Ryan's Return Page 3

  Kara hugged her body tightly as the wind whistled through the trees. There were shadows everywhere, in front of her, behind her, next to her. Andrew had told her that by bringing Ryan home she was raising the dead. Tonight she could almost agree.

  * * *

  "At night the lady rises out of the river like a ghost. She wears a long, white lace dress, and a veil covers her eyes. Her hair is black as night and floats down to her waist, with streaks of gray that shine like silver in the moonlight." Angel Delaney dropped her voice to a whisper as her fellow sixth graders looked nervously at the brown, muddy river. She had them going now. She dropped her voice another notch. "If you listen very, very carefully you can hear her voice in the wind. It starts out soft like a whisper, then gets louder until it pierces the night like a scream. Ah- ooh," Angel wailed. "Ah-ooh."

  "Stop it, Angel. You're scaring me." Melissa Johnson slid closer to Billy Hunter.

  "Listen." Angel turned her attention to the river. The current moved fast with the breeze. Storm clouds blew in from the coast. "I think I can hear her."

  "You can't hear anything," Billy said. "You're making it up. I've lived here my whole life, and I've never heard that story."

  "It's true. And the best time to see her is when the river is rising, like today."

  "My mother doesn't think I should play with you anymore," Melissa said. "She says you tell lies."

  Angel ignored Melissa, concentrating instead on Billy's rapt expression. "The lady is very sad about something. When she cries, her tears fill the river."

  A shrill cry pierced the night, and Melissa buried her head in her arms.

  "How did you do that?" Billy demanded.

  Angel shook her head. "I didn't do anything."

  The sound came again, a long, lonely wail. All three children jumped to their feet. Thunder rocked the sky.

  Melissa clutched Angel's sleeve. Billy had a hand on the belt loop of her jeans. Angel wasn't afraid of the storm. She liked it when the wind blew hard and the trees rattled the windowpanes on her house. It felt like God was sweeping the world clean, blowing out the cobwebs and all the other nasty stuff.

  "It's okay, it's just the wind," Angel said calmly.

  "Right," Billy said.

  "Maybe we'll see the lady." Angel pointed to a faraway spot on the river where the clouds were so low they almost touched the water. "There she is. I see her. Look. Look," she cried. Actually she did see a shape, and it looked like a woman, but Angel told herself it was just her imagination making her own story even better.

  "I don't want to look," Melissa yelled as she scrambled up the riverbank. Billy ran after her.

  Angel smiled to herself. Scaredy-cats, she thought. Then a heavy hand came down on her shoulder and it was her turn to scream.

  "What are you doing out here?" The man's voice sounded rough. His hand slid from her shoulder to the back of her neck. She could feel the calluses on his fingers as he spun her around to face him.

  Angel swallowed hard. As tall as a redwood tree and thick around the middle, the man wore an old fishing hat on his head that barely covered his straggly black and gray hair. He had a thick beard, and his dark eyes blasted right through her.

  Jonas Hunter, Billy's grandfather, and the meanest man in town. Aunt Josephine said Jonas Hunter was a lonely, bitter man. Billy said his grandfather was a grumpy bear. Angel thought he looked like Bigfoot, at least the monster she imagined in her mind.

  Still, her mother had always told her to be nice to old people, so she supposed she should give him a chance. Maybe she would be grumpy, too, if she looked as ugly as he did.

  "I said, what are you doing here?" His voice shook her more than the thunder.

  "I, uh. I..." Angel looked around. Billy and Melissa were long gone. "I got lost."

  "Lost? You're that kid, aren't you? That Delaney woman's kid, the one who tells all the stories."

  "Angel. My name is Angel." Angel offered him her brightest, most winning smile and stuck out her hand. When he didn't respond, she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "I came down to the river to write an essay for school on the sound the water makes when it rushes downstream. Does it sound like a roller coaster or a jet plane? What do you think?" It wasn't much of a tale, not up to her usual standards, but it was all she could think of at the moment.

  "Why are you out here all alone?"

  "She's not alone. I'm here, too." Billy walked slowly out of the trees. He was shaking so bad Angel thought he might fall over.

  "Billy? Is that you, boy?" Jonas roared. "Why, I should tan your hide for coming down to the river on a night like this. You got sawdust in your brains, or what?"

  "Well, sir." Billy's voice shook and he started to stutter.

  "Speak up now. I can't hear you." Jonas put his hands on his waist when Billy tried to get out a word, but it was completely unintelligible. "What the hell's the matter with you, boy?"

