“Do you want me to come?”
“No.” She set the basket in the back of her boat then climbed in. “We’re already shorthanded. And you still need to go check on your mother. We can’t keep up this pace, Clark. We need to hire more help.”
He nodded as he untied the rope, tossing it into the boat. “You’re right. I’ll remind Lauren to place an ad.”
She started the engine. “I’ll head downriver first and ask at Greeley’s. Then back up to Mapleton.”
“Good luck.”
She forced a confident smile as she put the boat in reverse and waved. It wasn’t a bad plan . . . unless Sarah really didn’t want to be found. Anna didn’t want to think about that. The surface of the water was ebb tide smooth and glassy. The few fishing boats here and there looked settled in with poles out and lines cast. Some of the fishermen were already enjoying lunch. She waved at the ones she knew, trying not to show the disappointment that none of the boats contained her missing granddaughter.
As Anna continued guiding her boat downriver, she prayed. First for Sarah’s safety and then for Sarah’s heart. “Bring her back to us,” she said quietly, “and back to herself . . .”
She docked the boat, then, while carefully checking the boat slips for the skiff, made her way into town. She inquired at Greeley’s, particularly with Bobby who usually kept track of the river traffic, but it seemed that no one had seen Sarah or the skiff.
“Something wrong?” Bobby asked her curiously as he walked outside with her.
Anna wasn’t sure how much to say but then remembered a time when Bobby and Sarah had been on friendlier terms—back before Sarah had gone to live at the commune. “I’m not sure,” she admitted to him. “I think Sarah might’ve been upset by something. Perhaps that’s why she left.”
He nodded with a sympathetic expression. “She’s been different ever since she came back.”
“Yes. She was staying in a rather strange place.”
“That commune?”
Anna was surprised he knew this but reminded herself it was a small town and news traveled fast. Sometimes this was good . . . sometimes not.
“I had a friend who was at the same place,” Bobby told her. “He left last winter, but he knew Sarah, and he told me a little about it. Pretty weird stuff, if you ask me.”
“Really?” Anna felt a rush of hope. “Is your friend still around?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him for awhile.”
“Because it might be helpful to talk to him,” Anna said eagerly.
“His name’s Jim Viceroy. His folks are in the phone book. If he’s still around, he’s probably living at home.”
“Thanks.” Anna repeated the name in her head several times.
“And if I see Sarah anywhere, I mean around town, I can give you a call.”
She thanked him again. “Another thing, Bobby, if you know any reliable kids looking for summer jobs—we’re looking for more workers at the inn.”
He nodded. “I’ll get the word out.”
Anna felt a smidgeon of hope as she turned back up the river. Knowing the name of someone who had been at the same commune could be very helpful. Especially if Sarah had gone back there. Why she would go back there was mystifying, but Anna knew it was a possibility. She pushed the boat a little harder going upriver, only slowing down when she spotted a fishing boat and knew they wouldn’t appreciate her wake.
She paused at her own dock just to make sure Sarah hadn’t come home. “No sign of her or the boat around here,” Clark told her.
“Same thing downriver. But I got a good tip from Bobby Greeley.” She filled him in on Jim Viceroy. “And I mentioned we’re looking for some more summertime help. So maybe you should hold off on the ad.”
He nodded. “I’m just getting ready to go see Mom.”
Anna put her hand on her forehead. “That’s right. I nearly forgot about Hazel. Maybe I should’ve run in to see her too while I was—”
“No.” He cut her off. “Mom would want you to put your energy into finding Sarah. That’s your top priority.”
Just then, Lauren hurried down to the dock. She had a bright bouquet of flowers in her hands. “This is for Hazel,” she breathlessly told Clark. “I forgot to give them to you.”
He nodded. “She’ll love these.”
Lauren looked at Anna. “Any luck?”
Anna filled her in. “But I still want to go up to Mapleton.”
Lauren bit her lip with a worried look.
