Indian Summer (17 page)

Seeing her mom now and the look of determination on her face, Marcie knows that they won’t be waiting to spring the news on Mr. Swyndall.

“Jill, I’ve just heard the story of your daughter’s heroics this afternoon.” He places a hand on Marcie’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear Al is doing okay.”

“Yes, fortunately, it looks that way, thanks to Marcie and the paramedics.” She lifts her head up to look at him directly. “There is something else I want to talk with you about. I understand that you are planning to develop James Woods.”

“Thanks to your children that is now common knowledge,” he says with a laugh.

“We made a discovery in the bay that may change your mind. Actually you have Marcie to thank for this as well.”

“What sort of discovery?”

Mrs. Horton turns to her daughter. “Marcie, it’s your discovery. Why don’t you tell him?”

“Well,” Marcie says hesitantly. Then, taking a deep breath, she continues more confidently. “There may be an Adena Indian mound located in the bay right off the shoreline of James Woods. I found it this afternoon when we were helping Al. We mapped it out with fishing buoys.”

“Yes, Marcie literally stumbled upon it in the water. You should know, I’ve contacted the Archaeology Department Chair, and he wants to do some surveys right away.”

“Hold on a minute. You found a Native American archaeological site in the bay?”

“We can’t be sure yet, of course, but we know the shoreline of the lake has changed over the last two millennia. There are certain things about the site that lead me to believe it could be an Adena mound.” Mrs. Horton likes to talk with her hands, and the plate of cake and glass of tea she is holding have been hindering her, so she places them on a nearby table. “You see, it isn’t technically on your land, and the water is the property of the Indiana Department of Natural Resources, but any development of the land would certainly have an impact on the site.” Marcie is watching Mr. Swyndall carefully to judge his
reaction to the news. She can’t read his expression to tell what he’s thinking.

“So the site is in the water, not on my land?”
Oh no
, thinks Marcie,
he’s going to fight it
. “This certainly does change things.” He pauses, momentarily lost in thought. The conversation of the other partygoers flows all around them. Overhead, the strings of lights sparkle in the night sky. “A find of this magnitude could do a lot for the university. I’m no expert on archaeology. If you say it’s an important find, I have to take your word on this.”

Marcie realizes that she is staring with her mouth hanging open, and shuts it immediately. She had expected Mr. Swyndall to completely oppose doing anything with the site. Mrs. Horton is absentmindedly twisting her napkin in her hands. She says, “It could be a very significant find, if it’s undisturbed. Think of what it could mean for the Archaeology Department and the university.” She uses the napkin to blot perspiration on her neck. Seeing the opportunity to drive their point home, Marcie says, “You may want to delay construction until we find out more.”

Mr. Swyndall takes a long swallow from his drink. The music playing in the background is tuned to the radio station that will synchronize its music with the fireworks. They’ve been playing patriotic songs all evening. Right now the station is playing a marching band song with cymbals crashing and drums beating. It’s almost like a
drum roll is accompanying Mr. Swyndall as he contemplates his decision. Finally, he says, “We probably should wait until the site can be investigated.” He gives Marcie a pat on the back. “It looks like you might get your wish after all, young lady.”

T
HE NIGHT IS
dark now, and the fireworks will be starting soon. Marcie is standing along the shore at the edge of the Swyndalls’ property, where she can see James Bay and the deeper darkness of James Woods. The water laps gently at her bare feet, and she feels a profound sense of peace. She likes the feeling of being alone with the party going on distantly behind her. Lights from houses on the shore of the lake shine in the darkness like a string of luminescent pearls, but no lights shine through the trees of James Woods. Now, there may never be any houses built there. Nothing has been decided yet, but Marcie feels in her soul that the woods will be protected. She hugs herself to ward off the chill of the night air, and her hand touches the bracelet on her arm. She will have to return it to the library, but tonight she wanted to wear it one more time. The memory of the girl who once wore it long ago is in the air, but that’s all it is—a memory. The woods are quiet now.

