To Run With the Swift Read online

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Mom staring at me. “What are you doing?”

  I shook her off and quickly walked a little farther away. She didn’t follow. A moment later SIRI came back. “I can send a text from the Associated Press. Would that be sufficient, or would you like me to keep trying?”

  “Associated Press is perfect!” I nearly shouted it. This just might work.

  “Okay,” SIRI said, ever the patient one. “To whom would you like this message sent?”

  I didn’t hesitate an instant. “Lisa Cole.”

  A moment’s pause, then, “What would you like to say to Lisa Cole?”

  I put the phone up close to my mouth. This I had already decided. “News Flash, period. Regarding Chris Hemsworth, movie star, period.” I hit the microphone to stop the recording. Instantly my words were translated into print, including the correct punctuation. I hit the record button again. “Word just received that Australian-born Hemsworth, star of the much-anticipated ‘Avengers,’ to be released in May 2012, is vacationing at Lake Powell, in Southern Utah, period.”

  I stopped and waited for it to show up on screen. I immediately saw I had spoken too quickly and “just received” came out as “justice sees.” I highlighted the two words with my finger and typed in the correct spelling. Then I started recording again, turning my back so I didn’t have to watch Mom glaring at me. “Hemsworth has announced a press conference to be held at Bullfrog Marina today at—” I glanced at the time at the top of my phone—“At 5:30 p.m. Hemsworth will be signing autographs immediately afterwards.” Then I tapped the stop recording icon. A moment later the full text appeared.

  SIRI came back in. “Would you like me to send your message now?”

  “Yes,” I said with delicious satisfaction.

  There was a soft chirp, and the message moved up to the “sent” window. Feeling an enormous sense of satisfaction, I walked quickly back to Mom, Shayla, and Cody. From their expressions, it was obvious that I hadn’t been as clever as I thought. They had heard it all. Cody held up his hand and gave me a high five. “Wicked!” he said. Mom just shook her head. Shayla was looking at me with both admiration and a touch of awe.

  But there was no chance for any more discussion. A short blast of rock music blared. Lisa had her back to us, but I saw her grab her phone and hold it up. I held my breath and crossed my fingers. All we ever heard from Lisa in the last few months was Chris Hemsworth this, and Chris Hemsworth that. He was the most attractive man in the world. He was hot. He was awesome. He was ... Then words would fail her and she would just shake her head and sigh. She had already made her mother promise to drive her to Salt Lake City for the first night’s showing of Avengers, even though the movie was still ten months away from being released.

  She gave a shrill squeal and started jumping up and down, shouting, “Omigosh! Omigosh! Chris Hemsworth. Omigosh!”

  Everyone gathered in around Lisa. Her voice was shrill as she read the message to the others. In less than ten seconds, Rick was totally—I mean like totally—forgotten. He was ancient history. Kids huddled in. Someone asked her to read it again. Then Lisa said, “I’m going. Who’s going with me?”

  “What about your mother? Don’t you have to ask her?” someone asked.

  “For Chris Hemsworth? Are you kidding? Who’s going with me?”

  I couldn’t believe it. It was like someone had fed a bunch of squirrels some nuts laced with amphetamines. Kids were yelling and running for their cars. Some were calling their parents on a dead run. A moment later, Suzanne Callas evidently got that permission, because she called out that she was leaving right now and those who wanted to go with her had better get in the car.

  As her car took off, quickly followed by another, then another, I felt a pang of guilt. Some of these kids were good friends. Great friends. I had only meant for Lisa to get distracted. But there was nothing to be done about it now. I looked at Mom and hung my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  She smiled a tiny smile. “Perhaps not. But it worked. Look.”

  I turned in the direction she was pointing and saw that, with the exception of one or two people slowly walking away, Charlie and Rick Ramirez were alone. Rick’s dad was handing him his crutches. I took off at a swift walk and caught them just before they reached their truck.

  Rick turned as he saw me coming. He cocked his head slightly. “Did you have anything to do with what just happened?”

  “Who, me?” I asked innocently. “Whatever made you think that?”

  “Oh, just a BMW convertible with a live license plate and writing on the windshield.”

  I fought to keep a straight face. “I think any relationship between that and what just happened is purely coincidental.”

  “Yeah, right,” he growled. But then his face softened. “Thanks, Danni. I am very tired. I wasn’t sure how to break it off.”

  I saw Charlie watching us, a funny expression on his face. Whoops. Shouldn’t have mentioned the BMW. But I just smiled. “Put him to bed, Mr. Ramirez,” I said. “Hog-tie him in if you have to. Okay?”

  “You have my word on that,” he said.

  “’Bye, Rick. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  He pulled a face. “Even if I’m hog-tied, I can still talk on the phone. How about tonight?”

  “Shall I actually call you?” I teased. “Or should I just send you a text?”

  Because we hadn’t been home for over a week, before we left town Mom and Cody ran into the grocery store and bought enough food for dinner and breakfast. I stayed in the car to catch up on my phone messages. I was still checking my Facebook page to see what I had missed when we turned into the lane that led to our house and, a few moments later, into our driveway.

  That’s when Mom’s voice startled me and I looked up. “Oh my word.”

