there was no way that she could have moved from the spot on which she was planted. Her eyes were riveted on the shoes.
They came from Kmart.
The knowledge was as absolute as though she had been there at the time of their purchase. She knew those shoes. She could feel the metal buckles in her fingers as the child who owned them struggled to get them open. The right one came easily, but the left was harder. She gave it a quick, impatient jerk, and the flimsy, imitation leather strap came loose from the sole.
Dios mio!
Mama would be mad about that! “Shoes do not grow on trees!” she would say, because that was what she always said. “Shoes cost money! If that father of yours would send some support money—” But he bought me a bicycle! “You need a bike like you need a hole in your head. You need school clothes!” School is almost over. I won’t need school clothes in the summer!
Karen closed her eyes in a frantic attempt to shut out the scene, but it would not leave her. If anything, it seemed to intensify. She could feel the jagged pebbles beneath the soles of winter-tender feet. Water splashed, cold, upon her ankles.
How lovely it was now, in springtime! In another six weeks or so the river would grow shallow and tepid, oozing dutifully along its well-wornroute, pausing at extended intervals to languish, heavy and motionless, stultified by the heat of the blazing summer sun. It was no fun then. It was boring. Not like today, when it surged young and wild and filled with spirit.
The mud squished deliciously between her toes. The water was like liquid ice. Her feet were becoming numb, but that was all right; that was part of the adventure. The current was stronger than she had anticipated. Her jeans were getting wet now. She had rolled them up to her knees, but one of the pant legs kept slipping down. If she shoved them both higher, maybe she could make it all the way out to the largest of the rocks without getting sopping wet. In the summer that particular rock stuck up a good ten inches above the water, but today it could barely be seen above the surface.
She wondered if her bike was all right, sitting back there in the clearing all by itself. Perhaps she should go back and check on it. The path was so narrow, she had been afraid to wheel the bike along it for fear the bushes would scratch the paint. But, then, who was there to steal it?
Nobody ever came here except for her. Nobody knew about this special, private wading spot—not her mama, not her school friends, not anybody.
When I grow up, I will have my husband build our house here. I will take our children wading—
“Karen, stop it!” Strong hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her fiercely. “Open your eyes! You’ve got to come out of it! You can’t do this to yourself!”
“She fell,” Karen whispered. “Off the big rock. She was bending over, trying to get the legs of her jeans pulled up. The rock was slippery—”
“Open your eyes!”
She did, and the glare of the sun struck her full in the face like an electric shock. Its brilliance exploded upon her, shattering the vision.
“She fell,” Karen repeated. “I saw her fall.”
“I know. I believe you.” Rob’s face was pale. “I
saw
you seeing her. You looked like… like you were going to fall over or something.”
“Can we go home now?” Karen asked him.
“Sure,” Rob said. “Sure we can.” He released his grip on her shoulders but kept his hands poised at either side of them, as though afraid she might not be able to keep her balance. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” Karen said.
“Do you want to sit down?”
“Not here. I want to get out of here.”
“We’ll leave in one minute. First, I’ve got to get the shoes.”
He left her standing on the path while he scrambled down the short, steep incline to the beach. He bent to pick up the sandals, and when he straightened and turned, Karen was not surprised to see that the strap of the left one had been
They came from Kmart.
The knowledge was as absolute as though she had been there at the time of their purchase. She knew those shoes. She could feel the metal buckles in her fingers as the child who owned them struggled to get them open. The right one came easily, but the left was harder. She gave it a quick, impatient jerk, and the flimsy, imitation leather strap came loose from the sole.
Dios mio!
Mama would be mad about that! “Shoes do not grow on trees!” she would say, because that was what she always said. “Shoes cost money! If that father of yours would send some support money—” But he bought me a bicycle! “You need a bike like you need a hole in your head. You need school clothes!” School is almost over. I won’t need school clothes in the summer!
Karen closed her eyes in a frantic attempt to shut out the scene, but it would not leave her. If anything, it seemed to intensify. She could feel the jagged pebbles beneath the soles of winter-tender feet. Water splashed, cold, upon her ankles.
How lovely it was now, in springtime! In another six weeks or so the river would grow shallow and tepid, oozing dutifully along its well-wornroute, pausing at extended intervals to languish, heavy and motionless, stultified by the heat of the blazing summer sun. It was no fun then. It was boring. Not like today, when it surged young and wild and filled with spirit.
The mud squished deliciously between her toes. The water was like liquid ice. Her feet were becoming numb, but that was all right; that was part of the adventure. The current was stronger than she had anticipated. Her jeans were getting wet now. She had rolled them up to her knees, but one of the pant legs kept slipping down. If she shoved them both higher, maybe she could make it all the way out to the largest of the rocks without getting sopping wet. In the summer that particular rock stuck up a good ten inches above the water, but today it could barely be seen above the surface.
She wondered if her bike was all right, sitting back there in the clearing all by itself. Perhaps she should go back and check on it. The path was so narrow, she had been afraid to wheel the bike along it for fear the bushes would scratch the paint. But, then, who was there to steal it?
Nobody ever came here except for her. Nobody knew about this special, private wading spot—not her mama, not her school friends, not anybody.
When I grow up, I will have my husband build our house here. I will take our children wading—
“Karen, stop it!” Strong hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her fiercely. “Open your eyes! You’ve got to come out of it! You can’t do this to yourself!”
“She fell,” Karen whispered. “Off the big rock. She was bending over, trying to get the legs of her jeans pulled up. The rock was slippery—”
“Open your eyes!”
She did, and the glare of the sun struck her full in the face like an electric shock. Its brilliance exploded upon her, shattering the vision.
“She fell,” Karen repeated. “I saw her fall.”
“I know. I believe you.” Rob’s face was pale. “I
saw
you seeing her. You looked like… like you were going to fall over or something.”
“Can we go home now?” Karen asked him.
“Sure,” Rob said. “Sure we can.” He released his grip on her shoulders but kept his hands poised at either side of them, as though afraid she might not be able to keep her balance. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” Karen said.
“Do you want to sit down?”
“Not here. I want to get out of here.”
“We’ll leave in one minute. First, I’ve got to get the shoes.”
He left her standing on the path while he scrambled down the short, steep incline to the beach. He bent to pick up the sandals, and when he straightened and turned, Karen was not surprised to see that the strap of the left one had been
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