The symphonic music on the radio starts to build in intensity, and Marcie hears the shrill whistle of the first of the fireworks whizzing into the sky. The rocket explodes at the same time the music reaches its crescendo and its red, white, and blue light illuminates the sky and the bay and woods below. For a few moments, the trees and the water glow in the patriotic colors and then darkness returns. Marcie turns and walks over to join her family on their blanket spread on the lawn. She squeezes in between her dad and Drew. The next rocket explodes brightly white above them. She looks over at the faces of her family, lit up by the display. Each one of them looks the same as always to Marcie, but she feels different, somehow better. She finally feels comfortable just being herself. She lies back on the blanket to watch the rest of the fireworks, with her family close by her side.

T
HE THICK CARPET
of red and gold leaves crunches under their feet as Marcie and Al make their way along the path. Pansy, released from her leash, bounds ahead in pursuit of a squirrel or a rabbit, leaping past the shafts of sunlight that stream through the vibrantly colored leaves on the trees.

“What a great day,” Marcie says. “I don’t even need this jacket.” She shrugs her shoulders out of her jeans jacket.

“Yes, it’s Indian Summer—warm weather in the fall after the first frost. I’ll take this over the cold rain we’ve been having any day,” says Al.

Marcie glances over at him. He is walking with a cane now, but his gait is steady. He isn’t completely back to his old self after the stroke, but she can definitely see improvement from when she saw him last at the end of the summer.

“So, what’s the surprise?” she asks now. Her family is visiting the cottage for the weekend, and Al asked her to join him on a walk to James Woods.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Young people have no patience nowadays,” he says grumpily, but Marcie knows he’s just teasing her.

Their progress is slow, but they gradually make their way toward the clearing along the shore of the bay where Marcie found Al slumped over in his boat. Marcie has an idea of what Al’s surprise is, but she is still unprepared for the sight that awaits her when they round a curve in the path and the shore is laid out before them. Instead of 30 feet of sandy beach and marshy shallows, the shore stretches out before them for more than 100 yards to a curving stone wall that arcs from one side of the shore to the other to hold back the water in the bay. In the center of the arc is a low circular mound of earth.

Marcie comes to a standstill, and her breath catches in her throat. “Wow, it’s really here,” she whispers.

“Pretty impressive, isn’t it? They just finished the wall this week.”

But Marcie isn’t thinking about the mound itself, she’s remembering everything that led up to its discovery. In the months that passed since then, going back to school and seeing her friends, it became harder for her to believe that any of it really happened. Looking at the mound now, however, she vividly remembers seeing the Adena girl with her triumphant smile standing on the mound that day last summer.

“It’s amazing. Can we walk out to it?”

“I don’t see why not.”

They carefully make their way along the path laid out across the still-soggy ground and stop at the metal fence surrounding the mound. Standing here on this beautiful autumn day, Marcie can imagine the ancient people who worshiped in the same spot thousands of years ago. She has a sense of something sacred. It could be the familiar prickling feeling on the back of her neck, or the wind whispering in the dry leaves of the woods. Whatever it is, she knows that the Adena girl is still here too.

“Mom says they will have a team start excavating sections of the mound in the spring. She gets to be in charge of the dig—and she can make sure they do it carefully, without harming the mound.” Marcie puts her forearms on the fence and rests her chin on her arms.

“You know,” Al says thoughtfully, “it’s thanks to you that James Woods was saved from development.”

“I just found it; mom and all the archaeologists from the university took over after that. Once they were certain it was an Adena mound, it was pretty easy to convince Mr. Swyndall into establishing it as a park. He got the grant money that built the wall and drained this section of the bay.”

“It was pretty incredible that you found it at all. And that you found me in the bay. I often think about that.”
He glances over at her. “You never really told me how it happened.”

“I can’t explain it, but I knew you needed help.” She cocks her head to one side and shrugs. “I heard Pansy barking, and it was like she was calling me. Like something was guiding me to the bay. And when I climbed out of the boat, I was standing on the mound.”