  I saw nothing unusual and looked at her. “Oh my word what?”

  “On the front porch.”

  We were passing the barn and the equipment shed and approaching the house now, so when I turned my attention to the front of the house, I saw immediately what she was seeing. “Omigosh,” I squealed. “What is it?”

  She turned and smiled. “I’m not sure, my dear, but I think those are roses.”

  She opened the garage door but didn’t pull in. I was out of the car and trotting for the porch before the engine even died. Cody was right behind me. Pulling up at the bottom step, I stared at the spray of color before me. “Oh! My! Gosh!”

  What we were looking at was a clear glass vase, large enough to hold probably two or three gallons of water. It was one of the largest flower vases I had ever seen. And from it, in a spray of brilliant crimson, erupted an armful of roses. I beg your pardon. No one person could have held that many roses in her arms. It would take two people at least to encircle the bouquet.

  “Wow!” Cody breathed as he hopped up on the porch and started walking around it.

  “Wow, indeed,” Mom said, coming up to stand beside me.

  “Who’s it from?” Cody asked. Then he bent down. “Here’s a card.” He straightened with a small, brown envelope in his hand. He started to open it. “It says it’s for you, Danni.”

  “Then give the card to Carruthers, Cody. Let her open it.”

  Still in awe at what stood before us, I managed to open the envelope and remove a card with a floral pattern on the front. I opened it and started reading. “It’s from Clay.”

  “Clay?” Cody said. “Why Clay?”

  “Read it out loud, Danni,” Mom said. So I did.

  Dear Danni,

  As promised, here is a small token of our appreciation for an amazing week. I know I promised you several semi-trucks full of flowers, but my wife assures me that this is even better.

  Mom’s face was wreathed in smiles. “She got that right,” she murmured.


  The florist told me that red roses signify love, respect, and courage. I cannot think of three better words to represent what you are and what you stand for. Working with you and your family in these difficult circumstances turned out to be one of the most significant experiences of my entire career. I consider it an honor to call you and your family my friends.

  Earlier, I mentioned having your family and Rick’s family up to our home for supper sometime so you can meet my boss, Joel Jamison, the deputy director from Washington. My wife has a better suggestion. Each year, it is a Zabriskie family tradition to gather all of our family for the Fourth of July. We do a parade in the morning, a picnic supper in the evening, then the big fireworks show that night. It would be an honor to have your two families join us. Since the Fourth is on Monday this year, and since we have to get an early start to get a good spot to watch the parade, we would reserve rooms for you near our home in Sandy for Sunday and Monday nights. The deputy director will be here Tuesday by noon so he can meet you all.

  Talk to your folks and Rick’s. If that agrees with their schedules, let us know.

  With warm affection,

  Clay Pigeon

  I looked up, finding Mom’s face a little blurry all of a sudden. “What do you think?” I asked.

  She laughed. “What do you think I think?” she exclaimed. “Of course, we’ll go.”

  “Yes!” Cody yelled, punching the air.

  Then Mom got this mysterious smile. “Maybe we can talk Dad into going up early enough on Saturday so you and I could buy us each a nice dress to wear. You know, something that would look good for a VIP from Washington.”

  I saw through her subterfuge immediately and smiled sweetly back at her. “Wonderful. Maybe you could buy me two or three, just to be sure we find something we both like.”

  For a moment, she was startled, then she threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, Danni, Danni, Danni. Wherever did my little Carruthers go?”

  CHAPTER 3

  The house smelled musty to me as we walked in. The last time I had been here was two days after my birthday. Without saying a lot, we went to work cleaning up the worst of the mess. There was broken glass from the picture that still hung crazily on the wall and from the lamp that had been hit by a stray bullet. We couldn’t do anything about the bullet holes in the walls. Dad would have to patch them up later.

  By unspoken agreement, none of us talked about that night.

  The phone rang about an hour later. I was closest to it, so I turned off the vacuum and started toward it. “I’ll get it,” I called. Mom, who was in the kitchen, came to the door to watch.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Danni boy.”

  A rush of warmth and longing swept through me. Though we had talked on the phone, I hadn’t seen my father since Sunday morning on the houseboat. It was wonderful to hear his voice again. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “What time did you guys get home?”

  “Around five. Where are you? How did the closing at the bank go?”

  “We just turned off I-70 onto Highway 24. We’ll be there in about an hour. Is Mom there?”

  Mom was already at my side. I handed her the phone and went back into the kitchen, wondering if he had deliberately ducked my question about the bank closing.

  “Where are they?” Cody asked.

  I told him. Then I had another thought. I stuck my head back into the family room. “Mom?”

  She looked up.

  “Can I talk to Grandpère when you’re done?”

  Waving a hand to let me know she’d heard, she turned away again. I watched her closely to see if anything seemed to be wrong, but she was clearly just happy to be talking to her husband again.

  They talked for only a few more minutes before she called to me. “Carruthers, Grandpère’s on.”

  As we passed each other, Mom called out to Cody, “They’ll be here in less than an hour. Let’s get some supper started.”

  I took the phone. “Hello? Grandpère?”

  “Hi, Squirt,” he said.

