“I think I’m ready,” Anna told Pearl as she reached for her old plaid Pendleton jacket. Like her, it was faded and gray, but the familiarity was comforting. And, according to Sarah, ’49ers jackets were back in fashion again.’
Anna touched the back of her gray hair. She’d tried to pin it into a tidy bun, but her shaky hands sometimes betrayed her. “Is my hair all right?” she asked Pearl.
Pearl looked and made some adjustments then nodded. “You look beautiful, Great-grandma.”
Anna laughed. “Thank you, dear. But perhaps you should get your eyes checked.”
“Grandma and Grandpa are down at the dock.” Pearl hooked her arm into Anna’s. “But they said not to rush you.”
“I’m ready,” Anna told her. And slowly they made their way down to the dock. Lauren, who still managed the inn, had sent out a couple staffers, two strong young boys from town, to make this walkway easier for Anna to use.
“Hello, Mom!” Lauren waved from the boat. Her hair was completely white now, similar to how Eunice’s had been when she was that age. But Lauren’s smile was sweet—and all her own.
“Ready for the big day?” Brad took her other arm, helping Anna into the boat, where she sat down next to Lauren and patted her daughter’s knee. Lauren had put on a few pounds over the years, but it looked good on her.
“Yes!” she said eagerly. “Let the festivities begin.”
Within minutes, they were pulling into the dock at Shining Waters. Like so many other things, the dock had been enlarged and improved. Clark had “supervised” the project, but, according to Lauren, he usually rolled up his sleeves and helped as well.
“Grandma!” Sarah greeted her from the dock. Her face was lit up with a huge smile, and as usual her long dark hair was pulled back in a single braid down her back, and for a moment, Anna thought someone had turned the clock back. Surely, Sarah wasn’t turning fifty! But there she was with a little dark-haired bundle in her arms—and Anna knew that was Sarah’s first grandchild.
“Come and meet your first great-great-grandbaby,” Sarah said happily.
Anna knew that Sarah’s oldest daughter, Silver, had given birth to a little girl less than a week ago. “I didn’t think they’d be able to make it,” Anna said as Brad helped her off the boat and she went over to see the baby. Anna touched the soft dark hair and sighed happily. “She’s beautiful, Sarah!”
“They finally decided on a name,” Sarah said as all of them began proceeding up to the inn.
“What is it?” Anna asked as she leaned on Brad’s arm.
“Anna,” Sarah told her.
“Oh . . .” Anna smiled. “Well, isn’t that nice.”
Now Sarah’s husband Emery joined them, followed by their other children and their significant others. Everyone but Silver, who was resting, had come down. But it was a loud and boisterous crowd, and Anna marveled again that it was Sarah, the one who never wanted children, who had produced such a family. About halfway up, Jewel and Skip met her, along with some of their grown children and grandchildren. And then Marshall and Joanna and their children, along with a number of the other old staffers, joined the happy party. Everyone talked at once, exchanging greetings and hugs and slowly making their way up to the inn.
For a moment, Anna paused and, looking up at the clear blue sky, wondered how this happy procession might look from Clark’s perspective. Because she felt certain he was watching . . . along with her parents and her sweet grandmother and all those who had gone on before.
“Are you okay, Mom?” Lauren looked at her with concern.
“I am perfectly wonderfully fine,” Anna assured her. And then feeling like the queen of the parade, Anna led her tribe up to the inn, finally stopping at where a large number of people were already gathered around a large draped object out in front of the main building—the same building that was once a humble general store on the river.
“We have a chair for you here,” Lauren told Anna, guiding her to an old rocking chair near the draped object. Anna suspected that her son-in-law, Brad, had something to do with whatever was under that big canvas tarp and that it was probably a bronze sculpture, but everyone had been very mysterious about it. As Anna sat down, she was surprised at how tall it was. Most of Brad’s work was table-size, usually of wild-life, and always lovely, but this statue looked to be nearly six feet high.
