River's End (9781426761140)

by Carlson, Melody

  “Except that he hasn’t been fishing.”

  Anna shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he did some fishing out there.”

  “Oh, Mom.” Lauren rolled her eyes.

  “Go on home,” Anna told her. “I’ll call you if anything is amiss. And tomorrow will be another long day. Come on, I’ll walk you to the dock. And I’ll bet Clark will be rolling in.”

  However, Clark’s boat was nowhere in sight as Anna waved good-bye to Lauren. Even so, Anna decided to stay down there, checking in some of the boats and hanging up life preservers . . . doing the chores that Clark usually did. Finally, worried that he might be trying to reach her in the house, she decided to go inside. It seemed very likely that he might’ve stopped by the hospital to pay his mother one more visit before coming home.

  Tempted to call and ask, Anna looked at the clock to see that it was well past nine and beyond visiting hours now. Pacing back and forth in her living room, Anna wondered when she’d ever felt this frightened and lonely. Perhaps back when her mother had died and she’d come home to figure out her life and start over. But since that dark day, she’d been so busy with the inn, so occupied with family and friends . . . and Clark . . . that she’d barely had a moment to be lonely. But what if something happened to Clark? What if she lost him? She couldn’t bear to think of it.

  It was nearly midnight, and she was just seconds from calling the coast guard when she saw the lights of his boat coming down the river. Grabbing her jacket, she raced down to the dock to meet him. Not even waiting for him to tie up, she jumped onto the boat, throwing her arms around him and nearly knocking him over. “Oh, Clark!” she sobbed into his chest. “I’ve been so worried.”

  He stroked her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I looked and looked, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. I really wanted to bring her back to—”

  “I’m not worried about Sarah,” she explained as she grabbed the rope, jumped out, and secured the boat. “About you.”

  He gathered some things then climbed out, pulling her close to him again. “Don’t waste your worries on me, Anna.”

  “But it was so late . . . you were out there all alone . . . I never should’ve asked you to do that, Clark. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  They started walking up to the house, and he explained how he’d looked up and down the coastline, using his binoculars in hopes of spotting the skiff along the beach. “And wouldn’t you know it.” He shook his head. “Just when I was ready to call it a day—right around sunset—I realized I was nearly out of gas.”

  “Oh, Clark.”

  “So I thought about radioing for help, but that’s embarrassing. So I realized I probably could make it if I waited for the tide to turn and let the incoming high tide help carry me through the jetty.” He paused to open the door for them.

  “But that is so dangerous.” She stared at him in shock.

  He nodded. “And foolish. I was actually starting to question it myself. Can you imagine what it would be like to be midway through the bar and lose power?”

  “Your boat would probably be smashed to bits.”

  “Plus the tide wasn’t going to change until midnight.”

  “I was about to call the coast guard,” she admitted.

  He grinned. “As it turned out the coast guard cutter was out there practicing night maneuvers and those good ol’ boys came to check on me.”

  “And they helped you home?”

  He nodded sheepishly. “I’ll admit it was embarrassing. But I was hugely relieved.”

  “Oh, my.” She put some of Lauren’s cookies on a plate and poured him a cup of slightly stale coffee, sweetening it up with cream and sugar.

  “I told them about our missing granddaughter,” he explained, “and they were quite understanding.”

  Now Anna told him about the phone call from Johnny Johnson. “So my guess is she went up to the road behind his house and got a ride.”

  “Oh . . .” Clark sighed.

  “I feel so terrible that you went out there like that,” Anna said contritely, “that I encouraged you to put yourself in harm’s way . . . for nothing.”

  “We didn’t know it at the time.” He locked eyes with her. “And Sarah isn’t nothing, Anna. You and I both know that.”

  “Too bad she doesn’t know it.”

  “She does know it,” he said quietly, “deep inside of herself, she must know it. Sarah is a good girl. And she’s spent enough time here on the river and enough time with you to know who she is, Anna. She might be confused right now, but you know who she is . . . and you’ll never give up on her.”

