SW01 - The Edge of Nowhere

  “What? Talk to those losers? Not hardly.”

  “No. I mean go into Saratoga Woods. Seth, I think we need to relive that day because we’re missing something and it’s right in front of us.”

  “What makes you think that?” he asked her.

  “Because answers always are,” she told him.

  * * *

  FORTY

  They needed Gus. If they were going to replay the day as it had occurred for the two of them, Gus had been part of it. Seth wasn’t sure how his grandfather was going to take his request for the return of the dog, though. So he left Becca at a place near the highway called Bayview Corner, a congregation of restored and repurposed buildings.

  He didn’t give her time to argue. Instead, he shoved open the car door and led her to a bigger-than-life chessboard fashioned out of a lawn between a group of clapboard shops and a gardening center. He pointed to a spot on the chessboard and said, “Knight to king’s bishop six. Wait there. I’ll be back with the dog.”

  She sank to the ground, where she leaned against one of the chessman. She said, “Don’t need my help?”

  “Not for this,” he told her.

  He cruised along and thought about what he would say to his grandfather. They’d parted well the last time they’d seen each other at Skajit Farmers’ Supply, but Ralph’s intention had been to speak with Hayley. Seth didn’t want his grandfather to think he was showing up to pump him for information about that encounter.

  He needn’t have worried about where to begin his conversation with Ralph, however. As he turned to drive up the hill to Ralph’s house, an oxidized red Mazda was coming toward him down the slope. He pulled to the side and saw, to his chagrin, that Mrs. Prince of the $2,100 bill at the Star Store was just leaving. She waved at him merrily and grinned and Seth waved back gamely. He wondered how Ralph had reacted to the news that his grandson had managed to screw up running the Star Store’s cash register. He could easily imagine Mrs. Prince’s words: “Ralph, I hate to ask, but can that boy even count?”

  Seth drove the rest of the way up the hill. When he descended to the house, he found Ralph standing at the kitchen counter with Gus sitting under the table. Ralph was leafing through a recipe book, a six-pack of beer on the counter next to him and Gus watching his every move, hoping food was going to be involved eventually.

  The dog yelped a greeting when he caught sight of Seth. He began to rise. Ralph said, “Cave, Gus,” as the Labrador started to come out from beneath the table, tail wagging furiously. Gus hesitated, his brown eyes going from Ralph to Seth to Ralph again. Ralph repeated, “Cave,” and the dog retreated back under the table, where he hunkered.

  “Pretty cool,” Seth said. “Can I say hi to him?”

  “Course you can. He’s your dog.”

  Seth bent under the table and put his cheek on Gus’s head. The tail swept the floor faster.

  Ralph slapped the recipe book closed. “Fran Prince tells me they got you on the cash register at the Star Store, favorite male grandchild.”

  Seth groaned. “I saw her leaving just now. I didn’t think she’d stop by and tell you, though. She must think I’m a dolt.”

  Ralph frowned. “Why?”

  “I charged her twenty-one hundred dollars for her order. She didn’t tell you?”

  “Nope.”

  “What was she doing here, then?”

  Ralph nodded toward the six-pack of beer. “She brought me that. Fixed her back door yesterday and damn fool woman thought she needed to give me a thank-you for it.”

  Seth said, “Oh.” He wondered what his life might be like if he stopped jumping to conclusions the moment he saw someone doing something. “Anyway, I was only on the register for about twenty minutes. They wouldn’t put me on it permanently. That’d just about drive them out of business.”

  Ralph didn’t answer at first. Instead, he stowed the beer in the refrigerator one bottle at a time, and Seth could tell by his expression that he was thinking hard. He finally said, “Enough of this. You come with me, Seth.”

  Seth thought, Uh-oh, but he followed his grandfather into the living room. Ralph went to a cabinet with open shelves crammed with books, framed photos, and keepsakes. He took from these shelves one of the pictures and a small wooden box.

  He said, “You look at these.”