  I chuckled. He hadn’t called me that in a long time. “How are you and Dad? Really?”

  “We’re fine. Really.” I could hear a bit of a teasing note in his voice. “We’re both tired and ready to be home, but all is well.”

  “Good.” I hesitated, then plunged. “Grandpère?”

  “Oui?”

  “Where is Le Gardien?”

  Long pause. “You saw it sink in the lake.”

  “Yes, I did. But I’m pretty sure I also saw you fish it out again. Do you still have it?”

  “No.”

  “Where is it, then? Please tell me, Grandpère. I’m too exhausted to play games tonight.”

  “As am I.”

  “Then just tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Do you have it with you?” I blurted, feeling my temper rising. After a very long day that included “Danni Oakley” in it, I wasn’t in much of a mood to be teased.

  “No, I do not.”

  My heart sank. “Then where is it?”

  “If I don’t have it, how can I answer that?”

  “You swear you don’t have it?”

  “I swear.”

  “On Grandmère’s grave?”

  “I see,” he said, clearly disappointed. “So my word’s not good enough.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, you did.” Then his voice softened. “I know today has not been a good day for you. We’ll talk more when we get home. But I will say this much. I hereby state clearly and unequivocally that I do not have Le Gardien. However, I am confident that one of these days it will turn up. Does that satisfy you?”

  It did not. The disappointment was like a knife. “Whatever. Good-bye, Grandpère.” I hung up the phone and stood there for a few seconds, suddenly realizing just how utterly tired I was. After briefly indulging myself in a pity party, I raised my head. “Mom?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Do you need help with supper, or can I start bringing our stuff in from Rick’s car now?”

  “We’re okay. Bringing in the stuff would be good.”

  There wasn’t a lot to bring in. It wasn’t like we’d packed well before leaving. I took Mom’s and Cody’s stuff in first, taking it to their rooms. On my way out again, I stopped in front of the roses, now placed on the coffee table in the living room. Here was a bright and beautiful exception to an otherwise bleak and dreary day. I lingered for a moment to enjoy their beauty.

  I was feeling a little guilty about my conversation with Grandpère. Regretting my snappishness, I started to send him a text, then changed my mind. Why was I the one feeling guilty? Irritated all over again, I went out to the car. Taking my bag and the duplicate pouch in one hand and Dad’s rifle in the other, I went back into the house. I locked the rifle in the gun closet, then stopped for a moment at the kitchen door. “Do I have time for a bath?” I called.

  Mom turned. “I expect Dad and Grandpère in about twenty-five or thirty minutes. How fast can you be?”

  “Not that fast. After that tiny bathtub in the motel, I plan to spend at least an hour in there.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait. Let me take this stuff upstairs, then I’ll come down and set the table.”

  “That would be great.”

  As I turned and went up the stairs, letting the bag and the pouch almost drag along the carpeting, I realized that my exhaustion wasn’t just mental and emotional. I was physically spent, and soaking in a hot bath sounded absolutely divine.

  In my bedroom, I tossed the bag on the bed, then bent down and put the duplicate pouch in the bottom drawer of my dresser—the one with the most room. As I straightened again and started toward the door, I stopped dead, my head jerking forward. There, right befor
e my eyes, hanging on its wooden peg alongside the mirror on my dresser, was Le Gardien. With a low cry, I sprang to it. I gently took it in my hands, loving the feel of its roughness in my hands. I put it to my nose and was not surprised to smell a faint, moldy scent. At that moment, my phone chimed again. I took it out and looked at the screen. It was from Grandpère. You still there?

  I called up SIRI again and quickly dictated: Yes. And looking at Le Gardien hanging on the wall. You can be very vexing at times. “Vexing” was a word Grandpère used on me and Cody all the time when we were doing something he didn’t like.

  Moi? Long pause, then the phone chimed again. You up to a random thought???

  From you? You don’t do random, remember?

  No answer for almost a minute, then came this: If thou hast run with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses?

  I stared at it for several seconds, not comprehending. This time, I typed with my thumbs. Huh????

  I waited over a minute, but there was no answer. By then, I knew there wouldn’t be one.

  I am one hundred percent better than I was an hour and a half ago. Mom cooked spaghetti and meatballs for supper. We still had a couple of loaves of garlic bread in the freezer, so we had that, too. It tasted like pure heaven. I ate three pieces and Cody ate five. After reminding us that the loaves were actually French bread, Grandpère had three himself. For dessert we had root-beer floats. Yum! After four days of continental breakfasts at the hotel and eating lunch and supper with Rick at the clinic, this was divine.

  And finally, I got my bath. Even more sublime than food. Steaming hot water, bubbles thick enough to lay your head on. It was wonderful.

  While we were eating, Dad said he needed to talk to all of us after supper, but Mom and I both begged him to let us take our baths before doing so. He reluctantly agreed. I didn’t get to soak for a full hour like I planned, but I did wash my hair and put some body lotion on. After being out so much in the sun this last week, my skin was totally dry.

  Mom is taking longer than me and isn’t out yet. So even though Dad, GP, and Cody are down waiting for us, I’m writing in my journal until Mom comes out.