  Feeling gently chastened as well as comforted, Anna simply nodded. “You’re right. Absolutely right.”

  13

  After a restless night filled with frustrating dreams about Sarah, Anna rose early and dressed quietly. Taking time to leave Clark a note, she then slipped outside and down to the dock where she started her boat’s engine and slowly eased the craft out into the main current. Keeping the engine’s noise low, she headed upriver, where the sun was just coming up. It didn’t take long to see she wasn’t the only one out this early.

  Steering away from fishermen, she slowly chugged upriver toward Mapleton and the Johnson place where she planned to pick up the abandoned skiff and tow it home. Clark had offered to do this, but she could tell by how hard he was sleeping that he was worn out from yesterday’s ocean expedition. Besides with another clear sunny day, there would be guests anxious to get out and enjoy the river. He would be needed at the boathouse.

  Anna continued past Mapleton, realizing that she rarely came this far up the river, although she did remember coming with her father to make deliveries a few times. She spotted the rickety-looking dock Johnny had described, and there, along with a wooden rowboat, was the skiff. She tied up her boat then got out to tend to the skiff and was just securing it to the back of her boat, when she noticed what looked like a piece of paper beneath one of the floating boat cushions. Curious, she climbed into the little boat and removed a small white envelope that said To Grandma on the front.

  She sat down on the vinyl cushion now, feeling a lump growing in her throat as the small boat rocked from side to side in the water. She took in a deep breath as she ran a finger over the blue ink of Sarah’s neat penmanship then slowly opened the envelope.

  Dear Grandma,

  I know you are probably mad at me by now. You should be. As hard as it is to admit this, I realize I don’t belong with you on the river anymore. Even Lauren, as much as I hate her, has more right to be there than I do. Like you said, my bitterness is poison, and I can see that it’s poisoning everyone. I’ve been told again and again that I have badness in me. I know it’s true. And I know it will take more hard work, self-denial, and penance to remove it. That is what I’m going to try to do. I’m sorry that I hurt you, Grandma. You have always been good to me. You do not deserve such a worthless granddaughter.

  Sorry,

  Sarah

  Anna’s tears dropped onto the white paper, blurring the blue ink. She carefully refolded the page and was just slipping it back into the envelope when she heard footsteps approaching.

  “Hello down there?” called a man’s voice.

  She looked up to see a slightly grizzled-looking man coming her way. With shaggy gray hair and an unshaved chin, he looked a bit scary, but then he waved. “Is that you, Anna Larson?”

  She waved and nodded. “Yes. I was just getting ready to tow the boat home.”

  He came down to the dock, peering curiously at her. “Are you crying?”

  She brushed her wet cheek with the back of her hand and nodded. “I was just reading a note my granddaughter left behind.”

  “Kids,” he said with exasperation. “They can break your heart.”

  She studied his face, seeing the sadness there. “Do you have children, Johnny? Grandchildren?”

  He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “I did.”

  She tilted her head t
o one side. “You did?”

  “Just one . . . a son. We didn’t think we’d have any kids, but then after seven years, we got John Junior. JJ for short. What a kid. You should’ve seen him throw a football.” He ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Chip off the old block.”

  “Oh . . .” She waited, fearing the worst.

  “JJ would’ve turned thirty next year.”

  Anna nodded. “He passed on?”

  “Yeah.” Johnny looked up at the sky.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  Anna stood, and with the letter in one hand, she held to the edge of the skiff and got out onto the dock then put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “I can imagine how much you must miss him.”

  He nodded, pressing his lips together.

  Now she told him about how they’d spent the last two years thinking that they’d lost Sarah, too. “It felt as if she’d died,” she said, “and then she came back to us.”

  “Anyway, you know she’s alive.”

  “Yes . . . but now she’s gone again.”

  “At least it’s not your fault.”

  Anna wasn’t sure what he meant . . . or if he was even right.

