The Brushstroke Legacy Page 7

  “You know how to do that?”

  “I’m going to learn. We’ll ask at a hardware store. Besides, I have a book in the car on how to fix anything.”

  “Maybe Paul would help.”

  “His name is Mr. Heidelborg until he tells you differently.”

  “Sor-ry.” Erika stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’ve seen enough for today.”

  “Let’s go on through and out that other door. They must have had a table and chairs here and used this whole room as the main living area.”

  Ragni took a step forward and felt and heard glass crunching under her shoes. Not that the broken window did a lot to bring in fresh air. If they left both doors open, the place could air out—from what she could see, the windows had been painted shut. Didn’t people like fresh air back then? She turned and looked at the stove. If they could fire that up, they could heat the water for scrubbing this place down after they swept it out. It would be easier than heating water on the camp stove. Next item on the list: a larger pot for heating water. Studying the room again, she noticed a braided wire and light bulb dangling from a porcelain receptacle in the ceiling. Wonder how long the electricity has been turned off—and if it can be turned on again.

  She followed Erika outside and filled her lungs with clean air as soon as she cleared the door. A shallow ramp instead of steps led into the once-fenced area. Had someone been wheelchair bound?

  “You think this was a flower garden?” Erika asked, studying the overrun patch.

  Ragni raised her face to the sun and breathed deep again. Closing her eyes, she saw a woman bent over weeding in the garden. Pink hollyhocks bloomed along the rail fence, and a yellow rose climbed in the corner. The woman wore her hair in a bun. She was bending over with her dress hiked up, revealing the backs of her knees; a faded blue apron crisscrossed straps between her shoulders and a bow tied at the waist. She stood and stretched, kneading her back with her fists, then lifted her face to the sun.

  Just like I’m doing now. Ragni’s throat dried. She blinked, and the riot of color disappeared. Now the fence stood broken in places and buried under weeds and grass in others. But the sun shone the same, and the blue sky vaulted overhead. The breeze felt cool against her face.

  “What’s with you?” Erika asked.

  “I-I don’t know.” Ragni blinked again. The dream, or whatever it was, didn’t return. Surely she just had an overactive imagination. The dress hadn’t been long enough for… Cut it out. What movie did you see that brought that picture to your mind?

  Erika stood facing the house, her back to the sun. “Ragni, have you looked at that hole yet?”

  “What hole?” Ragni glanced around.

  “The one under that ramp. Something has dug a big hole under the house.”

  Ragni stepped off the ramp and followed Erika’s pointing finger. “Oh my.” She could feel her eyes growing to match Erika’s, both of them with their mouths hanging open. Snapping her mouth shut, she took a step back. A mound of dirt at the entrance said the digger had been at it recently. “You could stuff a basketball in that hole.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I wonder what kind of animal it could be?”

  “Snake?”

  “Snakes don’t dig holes.”

  “But they might live in them after something else dug them.”

  Ragni shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “I don’t think I want to meet whatever is living in there.” Erika glanced toward the car.

  “Animals are more afraid of us than we are of them.” Her mother had told her that often enough to make it stick in her mind.

  “Ha!”

  “Think I’ll walk around the cabin and see what else I need to know. You coming?”

  Erika shook her head. “What if…”

  “Don’t you think Mr. Heidelborg would have warned us if there was something dangerous here?”

  “Not if he didn’t know about it.” Erika headed back to the car.

  Ragni watched her go and glanced down at the hole again before moving her gaze to the hills. What would happen if we shoveled the dirt back in the hole? Another item: a shovel. And a rake so we can clean up the yard. We have plenty of firewood with these downed branches. Or do we need to buy an ax, too? I should have brought a trailer of equipment…

  She walked around the disintegrating fence to the back of the car for her walking stick. Tall trees on the west end of the house invited her into their cool shade. She took her stick and started out, beating the grass back in front of her. What could they buy to cut the grass? She wasn’t going to invest in a lawn mower for this two-week visit, but possibly a weed whacker, her father’s favorite piece of equipment. Or at least it used to be.

