Thin Ice (10 page)

We both meditated on the truth of that for a moment; then he opened his briefcase. “Do you mind talking here? We could go back to the office, but I’m starved. By the way, Harold Mills called from the school to check on you.”

“I guess I need to write notes for myself in the future,”

John wasn’t in a joking mood, not with a briefcase at hand. Like Al, he had been a high-school friend of Scott’s, one of the few my brother made during his single year at Penokee Senior High. They’d renewed the friendship when John returned to Penokee after law school.

“Have you had any trouble getting cash this week?”

“Haven’t needed any.”

“Well, things are clear with the bank. You shouldn’t have any trouble now. I’ve gone ahead and set up automatic payments for your household bills. Here’s a list. Just sign by the X above your name. I could even arrange a monthly account for groceries.”

“I can budget for my food, John.”

“Fine. I’ve gone over the bank records for the past year to get an idea of a necessary budget. The two of you weren’t lavish, but you lived comfortably. It looks like your household expenses and more were covered by the income from the trusts established for each of you under the terms of your parents’ estate. Scott’s salary flowed right into the joint account, but it was just gravy; you two didn’t need it for anything but fattening up mutual funds and restoring the ’Cuda.”

“And buying multiple snowmobiles.” I eyed his coffee. Did I dare sneak a sip? I glanced toward the counter, where Lena watched. I drained my juice.

John kept talking money, explaining how he would monitor my check writing and charges. I frowned. “You’ll be watching my spending that carefully?”

He nodded. “That’s my job.”

I tipped my head against the seat back and stared at the mounted deer head hanging over the back wall. Okay, I was an orphan and he was a lawyer with a license to snoop. But did he have to review everything? What if I bought a few things at Victoria’s Secret? It wouldn’t be long before this guy would know where I’d been, what I’d done, what I was wearing under a turtleneck.

From now on I pay with cash.

“Arden, please take a look at these figures. That bottom number is what Mrs. Drummond and I estimate you’ll need for a monthly stipend.”

“If I need more?”

“Then we consult. It’s our responsibility to see that you have what you need for college. Oh, and I’ve ordered new checks for you on the household account.”

Without Scott’s name.

He handed me a few more papers and watched as I signed; then he rose, satisfied with our meeting. “We’re finished.”

My future, finished.

He wrapped himself against the cold, patted me on the shoulder, and left. I folded my hands and stared at the table.

Lena appeared, her heavy perfume less stealthy than her rubber-soled step. “Here, sweetie,” she said, and she slid a cup of dark coffee before me. “You look like you need this.”

CHAPTER 24

This is what it’s like to be alone in a life newly shaped by death.

You hear sounds. The refrigerator kicks in and hums softly, but it’s loud enough to rouse you out of the trance. You discover you’re sitting in the kitchen at two
a.m.

You don’t eat much. Milk goes bad.

Homework talks back. There’s the open history book.
Don’t bother,
it says. There’s the sheaf of math assignments.
Screw this
, it says.

You leave lights on at night. Still, you see things in the shadows.

Television becomes your friend. You soon have a favorite infomercial and a favorite Stooge. You watch lots of MTV, of course, because it’s on all night. You start wondering about those glistening hairless chests on rock musicians. Do they hot-wax? The next channel over is weather. You watch that, too. Forty below in Cut Bank, Montana, yesterday. More snow in Buffalo today. Rain and flooding in Ada, Oklahoma. Rain—in
February.
You look out the window at your own snowy yard and spend time thinking about the wonder of this.

And once or twice the phone rings, startling you, and you discover you are in his room, on his bed. You are holding his sweater and your face is wet with tears.

CHAPTER 25

“You need to get out,” Jean said.

“I do get out. I’ve gone to school every day for a week now.”

“I mean
out
out. Do something. Breathe fresh air.”

I sniffed. “It is kind of stale in here. I made an omelet last night and used lots of onions.”

“Ms. Penny called Mom this morning to say that you’re really behind on work. I wasn’t supposed to hear, but sometimes it’s hard not to.”

“Especially when you’re listening on an extension.”

“I’m not that bad. Mom just has this way of repeating out loud the things she’s hearing. She’s not sure how to deal with your school problems.”

“I’m sure not; she’s never had any practice with you and Saint Katherine.”

“Arden, I know I’d never want to live alone, but since you do, I’m trying to help. You’ve got a lot of people involved in this little experiment, and I—”

“Experiment? It’s not an experiment, Jean. It’s my life. My one- and-only orphanous life.”

“Orphanous?”

I shrugged. “It sounds like it should mean something.”

She picked up an apple from a bowl of aged fruit on the table and started tossing it from hand to hand. “You can play hermit, Arden, but if you mess up school, they’ll clamp down fast.”

“I missed nine days of school and people are surprised I’m behind? There’s no crisis, Jean. Tell your mom I’ll take care of it.”

“They may not let you slide on things like Scott did.”

“Scott didn’t let me slide, he let me be responsible for my own…responsibilities. Tell your mom I’ll do the damn assignments.” I grabbed the apple away from her. Usually the unconscious juggling didn’t bother me, but right now I might have tied her hands with a rope if there’d been one near.

“It’s not just school that has everyone worried. You don’t look good.”

Time to confess, with caution. “Don’t tell your mom, but I haven’t been sleeping.”

“Maybe you should take something.”

“I don’t think the orphan committee would approve of drugs. Or if they did, what do you want to bet your mom doles them out, one each night?”

“She’d trust you, Arden. No one thinks you’re that depressed.” She picked up an orange and rolled it on her thigh under her palm. “Are you?”