  “You see JJ went through some of the stuff a lot of the kids went through in the sixties—all that antiestablishment crap. We were down in California, the Bay Area, and I’m sure he did some experimenting with drugs—turning on and tuning out or whatever it was kids were doing. Probably still are.”

  “Was that how he died?”

  Johnny shook his head. “I think it would’ve been easier if that was the way it happened.”

  “Oh . . .” Anna wasn’t sure whether she should press him or not. Sometimes she would have sessions like this with guests, but many of them expected this sort of thing there at the inn. This was Johnny’s place.

  “JJ wanted to dodge the draft. He wanted money to go up to Canada. I told him to forget it. I told him to man up and face his responsibilities and went on about how I’d fought in the Pacific and how freedom wasn’t really free. You know the drill.” Johnny rubbed his hand over his eyes, and Anna could tell he was trying to hide his tears. “For some crazy reason, JJ listened to me—next thing we knew he was on his way to Vietnam.”

  “Did he die there?”

  He nodded. “Didn’t even last three months. Came home in a wooden box. My wife blamed me for it, and our marriage fell apart. But she’s right. It was my fault. I should’ve let him run. At least he’d be here now.”

  “Oh, Johnny . . .” She sighed. “It’s not your fault. You were only trying to get him to do the right thing . . . to obey the law. You didn’t know how it would turn out.”

  His tears were flowing freely now. “I never dreamed he wouldn’t make it back,” he said, “after all I went through in the Pacific, I was certain JJ would do the same, a chip off the old block.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure JJ knew you loved him, Johnny. And in the end, he made his own decision to go and serve. He could’ve gone to Canada even if you hadn’t helped him. You must know that.”

  He tapped the side of his head. “I know it up here.” Now he tapped his chest. “But sometimes it doesn’t feel like it in here.”

  “I can understand that.” Now she told him about Sarah’s letter. “Something she said makes me feel as if I’m to blame. I told her something—something she misunderstood. I told her that not forgiving someone was like poison. I meant it was poisoning her, but she thought I was saying she was like poison to the people around her. That’s not what I meant. Not at all.” Now Anna was crying again, too.

  To her surprise, Johnny reached out and hugged her. For a long moment, they just stood there crying together, and finally, they both stepped back as if embarrassed. Anna knew that it had been nothing more than two hurting people trying to comfort each other, something she often did at the inn. But for Johnny’s sake, she wanted to make it clear.

  “Please, come and visit us at the inn,” she told him. “My husband, Clark, is a veteran, too, and I have a feeling that you and he would have some stories to exchange, Johnny.”

  He nodded. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

  So she told them about the bonfires they had on Saturday nights and how sometimes there was music and storytelling. “And Clark likes to go deep-sea fishing when it’s not too busy at the inn,” she said as she untied her boat and hopped in. “Maybe you’d like to go sometime.”

  He made what seemed a hopeful smile. “Maybe I was wrong. I guess there are still some good people on the river, Anna.”

  She smiled back. “Yes. You can be sure of it.”

  Her trip downriver was one of mixed emotions. Thankful that she’d managed to make a connection with an old acquaintance but saddened at Johnny’s heartache and deep loneliness. And although she appreciated Sarah’s attempt to communicate and apologize in the letter, Anna couldn’t help but grieve over Sarah’s words. She felt as if she’d failed her granddaughter.

  As Anna slowed down for the dock, she reminded herself of what she’d just told Johnny. Just like with JJ, Sarah had made her own decision. No one had forced Sarah to run away. Sarah had to know, even if it was deep down, that Anna still loved her . . . would always love her. Anna knew that blaming herself for Sarah’s bad choices wouldn’t help anyone. The best thing Anna could do was to pray for her . . . and perhaps contact Jim Viceroy.

  Clark met her on the dock, helping her to tie off and moving the skiff out of the way. “I thought I was going to take care of that,” he said as he helped her out of the boat.

  “You looked so peaceful, sleeping so soundly. I thought you probably needed your rest.” She patted his cheek. “And as it turned out, I think it’s good that I went.”

