed, she says, “I wouldn’t put out too much effort trying to stop it. My dad usually gets what he wants.”
That’s just what Marcie is afraid of.
THAT NIGHT ON Al’s porch, she tells Eric and Al about what happened at the Swyndalls. Eric agrees with Marcie that their dad should have done more. “You’d think he could at least say something to try and convince Swyndall not to develop the woods.” He bangs his hand on the arm of his chair. “I only got two phone calls from people who were interested in signing the petition. They didn’t want to get more involved than that. It’s pretty discouraging.” He pushes his hand up through his hair and leans back heavily.
“Maybe we should just accept that there is nothing we can do about it,” Marcie says resignedly.
“I’m not ready to give up yet,” says Al. “We can’t see now what to do, but we may still find a way. We just have to take the next obvious step and see where that gets us. It’s like driving in the dark with your headlights on. You can only see 200 feet in front of you, but you can travel all the way across the country that way—200 feet at a time.”
“That sounds great, Al, but we’re not driving a car, and I can’t see what the next obvious step is,” says Eric. “Something needs to happen soon or the development is going to move ahead.”
Nineteen
MARCIE OFFERS TO take Drew and Michael on a walk. Her dad left to go home shortly after lunch, but Aunt Lucy and the kids are staying for dinner. Actually, only Marcie walks. Drew and Michael ride bikes from the selection of kid’s bikes that Mamaw and Poppy keep on hand in the garage. Drew can ride a two-wheeler, but Michael rides a tricycle. Marcie wants to go to James Woods, but she doesn’t really want to go there alone. Having the little boys there with her seems like it would make it less disconcerting. On their way out, they pass Al coming out of his house to take Pansy on a walk.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks. “I need to get a little exercise.”
“Sure, we’re going to the woods.”
“Well, I think I can make it there if we don’t go too fast.”
They walk in companionable silence while the boys ride a short way ahead on the path that runs along the road. They fall farther behind as Pansy has to stop and sniff the bushes repeatedly along the way. Marcie doesn’t want the boys to get too far ahead, but she also doesn’t want to rush Al. She calls out, “Drew, Michael, wait for us at the edge of the woods!”
“Okay!” they shout back.
Marcie realizes that she hasn’t thought about Al’s health since Monday and feels bad that she didn’t think to ask him about it. He never complains, so she assumes that everything is fine. “How are you feeling?” she asks.
“I can’t complain. Some days are better than others, and today’s a good day. On good days I try to go a little farther on my walks with Pansy. I’ve got to keep up my stamina and keep an eye on what’s going on in the neighborhood. It might fall apart without me, you know,” he says with a smile.
When they reach the edge of the woods, the two boys are waiting. They get off their bikes and Drew says, “We’re going to play Indian tracker and leave our bikes here. Come on, Michael!”
“Just stay where we can see you. We don’t want any of those Indians to get you!” Marcie says with a laugh. Since she is just joking, she is taken aback when Michael says in all seriousness, “Don’t worry, they won’t bother us. They’re friendly.” He turns and runs after Drew. “Wait for me!”
“He said that like there really are Indians in the woods. He has a vivid imagination, doesn’t he? The other day he told me he could fly.”
Al doesn’t answer her right away. Just then, Pansy sees a squirrel and starts barking and trying to run after it. Marcie has been holding the leash for Al, so she is distracted with holding the dog under control. When the dog settles down, Marcie says, “Lately, I feel like I’m the one with the vivid imagination. Really strange things have been happening to me.”
“What sort of things?”
“Well, twice I’ve sort of imagined that I was flying. I had a flying dream where I flew over the lake to James Woods. It was kind of creepy, but it was just a dream. It’s not like I think I can fly or anything.” She says this dismissively, but her laugh is forced.
There is a rustic bench beside the path at this point, and Al sits down on it. “Let’s rest here while the boys play.” They can see Drew and Michael darting behind trees and bushes farther down the path. Marcie gazes up at the leaves overhead. She is really going to miss these woods. They are so peaceful and beautiful. She’s seen deer and even a fox in the woods over the years, in addition to the usual birds and chipmunks and squirrels. Where will these animals go when the house
s are built?