  Windows guarded each side of the door on the west end. Here she could see rocks of what must have been a foundation holding up the log walls. Half of a log set on the ground made a step. She continued on, not bothering to try to open the door. Plenty of dead branches littered the ground and the roof. Good thing I brought leather gloves. A saw might be a good thing if the kitchen stove works. She looked up at the roof to see a sheet of plywood on the rear section of the house. Paul had mentioned the makeshift repair in his letter. At the front of the house, she saw a post nailed to the corner with an insulator on top. The wires were flapping either way. No more electricity without some major work.

  She meandered on around and found Erika sitting in the car, earphones in place and a DVD player on her knee. Digging a bottle of water out of the cooler, Ragni cranked it open and drank a third of it down without stopping.

  All you have to do is go back to town, check into the motel, and you’ll have all the water you could ever want… I know, but this is where we are, and if we keep running back to town, we’ll not get any of this fixed up… So who says you have to fix it up? She drank again and set the bottle back in the chest. They’d need ice by tomorrow.

  Leaning against the car, she studied the surrounding area. Had there been a well when Great-grandmother came? Or had she been forced to carry water from the river? Water for laundry, for cooking, cleaning… Did they drink water from the river? She shuddered. Surely not.

  Ragni retrieved pen and pad from the dashboard and sat down to begin her list. If only she could call her dad and ask him about the stove, the animal burrow, how to start the weed whacker. Sadness struck with a blow that made her catch her breath. She’d never get to call him up and ask him life how-to questions again. Not about her car, or her house if she bought one, or how to fix a window. He’d done all those things and now… She dumped the pen and notebook back on the dash and stomped away from the car. It’s not fair! You robbed me! Tears burned at the back of her eyes and clogged her throat. She set off for the riverbank, her feet pounding the grass into submission, her jaw clamped against the feelings knotting a rope around her lungs and heart.

  She fought to remember her BA father—Before Alzheimer’s. But all she could see was a man slumped in his recliner, glaring at the television, shouting at the players, unable to follow his beloved Minnesota Twins, the game of baseball now beyond his comprehension.

  She picked up a handful of rocks and heaved them at the water, at the disease that was devouring her father’s mind, destroying the man she’d adored her entire life. It’s not fair. My kids will never know their grandfather. He’ll never get to teach them to fish, to whistle. They won’t get to hear his stories. She sank down on the log she’d seen earlier, unable to dam the tears any longer.

  When the flow finally slowed, she mopped her eyes with the hem of her T-shirt and stared at the river on its way to the sea. How he would have loved to be with her now and take on the challenge of this place. Tell me what to do, Dad. She mopped more tears and choked on a sob. If only I had listened to you more often. You tried to teach me practical things in spite of me. Forgive me for—for… She had to fight the tears again. For more things than I can count. She glanced over her shoulder, but the house was hidden behind the bank and the waving grass
es. Only the giant trees marked the place.

  She twisted her T-shirt around to find a dry spot, wiped her eyes again, and settled her sunglasses back in place. This one’s for you, Dad. Maybe when I get home, you’ll have a good day and… She sucked in a deep breath. Completely drained, she watched the water flow by, a branch bobbing on the current. Am I like that branch, just floating along, no idea where I’m going? She glanced at her watch. The hours were fleeing as fast as the clouds overhead. With a sigh, she crossed her arms on her knees and ignored the time, let the memories continue. The peace of the flowing river and singing birds made her want to remain, but her father’s directives intruded.

  Better get that tent up and the camp stove started. Making camp was the first thing they did all those years ago when they traveled. She and Susan had to find wood if they wanted a campfire. No problem with finding wood around here.