  "You're scaring him," Angel said, running over to Billy's side. "How come you're so mean?"

  Jonas stared at her through slitted eyes. "What did you say?"

  "We're just kids, you know," Angel said defiantly, hating to see her best friend so upset. "We can come to the river if we want to. It's a free country."

  "You got a tongue on you, just like your mother," Jonas said. "She ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

  "And you ought to be nicer to Billy. He's your grandson," Angel replied.

  "Angel, stop," Billy muttered. "You're making him mad."

  "I used to wish I had grandparents. But mine are all dead," Angel said. "Maybe that's good if all grandparents are as mean as you. No wonder your own son left town and never came back." Angel stopped abruptly at the look of rage that crossed Jonas Hunter's face.

  "You fixin' to see your next birthday, kid?"

  "She didn't mean it," Billy said, finally getting some words through his stiff lips.

  "Oh, I think she did."

  Angel nervously licked her lips. So much for being nice to old people. "I'm sorry."

  "Get out of here, both of you, before I tan your hides myself."

  Billy grabbed Angel's hand and dragged her away from the river. "You shouldn't have mentioned Uncle Ryan," Billy said as they made their way back to town. "Nobody is supposed to talk about him, not ever."

  "How come?"

  "Because he's a liar and a thief."

  "What did he lie about?"

  Billy shrugged. "Don't know."

  "Well, what did he steal then?"

  "My dad wouldn't say."

  "Then maybe none of it's true," Angel said.

  Billy looked shocked that she would even question him. But then Billy believed most of what she told him, too.

  "Of course it's true," Billy said. "My dad wouldn't lie to me."

  Angel looked away, feeling terribly sad. "Sometimes dads are the worst liars of all," she whispered, but Billy didn't hear her. Maybe it was better that way.

  * * *

  Andrew Hunter set his beer glass down on the bar and sighed. Three beers and he didn't feel drunk, just nauseated. He never could hold his liquor. Just another thing his little brother did better than him.

  "Refill, hon?"

  His brain said no. His mouth said yes.

  Loretta Swanson took his empty glass and filled it from the tap behind the bar. Her movements were graceful and efficient for a woman nine months pregnant. He couldn't help admiring the slender curve of her neck where her blond hair was swept up into a ponytail, or the long thin legs that came out from under her oversize sweater.

  Loretta Swanson had always been the prettiest girl in town as well as the fastest. She was the Serenity Springs bad girl. She had been in Ryan's class, and for a while she and Ryan had been a pair.

  Rumor had it that Loretta had laid every man in town. And even if that was an exaggeration, judging by the current state of affairs she'd slept with at least one. According to the town grapevine, she wasn't saying who the father was. People speculated that she didn't even know who the father was, and since she'd turned up knocked up most of the men took care to avoid her.

  Of course, Andrew had never been with her. His father would have kicked his butt out of the house if he had ever messed with a girl like Loretta. It was bad enough when he got involved with Becky Lee...

  "Must be woman problems," Loretta said, offering him a warm, commiserating smile.

  "Not this time." Andrew drained his glass of beer in one long draft. His stomach turned over, and his vision blurred slightly. "Hit me again," he said.

  Loretta shook her head. "You're not a drinker, Andrew Joseph. So what are you doing here in my bar, shoving down beers like a thirsty man in the desert?"

  It was her warm brown eyes that did it. No wonder so many men wanted her. She had a way of talking and looking that made everything seem personal. Course, he didn't approve of her life-style. He wanted a woman with morals, someone like Kara.

  He tried to smile at the thought of Kara. She was just as pretty as Loretta in a different sort of way. Kara had beautiful red hair and big blue eyes, the kind of skin that burned under a winter sun, and a womanly figure that was pleasing to a man. Unfortunately she also had a stubborn streak, a tendency to laugh at the worst jokes, and a bit of a temper. Not to mention her ideas for Serenity Springs, which was why he was here in the first place.

  "Cat caught your tongue, Andrew Joseph?"

  "Don't call me that," he growled. "Makes me feel like

  I'm in the third grade again. If you really want to know the problem, it's Ryan. He's coming home."

  Loretta stared at him in shock. "I knew Kara invited him, but I never thought he'd come." She put a hand to her mouth in amazement, then self-consciously began to tuck her loose hair into her ponytail, as i
f Ryan might walk in any minute and catch her not looking her best.

  "I don't think your hair will be the first thing Ryan notices," Andrew said, tipping his head toward her stomach.

  Loretta blushed. He couldn't believe it. Her cheeks actually turned red.

