by K E Lanning
Her grandfather nodded. “We know how much you love this place.”
Lowry stared grimly down at the churning water below them. “As much as I would love to stay, I cannot. I won’t give them that satisfaction.”
Her grandmother shook her head. “You’re not used to dealing with people like you’ve had to deal with over the last several weeks.” She patted Lowry’s arm. “I’m afraid learning the dirty side of life is something we all have to go through at some point.”
Lowry shrugged. “Well, I had to learn to deal with my father, so I guess he was good for something.” Lowry threw another stone into the water. “I remember Dad downing a shot of whiskey and then joking that since the world was drowned, everyone might as well join in the party.”
“What a lovely man,” her grandmother snorted.
Her grandfather interjected, “I wish we had taken you after Margaret’s death. It was something both your grandmother and I regret.”
Her grandmother sighed, smoothing Lowry’s hair. “Yes, we wanted to, but Duff insisted that you come with him, and we didn’t know all of the circumstances.”
“My father wasn’t all bad. He loved me the best he could.” Lowry sighed. “I guess that’s as much as one can expect from any human being.”
Her grandfather grimaced. “I know he’s your father, but honestly, I never liked Duff. He courted Margaret with his big smile and smooth talk, but I felt there was something not quite square with him.” He shrugged. “Margaret was stubborn and didn’t want to listen to us.”
“Your grandpa’s right. Once he had the ring on her finger, the personality he had carefully manufactured slipped away.” Her grandmother stared down into the pool below. “Margaret never told us much, and there was always some excuse keeping him away when you and your mother visited the farm. Frankly, she seemed happier once he shipped out to Antarctica.”
Her grandmother laid her head on Lowry’s shoulder. “You were the light in her life.” She glanced at her husband with a sad smile. “Our Margaret loved you so much—when you came into the room, her eyes lit up.” Her lips trembled. “When we visited her grave last week, it was a shock to realize it’s been ten years since her death.”
Her grandfather’s face was grim as he flicked a red leaf over the falls. “I still think about the Girl Scout leader’s decision to take all their phones away so they would ‘go off the grid’ and enjoy nature. How could she have been so irresponsible and not be warned about the turn of the storm?”
Her grandmother placed her hand on his shoulder. “She has to live with her torment, just as we have to live with Margaret’s death.” She turned to Lowry. “At the funeral, the Girl Scout leader told us that Margaret had tried to convince her to have at least one phone with a weather alert active, but she had insisted that she had checked the weather and everything was clear.”
Lowry’s shoulders crumpled, and with her head bowed from the strain of the last weeks, she wept like a child. “Mom was my champion—always there when I needed her. I can never forget that she sacrificed her life to save mine.”
Her grandmother held her close, stroking her hair, as Lowry’s sobs echoed around the stone facades. When her tears abated, she slumped in exhaustion, leaning against her grandmother’s shoulder.
Handing her a tissue, her grandfather cleared his throat. “We must look forward and not dwell on the past.”
They sat listening to the water rushing over the rocks until the sun was high in the sky and the stone beneath them had become uncomfortably warm. They stood and gathered the blankets and trash while birds darted over the water, catching the midday insects.
They silently climbed down the rocks, and when they reached the horses, her grandfather waved his hand toward the rolling pastures in the distance. “I hope this place will remain in the family. It’s in a conservation easement, so the land can’t be broken up into parcels. Just let us know if you have an interest in it.”
“I thought my cousin was taking the farm.”
“Yes, I think so, but the future is always uncertain.”
Her grandmother asked, “Lowry, what are your plans after the space-station research project is completed?”
She shrugged. “We’re almost completed with this initial data collection, and then I have to compile all the new data with the seismic data we already have. My final dissertation will be a report detailing the soil and aquifers of Antarctica in case the UN decides to open the continent to homesteaders.” She sighed, staring up into the blue sky. “After my degree is finished, I’m not sure—it’s possible that I may one day return to Antarctica.”