  She rose and headed for the car. In the shade of those trees but inside the perimeter fence would be a good place to pitch the tent. Clean up the ground, knock down the grass—not necessarily in that order.

  Erika had levered the seat back and switched to her iPod, earphones still in place but her head tipped to the side in sleep.

  Should I let her sleep or get her to help? Ragni went ahead removing the gear from the trunk, making no effort to be quiet. When that didn’t work, she strode to the side of the car.

  “Okay, kid, let’s get this unloaded and the tent up.” She touched Erika’s shoulder and got a glare for her efforts.

  “What?”

  “I said, come and help me get the tent set up and our gear organized so we can cook supper when the time comes.”

  Erika started to say something but changed her mind. With exaggerated slowness, she wound her earphones around the iPod and inserted all her toys into the backpack at her feet. She drank from her water bottle, capped that, and set it precisely in the drink holder.

  Ragni watched her. Two can play this game, sweetie, and I have a lot more experience at this than you do. When Erika finally stood and stretched, Ragni smiled.

  “I thought we’d set up camp under those big trees by the road. They’ll give us shade and maybe some protection if it starts to rain.” She handed Erika the tent bag. “You take this, and I’ll bring the toolbox.” Without waiting, she took the red metal toolbox her father had given her for Christmas one year and led the way.

  “First we need to knock down the grass and clean out the branches and anything that will poke us in the back at night. I think we’ll start a woodpile by the house for now. I’m hoping to get that cookstove working tomorrow so we can boil water for cleaning.” Her statement caught her by surprise. When did I make that decision? “Your mother and I used to fight over who got to pound the tent pegs in. Now that I think of it, she and I managed to fight over most anything. Especially when she gave me orders and thought I should just do as she said.”

  Erika kicked pieces of wood out of the way, obviously wishing she were kicking something besides sticks. “Things haven’t changed; she’s just gotten a new slave.”

  Ragni stopped with one branch in her hand and stared at her niece. Some kind of bitterness going on there. I have no clue how to deal with this. She pulled a crumbling branch out of the grass, broke it into shorter pieces, and started an orderly stack by the house.

  When they’d cleared enough ground for the tent, Ragni unpacked the bag and laid out the aluminum frame. “Good thing we’ll be able to keep things in the car. This will be a tight fit for the two of us and our air mattresses. Just do what I do and we’ll have it up in no time.”

  Ragni studied the aluminum rods while Erika studied her fingernails, gum cracking, foot tapping to the beat of some internal music. Straight pieces, curved pieces, joints—it all looks like a bunch of Pick-Up Sticks, only without the colors. She left those lying on the ground and picked up the tent roll. She gave it a shake, like her father always did. The roll opened halfway and tangled, not the way of her father. She glanced up to see Erika watching.

  “Grab that end, will you please, and we’ll lay this out flat.”

  Erika did as asked, with one eyebrow cocked.

  “There should be some instructions around here somewhere,” Ragni said, flipping back one of the folds. Her father always knew how to do things; he never needed instructions. Do we pound the corner pegs into the ground first or put together the inside frame? One glance at Erika showed total boredom. Why didn’t we just stay at the motel? Life would be so much easier. Ragni knelt, picked up the aluminum rods, and laid them on the nylon canvas. She never had been good at Pick-Up Sticks.

  “I think I have the instructions in the car. I’ll be right back.” She blessed the mess on the ground with one more glare and headed for the car. Why did nothing go right? She hauled some more boxes out of the trunk, searching for the manila envelope with instructions that she thought she remembered to put in. After she’d been through every box and bag, she felt like throwing something, pounding something—or screaming, at least. She swigged half a bottle of water and headed back to conquer the tent. Surely two intelligent women could outsmart one tent.

  The blue and green nylon tent arched perfectly as Erika pounded the final peg in the ground and stood to meet her.

  “You did it!”

  “No big deal.”

  Ragni stared at the girl, who stuck the hammer back in the toolbox and closed the lid.