“I’ve always thought there was something special about these woods,” Al says, looking around him.

She turns and looks into his wise old eyes for a long moment. “Well, I think we can definitely say that you were right.”

M
ARCIE CUTS THE
power on the little trolling motor and lets the row boat glide up to the Swyndalls’ dock. None of their boats are in the water now. They’re all shrink-wrapped and stored for the winter. Since Marcie’s grandparents live here year round, they leave their boats in the water longer, but this morning, after the family took one last boat ride, Poppy drove the pontoon over to the boatyard to be hauled out and stored. Only the row boat is left, as it can be hauled out by hand and left on the shore before the lake freezes over.

The back door of the house opens and Kaitlyn emerges, hurrying down the path and onto the dock, her sneakers thudding on the wooden planks.

“I’m so glad you’re here this weekend!” she exclaims as she climbs in the front of the boat. “My mom’s had me working all morning to close up the house for the winter. Let’s get out of here before she finds something else for me to do.”

“I thought you’d have a service close up for you,” Marcie says, as she starts the motor and maneuvers away from the dock.

“My mom’s pretty picky about her stuff. She likes to do it herself.”

“I can see how she would be that way,” Marcie flashes a smirk at Kaitlyn.

“Hey, watch it, it’s not like your family’s perfect either,” replies Kaitlyn.

“That’s for sure!” laughs Marcie easily.

“I thought Sara was coming with you this weekend.”

“She was, but something came up with her family and she couldn’t make it.”

“You know, I was thinking that next summer we should have a girls’ weekend up here. You can invite Sara and some of your friends, and I’ll invite some friends.”

Marcie steers the boat in a slow loop around James Bay, past the new retaining wall around the Adena mound.
She gets a warm glow of satisfaction seeing the mound and the woods from the water and knowing they are safe and that she had a part in it. She puts the boat in idle and lets it gently drift with the current.

“That’s a great idea.” After a moment’s hesitation, she adds, “What do you think about getting a team together for the Regatta next summer?”

“Are you sure you want to be on a ‘Laker’ team?” Kaitlyn asks with a slightly mocking tone. But Marcie can see that her smile is friendly.

“I raced with you all summer, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but you also ruined our chance to win the Regatta.”

“Are you still mad at me about that?”

“I was totally mad at you when it happened. After all the practicing we did, and we were in the lead when you jumped! We were all really angry and disappointed at the time. But I’m over it. Actually, now I think what you did was awesome. It took guts. And I don’t just mean diving off the boat. My dad thinks what you and Eric did about the woods was pretty cool, too.”

“He does? But it stopped his project.”

“Yeah, I know, but he’s funny about that kind of thing. He respects people who ‘stick to their convictions.’” Kaitlyn makes quotation marks in the air, then she throws her
hands up and sighs. “Let’s not talk about my dad all afternoon. It’s our last boat ride of the season!”

Marcie turns back and engages the motor. She feels a smile forming at the corners of her mouth. When she jumped off the boat to help Al, she did it instinctively because it was the right thing to do. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Yet she can’t help but be pleased that she has earned Kaitlyn and Mr. Swyndall’s respect, too.

As the little boat picks up speed, they leave the Adena mound and the woods behind them. When the boat passes the mouth of the bay, Marcie opens the throttle wide and they skim across the surface of the lake to open water, two girls enjoying the day, hair streaming behind them, the warm sun on their backs, and smiles on their faces.

Tracy Richardson wasn’t always a writer. When her children started reading and she rediscovered all the books she loved as a child, she found herself developing stories of her own and began writing novels for children.

Images from her childhood growing up on Lake Michigan and the landscape of Indiana feature prominently in her novels, and sometimes bits and pieces of actual people and events—much to her children’s delight and dismay! She lives in the suburbs of Indianapolis with her husband and two children and their Jack Russell terrier, Ernie.

Visit Tracy online at
www.tracyrichardson.wordpress.com
.

Discussion questions for
Indian Summer
are available online at
www.luminisbooks.com
.