Like me, Jean is committed to wearing no makeup—only it works better for her, with her long lashes and softly flushed cheeks. Everything’s round on her face: mouth, cheeks, nose. Right now the eyes were the roundest circles of all, grown huge in loving alarm. I handed back the apple, and without any sign of conscious thought, she started tossing the apple and orange, two streaks of color across her lap.

“Jean, I’m not going to hurt myself out of despair. I’m just tired.”

“That’s all?”

“Scared, sometimes.”

“Maybe you should talk to someone, Arden. Lots of people do. Mom could help you find a therapist.”

“There’s no way I’m going to invite another adult into my life.”

“There must be something you can do.”

The recent heavy dose of TV had done more than pass time and fill up the empty house with noise. Thanks to all the babbling and jabbering on the various talk shows, I’d picked up new vocabulary. “Sure,” I said. “I can face my demons.”

* * *

We parked by the bridge, angling the car into a wide spot on the shoulder of County Road JG.

“Do you really want to do this?” Jean asked.

“You can stay here and keep warm.”

She sighed and opened the car door. All the heated air was immediately sucked out. Two above, the radio had said just before slipping into a Cibo Matto song.

We slid on our butts down the incline to the river, where we found a narrow path that had been formed by animal tracks and the multiple impressions of snowshoes. Snowshoes were a good idea; too bad I didn’t have any or know how to use them. We hadn’t even walked five feet before I tumbled through the crust of snow. I grabbed on to a bush and hauled myself up.

“How far do you plan on walking?” Jean asked.

I pointed to a big outcropping of rocks maybe a quarter mile away. “That far.”

We made it through the snow and brush with only a few more spills; then we climbed up onto the largest of the rocks. I was panting hard and sat down to rest. “Out of shape,” I said.

“No kidding. Your face is really red.” Jean packed a few snowballs and set them in motion, I leaned back on my arms and looked around. At this spot the river widened to the size of a small lake. No sign of the rapids and rocks that attracted thrill-seeking kayakers in spring and summer. Just a sheet of snow-covered ice dotted by a small patch of open water near the bridge.

“Doesn’t look that dangerous,” I said.

“You aren’t thinking of going out, are you?” She misjudged a toss and a snowball landed at my feet, exploding.

I shook my head. “Just looking.”

“Don’t look too long. Once we sit still we’ll cool down fast. The sun has disappeared.”

“The divers must have found his sled somewhere around there.” I pointed to a spot a few yards downriver from the bridge. The snow cover was white but shadowy, as if it were only a thin layer over something darker, something like black water. Why couldn’t they find him? How far could he have gone?

Jean was packing another snowball, but it fell apart in her hand. She gave up and hugged her knees. “It’s cold, Arden.”

“Then let’s keep moving. Let’s walk along the river.”

“I guess it’s not that cold.”

Someone was approaching from downstream, a bright-red splotch against the white-and-gray background. The figure waddled slightly in a snowshoe step. In a moment the red splotch was followed by a green splotch, also on snowshoes. The couple stopped with their backs to us. The taller figure pointed to something, then slowly turned and let his outstretched arm sweep upriver toward us. The arm dropped when the two were facing the bridge.

Al and Claire. I stood and waved.

They must both have been in good shape because neither was panting at all after sprinting the distance to the rock. I spotted a backpack on Claire, with the distinct outline of a Thermos. “Going on a picnic?”

They looked at each other. “Al was showing me some things,” she said.

“Like what?”

Al unbuckled his shoes and upended them in the snow, “Any more room up there?”

Claire did have a full Thermos and—veteran mother—cookies. It should have been a cheerful picnic, except it was obvious no one could forget the reason we were all drawn to the spot.

“I didn’t know you were searching too,” I said to Claire.

“My first time out. I had the day off, the weather was right, and Hannah is with friends. Al deserved some company.”

“Isn’t it sort of futile at this point?” asked Jean. “Most of it’s frozen solid.”

“Not really,” Al said. “Mix a little sun with some wind, and holes open. It only looks solid.” He shifted, crossing his legs. “That’s what fooled him,” he added softly.

“Did you come all the way from the park?” Jean asked.

“Just from Winker’s,” said Claire. “We went down as far as the dam; now we’re headed back up. It’s beautiful on this stretch of the river.”

A beautiful grave.

“If you’d been here a bit earlier you could have met Lee Mueller,” Al said.

“Who’s he?”

“She
is a search-and-rescue specialist, Arden. She has a wonderful dog that’s trained for air-scent searching. The sheriff has called them out twice to search.”

“Hasn’t there been too much time and snow for tracking?” asked Jean.

Al shook his head. “An air-scent dog doesn’t track. It’s kind of grisly, though, how it does work.”

“How, Al?” I asked.

“Bodies give off gasses that rise through snow and water, even ice. The dog can scent those from a distance and follow them to the source.”

“Did the dog smell anything today, Al?” I asked.

“No, Arden.” He pulled up his long legs and laid his chin on his knees. “We’ve tried everything,” he whispered. “We can’t find him.”

Claire passed around the Thermos cup again and we took turns sipping. Russian tea, too sweet for my taste; bitter coffee would have been better.

Jean broke the silence. “I’d love to try your snowshoes,” she said to Claire in a voice that sounded way too cheerful for the gray day and dark moods. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all. Your boots should work fine in the bindings.”

“I’ll show you,” said Al, and he and Jean slid off the rock to the ground.

“Like this,” he said when they had the shoes bound to their feet. He made an exaggerated stepping motion, then started off down the trail, reverting to a normal step after a few feet. Jean bobbled her hands a few times, as if she were tossing something; it seemed to help her find her balance, for she quickly took off in perfect imitation of her guide.