  As they walked to the main dining room for breakfast, she told him about her unexpected visit with Johnny Johnson. “He’s a sad, lonely man.”

  “Poor guy.”

  She smiled at Clark. “I invited him to come visit us. I told him that maybe you guys could swap war stories.” As they went into the dining room, she remembered the letter still in her jacket pocket. Because it had been written to her, she wasn’t sure how much of it she planned to share. Maybe none of it for now.

  After breakfast, Anna looked up the Viceroys in the phone book and, finding only one listing, dialed the number and asked for Jim. “Who is this?” a woman’s voice demanded. So Anna identified herself, confessing that Bobby Greeley had told her about Jim. “Bobby said that Jim might’ve lived at the same commune where my granddaughter stayed for a while.”

  “Your granddaughter was in that horrible place?” Mrs. Viceroy sounded shocked.

  “Well, I’m not positive, but I think so.”

  “Good grief, it was bad enough having a son stay in a place like that, I can’t imagine how I’d feel if it was a girl. How old is she anyway?”

  “She just turned eighteen. But she’d been gone for two years.”

  “You mean she was there as a juvenile?”

  Now Anna explained how Sarah had run away from home. “We searched and searched for her but never found her.”

  “Someone should press charges against that place,” Mrs. Viceroy said bitterly. “The way they mess with people’s minds is despicable.”

  “I’m sure I agree with you.” Anna twisted the cord in her fingers. “So, is Jim there? Is it possible to talk to him?”

  “Oh, I thought I already told you. No, Jim’s not here. He took off a couple of weeks ago. I have no idea where he’s off to this time. I just hope it’s not back to that place. He did mention wanting to go work on a crabbing boat in Alaska.” She let out a loud sigh. “Dangerous work, I’ll admit. But it seems a sight better than that awful commune. You don’t think your granddaughter went back there, do you?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’m afraid she might’ve. Do you happen to know where it’s located?”

  “Not exactly. But somewhere near Medford. Out on a farm. I think Jim said it was west of Medford. Or maybe I ju
st imagined that part.”

  Anna thanked her for her help, giving her their phone number in case she heard from Jim.

  “I’m real sorry for you,” Mrs. Viceroy said finally, “I wouldn’t want any girl of mine—or a boy for that matter—stuck in that place.”

  Anna felt worse than ever when she hung up. Mrs. Viceroy seemed to confirm all of Anna’s worst fears about that commune. But knowing its general location was something of a comfort.

  “Good news,” Lauren said as she came into the office where Anna had used the phone.

  “About Sarah?” Anna asked hopefully.

  Lauren’s smile faded. “No . . . about some extra help around here. A couple of kids, friends of Bobby Greeley, just pulled up to the dock. Mind if I bring them up here to do applications and interviews?”

  “Not at all.” Anna started to leave then stopped. “By the way, I’ve discovered that the commune Sarah lived at is near Medford.”

  Lauren nodded. “Do you have an exact location?”

  “No, but I plan to do some more calling. I’ll use the house phone.”

  “If you find the place, I could go down there and try to get her to come home,” Lauren offered. “It seems the least I can do.”

  Anna just nodded. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.” But as Anna headed for the other phone, she knew that it would not be wise to include Lauren in this. If Sarah saw Lauren coming for her, she’d probably take off running in the opposite direction. For this to work, it would have to be done carefully . . . and prayerfully.

  14

  Anna called the Medford police first. She hoped they might have concern about some kind of criminal element and want to go have a look at the commune. But when she couldn’t really give them specifics, they suggested she call city hall and speak to someone there. After several calls, she finally managed to get someone to give her some more specific directions to the commune. She wrote everything down then went off to search for Clark.

  “I’m going down to get the boys now,” Lauren told Anna as they met on the stairs. “I told them to look around a bit, you know, to get the feel of the place and see if they really want to work here. But maybe I should get on with the interviews.” She looked uncertain. “And if they seem like good kids . . . do you think I should just go ahead and hire them today?”