“I’ll try to make it a fast trip,” Anna told her. “I know we’re shorthanded.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Lauren assured her. “I’m letting the office work go so I can help out in the kitchen. And Clark actually helped us with laundry. Really, Mom, we’re all right. You just keep looking for Sarah, okay?”
“I’m doing my best.” Anna put the boat into reverse again.
“That boat has to be on the river somewhere,” Clark called out.
Anna nodded, but she wasn’t completely sure of this. It was something she was trying not to consider, but Anna and Clark both knew if the boat wasn’t on the river, there was another place it might possibly be—the ocean. Everyone knew that if you continued on past Florence, beyond the bridge and through the jetties, there was only one place left to go. And that little river skiff wouldn’t last long out there.
But as she headed on upriver, she didn’t want to think about that possibility. Not yet, anyway. Instead, she prayed. With all her heart and soul, she prayed. And as she prayed she got a very strange sensation that others were praying with her. As odd as it seemed, it felt as if all the other river people—the ones who had passed—were agreeing with her prayer. She could feel her grandmother and her mother and father and even Babette . . . so strongly . . . as if they were all praying for Sarah’s safety, too.
She made it to Mapleton without seeing the skiff anywhere. Anna’s rational for looking up here was that Sarah might’ve come up here if she wanted to get a ride toward Eugene. Anna knew that Sarah had hitchhiked to get back to them. And it was highly likely she would hitchhike to get away as well. But with no sign of the boat, Anna was unsure. Just the same, she docked her boat and went to the post office to ask around, but no one appeared to have seen a dark-haired teenage girl looking for a ride.
Disheartened, Anna guided the boat back toward the inn. Her stomach rumbled, and she knew she should have some lunch, but the idea of food . . . when Sarah was out there somewhere, possibly in great danger, or at the least hungry . . . well, it was just unappealing. It seemed so unfair that Sarah came home to them only to stay such a brief time. Why, oh, why hadn’t they been able to hold onto her better?
12
Thoughts of Sarah taking the little skiff beyond the river’s end . . . and out into the ocean . . . filled Anna with an ice-cold fear. So much so, that she called the hospital and, in hopes of finding Clark, asked to be connected to Hazel’s room. “Oh, I’m so happy to hear your voice,” she told Hazel. And, it was true, she was. “How are you feeling?”
“Well enough to be let out of here,” Hazel said a bit grumpily.
“I’m sorry. But hopefully it won’t be long.”
“Enough about me. Did you find Sarah?”
“No . . .” Anna’s voice trailed off. “But I might have some good leads. Is Clark still there?”
“Yes. Would you like to talk to him?”
“Thank you.” Anna waited for him to get on, trying to think of a careful way to say this.
“Did you find her?” he asked eagerly.
“No. And I didn’t find the skiff either,” she explained. “And that got me to thinking . . . if the skiff isn’t on the river . . . well, that leaves a couple of possibilities.”
Clark cleared his throat. “Neither of them good.”
“I know. Do you think she would actually try to go out to the ocean?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know why, Clark.” She could
hear the panic in her voice. “But I don’t know why she would do any of this. It makes no sense whatsoever.”
“I know, I know.” His tone was soothing now. “I have the big boat, and it’s an awfully nice day.”
“What?” Now she realized he was talking like this for Hazel’s sake. “Yes, yes, it is.”
“So maybe I’ll do a little ocean fishing. I hear it’s been good.”
“And you’ll look for her? For the skiff?”
“I’ll bring home whatever I catch,” he said cheerfully.
“Thank you,” she told him. “But, please, be careful, Clark. Don’t go too far. You know the skiff couldn’t get far . . .”
“I promise to be home in time for dinner,” he assured her.
“Do you think I should call the coast guard?” she asked suddenly. “So they can be looking for her too?”
“Not yet. Let’s just see how it goes first.”
“Right.” She felt a lump growing in her throat.