They remounted and started back to the farm, quietly meandering along the trails. The day had warmed, but a pleasant breeze accompanied them across the fields. Lowry pointed out a hole near an outcrop of rocks. “What’s that?”
Her grandmother looked at the opening in the ground. “It’s a fox den, and that one has been there for years.” She swept her hand toward the horizon. “Your mother used to fox-hunt with the local club, and our farm is one of their fixtures.” With a smile, she shook her head. “But they don’t really hunt the foxes, they just chase them.”
Her grandfather smiled. “We rode at the back, but your mother was so brave on Cooper, her thoroughbred gelding, jumping five-foot fences, careening up and down steep slopes—it was both terrifying and majestic to watch.”
They reached the stables and dismounted. Her grandfather stretched out his legs and gestured to the stables. “Your mother did such a lovely job on the barn plans—she believed in designing to the landscape.”
They led the horses into the barn, untacked them, and sprayed off the sweat from the long ride, and then they put them in the stables with a flake of hay and a cool bucket of water.
Her grandmother came out of the tack room holding a small black helmet. She dusted the helmet off and said, “This was your first riding helmet. We bought it for you when you and your mom came for a visit—you were six years old.” She blinked, trying to hold back her tears. “Do you remember your first riding lesson?”
Lowry shook her head. “Vaguely—I remember the pony, but not so much the lesson.”
“Margaret put you on Minnie and led her around the ring with you in short stirrups in a tiny English saddle.” She grinned. “You were smiling and singing until Minnie shied and you slipped off, hitting the ground. You cried a little, maybe more with humiliation than hurt. Then your mother asked if you wanted to get back on, and you nodded your head, so back up you went.”
“Now I remember. Minnie could be nasty.” Lowry took the helmet and caressed the sun-faded felt. “My mom was a strong woman, but not domineering.” Lowry raised her eyebrow. “But she could have a temper.” A smile drifted across her face. “Most of all, she wanted to teach me something dear to her—to love this crazy thing called life.” She handed the helmet back to her grandmother. “Uncle Nick was the one who got me the horses when I moved to Antarctica. I would have been a different person without horses in my life.”
“Can I get some of that life experience over here?” her grandfather said, cleaning one of the stalls.
Laughing, Lowry walked over and took the rake from him. “I’ll finish the stall, Grandpa.”
He leaned on the stall door as she cleaned the stall. “I don’t know if you remember, but when you were a little girl, you used to stay with the animals for hours, learning to read what was in their minds. That’s a rare characteristic, and it takes a caring personality, perception, and frankly, respect. The person who respects an animal respects themselves.” Beaming, he rolled the wheelbarrow out of the stall. “Nothing like caring for an animal to make you at peace with the world.”
Grandma yelled, “Here comes the Philosopher King with his load of manure!”
Lowry grinned. “You and Grandma are such wonderful, hardworking, and loving people. You both have such pride in work and love of life without the annoying arrogance.”
Her grandmother smiled. “We�
��ve worked all of our lives, your grandpa and I, whether in our teaching careers or here at the farm. And we still have such a joy in learning.” She looked lovingly at him. “It’s made us centered and happy.”
Her grandfather dumped the wheelbarrow and then returned, nodding. “We make choices in our lives, Lowry. We can strive to become honorable people or, as some do, use our gifts to manipulate those around us to further ourselves. The path to happiness is simple, but the road to hell is complex and harrowing.”
***
The sunset illuminated the gravestones on the hilltop with a soft golden light. Within the family cemetery, surrounded by centuries of her family, Lowry stood in front of her mother’s grave, finally strong enough to face her. Her hands shaking, she laid a bouquet of autumn wild flowers in front of Margaret’s stone.
“Momma, I’ve failed to live up to your hopes and dreams.” The words opened wounds she had held back for months, and tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision of Margaret’s name on the gravestone.
