“But how can it be of value when it doesn’t make sense? Footmen and horses? What man in his right mind would try to race against a horse? The horse would always win.”
He looked thoughtful. “You make a good point.” Then, catching me off guard, he picked up the book again, pushed it down the table to Rick, and tapped on the verse. “What do you think, Rick? Does this sound to you like Jeremiah is talking about a race here?”
Rick took the book and read again where Grandpère had indicated. “If thou hast run with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses?”
Grandpère cut in. “That’s good. Don’t worry about the rest of the verse. So? Do you think Jeremiah is talking about a race between man and horse?”
Rick read it again silently, then shook his head. “I don’t think it’s talking about a race at all. I think it’s talking about war.”
“Wait,” I exclaimed. “Really?” I took the book from Rick and read it to myself.
Rick went on as I did so. “It sounds to me like the footmen would be what we call the infantry, and the horsemen would be the cavalry.”
“The Israelites didn’t have cavalry back then, but they did see horses used in times of war in another important way.” Again he looked at Rick rather than at me. “Think of the Romans.”
Rick’s head came up as understanding dawned. “Chariots! He’s saying that if you have trouble fighting against men on foot, how can you possibly fight against chariots?”
“Ah,” Grandpère said in satisfaction, “very good.” He turned to me. “Any more questions?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling the familiar exasperation starting to rise. “You still haven’t told me why you sent it to me.”
He stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “To be completely honest, I’m not exactly sure.” He smiled. “Maybe it will come to me sometime.” And with that, he got up and went back to the sink. Rick and I exchanged looks. Then I shook my head, giving up.
Rick’s family left right after supper. There were tender farewells and renewed promises that we’d do it again once or twice more before the summer was over. Dad permanently wormed his way into Raye’s and Kaylynn’s affections when he leaned over to their father and said, “Charlie, would it be all right with you if the girls helped me drive the boat on the way back?” Then he turned to them. “Are you all right with that, girls?” As if he had to ask.
We stood and waved until they disappeared around the bend; then we turned and started inside. As Mom pushed open the sliding glass door, Rick said, “You know, don’t you, Mrs. McAllister, that you have witnessed a little miracle.”
We all turned, but Mom spoke first. “In what way?”
“My dad, actually taking time to play, to laugh, to sit at the table and just talk. It’s incredible.” He sighed. “Thank you for insisting that all of us come with you.”
“You are most welcome, Ricardo,” Mom chuckled. As his eyebrows lifted at the use of his formal name, she shook her head. “The next miracle I’m looking for will be when you stop calling me Mrs. McAllister. You make me feel like I’m an old woman, Rick.”
“And that could be dangerous, Son,” Grandpère said somberly.
Rick grinned. “I certainly don’t think of you as old, so I guess it will be Angelique, then.”
She slipped her arm through his. “That, my boy, just earned you as many warm peanut-butter bars as you can possibly eat. They’re supposed to be warmed in the oven, but that’s one of the nice things about Lake Powell. Everything’s an oven down here.” To me: “Get them out, Danni girl, this calls for a celebration.”
Celebration indeed. Danni girl? Her calling me Danni was starting to happen with increasing frequency. It was just one little miracle after another tonight.
The Colorado Plateau is a vast area of high deserts, deep canyons, and several small mountain ranges in America’s Southwest. Its center is roughly in the Four Corners area, and the plateau spreads across parts of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah. Because of its elevation and isolation—there isn’t one large city in it—the air is spectacularly clear. Get on some of the high spots, and there are places you can easily see things a hundred miles away.
And that makes for spectacular viewing of the heavens at night.
I had spent most of my life in this country, but it still completely dazzled me when I lay on my back and looked up into the night sky. I had read somewhere that the naked eye can only see about six thousand stars, but I questioned that. It felt more like six million. As I looked up, I remembered something Dad often says: “If you get to feeling like you’re really something, sleep out under the stars. That will cut you back down to size.”
Cody, Rick, and I were lying on our air mattresses, quiet for the moment, humbled into silence by the vastness that spread out above us. We had asked Mom and Dad if we could sleep up here on the top deck of the houseboat, but Mom shook her head. It was a sobering reminder that there was still a potential threat. But we had all slept late this morning, so she and Dad said we could go up there until eleven or so. We lay side by side, with Cody in between Rick and me.
I half turned my head and raised up enough that I could see Rick. “Penny for your thoughts.”
He turned and smiled. “Not for sale.”
“You can have mine for free,” Cody said.
I pretended that he didn’t exist right now. “Aw, come on, Rick. What are you thinking?”
He sighed. “I was thinking about Leprechaun Canyon and ...” His voice trailed off.
I came up on one elbow and looked directly at him. Just exactly what part of Leprechaun Canyon was he thinking about? Gordo and Doc coming after us? Him racing forward and grabbing Lew’s rifle? Or ... a kiss in the near-total darkness? I often wondered if he ever thought about it. I know I sure did. But I wasn’t about to ask him that now. Especially not with my little brother lying between us.
