daughter. If she loved him and he was good to her, she might actually be happier in the care of an easygoing drifter than she had been with a strict and demanding mother. More minutes passed.
Then Karen said, “Turn here.”
Rob obeyed immediately, pressing his foot to the brake and giving the steering wheel a quick twist to put the car onto a dirt road that was actually more of a hiking trail.
Immediately, they seemed to have left civilization behind them. Brush rose high on either side, cutting off the view of the highway, and branches reached out to claw at the fenders. Leaves flopped against the windshield, and the wheels spun and slid through mud-filled ruts.
“You’re sure this is the turnoff you were thinking about?” Rob asked doubtfully. “It’s just an access to the river. It’s probably a dead end.”
“That’s where we want to go,” Karen said. “To the water.” She didn’t know it until she said it out loud.
They continued to inch their way along as the trail woundfurther into the undergrowth. Eventually, as Rob had predicted, it terminated at the river, breaking through the brush and emerging into a sunlit hollow filled with wildflowers. Daisies bloomed there in abundance, thrusting white-fringed heads triumphantly through matted, winter-browned grasses. Scattered among them, assorted other blossoms darted out in unexpected places. Birds were singing, not chirping and calling, but trilling happily, and the gurgle of the rushing river was as joyous as human laughter.
The place was beautiful. And it was terrible.
Karen did not want to be there.
“You were right,” she said. “It’s just a dead end with nothing here. Let’s go back.”
Rob shook his head. “There must be some reason you wanted to come here.”
“There’s nothing to see.”
“There might be. We’ll never know unless we take a look.”
Without giving her time to respond, he shut off the engine and opened the door on the driver’s side. The chorus of bird voices became louder and the sound of the river more uproarious.
Karen’s head began to throb.
“I don’t feel good,” she whispered. “I want to go home.”
“I know.” Rob’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “The truth is, kid, I don’t feel so hot myself.”
“Please, can we leave?”
“I’m afraid not. Not until we check it out.”
Karen opened the door on her own side and got out slowly. Her legs felt weak, and her stomach was churning.
Was it possible that a short time ago she had actually felt like eating? Now the mere idea of food was revolting to her.
The sun was warm on her arms and the back of her neck, yet she found that she was shivering uncontrollably.
“Where to now?” Rob asked softly.
Karen gestured blindly off to the right toward a path that led along the riverbank. Rob took a step in that direction and then turned back and reached for her hand. Numbly, Karen let him take and hold it. To her surprise, she found that his was trembling.
After another few steps, their eyes were caught by a metallic glitter at the hollow’s edge. It was the chrome handlebars of a child’s bicycle, which had been carefully propped against the trunk of a giant cottonwood.
“Is it hers?” Karen asked.
“I can’t be sure. It’s the right size.”
“It’s new,” Karen said. “You can tell that by looking at it. The paint doesn’t have any scratches.”
“On our way back I’ll stop and check out the serial number.”
He released her hand so that they could walk in single file on the narrowing trail. It twisted away from the river to maneuver around a tree trunk and then dipped abruptly to a pebble-covered beach. Flat rocks, black and gleaming, extended into the river and broke the stream of the current so that itswirled chaotically around them, tossing froth about like confetti.
On the beach, set well back from the water, lay a pair of small sandals.
“You can go back to the car now, Karen,” Rob said.
She heard him, but
Then Karen said, “Turn here.”
Rob obeyed immediately, pressing his foot to the brake and giving the steering wheel a quick twist to put the car onto a dirt road that was actually more of a hiking trail.
Immediately, they seemed to have left civilization behind them. Brush rose high on either side, cutting off the view of the highway, and branches reached out to claw at the fenders. Leaves flopped against the windshield, and the wheels spun and slid through mud-filled ruts.
“You’re sure this is the turnoff you were thinking about?” Rob asked doubtfully. “It’s just an access to the river. It’s probably a dead end.”
“That’s where we want to go,” Karen said. “To the water.” She didn’t know it until she said it out loud.
They continued to inch their way along as the trail woundfurther into the undergrowth. Eventually, as Rob had predicted, it terminated at the river, breaking through the brush and emerging into a sunlit hollow filled with wildflowers. Daisies bloomed there in abundance, thrusting white-fringed heads triumphantly through matted, winter-browned grasses. Scattered among them, assorted other blossoms darted out in unexpected places. Birds were singing, not chirping and calling, but trilling happily, and the gurgle of the rushing river was as joyous as human laughter.
The place was beautiful. And it was terrible.
Karen did not want to be there.
“You were right,” she said. “It’s just a dead end with nothing here. Let’s go back.”
Rob shook his head. “There must be some reason you wanted to come here.”
“There’s nothing to see.”
“There might be. We’ll never know unless we take a look.”
Without giving her time to respond, he shut off the engine and opened the door on the driver’s side. The chorus of bird voices became louder and the sound of the river more uproarious.
Karen’s head began to throb.
“I don’t feel good,” she whispered. “I want to go home.”
“I know.” Rob’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “The truth is, kid, I don’t feel so hot myself.”
“Please, can we leave?”
“I’m afraid not. Not until we check it out.”
Karen opened the door on her own side and got out slowly. Her legs felt weak, and her stomach was churning.
Was it possible that a short time ago she had actually felt like eating? Now the mere idea of food was revolting to her.
The sun was warm on her arms and the back of her neck, yet she found that she was shivering uncontrollably.
“Where to now?” Rob asked softly.
Karen gestured blindly off to the right toward a path that led along the riverbank. Rob took a step in that direction and then turned back and reached for her hand. Numbly, Karen let him take and hold it. To her surprise, she found that his was trembling.
After another few steps, their eyes were caught by a metallic glitter at the hollow’s edge. It was the chrome handlebars of a child’s bicycle, which had been carefully propped against the trunk of a giant cottonwood.
“Is it hers?” Karen asked.
“I can’t be sure. It’s the right size.”
“It’s new,” Karen said. “You can tell that by looking at it. The paint doesn’t have any scratches.”
“On our way back I’ll stop and check out the serial number.”
He released her hand so that they could walk in single file on the narrowing trail. It twisted away from the river to maneuver around a tree trunk and then dipped abruptly to a pebble-covered beach. Flat rocks, black and gleaming, extended into the river and broke the stream of the current so that itswirled chaotically around them, tossing froth about like confetti.
On the beach, set well back from the water, lay a pair of small sandals.
“You can go back to the car now, Karen,” Rob said.
She heard him, but
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