Deep Betrayal

chapter 17

PREPARATION



I came through the front door of the house, wondering what Mom and Dad would say about the camping trip. I didn’t think camping on an island was going to sound like a good idea to Dad. That is, if he was home to cast a vote. Either way, Mom was my best bet. If she said yes, Dad wouldn’t rule against her. He couldn’t afford to get on her bad side any more than he already was.

“Mom?” I called, letting the screen door slam behind me.

“Back here, hon.” Her voice traveled through the house, sounding garbled.

I found her in the back room. She’d pulled her wheelchair up to a giant canvas, which was set on one of several easels. Her mangled tubes of paint and various-sized brushes were arranged on a TV tray to her right.

Instantly, I saw why her voice sounded weird. She was holding her paintbrush in her mouth and leaning forward into the canvas. The sight choked up a strangled sob in my throat. When had the MS got so bad that she couldn’t hold a brush? Had she been doing this for a while? Why hadn’t I noticed?

“Mom?” I asked, my voice wobbling.

She reached up and retrieved the paintbrush from her mouth and dabbed it in a glob of burnt sienna.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Your hands?” I asked, hoping she understood the question without me saying more.

She looked at her paintbrush, then looked at me. “Oh, honey, they’re fine. I was experimenting.”

“Why?” I asked, with barely any sound.

“Just in case I need some options later,” she said. “It’s good to be prepared.”

I wanted to crawl into her lap. I wondered if I could make myself fit. I wondered if she’d let me try. She laid her brush down on the palette and swiveled her wheelchair away from the easel.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“You scared me. I don’t want you not to be able to paint.”

She laughed. “Me neither, which is why I was practicing with a new technique before I really need it.” She gave me a sympathetic look and wheeled closer. I knelt in front of her and she brushed my hair with her hand.

“Life’s short, babe. If I want something, I make it happen. You should, too. How’s your poetry coming? You haven’t shared any with me in a while.”

“Jules says there’s no money in poetry.”

“Jules is probably right, but why should that stop you? I’m just saying when you figure out what you want to be, go for it. Carpe diem and all that.”

“I’m going to be a scientist,” Sophie said, sneaking in behind me. “And a fashion designer.”

“You see,” Mom said.

“And a bareback rider in the Shrine Circus?” I asked her.

“Maybe,” Sophie said. “But only if you’ll be my horse.”

I dropped to my hands and knees. Sophie climbed onto my back.

“Well,” Mom said, “I meant it when I said be whatever you want to be, but I think you’ll have to draw the line at switching species.”

That pulled me up short, and Sophie tumbled off me.

Mom laughed and went back to her painting. “Okay, fine. I’ll stick to what I said, but you’ll have to work especially hard if you want to be a horse when you grow up.”

“Hey, Mom, would it be okay if I went camping with Gabby tonight?”

“Gabby camps?” With the paintbrush held between her teeth, she dabbed the bristles against the canvas. “She doesn’t strike me as the camping type.”

“Some of her friends are going, too,” I said.

Mom turned back to face me, the paintbrush dangling from the corner of her mouth like a long cigarette. “Friends as in boys?”

I twisted a lock of hair around my finger and examined it for split ends. “Some of her friends might be boys.”

She took the paintbrush from her mouth and pointed it at me. “Have you asked your dad about it?”

“I haven’t seen him. Not for a while, actually.” I wished I could take it back. Mom’s look of surprise turned to pain. Silently counting out the days in my head, I tried to remember when I’d seen Dad last. Five days ago? A week? I smiled weakly. “So can I go?”

She sighed and refocused on her painting. “If Martin’s letting Gabby go, I guess it’s okay.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I pecked her cheek and ran for the front door. I found Calder sitting at the end of our dock.

“Hey, you!” I called. He turned and waved. “You never got your coffee this morning.”

“Professional hazard,” he said. “Unexpected exits.”

“Were you going to let me know you were out here?” I asked, taking a seat beside him on the dock.

“I’m watching your dad. He’s truly amazing. I don’t think there’s anything more for me to teach him. See?” He pointed and I caught the flash of a dark shape in the water. You had to know what you were looking for to see it. I wondered if Jack was out there right now, looking.

I waved at Dad in a big sweeping, overhead gesture. He stared at me blankly, then dove.

“A black tail?” I asked. I don’t know why, but I assumed he’d be silver like Calder.

“Same as Maris’s,” he said. “He’s just as fast, too. He takes off on me all the time, and unless he stops, I have no chance of catching up. He’s good at this, Lily. Maybe too good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s getting harder and harder to convince him the day is over. You said he’s barely been home? When’s the last time you talked to him?”

I didn’t answer and Calder nodded, saying, “That’s what I thought. So, I’m still planning on that concentrated time together that we talked about, but first, I promised him we’d take another stab at finding Maris.”

A few days ago, this news would have thrown me into a solid funk. But things had changed. Although the idea of Maris and Dad in close proximity still made my heart race, I was actually excited for some more private time to continue my breath control experiments. So far I’d succeeded in holding my breath for a solid four minutes, but I was pretty sure I could make it to five.

“That’s probably smart,” I said. “Judging by Jack this morning, he’s not doing any better.”

“Yeah.” Calder picked at some loose strings on the edge of his shorts. “You’re doing it again, y’know.”

“Doing what?”

“Giving a chameleon a helluva run for his money. You’re changing colors as fast as someone flipping through a book.”

“Shut up.”

He glanced at me, and the bridge of his nose crinkled. “Excitement, anxiety, excitement, anxiety, back and forth, back and forth. I could handle that, except for the little bit of fear that keeps leaking in.”

“You have a very, very active imagination.” I gave him a shove. He didn’t budge.

“I’ll miss you,” he said. “Don’t forget that. I’ll be thinking about you every minute I’m gone.”

“Good,” I said, smiling encouragingly. “Now go. Dad’s waiting. And tell him it wouldn’t hurt to spend some more time around the house. For Mom.”

“You know I have been. But there’s something more you wanted to tell me?”

I’d almost forgotten. “I’m going camping on Manitou Island tonight, and I have no idea what kind of trouble I’m going to get into.”

“None,” he said. “I’ll see you there.” Then he pulled away, a worried expression still playing in his eyes.

“Go,” I said, standing up. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“Just stay on land,” he said.

I gave him a salute and clicked my heels. He shook his head and dove.

When Calder and Dad disappeared from view, I turned back toward the house. Sophie was watching from her bedroom window, looking down at me. I waved feebly. Had she seen Dad?

I didn’t take the time to find out. I ran to the house and dug in the kitchen junk drawer until I came up with an old stopwatch Dad used back when he used to coach track. It was pretty basic by today’s standards. But it would do the trick.

I had my own training to do.