All the Colors of the Dark — Chapter 81

81

They drove to the Castor River Shut-Ins, and through the lens of her Nikon Saint captured the pink granite. She bent her grandmother’s ear about the formation as they watched a Saint Bernard wade out toward plunge pools so beautiful Saint drained a whole roll of film before they even made it to whitewater.

And there her grandmother took her hand and the two crossed the flat path through the Amidon Memorial Conservation Area. In the hardwood forest Norma slowed a little.

“How much do I need to worry about you?”

Saint looked up at her grandmother, and she saw the worry lines, the watery blue eyes, the fine hair graying more each day.

She changed film and shot shortleaf pine and moss and scrub oak.

Beside lichen that glowed deep green her grandmother sighed.

“You can’t save him,” Norma said.

“I can.”

Saint aimed her camera at water so clear she would later see the shadow

of sculpin and smallmouth bass.

“Saint.”

Saint finally lowered her lens. “I’m okay, Grandma.”

“He leaves messages on our answering machine. Sometimes in the middle of the night. He rambles about a dream he’s had, a line he remembered the girl saying.”

“I told him he could. I’ll keep the tapes and one day they’ll lead me to her,” Saint said.

“Lead you to her? You’re…you don’t smile anymore. Not in the same way. His life isn’t yours.”

Saint drew a deep breath. “He’s my best…”

Norma looked on. “We’ll come back for the wildflowers in spring.”

“Why don’t you like him?”

Norma closed her eyes. Some said she was severe, the way she cut her hair shorter, the awkward way she wore her height. Her slender arms carried muscle, and when Saint was small she would ask if one day she would be tall and strong and Norma told her yes.

“When I…if I look at him now, like I looked at him then, I don’t see much the same, Saint. And I know he won’t…and for you I want everything. And I can’t be sorry for that.”

“It’s not fair,” Saint said, sudden, abrupt. She did not want to cry and tried with all she had. “I notice pebbles and things he might like. But he doesn’t like them anymore.”

Norma watched the rushing chutes. “I ran into Dr. Tooms in town. He said he sees you out there, watching his house. Sometimes late into the

evening.”

“He lied that night,” Saint said.

“He—”

“I heard a scream. I saw blood on his hands. And when Nix went back there, he’d washed them clean.”

“You got the man, Saint. You saved your friend’s life. You don’t owe—”

“It’s not about debt.”

“In two years you’ll go to college, and Christmas you’ll come back and I will still be driving the bus. But I’ll smile, each day I’ll smile when I think of you out there. And I’ll break a little when I think of Joseph, really I will.

But you’re mine. And he is not.”

“He doesn’t have anyone. He doesn’t have enough.”

“He’s running a fool’s errand. This girl isn’t real. I see it in Nix’s eyes, hell, I see it in your eyes.”

Saint gripped her camera tight. “I’ll find her for him.”

“And you’ll lose yourself in the process.”

They drove back in silence.

Outside the tall house Saint found the invitation that had been left in their mailbox.

Saint looked up and down the street like she expected someone to jump from the neighboring yards and reveal the joke.

“What is it?” Norma said, as she took to her chair and watched the fume of distant smokestacks.

“Misty Meyer is turning sixteen. There’s a party tonight.”

Norma did not mention the eleventh hour, but then Saint knew an

afterthought was still a thought.

“You’ll go,” Norma said.

“I don’t have a nice dress.”

“Joseph will be there.”

Saint shook her head though she did not know. Their time was now spent solely on the hunt.

“You’ll go, and if Joseph is there then I suppose you’ll remind him.”

Saint stared at the paper, at the fanciful lettering and the word cordially.

“Remind him of what?”

Norma took her small hand and gripped it tight. “That he didn’t lose everything when he was gone.”

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