It wasn’t a tree house in the tradition of a kids’ platform fixed into the trees. Rather it was a tiny house, with a deck in the front, a secure roof over it to keep out the rain, double-paned windows to hold in the heat, and a woodstove inside to provide the necessary warmth. To this had been added a cot for sleeping, a camping stove for cooking, a lantern, and shelf for books.
Becca had to wait while Parker made much of the building and its contents and while Seth schooled him in the use of the stove. She put in two cents about banking the fire at night although they all agreed he wouldn’t need to use the stove much for warmth as the weather hadn’t turned bad yet and probably wouldn’t till late in October.
Becca looked for an opening. She tried to read significance into the whispers she heard. There was nothing there, though. Just stuff about the tree house and music and gratitude and I’ll show them I swear to God, which seemed to come from Parker.
She knew she might have to wait forever for something to be said that related to Nelson, and she couldn’t wait. So she went for it. “Hey, what’s Nelson like?” she asked when there was a break in the conversation. There was going to be no way to ease into it. The direct approach seemed best although Seth glanced at her strangely when she asked the question.
Parker smiled, showing straight white teeth. “I dunno,” was his totally unsatisfactory answer. “Just a town, I guess. I grew up there.” He squatted to examine the interior of the stove. It was filled with ashes from Becca’s winter stay. It would need to be cleaned to be useful. “It’s on a lake,” he added. “It’s huge.”
Becca’s spirits sank at this. A huge town meant—
“The lake, I mean,” Parker said, closing the stove’s door and rising. “Lake Kootenay. It’s huge. Nelson itself’s pretty small. I mean, it’s bigger than Langley, but . . . well, pretty much every place is probably bigger than Langley.”
Seth said, “Yeah. We’re putting in for another stop sign, but we’ll never make it to a traffic light. Grand says there was a time you could lay down in the middle of First Street at one in the afternoon right in front of the movie theater and not have to worry about anyone coming along to run you over.”
Parker laughed. “We got traffic lights. And maybe ten thousand people. And you lay down in the middle of the street, a logging truck’d probably run over you.”
“Way bigger than here,” Becca acknowledged.
“It’s all relative,” Parker said. And then to Seth, “This place’ll be great.” And to Becca, “Thanks for sharing the bathroom. I’ll stay out of your way much as I can.” And back to Seth, “I totally appreciate it, man. And Triple Threat too.”
Because they will see they all will see and if they don’t . . . the girls’re gonna go bananas but a permanent fiddler’s got to be told Becca that they were close to being finished entirely with the topic of Nelson, which she couldn’t let happen.
“Around here everyone pretty much knows everyone, don’t they, Seth?” Becca said.
Seth shot her a look that said “Huh?” as well as if he’d said it aloud.
Becca added, “Is that how it is in Nelson?” to Parker.
“S’pose,” Parker said. He went over to the cot and tested it. He looked out of the window and worked its crank to open and close it. He said, “Amazing,” to Seth. “You got some major talent.”
“I c’n build and play the guitar is all. When it comes to—”
“I got a cousin up there,” Becca said desperately. “Maybe you know her?”
“Maybe,” Parker said. “My family’s got a restaurant downtown. It’s been there pretty much forever and there’re slews of regulars. What’s her name?”
“Laurel Armstrong.” Becca knew it was an incredible risk, but she had to take it. Nelson was where her mom had been heading when she’d dropped Becca at the Mukilteo ferry for the ride over to Whidbey Island. But it was long past the time that her mom should have returned to claim her and to whisk her to her new life in British Columbia. Becca added, “Well, she’s my mom’s cousin really, so she’s a lot older than me, like in her forties?”
Parker smiled his dazzling smile. “Then I wouldn’t know her ’cause mostly I go for the younger feministas. What’s her name again?”
Becca said, “Laurel Armstrong,” although the truth of the matter was that, for all she knew, her mom had adopted another name.