Now Clark pleasantly told her good-bye, as if nothing whatsoever was wrong, and she hung up the phone, blinking back tears. What if Sarah had actually taken the little boat to the river’s end? Was it possible that she could still be safe? Even on the calmest seas, the little fishing skiffs were far too small for the open ocean. It was crazy.
“Mom?” Lauren came over with frightened eyes. “Did you say you’re calling the coast guard?”
Anna tried to appear strong. “No. Clark said to wait.”
“But you’re considering it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think she went out to sea?”
Anna took in a slow breath. “I honestly don’t know what to think. I searched the river and never saw the skiff.”
“Maybe the skiff sunk in the river,” Lauren said eagerly, “you know, sort of like I did that time? And then maybe Sarah swam to shore and she’s hunkered down somewhere.”
Anna nodded. “Yes, I suppose that’s a possibility.” But Anna knew the flat little skiffs, while not seaworthy, were not easily sunk on a calm river. Still, it seemed pointless to mention this fact since Lauren was well aware of it. “Anyway,” Anna said firmly, “I know there’s a lot to be done around here so we might as well get busy.”
Lauren’s chin quivered. “This is my fault, Mom.”
Anna placed a hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “Don’t go there. Really, all we can do for Sarah right now is to simply pray . . . and hope for the best.”
Lauren looked away. “All right.”
Anna tried to conceal her anxiety as the dinner hour came and went without a word from Clark. Fortunately, no one here knew that he’d promised to be home by now. And, Anna hoped, perhaps this was good news. Perhaps this meant Clark had found Sarah. Perhaps he was with her now!
Anna jumped to hear the phone ringing. Lauren was still in the dining room downstairs, and Anna hurried to answer, hoping it would be Clark calling from town to say that they’d found Sarah and would soon be home. Instead, it was a strange man’s voice. “Is this the inn down the river?” he asked in a slightly grumpy tone.
“Yes. This is actually our home line,” Anna explained. “Were you calling for reservations or—”
“No, I’m calling because I think one of your boats is tied to my dock.”
“A small fishing boat?”
“Yeah. And the name of the inn is on it. The one at the old Larson place, right? Where the store used to be?”
“Yes,” Anna said eagerly. “Did you by any chance see a young girl with the boat?”
“You mean you’ve lost a kid?”
“Well, she’s not a child.” Now Anna described Sarah.
“Haven’t seen anyone ’round here fitting that description. But you can come get your boat whenever you want.”
“Of course, we’ll come get it as soon as possible. Where are you located?”
“The Johnson place out past Mapleton, beyond the bridge, on the south side of the river.” He described the house and dock to her.
“I didn’t even think to go that far when I was searching for it,” she admitted.
“You think your lost girl is ’round here somewhere?” he asked. “You know the highway runs right behind my place. She might’ve hitched a ride up there.”
“That’s possible,” she said sadly.
“Kids these days . . . never know what they’ll do next.”
“Someone will come down for the boat.” She looked out the window to see it was already getting dusky. “Probably in the morning if that’s all right. Thank you for calling.”
“No problem. That’s how people on the river used to live, looking out for one another. Not like these newcomers or part-timers who just come and go, without so much as a howdy-do.”
She felt slightly insulted by his tone, as if he assumed she was a newcomer too. “I grew up on the river too,” she told him. “My parents ran the store here when I was a child.”
“You’re Anna Larson?” he asked.
“Well, I’m Anna Richards now. Do I know you?”
“I was a little older than you in school. Johnny Johnson. Remember the big kid with the red hair and freckles? I played football.”
“Yes,” she told him. “I do recall you. You still live on the river?”
“Well, I left home to serve in the Pacific, and after that I lived in California. My parents passed on a few years back, and I decided to move back to their place. But everything’s changed ’round here. Well, everything but the river.”
“Yes, thank goodness for the river.” She made a bit more small talk with him then, worried that Clark might try to call, she cut it short. “Feel free to stop by the inn sometime,” she told him. “For old time’s sake.”
