Find Wonder In All Things (2 page)

Stuart steered the runabout this way and that, slicing through the blue-green water. It had been a dry summer, and the water level was low, encircling the lake with bare, muddy walls. Tangled trees and brush-covered rocks jutted out above those walls like tall buildings looming over city streets. The children rode about a half mile out and then around a bend, so Elliot’s Marina was now out of sight. The lake was relatively deserted on that weekday morning, and they met only a few die-hard fishermen along the way. James held up a hand to them in greeting as they passed each other, and the men waved back. Most everyone on the lake knew the Elliot girls on sight because of their father’s three-season marina — and their Eastern Kentucky red hair.

Stuart slowed the motor as they approached their destination: an old railroad tunnel carved through the hill many years ago. The boys leapt out right before they hit land, the soft silt of the lake bottom squishing around their boat shoes. After they had the boat situated, the girls climbed out, and the four of them stood looking at the tunnel.

The weathered stone made a perfectly round opening in the hill even after long years of exposure to wind and water. The lake — now the life’s blood of the community — had been man-made in the 1950’s as a source of energy, drowning both the railway tunnel floor and the little town that was once nestled in the valley between the two hills.

“I’ll go first,” Virginia volunteered. “Laurel, you stay right behind me.”

“I’ll bring up the rear,” Stuart answered. He straightened his shoulders and put a little swagger in his voice. “Just to make sure everyone makes it okay.”

Virginia smiled at him, and James rolled his eyes. Stu had developed this icky tendency to want to play hero of late. Did he have to point out that he was the tallest and strongest of the four of them? Wasn’t it pretty obvious to everyone?

The older girl began her ascent up the bank. It was only a couple of feet, but still it was steep enough to require using all four limbs. Virginia grabbed hold of rocks and tree roots, patiently giving directions to her sister just behind her. After a minute or two, they were all standing by the tunnel’s entrance, peering into the darkness.

“Can you really find people’s dishes and furniture and stuff?” James wasn’t convinced that this little trip wasn’t a fool’s errand.

“Yes.” Laurel’s nod was emphatic. “We’ve found all kinds of things — clocks and silverware — and once we found the steering wheel of an old car. What kind did Daddy say it was, Ginny?”

“Model T,” Virginia replied. “But it probably came from the dump. People didn’t leave their cars in town when the Corps of Engineers flooded it. They packed everything up and moved the whole town up to the plateau.”

“There was a graveyard though,” Laurel went on, “and some people say they’ve found old coffins in the lake. Stuff gets caught in this tunnel when the floor is under water.”

James looked at her. “Coffins? Really?”

“Oh, Laurel. That’s just tall tales those men tell when they come up to the cabin to buy . . . supplies.” Virginia cast a quick glance at the boys and turned back around.

“Virginia, we all know your dad sells beer on the sly.” James had heard the Pendletons talk about how Mr. Elliot ran a small bootlegging operation out of his cabin up the hill from the marina. Most counties in that area of the state were dry — had been for as long as anyone could remember — but it didn’t stop people from drinking when they vacationed on the lake, and bootlegging was a profitable practice.

Virginia and Laurel exchanged looks but didn’t reply. The local law enforcement looked the other way regarding their dad’s little operation, but outright admitting that he sold contraband was still not a good idea.

Stu gallantly changed the subject. “What I’d like to find are some Indian arrowheads. Have you ever found any of those, Virginia?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t, but some kids say they found arrowheads around here when they were hiking.”

Stuart retrieved a flashlight from his cargo shorts’ pocket and shone it into the tunnel to light their way. The other two big kids took his lead and brought out their own lights.

“We can’t go in too far,” Virginia called, her voice echoing in the tunnel. “It’s blocked up with rocks and stuff.” In the quiet that settled over them, James could hear the drip, drip of water, like the ticking of the Tell-Tale Heart he read about in seventh-grade English class. He put his hand against the wall, feeling the cool, rough concrete under his fingers. The bottom of the tunnel was still muddy from ground water and rain, and in some places, it was slick with moss. He crept forward, taking care not to slip and fall.

Suddenly, James heard a blood-curdling scream from in front of him. He heard Virginia call in a panicked voice, “Laurel? What is it?”

“It’s bones — lots of bones! They must have fallen out of a coffin!”

“What? Oooh, cool — I wanna see.” Stuart backtracked with his flashlight trained on the ground. James hurried to catch up. Laurel stood, pointing, and he shone his light down where she indicated. Indeed, there were bones there — a pile of skinny bones, about six to ten inches in length.

“These can’t be human,” James scoffed. “They’re too little. It’s just some animal, Laurel. Kids!” He huffed, half in annoyance, half in relief. The idea of finding human bones didn’t appeal to him the same way it did to Stu. “You’ve been listening to too many old fishermen’s stories.”

She lifted her chin in defiance. “Well, how was I supposed to know? I’ve never seen a real human skeleton before.”

“There’s something over here.” Stu’s light disappeared in front of him although the soft glow still showed his silhouette near the wall of the tunnel. James heard him kicking debris around. There was a clatter of metal against stone and the rustle of movement. The light descended almost to the ground. The others came up to stand around him and help him look.

“It’s nothing — just some beer cans, some torn plastic something or other.” His disappointment was obvious.

Virginia laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll keep looking.”

Another twenty minutes of searching, however, revealed only more tin cans, a bottle or two, some rusted fishing lures and a bucket.

“I’m going back outside,” James announced. He was tired of the damp darkness, and there was nothing interesting about this tunnel anyway — well, except for the fact that trains used to go through it and now it was under water for part of the year.

“I’m coming too,” Laurel piped up.

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Virginia called. “James, will you watch after Laurel?”

The younger sister snorted and muttered under her breath, “I’m not a baby.”