  "That was a mean thing to say," she said.

  "You are pregnant."

  "Believe me, if anyone knows that, I do. I'm the one with the backaches and this whale of a body that barely lets me get through the door. You don't have to remind me." Her eyes blurred with tears.

  Andrew stared at her in amazement. "I'm sorry. But if things are so tough, maybe you should get the father of that kid of yours to help you out."

  "Aw, shove off, Andrew Joseph. Go drown your sorrows somewhere else. I'm closing up."

  Andrew glanced around the empty bar. Aside from old Hank Marley and Lou Osborne playing checkers in the corner, the place was dead. Still, there were glasses to wash and tables to scrub down, and Loretta already looked ready to drop. "You need any help?"

  "No. I can do it alone. I can do everything alone."

  "Fine." Andrew stood up abruptly, then wished he hadn't when his head began to spin.

  "You got yourself a buzz, don't you?" Loretta said knowingly. "You want a cup of coffee before you go home?"

  "I thought you were closing."

  Loretta shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I have time. It's not like I got anywhere to go. What about Billy? He expecting you?"

  "Mrs. Murray will stay till I get back," Andrew said, referring to his longtime neighbor and baby-sitter. She had been taking care of him and Billy for more than ten years now.

  Loretta set a cup of black coffee in front of him. A bit of it sloshed over the rim of the cup, and they both reached for a napkin. His hand came down on top of hers, and the touch set off a charge down his spine.

  When he lifted his head, he was staring straight into her eyes. Goddammit. He didn't need this, not now. He got to his feet. "I gotta go," he mumbled.

  Loretta didn't smile, just nodded her head. "Running away again. You been making a habit of that, haven't you?"

  "I am not running away. I have never run away. I stayed here in Serenity Springs to help my father run the newspaper, to raise my child. Ryan's the one who left."

  "Sometimes running away just means turning your back, Andrew Joseph, and I've seen a lot of your back."

  Andrew walked out of the bar and slammed the door behind him. The last thing he needed was pop psychology from Loretta Swanson. As he ran to his car, the rain came down on his head, sobering him up, reminding him that even after a night of drowning his sorrows, he could still remember that Ryan was coming home.

  Chapter Three

  A week later, Ryan turned off the main highway and headed toward Serenity Springs. The winding two-lane road took him farther away from what he considered civilization -- fast-food restaurants, video stores, and ATM machines.

  Now, instead of traffic lights and billboards, he saw redwood and pine trees; thick grassy meadows and rain-filled ponds; apple orchards and Christmas tree farms; small-time restaurants with names like Joe's or Mary's; fresh-fruit stands that were nothing more than a truck, a dilapidated shack, and crates of apples, oranges, and grapes.

  Ryan could feel the pace of life getting slower with each mile. Even the cars moved at a more leisurely pace. When the truck in front of him stopped to let a trio of horseback riders cross, Ryan knew there was no point in honking his horn. They would move when they moved.

  Eventually the traffic thinned out until there was nothing to see in either direction but a long ribbon of asphalt leading to his final destination, Serenity Springs.

  Ryan turned on the radio, hoping for a snappy tune to take his mind off his doubts. The first station had Bruce Springsteen singing "Born to Run."

  Jesus! How appropriate. He had been born to run, and he was still running. Only now he was going backward instead of forward. Ryan changed the station, hoping to find some jazz or maybe some blues. That would certainly fit his mood.

  As he drove over a narrow bridge, his attention turned toward the river. His first sight of the water brought back memories. He remembered the big flood twenty-five years earlier and the damage left in its wake. He had been nine years old when the river broke over its banks. The rush of water had been tremendous. The friendly creek had become a monster that could not be defeated. He had been afraid of it ever since.

  His father never understood his aversion to the water, his fear of getting too far from shore or caught up in a sudden torrent. But then Jonas had no time for weakness in any form. Just another one of his father's wonderful traits.

  Today, with the clouds and scattered sunshine, the river did not look threatening, although it did appear higher than Ryan remembered. Of course, it had rained last week, and according to the weather service, there was more rain on the way. He just hoped it would hold off till Sunday.

  Ryan's breathing relaxed as he drove off the bridge and the road moved away from the river. It was easier to look at the far-off mountains and the empty road than the powerful and swift Snake River.

  His father loved the river, respected it, feared it, and wanted to live by it all the days of his life. Ryan wondered if Andrew felt the same as Jonas. Andrew must, or he would have left Serenity Springs years ago.