“Never heard of her. Is she—”
Becca cut in. She couldn’t let a big deal be made of this. She said and tried to sound cheerful about it, “Oh. I just wondered, is all. Hey, want me to show you where the bathroom is? I mean, in the house. It’s next to my bedroom.”
Parker offered that smile again and said, “Sure.”
Becca tried to ignore the look Seth cast in her direction.
• • •
BUT SHE COULDN’T ignore his whispers on the way back to the house. He was throwing a ball for Gus to seem like someone occupied with his dog but all the time his mind was asking what’s the deal and maybe this was a ve-ry bad idea and I already made my peace with that dude and if Beck hooks up and on and on. Becca gritted her teeth. Soon enough they were back where they’d started, she’d shown Parker where the downstairs bathroom was, she’d said that she bet Seth’s grandpa wouldn’t mind if he brought some food inside to keep in the old fridge, and they were all back outside where Derric was still stacking firewood.
She could tell Seth was eager to get Parker out of there. She could tell that Derric was beginning to feel much the same. For his part Ralph Darrow seemed to be taking the temperature of things and finding it not quite what it should be. None of that seemed to matter at the moment, though. Becca was feeling pretty black about the Nelson conversation.
Perhaps Parker saw this. He was saying his goodbyes and talking about getting his stuff and bringing it to the tree house and setting the time for his return when he looked at her and added, “I check in with my parents pretty often. Next time I talk to them I’ll ask about your cousin. Laurel Armstrong, right?”
Becca didn’t look at anyone except Parker as she said, “That’s the name,” as quietly as possible.
But it wasn’t good enough. Derric looked her way. So did Ralph Darrow. One of them thought cousin and the other what the hell and it pretty much didn’t matter which was which.
TWELVE
While she’d been at the tree house, Derric and Ralph had made tons of progress, especially since Derric appeared to be working off a head of steam. He was stacking split logs like a reincarnated Abraham Lincoln.
His mind was running. When’s she going to start telling me . . . not now not now declared that he was arguing with himself. But the strength of his wanting a full story from her told Becca that they were both just postponing an inevitable Q&A. Ralph Darrow seemed to reach this same conclusion because he said, “I’ve had enough for today. So’ve you two. Let’s finish this later. Next week, next month, next year. Derric, a soda?”
Derric said, “No, thanks. I’m good, Mr. Darrow.”
Ralph said, “Well, I’m having me a rest,” and he strode back to the house. Generally in fine weather he took his rests on the porch. Today, however, he went inside.
Derric waited only a beat before asking, “So d’you want to tell me what’s going on?” His whispers continued. He knew it was irrational to be feeling what he was feeling, which was insecurity, but that was what he was feeling and like, why does she have to tell him and probably Seth . . . it’s all uneven and out of control. . . .
Becca grabbed the ear bud to put in her ear. He and she needed a level playing field, at least. She said, “Nothing’s going on.”
“So what was the deal with the tree house? Seth could have shown him. No way did you need to.”
“I wanted to tell him about the stove. I showed him how it works but—”
“Like Seth couldn’t do that?”
/> “But I forgot that there’s a tricky thing with the door. And you got to be careful how you bank it or it goes out by the morning. That’s what I wanted to show him.”
He stared at her. “You must think I’m an idiot.” He’d earlier removed a long-sleeved T-shirt he’d been wearing, and he went for this now and jerked it over his head.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“What’s with this cousin of yours that you never once ever mentioned to me?”
“Why would I mention her?”
“Why wouldn’t you? Is she some kind of secret?”
“Derric, this is stupid. It’s not like you do any mentioning of relatives.”
His face altered. He read a threat in her words. She hadn’t intended it that way, but the truth was that she knew his deepest secret while all the time she hid hers from him. He said, “Nice, Becca.”
He began to walk off. He started for the hill and its upward path that would take him to where he’d left the Forester. She went after him.
“Look,” she said. “You’ve got a bigger worry right now than whether I have some deep, dark secret cousin, okay?”