  Seth said, “Grand, I just came by to ask—”

  “Oh hell, boy, I know you’re here for a reason. I didn’t fall off the truck this morning. But you and I have business to finish up and finishing that business begins with you looking at these.”

  Seth knew what they were, of course. The box was his first effort in wood, a crude container made in a summer craft class when he was between third and fourth grade. The picture was of him standing on the deck of the forest tree house, grinning proudly, a few years ago.

  Ralph said, “There’s knowing what you have in here”—he indicated his head—“and there’s also having the sense to use it. You’re a fine musician and an equally fine craftsman, Seth, and I’m damned if I’m going to watch you wishing your way into a state of failure because you think the rest of the world wants you to be something else. The world doesn’t care who you are, grandson. You’re the one who’s supposed to care about that.”

  He removed the box and photo from Seth’s hands and replaced them. He went back to the kitchen where he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, facing Seth who followed him. “So what’s up?” he asked.

  Seth sighed. He looked back into the living room, at the box replaced upon the shelf. He looked at that picture, too. He said, “I haven’t done one single thing to get a tutor for the GED.”

  “Now that’s a real problem, isn’t it?”

  “Considering I promised Mom and Dad . . . yeah, it’s a real problem.”

  “Figured out why yet?”

  “Why I don’t have a tutor?” Seth leaned against the counter, matching his grandfather’s posture. “I want to say because the whole GED thing is a load of crap. I’m a guitarist, and I’m a good guitarist. What difference does it make if I take the GED?”

  “That’s what you want to say, eh?” Ralph said. “Is the truth something different?”

  Seth blew out a breath. “I’m starting to think so.”

  “And?”

  “I’m scared I won’t pass. And I don’t want some tutor seeing how lame I am.”

  “Lame? For God’s sake. Consider that tree house.”

  “So I built a tree house,” Seth said. “So what? I couldn’t have done it without you standing there telling me where to pound the nails.”

  “That’s just the point, grandson. That’s how you learned. I set you loose in this forest now and tell you to find a spot and build another tree house, you think you could do it?”

  “Now I could. Sure.” Seth looked at his boots but what he saw was his grandfather’s point. He had to start somewhere in order to finish somewhere else. What he didn’t see, though, was how this applied to a test that would serve him nothing in his life.

  Ralph said, “I’m not going to disagree with you about whether that damn test is important or just one hell of a waste of time. That’s not really the issue.”

  “What is the issue then?”

  “It’s keeping the bargain you struck with your parents. You don’t do that, you’re going to keep feeling the way you’ve been feeling. I’ve been watching you thrash around for months now, Seth, and I got to tell you that until you finish doing what you promised to do, you’re going to keep thrashing. And all the Hayleys in the world—”

  “It’s not about Hayley, Grand.”

  “All the Hayleys in the world,” Ralph persisted, “are not going to make up for what you haven’t done to take care of business.”

  Ralph pushed away from the counter, then. He shoved his fists into the small of his back, and as Seth watched him do this, it came to him that his grandfather wasn’t a young man any longer. He wasn’t going to live forever. He saw then that it was all
about time and time was passing. His own time would pass as well.

  Ralph said, “This whole damn test? This tutor? Passing, failing, whatever? This is something you owe yourself. You promised your parents, true. But you keep the promises you make for yourself.”

  “I guess so.” Seth looked from his grandfather to Gus. The Lab was still patiently waiting beneath the table. Seth said, “Grand, c’n I have my dog back?”

  “Course you can, favorite male grandchild,” Ralph replied. “He’s your dog.”

  Seth pushed away from the counter as well. He said, “Come, Gus,” and the dog got to his feet. Seth said, “Grand, there’s one other thing.”

  “What’s that, Seth?”

  “You always call me ‘favorite male grandchild,’ and I like that. I do. But fact is, I’m your only male grandchild.”

  Ralph looked at him, blue eyes sparkling. He smiled. Then he laughed out loud. “Details,” he said. “Mere details, Seth.”