“As you know,” Lauren spoke loudly from the rustic podium that Clark had built decades ago for weddings, “we’re here to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the inn. And we’re all very happy you could join us today. Whether you’re old friends or new friends experiencing the inn for the first time, welcome!” Lauren went on to tell a bit about the inn’s history, as well as a bit about how their family acquired this land more than a hundred years ago.
“But to be fair, our ancestors—the Siuslaw—had dwelled along the river here for many, many generations, long before my great-grandmother and her sister filed a claim for this piece. And back in those days, before our history was recorded—other than in the storytelling tradition—our people didn’t believe in ownership of land. The land was for everyone, and our people used it and shared it—living in peace.” She turned to Anna. “And my mother understood this tradition. When she returned to the river about fifty years ago, she was determined to live in peace. It took some of us longer to learn how to do this, and some of us are still learning.” Lauren smiled. “But over the years, my mother has taught us—in the same way her grandmother taught her—to live in peace amongst ourselves and with the river.”
After Lauren’s speech, Sarah came up to the podium. “I want to share an old story with you today,” she said, “one that was passed down from my great-great-grandmother, Pearl. I lived in her cabin for years and I plan to live in it again when I come to live here full time next winter.” She grinned at Anna. “Emery and I have decided to move home permanently in order to help with the management of the inn.”
Anna nodded her approval. She knew that Lauren had been hoping and praying that Sarah and Emery would give up their demanding jobs of teaching college-level classes at the university and return to the river.
Sarah cleared her throat. “This is the story of When the River Stopped. Long, long ago, Otter and Bear lived by the River. Otter watched over the water, and Bear watched over the land; and they had enough, and they lived in peace. But Sun grew hot, and the River grew small until it was only a stream. And then it was nothing. Bear blamed Otter, saying, ‘You did not watch River closely enough.’ Otter blamed Bear: ‘You were too greedy and drank too much.’ Then Bear said, ‘You stole River and took it to the Sea.’ On they went fighting and fighting until Otter was close to death. And then Moon came out, and Otter and Bear heard Coyote laughing, laughing, laughing. Moon told Otter and Bear that Coyote and Beaver had built a dam and that was why the River had dried up. So Bear picked up Otter and carried him up the dried riverbed, up the mountain until they reached the lake that contained River. Coyote and Beaver wanted to keep all the water for themselves. But Bear and Otter worked together and broke the dam, and River came rushing out, carrying them back down the mountain with it.”
Sarah set the paper aside. “I believe that story is about forgiveness and grace,” she explained to the listening crowd. “And my grandmother taught me long ago that forgiveness, like the river, must flow freely. I didn’t understand it at first, and I selfishly held back my forgiveness. But like a river that’s not allowed to flow, I began to dry up and die. It wasn’t until I broke the dam holding back my forgiveness and grace that I began to heal.” She put a hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Thank you, Grandma.”
Anna felt tears welling as she reached up to clutch Sarah’s hand, but they were happy tears. Hadn’t they all come so far! A few more family members and old friends got up to share words about the inn, the river . . . and how Shining Waters had changed them. And finally, it was time to reveal the statue. Anna watched eagerly as Brad pulled the cloth away. And what she saw took he
r breath away—a handsome Siuslaw woman wearing a cape that looked just like the one Grandma Pearl had given Anna long, long ago, and the beautiful young woman was standing proudly by a dugout canoe that looked just like Water Dove. Anna stood to get a better look, reaching up to touch the chin that was tilted up slightly. “Beautiful,” she told Brad. “Simply beautiful.”
“You don’t recognize it?” Lauren asked her.
“That looks like my grandmother’s cape and the Water Dove.” Anna tilted her head slightly. “Is it Pearl?”
“It’s you, Grandma.” Sarah pulled out a small black and white photo now. “I found this in the attic. Your father must’ve taken it.”