He stopped. “That’s supposed to mean what?”
“Rejoice.”
He looked around. It was a frantic look that told her once again he thought she was threatening him.
She put her hand on his arm and didn’t let him pull away. She said, “Derric, your dad asked me about her. When he was going to that meeting at the arts center with the fire chief, remember? He asked me if you’d told me about someone in your life called Rejoice because you’d been writing letters to her that you never mailed.”
His lips appeared dry. His mouth probably was, too. “What’d you tell him?”
“I said that I didn’t know, that maybe she was just a pretend person you’d been writing to if you hadn’t mailed the letters. But he looked like he believed that just the way he’d believe me if I told him you’d been using a Ouija board to do your homework.”
“And that was all?” He sounded formal and stiff and not like her Derric whom she loved beyond reason.
“Of course that was all. Look, this is eating you up. And it’s part of why you and I argue. You have to tell them the truth, Derric. You have to do it so you can be whole.”
At this, his face became so hard that it looked carved but Becca knew that beneath was a perfect soul and she wanted him to see this about himself and to understand it as well. He’d done something to someone that was inconceivable. But he wasn’t evil. He was just a kid.
“And what d’you suggest I tell them?” His voice was cold and as hard as his face. “That I left my baby sister in Africa? That I didn’t tell anyone she was my sister. That I let her forget it because she was too young to remember anyway and there were people who maybe wanted to adopt me and get me out of there and I wanted that, boy I really wanted that, Becca, and that I don’t know where Rejoice even is now or if she’s alive or dead because she could be dead, just like our parents she could be dead. AIDS or TB or a hundred other diseases. And d’you think I want to know if she is? Because . . .” He swung away from her. He started for the path.
Becca dashed after him and flung her arms around his waist, holding him in place, her head pressed to his back. She felt his broken breathing and the cry that tore through his throat.
“Let it go,” he said to her.
“I can’t,” she murmured. “Because neither can you.”
“Then let me go. We both know that I’m worthless.”
“You aren’t and I won’t. I won’t do that either.”
THIRTEEN
When Hayley Cartwright saw Tatiana Primavera at the farmers’ market on the following Saturday, she knew that trouble could be in the offing. For Tatiana saw her inside the family’s booth and waved gaily, calling out, “Stay there. I’ll be right back.” In her floppy hat and platform sandals, she headed toward the marimba band at the far end of the market. The music was lively, and it would probably keep the counselor occupied for a while. But she would be back soon or later, and Hayley knew she needed to use the time to get out of there.
As if sent by heaven, Isis Martin showed up in need of advice. She called Hayley over to the side of the Cartwrights’ booth and brought forth a silver ring with a turquoise stone planted on it.
She said, “I can’t decide. I think this is right for him, but is it, like, manly?”
Hayley looked at the ring. She knew the designer, an offbeat woman with magenta hair and very serious gold eye shadow. She was a Whidbey Island antique, but she knew her silver.
“Wow,” Hayley said when she took the ring in her hand. “Nice, Isis.”
“It’s a present,” she said. “I wasn’t sure about it. I mean, it looks guy-ish, don’t you think?”
“Sure. Is it Aidan’s birthday or something?”
“Aidan!” Isis laughed. “Not hardly. It’s for Brady. My boyfriend. God, Aidan’s made my life one enormous, hellacious disaster. The last thing I’d do is get a present for him. Like thank you for making us end up here in the middle of nowhere without even a Starbucks. As if.” And in a typical move that Hayley was becoming used to, Isis covered her mouth with her hand and said, “God! I’m sorry. Whidbey Island’s great. I’m an airhead. I just blah blah blah and in goes my foot. Anyway, I’ve got Brady’s ring—well, it’s not really his, because they don’t do rings at our school—and I wanted to send him something in return. Here, look.” She pulled a heavy gold chain from her neck, the same chain Hayley had admired the day they had met. Hayley hadn’t seen anything upon it earlier as the chain was long, and it left whatever pendant might be on it dangling within whatever top Isis happened to be wearing. But now she drew the chain out and on it like a pendant was a man’s large ring. It was white gold with a deep blue stone. “It’s his dad’s university ring, but he doesn’t wear it. So Brady figured he wouldn’t mind. Anyway, like I said, I want to get him a ring in return and I saw this one. What do you think?”
