Founder

Chapter 4-2

Twenty minutes later, they were on Main Street looking for parking, along with everyone else in Cold Springs. Vehicles crept by the school grounds, eyes peeled for parking spots and unruly children. Parents had angled cars in alongside the edge of the road on the school side. The opposite side had no shoulder, just a guardrail against the steep bank that fell to the river below, thus no parking. The school parking lots were full, as was the playground’s basketball court. Even the paved loop that bisected the small campus (the main school building lay on one side, with the cafeteria and machine shop on the other) was choked with cars and people. Adam was half surprised they hadn’t filled the baseball field, too.

“Mom! Mom, there’s Rachel’s car!” Evie said.

Adam felt a rumble in his stomach as he recognized her father Otto’s pickup in the growing darkness, but there was no one in it.

“I know, sweetie, but I have to find a place for my car.”

“Mom!” Evie whined.

Adam was surprised when JJ caved, asking him in a soft voice, “Would you mind taking her to find the Nicholsons, and I’ll catch up?”

Adam could feel Evie’s wiggling excitement in the seat behind him. “Of course not,” he said, then whispered, “You owe me.”

“No kidding. Evie, wait for Adam to get out first, and hold his hand while you cross the street. Do not run off—stay right next to Adam at all times. Got it?”

“Got it, Mom. I’ll be good.”

“You’d better be.”

A shiver ran through Adam when he got out of the SUV and the cool night air hit a sheen of sweat he hadn’t noticed before. Suck it up, Rutledge. He opened Evie’s door and quickly wiped his clammy hand on his pants.

“I’m afraid your steed is bedding down for the night, Sheriff Tulley, so we’ll have to go on foot. Shall we mosey?”

Expressions warred on the girl’s face. She tried to look older and cynical and above it all (like JJ), but excitement won out. She jumped down onto the asphalt, catching Adam’s hand on the way. Adam had a flash of Rachel, of her tiny, cold hand in his, and steadied himself against the vehicle until the sensation passed.

Evie held Adam’s hand as they threaded through the traffic and the parked cars cozied along the road. She let go once they reached a gap in the chain-link fence and stepped onto the grassy play yard. He allowed it, but kept his hand on her shoulder, trying not to grip it too tightly. Beware JJ’s wrath if I let her child out of my sight, even for a moment. The crowd was thick, though you could still squeak through, and pretty well mixed age-wise. Costumeless teenagers traveled in packs and had mastered the cynical look Evie tried earlier. Younger kids moved in slightly smaller groups that orbited around central cores of taller adults.

“There’s Jacob!” She pointed toward one of the costumeless, teenaged packs, but didn’t wave. Adam barely recognized Rachel’s older brother, having only seen a photograph of the boy taken before his most recent growth spurt. Evie pulled Adam by the arm and said, “I know where to meet Rachel.”

It was easy to see her best friend when they got close—or it would have been if the light were better. Few people stood beneath a familiar old oak tree where she and her parents waited. The delicate child wore a vivid red cloak, hooded over her long, dark hair. He wasn’t sure why, but it turned Adam’s stomach a bit to see her in it. Perhaps because she looked so pale and vulnerable, and even a little frightened.

The girls clasped hands, leaving the adults to stare at Adam. Otto had foregone the opportunity to dress as a Viking (Adam couldn’t help but see the large, bearded man that way) and was dressed much as Adam was. “Adam,” he said, nodding.

“Where’s JJ?” Dorothy snapped.

Apparently Rachel’s mother’s opinion of Adam had not improved with her daughter’s recovery. Wearing a black gown with ragged edges, Dorothy crossed her arms over her chest, squishing an amount of décolletage that verged on the unseemly for a family gathering. Adam quickly looked away.

“She’s looking for parking,” he said. “Rachel, you should have told us to bring Trooper. He could have been your wolf.”

Rachel didn’t seem thrilled by the idea, but Evie gave him a look that said, Oh, sure, you wait ’til now to share the scheme that lets me bring my dog.

“Mom made my costume,” Rachel said, holding the cloak out to show a white, puffy-sleeved shirt tucked into a red skirt beneath it.

“She did an excellent job,” Adam said. “I’ve never seen a finer Red Riding Hood.”

“She made her costume, too,” Rachel added. “My mom’s a witch.”

Adam avoided looking at Dorothy, but glimpsed Otto’s smile in his peripheral vision and struggled not to answer it. “You know, Evie’s mom and I used to sit under this tree when we were your age.”

“I didn’t know the tree was that old!” Evie exclaimed, although she obviously did. Still, it gave the adults an excuse to laugh away some of the tension.

They decided to start their rounds and let JJ catch up. Adam was surprised when the girls flanked him, neither quite taking his hand but both staying close. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the Nicholsons had fallen a few steps behind, snuggling and giving the girls some privacy.

“Where to first?” Adam asked. “The Bouncy House?”

The big inflatable looked less like a house than an oversized life jacket. It made a good landmark, though, standing brightly in the upper field.

“I don’t feel much like bouncing right now,” Rachel said, then veered abruptly to, “Why doesn’t my mom like you?” She stared at the ground ahead of them, as if the answer weren’t important to her.

Adam blew out his breath. Feeling queasy (yes, Iris, I know you told me the sandwich was bad), he concentrated on choosing his words carefully, knowing there was a good chance Rachel would repeat some version of them to one or both parents. He seized on his rolling stomach.

“You ever get really seasick?” he asked.

“I’ve never been on a real boat,” Rachel said. “Just a canoe.”

“I have, but I was too little to remember it,” Evie chimed in. “Mom said I was fine, but my dad got seasick.”

And probably complained about it the whole time, Adam thought, then regrouped. “What about carsick?”

“Yeah, I’ve been carsick bad before,” Rachel said. “I puked all over my backpack and Mom got mad at Dad because he was driving and she said she told him not to let me eat that many pancakes at grandma’s.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t want to eat pancakes again for a while.”

“I was okay with pancakes, but I couldn’t do sausage,” Rachel admitted, mouth wrinkled in distaste as she looked at him.

“Well, it’s like that,” Adam said, hoping he wasn’t reaching too far with the metaphor. “When your mom sees me, she thinks of what happened to you, and how she was so scared it made her sick.”

“But it wasn’t your fault!” Evie protested.

“No, but it wasn’t the sausage’s fault that Rachel got sick, either. We can’t always help the way we think about things. Sometimes we just have to wait for it to pass.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have chosen a food analogy. Adam’s stomach cramped and rumbled, and he suddenly realized that some things refused to wait.

“Excuse me, girls,” he said, and jogged desperately for the nearest portable toilet.