She put down the receiver and began to pace. So Sarah had made it to the Johnson place, tied up the boat, and then she’d probably gone up to the road to get a ride. Of course, that made perfect sense. She went right past Mapleton and avoided being noticed. Anna wondered how long ago Sarah had left . . . how far she’d gotten by now.
Anna went to Sarah’s room and looked around. Sarah was obviously traveling light. The only thing that Anna could tell was missing was that old patchwork dress. Although it was possible that Sarah had taken a few other items of clothing as well, but most of her things still seemed to be in her closet and drawers. And Anna knew Sarah had no money since she hadn’t been paid yet. How did Sarah expect to get anywhere without money? Even if she managed to get rides, what would she eat? Where would she stay?
Furthermore, why did she do it like this? Why couldn’t Sarah have come to Anna, told her she was unhappy and wanted to leave? Why did Sarah feel the need to run away like that? To scare them all half to death? Anna shook her head and turned off the light. It was just too aggravating to think about.
As she went into the living room, turning the lights on in there, she remembered that poor Clark was out there right now, possibly still out on the ocean, maybe even risking life and limb, as he searched for Sarah. Off on a fool’s errand—and Anna had sent him on it! Anna went to the phone, wishing there was some way to get word to him. To tell him to come back to her and forget about the senseless search. She even considered calling the coast guard but could just imagine Clark’s reaction to that. No, she knew that all she could do was wait . . . and pray.
As she waited, she busied herself with straightening the kitchen. Lauren had made a big batch of cookies for tomorrow’s lunch menu but hadn’t had time to clean it up yet. Anna welcomed the busywork. Anything to keep her mind off Clark out there in the ocean as it grew dark. What if something happened to him? Not only would she blame herself, but also she would miss him more than she cared to think about. With all this focus on her daughter and granddaughter recently, Anna knew that Clark had probably been neglected. Not that he complained. Clark was not a complainer. But if something happened to him . . . if she lost him . . . because she’d sent him on this fool’s errand—
“Mom,” called Lauren as s
he came into the house. “Are you in here?”
“In the kitchen,” Anna called back in a tired voice.
“Clark’s not back yet.”
Anna wiped her hands dry on the dishtowel then sighed. “No . . .” Now she told Lauren about Johnny Johnson’s phone call and the skiff.
“Do you want me to go down and get it?” Lauren offered.
“No. It can wait until morning.”
“And Sarah is gone then?”
Anna shrugged, carefully hanging the towel on the stove handle. “It would seem so.”
“Maybe it’s just as well,” Lauren said a bit bitterly.
“Oh, Lauren.” Anna shook her head. “Don’t say that. She’s just a child. She should be here . . . with us.”
Now Lauren began to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I just don’t understand her. I mean I realize I was a spoiled brat at her age. But I don’t think I would’ve done anything like that. Not to you, Mom.”
Anna had to bite her tongue now. Of course, Lauren couldn’t remember all that she’d put Anna through during her young adulthood. Clark, too, for that matter—and he was only a stepfather. But youth, similar to old age, could impair the memory. Anna was certain of it. In fact, Anna knew that she’d put her own parents through their own sort of grief when she’d eloped with Adam and moved away from the river to live with him. Oh, she’d tried to protect them in her letters, but she suspected that they’d read between the lines. And then . . . Anna hated to remember this . . . she had rarely come home to visit. How that must’ve hurt them.
“We all do things we regret,” she said quietly to Lauren, “when we are young and foolish. When we’re older, we realize that we have to forgive our children in the same way our parents forgave us. And likewise, we often have to forgive our parents too. It’s as constant as the river, Lauren.”
Lauren looked unconvinced. “Well, I suppose I should go. Unless you want me to stay here to wait with you for Clark.”
“No.” Anna shook her head. “Clark will be fine. You know he often comes home late from an all-day fishing trip.”
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