A failed marriage. Lowry had been ignorant in her choice of husband and had tried to make it work, but it takes willingness on both sides. She caressed the smooth granite headstone. Her mother had also experienced the disease of an abusive relationship. To protect Lowry, she had hidden their marital troubles—not difficult since she, not baby Lowry, had been the lightning rod for Duff’s anger. When Duff lost his job, he floated around the States until Nick found him the job in Antarctica, so he was absent for years until he took custody of her after her mother’s death.
Uncle Nick had been the one who had told Lowry of the history of abuse by their father and how it had affected Duff. She had thought herself untouched by it all since she hadn’t lived solely with her father until adolescence, but his mercurial and violent personality had affected her more than she had realized. She shook her head. Shit rolls downhill. Perhaps that was why she had been vulnerable to Frank’s abuse.
Lowry knelt on the grass, and sighing, she thought back to the moral battle with the unscrupulous Halder. Did she skew the verdict of Jean-Luc with her testimony, especially her offhand remark about Nick’s connection with an Eskimo training facility? Edward’s probing reconnaissance mission had borne fruit with an innocuous comment twisted into damning evidence.
Under Halder’s direction, the actors were manipulated by any means, whether wittingly, for a payout, or unwittingly by ignorance. Edward was a mere player, required to read his appointed lines. Lowry hadn’t been aware she was even a part of the cast, and they both had played her like a fool. Halder would eventually be taken out by a more powerful manipulator with their own script, but for now, he had control of the curtain.
Was the play over? Would all the actors just fade away as the lights go down? Perhaps years down the road, the truth, whatever it was, would emerge, but it would be too late for the Eskimo tribes. Their tribal lands would be filled with apartment complexes, strip malls, and parking lots. The Halders would win because they direct the performances on the world stage.
She slumped onto the ground, smoothing her brow with her fingers, and gazed at the mountains around her, painted with vibrant hues as the rays of the sun bent over the horizon. What was that saying—the dead get the best views? With college and her insane life, it had been years since she had been able to visit her mother’s grave. Lowry reached out and traced her mother’s name with her finger to elicit her mother’s strength and wisdom. “Momma, please help me find peace.”
Lowry would return to the ISS tomorrow afternoon. This was her last night on Earth. She shifted positions and felt a poke in her side. Pulling out the finger of Sedna, she stared at it in the fading light.
***
Lowry awoke that night and lifted her head, listening in the darkness. Was that her mother’s voice saying “Lowry”? Tears came into her eyes—just memories. She exhaled and lay her head back down on the warm pillow, wishing it were her mother’s shoulder.
Fluffing the pillow, her hand touched the letter she had tucked beneath it. Her grandmother had given it to her after dinner, her voice thin as she said, “This was the last letter she sent—Margaret was sentimental and loved sending old-fashioned letters. We saved this for you to have.”
Hugging her grandmother, she clutched the letter and slipped away to her room. When she was alone, Lowry climbed into bed and turned on the table lamp next to her. She caressed the envelope addressed to her grandparents and then carefully pulled out the letter. Unfolding it, she sighed at the sight of her mother’s lovely handwriting, but it was her mother’s words that took her breath away:
Lowry is ten years old today—she’s the delight of my life and the center of my universe. It is a joy and privilege to watch her blossom into a unique person. I cheer her triumphs and hold her during the difficult times, filling her with love until she overflows. I have truly become a better person because of her.
An owl hooted in the emptiness of the night. Tears seeped down the sides of her face as the loss of her mother hit her once again. A mother’s love swept from her too early, leaving a void which could never be filled. Lowry stared up at the ceiling, remembering the last night she had seen her mother.
***
“Lowry, wake up!” her mother shouted in the darkness. Twelve-year-old Lowry rubbed her eyes, and yawning, she stretched out her arms. She sat up, squinting as the flashlight blinded her. “What’s happening, Mommy?”
“Hurry, get dressed. Someone warned us there is a flash flood upriver.” Her mother shook the leg of Kimmie, the girl sleeping next to Lowry.