Anna stared at the old photo then slowly nodded. “You’re right. This is me. I remember the day this picture was taken.” She looked back up at the sculpture, blinking to adjust her eyes and to see it better. “Perhaps it is me,” she mused aloud. “Or perhaps it is all of us . . . it’s Lauren and Sarah and Sarah’s daughters . . . and even Baby Anna.” Anna looked over to see the infant snuggled into the arms of an auntie. “Just as no one can own the river, perhaps no one can own this story . . . it is the story of all of us. It is our tale and our history . . . a story of love and heartache and grace and brokenness and peace. The traditions of our ancestors are being passed along to each new generation—both the good and the bad . . . but always, I pray, along with forgiveness and healing. This is the heritage of Shining Waters.”
A Word from the Author
An interesting thing happened as I finished writing this book. My husband and granddaughter and I were staying at our beach cabin (near Florence and the same town that the Inn at Shining Waters books are set in). And as we drove past the airport, we discovered that biplane rides were being offered in exchange for contributions to a local charity. Naturally, we decided to enjoy a flight (although the granddaughter had to experience her first airplane ride in an enclosed plane). When my turn came to go up, the kind pilot (Sam Spayd) described points of interest to me. And as he flew over where our little beach cabin is located, by Heceta Beach, he showed me where the Siuslaw River was trying to return to its original course (the waters are sneaking outside of the massive North Jetty). I’d always been curious about what the river looked like before the jetties were built more than one hundred years ago. But I was pleasantly surprised to discover that river’s original course to the ocean is right next to where our beach cabin is located! Our beach cabin is at the River’s End! And like the house that Clark built as a getaway for Anna and him, my husband rebuilt this house as a getaway for us—and that’s where most of this book was written and where I am right now—at the River’s End.
Discussion Questions
1. Anna is in her late fifties at the beginning of this book and yet she still feels young inside. Why do you think that is? Describe your own attitude toward aging.
2. Anna’s beloved granddaughter, Sarah, had been missing for two long years and for all they knew she could’ve been dead. Where do you think Anna found her strength in those two years?
3. Sarah’s return to the river is a huge relief, and yet it comes with its own challenges. Describe a time in your own life when you received a mixed blessing and how you dealt with it.
4. Lauren has finally turned a corner in her own journey to maturity and yet she still struggles with parenting Sarah. Why is that?
5. Sarah had seemed like such a mature and responsible child. Why do you think she took the path she chose?
6. Were you surprised when Sarah decided to leave again? Why or why not?
7. Anna’s “tribe” seems to be constantly changing, sometimes to her frustration, and yet good seems to come out of it. Describe what your “tribe” is like.
8. Clark and Anna almost seem to be drifting apart at times. What did you think was going on when he was missing so much?
9. After discovering Sarah’s new whereabouts, Anna sets out to bring her back. What gave her that kind of dogged determination?
10. Even after Sarah is rescued and nursed back to health, why do you think she hardens herself to Anna’s encouragement to forgive her mother?
11. Sarah’s presence at the river makes it too uncomfortable for Lauren to stay at the place she’s finally claimed as home. And yet good seems to come of it. Describe a time when you were pushed out of your comfort zone but grew as a result.
12. Sarah is so hard on her mother, Lauren. What, if anything, do you think Anna could’ve said or done differently to bring Sarah around sooner?
13. What was your reaction when Clark got hurt? Were you surprised to find out what he’d been up to?
14. Anna had originally objected to the idea of a second home near the ocean. But when she sees what Clark has done, she realizes that it’s perfect and just what they need. Have you ever opposed something only to find you were wrong? Describe how that feels.
15. The Siuslaw Indians are said to have been a matriarchal society. How would you describe the heritage that was passed down from woman to woman in Anna’s family?