James smiled to himself; he had said the same thing many times. That’s what you said when you were the baby.

“My big sister is the same way,” he told Laurel.

“You have a sister too?”

“Yeah, she’s 17.”

“How come she never comes with you down here?”

“I come with Stu’s family. There’s no one her age in their family for her to hang out with. She’s too cool now to hang out with middle-schoolers.”

“Oh.”

They walked on in silence, picking their way over the rocks and debris on the tunnel floor. The sunlight from the entrance cast a welcome light on their surroundings.

“What about your mom and dad?”

“Dad can’t get off work, so they can’t come — and . . . ”

“Yes?”

“And my parents can’t afford a boat like the Pendletons’. My dad is a CPA.”

“What’s a CPA?”

“An accountant — he writes up people’s taxes and sends them to the government.” He went on after she didn’t reply. “Stu’s dad is president of a company that makes advertisements.”

Laurel’s face was a complete blank.

“You know, advertisements, commercials, billboards — that kind of thing.”

She nodded, but he still wasn’t sure she grasped the concept. He found that he rather liked the role of ‘older kid,’ explaining all about the world to an eager little girl with big blue eyes. He and Stu were the same age, but Stu had been so many more places and done so many things that he was the one explaining the world to James most of the time.

He turned back around and made his way to the mouth of the tunnel, switched off his light and stood, staring out over the green water and the darker green hills surrounding it. A humid haze blurred and muted the outlines of the trees, and a thick heaviness filled the morning air. The sound of cicadas rose and fell in a lazy rhythm.

“You wanna wait here or climb down?” he asked.

“Wait here, I guess. They won’t find anything in there. Virginia said she told Stuart as much, but he still wanted to come, so she came with him.”

“Hmmph.”

“She likes Stuart a lot, so she’ll go along, even if she knows it’s stupid.”

James said nothing.

“I left with you because I think she wants him to kiss her.”

James turned around to look at Laurel, alarmed. He threw an involuntary glance back at the tunnel. “Nuh-uh.”

“What’s the matter? Doesn’t he want to kiss her?”

“I don’t know,” James replied, annoyed. “He probably does.”

“She says now that she’s thirteen, it’s time for somebody to kiss her, and he’s a good choice.”

James had no idea how to respond to that, so he stayed silent.

“Boys like Virginia. I think it’s because she’s beautiful and tall and thin, but Daddy says it’s because her soul draws people and makes them feel comfortable.”

James decided that girls thought about the strangest things.

“Do you like Virginia?”

He shrugged and looked off in the distance. “She’s okay — for a girl.”

There was another long silence, which Laurel finally broke.

“A bunch us are gonna play Kick the Can up by the cottages later. You wanna play with us?”

“Maybe.”

“I can’t play tomorrow because Daddy’s taking me and the boys to the Appalachian craft fair.”

“Really?”

“I told him I want to be an artist, so we’re going to look at different kinds of arts and crafts. But the boys don’t care about that stuff. They just want to eat funnel cake.”

“Hmm.”

“What do you like to do?” she inquired politely.

He grinned. “I like to eat funnel cake.”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “No, that’s not what I mean.”

“I know. Let’s see — I like to play dodge ball, and I’m a good runner, so I’m going to try out for the track team when school starts. And I like to read comic books and play cards. And I wanna learn to play the guitar.”

“Ooh, playing the guitar — that sounds fun.”

There was another lull in the conversation. Laurel swung her feet over the ledge of the tunnel’s entrance. She turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. James turned too, and his eyes were immediately drawn to Stuart and Virginia’s clasped hands. From the glazed look on Stu’s face and the smug smile on Virginia’s, it appeared that Laurel had the whole situation pegged exactly right. It looked like Stu had just been kissed but good. James shook his head. He liked girls as much as the next almost thirteen-year-old boy did, which meant sometimes he couldn’t help but think about them and sometimes he’d rather not. But that look on Stu’s face was a little scary. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

“You guys all set?”

“Did you find anything?” James asked.

“Umm . . . no. Nothing. I guess it was a waste of time after all.”

Virginia just smiled. “Not a complete waste.”

Stu cleared his throat. “Right. Well, let’s shove off then.” He kept hold of Virginia’s hand as they began the trek down to the runabout.

She reached behind her and gestured for Laurel. “Here.”

Laurel took her sister’s hand and then reached for James, but he just gave her grimy little paw a wary look. “No thanks, I need both my hands to keep me from slipping.”

She frowned.

Stu and James pushed the johnboat out in the water before hopping in and starting the motor. Stu brought it around while the others finished putting on lifejackets. He stopped to fasten his, and they took off for the dock as fast as the little boat could move.

As they emerged from the cove, the hot sun beat down, and James felt the top of his head begin to sweat. Damp waves of brown hair were soon blown stiff from the constant wind in his face. A Coke or a glass of lemonade sounded good right then. He hoped Mrs. Pendleton had brought drinks back from the store in town when she’d gone to get some more of that suntanning oil she used. He wondered whether she would bring them back something for lunch, too. Then he wondered how they would spend the rest of the day. During the hot afternoon hours, they’d probably stay in the Pendletons’ houseboat and play poker. Later, they could play Kick the Can with the little kids up at the cottages or take a hike around the campground. Mrs. Pendleton said they were eating dinner at the marina restaurant that night, and then there would be more walking around the dock and maybe some fishing as the sun set. The next day, it would all start again. It seemed as if days on the lake lasted forever and ran one into the other, as the long, lazy days of summer should. James had the sense that he should be savoring these moments. His dad often reminded him
,
“The best times are when you’re young and have no responsibilities.” School and Ohio, his parents, and all the rest of life seemed so far away. Right then, the only realities were the boats and the water and the hot, summer days without end.