  * * *

  FORTY-ONE

  “I don’t know why we have to start with the motel.” Seth was idling the VW at the stop sign that marked the end of Sixth Street across from the Cliff Motel. “What’s the point? Nothing happened here. It was all in the woods.”

  Frigging . . . hates me . . . total bull . . . like Sean . . . told Becca he probably didn’t want to see Debbie Grieder, and she couldn’t blame him. But she said it was just a feeling she had. They needed to walk back through that day in order to see it from another angle, and the Cliff Motel was where the day had begun. In the backseat as she spoke, Gus whined and thumped his tail.

  Seth said, “At least that part’s the same. He whined all the way. He wanted a run.” He proceeded through the intersection and signaled for the turn into the motel’s parking lot. “How’re we going to do this without running into Mrs. Grieder?”

  “It’s one o’clock,” Becca said. “She’s still at her meeting. The kids are in school. We’ll be okay.”

  Seth pulled in and parked. He said, “Tell me we don’t have to dig up all those bulbs and replant them.”

  Becca laughed as she opened the car door. Before she could answer, though, Gus had shot through the opening. He’d seen a squirrel and he was barking like mad.

  Seth said, “Excellent way to begin.” He dashed after the Lab, yelling “Gus! Stay!” He disappeared around the side of the building.

  At that, the office door opened and Debbie Grieder stepped outside at the same moment as Becca noticed what she hadn’t seen before, which was Debbie’s SUV tucked along the side of the motel. Chloe came storming out right behind her shouting, “Is that Gus?” She ran off in the direction of the barking while Debbie stopped short at the sight of Becca.

  Thin . . . like Sean . . . oh God fractured the air but along with Gus’s barking and Chloe’s cries, Becca heard nothing more because Josh, too, came out of the motel, only in his case he stumbled and a hot water bottle that was strapped to his head by means of a scarf came loose, fell to the ground, and spilled, splashing water over his slippers.

  Becca went to him. She said, “Hey Josh, what happened to you?”

  “Earache,” he said. “Grammer says it’s an infection so I get to stay home and so does Chloe. How come you left?”

  Debbie said sharply, “Go back inside, Josh. The cold will make your ear hurt worse.”

  He looked from beneath his eyebrows at his grandmother. He said, “’Kay,” which told Becca that he truly didn’t feel well, so quickly cooperative was he.

  Becca got to her feet. Debbie observed her with lost so much weight . . . what that means the flittering message in her whispers. For Laurel, Becca thought, it would have been cause for celebration. For Debbie it meant something different. Debbie looked from Becca to the VW to the side of the building where Gus’s barking was coming from. As she did this, Seth came around the building with Chloe and Gus, but he slowed down at the sight of Debbie and he hustled the dog back into the car.

  Debbie said to Becca, “So it’s ended just like I warned you. I told you to keep clear from him. I told you it would lead to nothing good. Who’re you running from? His dealer?”

  Becca blinked in surprise. His dealer meant only one thing in this context. She said, “Seth’s been helping me.”

  “I’m sure that’s what he wants you to think. That’s what they always say. Meantime, what’s really going on is that you’re helping him. The only question is how. Want to tell me?”

  “It’s not whatever you’re thinking. Without Seth, I’d be—”

  “Without Seth you’d be here in room four-four-four. Without him, you’d be in school. Without him I wouldn’t be sick with worrying about where you are and what’s happened to you.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “Why’d you run off then? You must have known I’d worry.”

  Becca thought hard about what she could tell Debbie: what was safe and what was also true. She said, “Remember at the start when I needed a place to stay and a way to get into school and you helped me? And I was so grateful and you never asked me a single question? Well see, there were things I couldn’t tell you or anyone else, like where my mom is because I don’t know or why she left me here, which I do know but can’t explain because it wouldn’t make sense. I mean, part of it would but a big part wouldn’t. See, she told me to find a friend of hers only the friend had just died when I got there and I couldn’t get my mom on her cell phone to tell her that. So I ended up going to the AA building where I met you but when the police came here that night, I had to run away because—”

  “Wait. Wait.” Debbie scratched her badly scarred forehead. She dug in her pocket and brought out her cigarettes. Before she lit one, she said, “What police came here? When?”