16. What kind of heritage do you hope to pass down through your future generations?
Bonus Chapter from Book 1 of
The Inn at Shining Waters Series
River’s Song
1
Siuslaw River 1959
In twenty years’ time, nothing had changed on the river. Or so it seemed. Although mid June, the sky was gloomy, the color of a weathered tin roof, and the river, a few shades darker, was tinged with mossy green. The surface of the water was serene, barely moving with the ebb tide, and the sounds of birds and a churning boat motor were muffled, hushed by the low-slung clouds. Not a scene that everyone could appreciate, but Anna wished to drink it in, absorb it into her being, and savor it for years to come when she was far from this beloved place.
“So what d’ya think, Anna?” Henry Ackerman shouted over the chugging sound of the diesel engine. “Everything still look all right to you?”
“Yes,” Anna assured him. “It feels the same—not much has changed.”
Henry nodded as he guided the old boat along, greasy felt hat pulled low over his shaggy brows, peering intently at the water, just as he’d done for decades. Henry, like the river, hadn’t changed much. Older maybe, and a little more grizzled if that was possible, but the easy smile and friendly demeanor were just the same. She’d known Henry for so long, he seemed like family.
Something caught Anna’s eye upstream. “What’s that?” she called out, pointing to a dark smudge in the water.
“Just another one of them dad-burned rogue logs.” He spat into the water as he steered the boat clear of it. “Always getting loose from the pilings. You gotta watch out real close when you run the river anymore.” He pointed upriver. “I’m telling you, Anna, them logs are like gold nowadays. The lumber mills can’t seem to get enough of ’em.”
Anna stood in the boat, staring out at the enormous stretch of floating logs around the bend. Laid out like firewood side by side, they were cabled together in large groups, creating a wide, uneven border along the south side of the river—stretching for miles.
“Oh, my!” she gasped. “I’ve never seen so many logs in my entire life.”
“Been like that for years now. Seems they can’t get ’em outta the woods fast enough. Then they dump ’em here in the river and leave ’em.” He cursed. “And them logs just float there till the mill’s ready to cut ’em into lumber. That is, unless there’s a storm or a cable busts and them logs break loose and head straight out for the ocean. You don’t want to be on the water when that happens.”
Anna stared in horror at the deformity on the river. The log barges resembled big ugly scabs cutting into the otherwise sleek surface of the water. Even creeping into the estuaries, like a growing cancer, barge after barge of floating logs seemed to fill up most of the surface of the Siuslaw. She could only imagine what the surrounding woods must look like. Glancing up at a hillside that had once been lush and green, she gasped to see th
e land scalped bare and brown . . . the stubble trunks of trees the only reminder of what had been. Her dad used to call those men gippo loggers—the reckless kind who came in and clear-cut the trees, took their money, and ran. With no concern for the future, those thieving loggers ravaged the land, leaving it barren and useless . . . dead. A lump of sadness filled her throat to think that while she was gone, the Siuslaw was being ruined.
“How long’s it been since you were back here, Anna?”
“About eight years.” She spoke loudly to be heard. “I came out for the funeral after Daddy died, back in ’52.” She wondered why she hadn’t noticed this devastation back then. Perhaps she’d been too distracted by grief and guilt . . . or perhaps the river hadn’t looked this bad.
Henry slowly shook his head, tucked a pinch of snuff into his cheek, and huffed. “Can’t understand you young’uns nowadays. Everybody ups and leaves. My boy James went off to war and never came back.”
Anna was shocked—her mother had never written of this. But then Anna had her own problems to tend to back then, her own casualties of war to keep her busy. Perhaps this was just one more piece of sadness that had eluded her. “James was killed in the war?” she asked gently.
“Nah. James made it through the war. He got hisself a GI education grant then landed hisself a fancy job in the big city. James is an accountant.” He pronounced the word as if it meant something distasteful. “Now he’s gotta wear a suit and tie every day. He sits around in a stuffy office building and counts other people’s money. Course, he thinks it’s mighty important work. Better than running the river every day, year in and year out.” Henry shook his head again. “Can’t understand how a body would choose to work indoors and give up all this.” He waved his hand out over the river. Henry looked honestly dumb-founded, and a part of Anna understood his bewilderment. Why had she given up all this?
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