Lowry listened but only heard frogs croaking in the distance. “But it’s not even raining.” She’d been looking forward to the big Girl Scout camping trip in the Hill Country near Austin for a year. All of the older girls in the troop had raved about it, and finally, it was her turn.
He mother grabbed their gear, stuffing it into a bag. “Lowry, the storm is almost upon us. It made an unexpected hook, dumping a huge amount of rain just west of us. We have to get out of here—floodwaters are barreling down on us.” Her mother bundled up the sleeping bags as Lowry and Kimmie found their shoes.
Lowry finished tying her tennis shoes and then yawned. She flinched away from a cold dampness touching her leg. Reaching down, she felt water soaking her pants. She screamed, “Water!” A stream of water invaded the tent, seeping around the flap.
A yell ripped through the night. “Run—the river’s rising!”
The floor of the tent bubbled up underneath them like a hand grasping under a sheet. “Go, girls!” her mother shouted. In the darkness, they heard a rushing sound coming nearer, and then a wall of water slammed into the side of the tent like a charging beast. Margaret grabbed Lowry and Kimmie, jerking them toward the tent opening.
Kimmie scooted out, and Margaret shouted, “Get up the bank as fast as you can!” Kimmie scrambled up the slippery bank.
Amid the deafening roar of the river, the pressure of the water increased, collapsing the tent, and the nylon fabric wrapped around them like cellophane. Lowry’s head was covered, and she flayed under the shroud of material, but her mother peeled it away. She lifted Lowry, attempting to free her from the remnants of the tent, but one of the snarled poles trapped Lowry’s leg.
Shouts came to them from the bank, but the rushing river muted their words. Another surge hit them like a bulldozer. An enormous weight of water shoved them forward, and Lowry felt the pole tighten around her ankle. The river was now up to Lowry’s waist, and the muddy waters rushed around them as her mother struggled to free her.
Her mother shouted, “Turn your leg into the flow and point your toe.” Then she reached under the muddy water, trying to peel the twisted metal from around Lowry’s ankle. Lowry felt her mother’s nails scraping her skin, and finally, the pole slipped away, freeing her leg.
Heaving her up into her arms, her mother stripped away the rest of the clinging fabric from her body. The current accelerated, and the tent stakes broke away. The remain
s of the tent disappeared under the frothy waters.
The leading edge of the storm raced across the sky with flashes of lightning and ominous thunder heralding its arrival. Lowry wrapped her arms and legs around her mother, struggling toward the riverbank. The core of the storm arrived, and rain poured down on top of them.
“Up here, this way!” A flashlight beamed across the seething water.
Lowry faced upstream, and the light flashing across the river revealed a wall of water descending upon them. “Mommy, another wave of water is going to hit us!”
Her mother twisted her head around and shouted, “No!” Then she lunged toward the shore. “Lowry, you have to get to the bank!”
Seconds later, a towering mass of water slammed into them, knocking them over, and then whirled them under the surface of the raging river. Lowry’s legs were ripped from her mother’s hips, but she clasped her mother’s neck as they were tossed in the current. Churning water covered her head, forcing its way into her nose, and she couldn’t breathe. She sucked water into her lungs until the current pushed her upward and she broke through the surface into the air. Coughing, she felt rain pouring into her face, but she still gripped her mother like a millstone around her neck. Lowry rode piggyback as they raced downriver, her mother fighting to keep her head above the surface.
In the blackness, they hit something solid, and her mother clutched the broken limbs of a massive tree trunk, which had ripped out of the earth and now plummeted downriver in the swift water. Her mother clung to the slippery trunk as the roiling river swept them along, spinning and dipping to the mad tempo of the river like a wild carnival ride.
The trunk slammed into another object. Her mother grunted with the impact, and Lowry slipped forward. Lightning ripped across the sky, and the flash of light revealed that they were snagged on a huge upright tree not yet torn out of the earth by the insane river. Margaret reached back, pulling Lowry over her head toward the branches of the oak tree. “Climb up, Lowry, as high as you can.”