  “Now can we fix something to eat?” Erika asked. “I’m starved.”

  “As soon as we finish here.” With a sniff and a halfhearted smile, Ragni took out the foot pump and plugged the end of it into her air mattress. “We used to have to blow up our own air mattresses. This sure is lots easier.” What kind of aunt are you? Surely your mother taught you some kind of manners. “Thanks, you did great on the tent.” Her foot did the pumping, while her mind roamed.

  She could have said, “You’re welcome.” How long will the kid go before talking? She thought back in time. Susan used to do the same thing—she could go as long as two days without saying a word. It used to drive Mom wild.

  Ragni fastened off the valve and handed Erika the pump. “Your turn.” She watched as Erika stared from the pump to her air mattress, narrowed her eyes and inserted the tip in the valve. When she pressed down on the pump, the tip popped out and air whooshed.

  “You need to twist it.”

  Erika attacked it again, and this time the air flowed into the mattress. Her mouth and eyebrows both made straight lines as she stared down as if the air inflating the mattress was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

  Ragni fitted her mattress into one side of the tent, untied her sleeping bag, and rolled it out on the mattress. Then she went to the car, got her pillow, duffel bag, and the flashlight, and returned to the camp. She stowed her things neatly, as she’d been taught.

  “How about if we have leftover sandwiches for supper and not bother starting the stove tonight?”

  Erika shrugged.

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Don’t care.”

  Ah, she broke the sound barrier. Perhaps she remembered their discussion earlier about responding to a question.

  “Fine with me. If you’d rather have peanut butter and jelly than meat and cheese, we have that too.”

  They used the top of the cooler as a table, made their sandwiches, dug into the chips, and sat with the car doors open to eat. Not exactly what Ragni had planned, but filling. She was just putting things away when she smacked her first mosquito. After digging out the insect repellent, she sprayed her arms and rubbed some on her face.

  “Here, you’d better use this.”

  Erika sprayed herself and handed the can back, wrinkling her nose. “Mom found some bracelets that are supposed to work.”

  “Did you bring any?”

  “No.”

  “We’ll add those to the list.” The list that was already on a second page. “Did you bring a flashlight?”

  “No.�
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  “If you have to use the privy during the night…”

  Erika gave her a look that made Ragni fight to keep from laughing. “Your mother and I…”

  Erika turned away, muttering just loud enough for Ragni to hear, “As if I cared.”

  Ragni went ahead and put everything away, slammed the trunk, and headed for the privy and then the tent. Dusk had settled like a gauze curtain, blurring the final sunset streaks.

  “Since I don’t feel like starting the lantern, I’m going to bed.” That is, I’m not up for the fight necessary to light the lantern.

  “Now?”

  “I’d suggest you do the same, since we are going to be up with the birds in the morning.”

  “But I’m not tired.”

  “Well, I am.” Because I didn’t have a nap this afternoon, unlike someone else around here.

  Erika grabbed her backpack and duffel and stomped over to the tent. “How am I supposed to brush my teeth?”

  “Use water from the gallon jug.”

  “It’s in the trunk.”

  “I know.” She handed Erika the keys. “Keep in mind that if we lose the keys, we will be in a world of hurt.”

  Erika mumbled something.

  She had to admit, the girl was an expert at muttering under her breath just loud enough… “What did you say?”

  “Nothing!”

  Ragni fell asleep hearing the music faintly from Erika’s earphones.

  “Ragni! Ragni!”

  She woke to Erika’s hissed whisper and her shoulder being rocked. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “That sound. Did you hear it?”

  “No.” I was sleeping like the proverbial log. How could I hear anything?

  “There it is again.”

  Ragni listened, holding her breath to hear better. Some small creature was rustling and squeaking right outside the tent. “Sounds like a mouse, or maybe a rabbit. No big deal.”

  Erika bailed out of her sleeping bag. “Where are the keys?”

  “Why?”