“I’m no expert on dreams,” Al continues. “I believe we use our dreams to sort out things that happen during the day. Maybe you were just worrying about James Woods.”
“I’m sure that’s it,” Marcie replies, but she’s not sure about much of anything lately. Neither of them says anything more for a few minutes. Marcie can feel the copper bracelet in her pocket digging into her leg. She brought it with her to the woods to see if she could re-create what happened in the loft, but she’s afraid to try. What if something really does happen? What do I do then? She pulls it out from her pocket and lets it rest in her lap. It feels warm and seems to glow a little in the dappled shade of the woods, like it has a brightness all its own. Al looks over and sees the bracelet in her lap. “Where’d you get that?”
“Oh, I … ah, found it in the woods last time I was here.” Why did I say that? At least I should keep my story straight.
“Let me see.” He reaches over and picks up the bracelet. Marcie is half-hoping, half-afraid that something will happen when he touches it. He turns it over in his hands, examining it. “Interesting. It could be an artifact. You can ask your mom about it when she gets home.” He hands it back to her, and Marcie immediately puts it back in her pocket.
“I don’t think it could be old. Someone must have dropped it accidentally.”
“Maybe. But there’s something about the design that makes me think it’s older. Maybe primitive. You don’t see that kind of decoration these days.”
Marcie hadn’t paid much attention to the designs etched into the bracelet, but now she pulls it out of her pocket to look more closely. She sees that there is a carving on the outside of the bracelet of three circles connected by a line with the moon at one end and the sun on the other end. It reminds her of the mounds and how they track the movement of the sun and moon. The carving looks like it was done by hand. Realizing that she is holding the bracelet and nothing is happening, she thinks about putting it on her arm, but something is holding her back. It feels warm and tingly in her hands, but that’s all. She doesn’t put it on. The scene before her eyes stays just the same. Marcie calls Drew and Michael back for the walk home.
“How was your game of Indian Tracker?”
“It was fun,” Michael says, “but the Indians had to leave, so we played Forest Ranger instead.”
“They had to leave, did they?” asks Al as he ruffles Michael’s hair. “Where did they go?”
“Back to their own time.”
“Well, of course,” says Al with a smile at Marcie, as if to say ‘isn’t he something else?’ Marcie smiles back, but inside she’s wondering what Michael really does see.
At the edge of the woods, the boys pick up their bicycles and pedal ahead. Marcie looks at the bracelet. It no longer feels warm to her touch, it is just cold, hard metal.
Twenty
THE PHONE IS ringing Monday morning when Marcie and Mamaw come in through the back door with bags of groceries. Marcie deposits her bags on the counter and picks up the receiver.
“May I speak to Marcie Horton, please.”
“This is Marcie.”
“This is Miss Robinson, from the library.” Marcie feels her throat tighten. “I helped you last week when you were looking for books on the Adena Indians.” Eric comes into the kitchen and is looking through the bags for something to eat.
“Oh yes, I remember.” Marcie’s voice comes out squeaky through her clenched throat. Mamaw returns to the kitchen with more bags of groceries. She gently smacks Eric’s hand away from a box of cookies. “If you want something to eat, you need to help put the groceries away first.”
“I’m calling because we’re missing a bracelet from the Native American Artifact display case, and you were the last person I remember being interested in it.” After a short pause, she says, “I got your name from the Adena books you checked out.”
“Really, a bracelet is missing?” squeaks Marcie. Eric quickly glances her way. Marcie turns her back to him.
“Yes, I wondered if it was in the case when you were here—or if you knew anything about it?”
“No, I don’t remember seeing a bracelet.”
“Really, so it was already missing when you saw the display case?”
“I guess so, ’cause it wasn’t there when I saw the artifacts.” The lie comes easily to Marcie.
“Well, it was worth a try. Sometimes people ‘borrow’ things from the library and return them later. Just like our books.” She is giving Marcie a way of saving face if she has taken the bracelet.
“Oh, really? Well, sorry I couldn’t be more helpful. I hope you find the bracelet, or it gets returned.” Hanging up the receiver, Marcie turns around to find Eric standing directly behind her, listening.