Hayley said it looked perfect to her. Isis stuffed the other ring back into her top. She said, “D’you know the time? C’n I look at your watch because . . . Damn damn damn. I’m s’posed to pick up Aidan! Hey, do you want to come? I got to bike with him to Maxwelton Beach. Grandam makes him run there from her house and back two times a day. Do not ask me why because she is just so weird. Only she doesn’t believe he’ll really do it, so I have to trail him on a bike to make sure. Can you come with me? I c’n take you home after. Hey, Mrs. Cartwright! Hi! Hi! C’n Hayley come with me for a while? The market’s almost over, isn’t it?”
Truth was that the market had two hours to go and although Brooke was there, helping out for once, she immediately began saying, “No fair! I don’t want to do this stupid work all alone! Come on, Mom. Hayley can’t go. And I’m hungry.”
But Julie Cartwright looked from Isis to Hayley and perhaps it was the possibility of a budding friendship and its benefits that she saw because she smiled and said, “You two go on. Brookie and I c’n handle things here.”
When Brooke cried out, “That is so totally—” the girls’ mom added, “But just today, Hayley. Okay?” She also said to Isis, “We can’t have this as a permanent arrangement.”
To which Isis replied, “Absolutely. You are a peach, Mrs. Cartwright.”
Hayley heard Brooke’s continued protests as she hurried out of the market in Isis Martin’s wake. It was a blessed escape, mostly from Tatiana Primavera.
• • •
IT TURNED OUT that Aidan Martin was skateboarding at South Whidbey Community Park. This was situated directly behind the high school, and it comprised acres of playing fields, a sweeping forest, and trails. In the midst of it a children’s playground had been built, a castle-and-fort structure with bridges and swings and walkways for inventive games. Just to the north of this was the concrete skateboard area, comp
lete with ramps and bowls and ridges.
Aidan was, Hayley thought, the best boarder she’d ever seen. She didn’t know the names of what he was doing, but they weren’t anything like she’d ever witnessed on the island. She said to Isis, “He’s really good.”
“Yeah, he got good in the last two years,” Isis replied. “Well, he had to do something. Aidan! We gotta get back to Grandam before she produces a cow.”
Oddly, Aidan stopped his boarding at once. He slapped hands with the four other boys—“Boy, they look like losers,” Isis muttered—and he came to his sister. He said, “You’re late, so you better be the one to explain.”
Isis said, “She’s probably, you know, occupied.” She said the last word with sly emphasis, adding, “Linda was s’posed to be coming over,” and told Hayley frankly, “That’s the grandam’s lesbian lover.”
They trooped to the car. Aidan climbed into the back, where he lit a cigarette. His sister said, “Aidan! Where the hell did you get—” and he said, “What?” like someone for whom this was business as usual. He added, “You want a hit or something?” and he laughed strangely, a high sound like a caught animal.
Isis glanced at Hayley and rolled her eyes. “Siblings.” She sighed.
“I hear you,” Hayley told her.
FOURTEEN
Nancy Howard’s place was on the same road as the high school and the community park, but many miles away: across the highway and on the far west side of Whidbey Island. To get there they coursed through Midvale Corner with its rich farmland. This altered soon enough to the spacious vistas of Maxwelton Valley and then to forest and a winding road, which ultimately opened up on the south end of an enormous body of water whose extreme low tide had given it its name: Useless Bay. Before reaching this water, Isis turned right off the road and took them up a narrow driveway. This bore a sign reading MAXWELTON ART, which was wood carved to depict hand-painted soaring bald eagles, breeching orcas, swimming salmon, and grazing deer.