“And I was thinking about your mom and dad, too.”
“What about them?”
He turned and looked at me. “I don’t think you and Cody know how lucky you are.”
“Yes we do,” I said. Then I remembered what he had once told me about his mother. It was the night she told his dad and Rick and the girls that she was leaving. One of the things she said was that when it came to custody of the children, if they went to court it would be over who had to take them, not who got to keep them.
“No, Danni. You really don’t. They are so much in love.”
I let out a slow breath. He was right. Cody and I just took that for granted. Today had been a good reminder for me. “You’re right.”
“Your mom is amazing.”
I lay back down again. “You know, Rick, calling her ‘your mom’ isn’t going to go over any better with her than calling her Mrs. McAllister. You may as well get used to it. It’s Angelique.”
“I know. It’s just so ... weird.” He sighed again. “I’m working on it.”
“Hey,” Cody broke in, “I’ve got a question for you.”
I went up on my elbow again. “What?”
“Now, don’t laugh. Think about it before you answer.” He paused. “What do you see when your eyes are closed?”
I laughed. “What kind of a stupid question is that? You don’t see anything.”
“Is not stupid,” Cody said hotly.
Rick sat up. “I think I’m going to side with Cody on this one.”
“All right!” Cody yipped.
“Oh, please,” I muttered. “Not more male bonding.”
Cody sat up now too and turned to me. “Close your eyes.”
I did, deciding to humor him. After a moment, I said, “Guess what I see?”
“What?”
“Absolutely nothing. A whole lot of black.”
Rick: “Are you sure?”
“I th
ink I know black when I see it.”
“Shut them real tight,” Cody urged.
“They are shut tight,” I snapped.
“Tighter.”
I complied, feeling ridiculous. “This is ridiculous. I still don’t—” I stopped. “Oh.”
“Ha!” Cody yelled. “What are you seeing?”
I didn’t answer. I was concentrating. But Rick did. “I see patterns of colors swirling around in the center of the blackness. Like when you wash out a watercoloring brush.”
Cody was delighted. “Press the heels of your hand against your eyes.”
I did. For a moment, nothing changed; then I leaned forward, as if I were taking a closer look. Suddenly, all kinds of things started happening. At first there were quick pinpoints of white in the upper part of my vision; then light surged upward in shimmering waves.
Without realizing it, I was describing what I was seeing. “I’ve got white checkerboards, only they’re kind of rubbery and they’re kind of rippling. Oh, wait! I’m back to solid black.”
“Ooh!” Code exclaimed. “I’m getting flashing purple dots.”
I know it sounds stupid, but it was actually quite fun. For five minutes we sat there like kids at a circus, calling out to each other what we were seeing. Finally, tired of it, I lay back down. Cody and Rick did the same a few seconds later.
“I’m waiting,” Cody sang out a moment later.
“For what?”
“For an apology.”
“In your dreams!”
He and Rick both laughed, and a moment later I heard a sharp slap. I didn’t have to ask what it was. It was my two male companions giving each other a high five.
A few minutes later, Cody checked out on us. He was like that, churning away at warp speed, then all of a sudden, BAM! his system would shut down and he would be gone. With a huge yawn, he excused himself and climbed down to the main deck.
Remembering Mom’s feelings about us being up there alone, Rick and I went down too. Mom and Dad were still there, but they excused themselves and followed Cody down to the bedrooms. Rick asked me if I was tired, and I started to say that I wasn’t, but then a huge yawn cut me off. He laughed, nudged me, and said, “Good night, Danni.”
June 29, 2011
“Do you dread going back tomorrow?” I asked.
Rick turned to me in surprise. “Not really. Do you?”
“Kind of. These ten days have been great. Nothing but family, friends, fun, and relaxation. I think we all needed that. Going back to Hanksville sounds kind of boring.”
“I can handle boring,” he said with a smile.
Rick and I were sitting on the beach about twenty or thirty yards up from the houseboat. Though the sky above us was still light, here in the narrow confines of Oak Canyon, the sun had disappeared behind the cliffs hours ago, and we were in deep shadow. Down the beach from us, I could hear the murmur of voices from another houseboat. Inside the main room of the houseboat, we could see Cody and Grandpère at the table playing some game or another. There was an occasional yell of triumph from Cody, or laughter from Grandpère. It was a soothing and pleasant sound.
Up on the top deck, barely visible in the evening light, Mom and Dad were in deck chairs, holding hands and talking quietly. I supposed that they, like us, were talking about going back to the routine of life. Were they dreading it too? No, dread was too strong a word. I didn’t dread going back. It was just that this had been such a wonderful time, and it was ending tomorrow.
“It has been great,” Rick said. “I need to thank your parents for including me and my family. We’ll never forget it.”
“Nor will we. And your leg seems to be doing really good. I am so glad.” I laid a hand on his arm. “Every time I think of—”
A sound came across the water to us, cutting me off. It was Dad’s rich tenor voice. He was singing. We both turned to listen, and I recognized the song instantly.
Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are callingFrom glen to glen and down the mountainside.The summer’s gone and all the flow’rs are dying,’Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow,Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow.’Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow,Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, and all the flowers are dying,If I am dead, as dead I well may be, I pray you’ll find the place where I am lyingAnd kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above meAnd all my grave will warm and sweeter beAnd then you’ll kneel and whisper that you love meAnd I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.
I suddenly found myself needing to wipe at my eyes. The song brought back a flood of memories and so much happiness. Then, in the faint light, I thought I saw Dad lean in and kiss Mom, and that made the tears come all the faster.
Rick evidently sensed what has happening to me. He reached out and took my hand and squeezed it. “That was beautiful.”
“That’s what Dad sang to me almost every night when I was a little girl,” I whispered. “That’s where my nickname comes from. I love that song, but it’s so sad.”
“It’s a beautiful song.” He took a quick breath, and I could tell it had gotten to him too. “Tell me what it means,” he went on. “What are the pipes it talks about?”
“The bagpipes. There are Irish bagpipes as well as Scottish ones. No one is exactly sure what the lyricist had in mind. Is it a young girl speaking to her true love who is about to go off to war or to America? Some say it’s a mother speaking to her son as he leaves Ireland during the great Irish potato famines, perhaps never to return.”
“I think it’s the former. Two young people in love. I like that.”
I gave him sharp look, but turned away before he saw it.
“And what does she mean when she says, ‘I must bide’?” Then it came to him. “Oh, like in abide.”
“Yes. She has to stay behind. And she’s afraid she might die before he returns. If that happens, she asks him to kneel at her grave and say an ‘Ave’ for her. Ave meaning Ave Maria.”
“I caught that. Remember, we’ve got a lot of Catholics in our family.”
“Of course, sorry. They often play bagpipes at Irish funerals, so maybe she’s afraid the pipes are for her. That’s the part that always makes me want to cry.”
“Do you know the words by heart?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Will you sing them to me?”
I jerked around and stared at him. “I don’t sing solos unless I’m sure there’s no one within a hundred miles. I don’t even sing in the shower unless I’m the only one home.”
He took my other hand. “Please. For me.”
“Don’t say that,” I said. “That’s not playing fair.”
He didn’t smile. His eyes were searching mine. “If it helps, pretend that I’m going off to war and that you may never see me again.”
I jerked one hand free and slugged him on the arm. “Don’t even joke about that.”
He found my hand again. “Please, Danni. I want to hear the words again now that I understand them better.”
I hesitated for a long, long moment, then finally nodded. “I might not get through it all.”
“That’s all right.”
And so I began, very softly at first, then more loudly as I gave myself to the song. And then, to my surprise, on about the third line, Dad’s voice came in to join me. And a moment later, Mom began to sing too. I made it through, but when the last words slowly died and the night was still again, I broke down and started to cry.
Rick put his arm around me and pulled me in against him, I threw my arms around him and buried my face against his shoulder. And then, though the tears still came, everything
was all right.
CHAPTER 11
At breakfast the next morning, I was feeling a little grumpy. Well, maybe even more than a little. Even though we slept with all the windows open and the lake helped cool the air by morning, I wasn’t used to sleeping when it was so hot. As I came stumbling out into the main room, dressed but barefooted, I saw Rick and Cody smirk at each other. I ignored them completely. They could be so juvenile at time. Mom, Dad, and Grandpère smiled at me, but said nothing.
I went over to the stove and loaded a paper plate with eggs, sausage, and toast, then grabbed the cup of orange juice someone had already poured and went back and sat down next to Grandpère. Without looking directly at me, he started reciting in a singsong voice, “Good morning, Merry Sunshine, how did you wake so soon? You’ve scared the little stars away, and shined away the moon.”
Cody openly sniggered. Rick covered his mouth. Only Mom came to my defense. “Leave her alone.” I shot her a smile of thanks. Too soon, I realized, because she went right on, “Remember that old saying: Never approach a growling dog.”
“Funny, Mom. Very funny.” Then I swung on Rick, who was fighting hard not to laugh. “And you? Keep it up, Ramirez, and I’ll massage that leg of yours with your crutches.”
But in five minutes, with some food in my tummy and the sleep out of my eyes, I was back. I wasn’t smiling yet, but that would come eventually. “So what’s the plan for today?”
Mom answered. “As you remember, as Clay was leaving the house on Thursday, he asked if he could buy one of my paintings.”
“Yeah, that was way cool,” Cody said.
“I told him I wouldn’t do that, but what I would do, in grateful appreciation for all he did for our family, is paint something just for him and his wife and bring it up on the Fourth of July.”
“Did he say what he wanted?” I asked.
“He said it was my choice, so I’ve decided to do Rainbow Bridge.”
“Great choice,” I said.
“I’ve never seen Rainbow Bridge,” Rick noted.