  “The undersheriff came when I was outside with Josh and Chloe. That time I showed them the orcas? I couldn’t let him take me away, Debbie. Especially not in front of them.”

  “Are you talking about Dave Mathieson?”

  Becca nodded. “I figured someone must’ve reported me. He was looking for me anyway because of my cell phone and where I had to leave it. I figured that if he found out that my mom had left me on the island—”

  Debbie blew out a lungful of smoke. She said, “You thought Sheriff Mathieson was here at the motel because of you?” and she put a hand to her forehead. Then she said to Chloe, “Darlin’, you go inside and see if Josh’s all right.”

  “But I want to play with Gus and Becca,” Chloe protested.

  “I’ll come back and play later,” Becca told her. “I promise.”

  The little girl shuffled to the door, albeit reluctantly. When it had closed behind her, Debbie said, “Becca . . . the undersheriff wasn’t here for you that night. He’s got . . . He does some other business at the motel from time to time with someone else. That’s all.”

  Becca frowned. “What business?”

  Seth coughed loudly. Debbie glanced his way. Knew it . . . life is . . . went between them, and from that look they shared and out of Debbie’s whispers came a fleeting memory of something Becca had seen: Tatiana Primavera’s fingers on the undersheriff’s arm in the commons that day. The undersheriff’s fingers interlocking with hers. So quick had the gesture been, it would have meant nothing by itself. But like so many other occurrences on this island, it did not stand alone.

  Becca said, “Oh.”

  Debbie said to her, “It was never about you, that night. Later on he came back, when I reported you missing. But that night? You were the farthest thing from his mind. So where did you go?”

  “I went to find Seth. He helped me. Like before.”

  “‘Like before?’”

  “He was the one who told me to find you at that meeting up Second Street where I met you. He said if I went and waited there, you’d find me. He told me you’d help me. He said you always help people.”

  “Seth said that?” When Becca nodded, Debbie looked at Seth and kept looking at him while she said, “He d
idn’t hurt you? He didn’t bother you? He didn’t . . . give you anything? Or encourage you to . . . do something?”

  “Like what?”

  Debbie looked back at Becca, studying her. She said, “Like drugs. Like weed. Like pills. Like meth. Like anything. He didn’t give you anything?”

  Becca shook her head. Then she added, “Except camping equipment and some food.”

  Debbie murmured, “God.” Then she said, “He’s been taking care of you? He’s given you a place to stay?”

  “Yeah. I mean, he’s my friend.”

  Debbie seemed to droop with all the information she’d been given. She was like a woman who’d been loaded up with bricks to carry upon her shoulders. Sponsor . . . wrong . . . what sort of fourth were a few of her whispers but they seemed to combine with others about Sean . . . years of his life . . . what’s it really, and even these were clogging the air with others that seemed to come from Seth because they dealt with time for people to stop thinking . . . how stuff looks . . . Sean but not me . . . until Becca could bear no more. She fumbled for the AUD box, brought it out, plugged it into her ear.

  Debbie said, “The kids have missed you, Becca.”

  “I’ll come back and see them.”

  “What about school?”

  “I’ve been keeping up with the work, sort of. I’ll be going back.”

  “Want to tell me when?”

  “Really soon. I hope.”

  “What’s this all about, then? D’you want to tell me? Either one of you?”

  Becca shot a glance at Seth who made a gesture of lifting his hands and dropping them, telling Becca it was all up to her. Becca said to Debbie, “I’ll tell you, only not right now. Right now Seth and I have to go to Saratoga Woods. We had to stop here first because that’s what happened the day that Derric fell.”

  “Everything started that damn day, didn’t it?” Debbie said.

  Becca considered this. She saw it was only partly true. “Most things,” she agreed, but then she added, “Not everything, though. That’s how I figure it.”