“Who was that?” he asks.
“Oh, just someone from the library.” Marcie tries to move past him, but he blocks her way.
“It sounded like they were missing a bracelet—could it be the bracelet you had the other night?” He is speaking softly, and Mamaw is across the room, so it is unlikely she can overhear their conversation.
“Yes, they are missing a bracelet, but not the bracelet you saw the other night. I told you, Kaitlyn gave that to me.” Marcie can’t look him in the eye.
“I don’t believe you.” He is a few inches taller than Marcie and is glowering down at her now. “You were acting funny about it the other night, and you’re acting guilty now. Did you take it?”
“I told you, I didn’t!”
“Well, I’m not going to say anything, but I think you should return it,” he says, as Marcie slides past him towards where Mamaw is putting away the groceries.
“Yeah, whatever,” she says, but she is thinking that she will return the bracelet as soon as she can figure out how to do it without getting noticed. Maybe she could just put it in the book return slot … but then it might get damaged. She takes a gallon of milk off the counter and puts it in the fridge. She could try to slide it back into the case without being noticed …
“I mean it,” says Eric, eying Marcie over the top of a grocery bag as he takes out cans of soup.
“What are you kids arguing about,” asks Mamaw.
“Nothing,” they both answer.
THAT EVENING, MARCIE calls Mr. Clements to see if he has been able to come up with anything to help stop the development. Marcie can’t help but think of how his grandfather may have made his fortune doing something illegal. It changes how she thinks about Sara and her family. They definitely use their money and power for good purposes, but Marcie doesn’t think of them as being so perfect anymore.
Mr. Clements isn’t very encouraging. “I’m sorry to say, there doesn’t seem to be much we can do to help. The land is private property, and Swyndall has all his permits in place. With our limited resources, we have to choose our battles, and since it’s such a small parcel of land, it doesn’t look like it’s a fight we’re willing to take on,” Mr. Clements says apologetically. “It’s too bad, because the land has never been developed and represents a lake shore ecosystem. Did you have any luck getting public opinion against the project?”
“Not really. Eric got a petition going, and the paper ran a story. Most people weren’t in favor of the project, but they weren’t strongly opposed to it either. Definitely not enough to rally against it.”
“Well, at least you can say that you tried,” he says with a note of resignation in his voice.
“Yeah, I guess so. Thanks anyway.” Marcie can’t help feeling that Mr. Clements has let her down. She had placed so much hope in his ability to help.
“I’m just sorry we can’t do anything.” As she replaces the receiver, Marcie feels like she’s closing the door on the last hope for saving James Woods.
Twenty-One
MARCIE’S ALARM SOUNDS shrilly in her ear, and she reaches over to turn it off.
7 o’clock. Race day. She swings her feet onto the floor and stretches her arms over her head. Sunlight is streaming through
the window onto the floor. Good. With luck there’ll be a strong breeze, too.
She looks across the room at Eric in his bunk. Her alarm must have roused him from sleep too, as she can see him stirring.
Marcie gets clothes and her bathing suit from the drawer under her bed and pads barefoot to the bathroom to change and get ready. She regards her reflection in the mirror. I really want to win today, she thinks. She enjoys sailing for the sheer fun of it, but there seems to be more at stake for her with this race. The others want to win, too, but perhaps for different reasons. Marcie feels like she has something to prove—but to whom? To herself? The Swyndalls? Or maybe to Eric? She’s not really sure. She brushes her hair, pulls it behind her head and secures it into a ponytail. When she emerges from the bathroom, Eric is also up and dressed. He’s sitting on his bunk, putting on his shoes, his hair still messy from sleep. They both need to meet up with the rest of their crews and get out on water. The race begins at 10 o’clock.
“I guess I’ll see you out on the water—as we leave you in our wake, that is,” Eric says mockingly.
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Why? Will you be wearing your bracelet for luck? ’Cause you’ll need it.”
Marcie ignores this remark and gets her shoes from the closet. The bracelet is under her mattress. She hasn’t looked at it all week. It annoys her that Eric knows about the bracelet, but she’s not about to show it.
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