On Mystic Lake

And Annie finally understood that she could handle it, too. Last night, when Terri had called (after ten minutes of grilling Annie about who this Nick character was and why Annie was staying at his house), she had finally settled down and listened to Annie, and when the conversation was over, Terri had said quietly, Of course you can handle it, Annie. You’re the only one who thought you couldn’t.

Easter Sunday arrived wrapped in clouds and drenched in rain, but Annie refused to let the uncooperative weather ruin her plans. She dressed Izzy warmly and drove her to Hank’s, where the three of them had a huge brunch and a world-class egg hunt. Then they went to church services in town. Afterward, Annie and Izzy drove back to the house, and Annie gave her a small, wrapped gift. “Happy Easter, Izzy. ”

Izzy tried to open the package with her two good fingers, and the failing effort pinched at Annie’s heart. “Here, I’ll do it, sweetheart. It’s hard when your fingers are gone. ”

Annie unwrapped the shiny paper, then placed the box on the coffee table.

Biting back a grin, Izzy flipped open the box top. Inside, on a bed of white tissue paper, was a bronze medallion the size of a quarter, resting on a coil of thin silver chain. At Izzy’s frown, Annie took the compass from the box and placed it in Izzy’s hand.

“When I was a girl, I thought I was lost all the time. Then my dad gave me this compass, and he told me that if I wore it, I’d always know where I belonged. ” Annie sighed softly. She hadn’t kept wearing the compass. Instead, she’d gone all the way to California and lost her sense of direction again. If only there were some internal mechanism that pointed unerringly to the true north of our selves. It was so damned easy in life to get lost. “So,” she said at last, “do you want to learn how it works?”

Izzy nodded.

“I knew you’d say that. Okay, grab your boots and rain gear, and I’ll show you. ”

With a quick smile, Izzy ran to the coat closet and grabbed her still-wet coat and hat. Within moments, they were both dressed in rain gear, with rubber boots and big floppy hats. Annie quickly explained to Izzy how the compass worked, and when she was convinced that Izzy understood, she slipped the compass around the girl’s neck. “Let’s go exploring. ”

Outside, the weather was horrible. Stuttering gusts of wind blew across the lake, sending silvery ripples onto the gravel shore. Diamond-drops quivered on the tips of the yellow daffodils and tulips that lined the walkway and grew in clumps in the window boxes.

They veered away from the lake, took their heading, and started down the wide, needle-carpeted trail that led into the rain forest. On either side, the immense wooded sentinels stood guard, catching most of the raindrops on their broad, leafy shoulders. A cool mist swirled along the forest floor, so thick in some places that Annie couldn’t see her tennis shoes. At every bend in the trail, Izzy stopped and checked her compass.

By midafternoon, Izzy had a sense for true north, and the quiet confidence that came with knowledge.

They walked down one trail and then another and another. Suddenly, the trees opened up, and they found themselves in an overgrown clearing deep in the oldest part of the rain forest. Tucked in one corner was an old ranger station, obviously abandoned for years. Its shingled roof was furred with moss, and gray fungus peeked out from cracks in the log siding. Scratche

s from a black bear’s claws marked the unhinged door.

Izzy blinked up at her. “Can we go in?”

Annie looked questioningly at the cabin. Unfortunately, there was a lot more mother in her soul than explorer. But when she saw the excitement in Izzy’s eyes, she couldn’t say no. “Okay, but go slow . . . and don’t touch anything icky. ”

With a shriek, Izzy raced for the cabin. Annie hurried along behind her. Together, they eased through the broken door.

Inside, buried under a gauzy net of spiderwebs and dust, were two twin beds, complete with musty blankets; a flimsy, handmade wooden table and two chairs; and a long-forgotten black iron woodstove.

Annie felt like Daniel Boone. She wandered to the old stove and picked up a dusty coffee can, turning it over.

Izzy let out a squeal and pulled something out from under the bed. “Look!” She thrust her hand at Annie.

It was a silver coin, dated 1899.

“Oh, my,” Annie said, touching the metal. “That’s a treasure indeed. You’d best put that in a safe place. ”

Izzy frowned, then very solemnly looked up at Annie. Wordlessly, she shoved the coin toward her.

“It’s yours, Izzy. Don’t give it to me. ”

“Annie? You’ll always be here, won’tcha, Annie? That makes you a safe place. ”

Annie knew she should force the coin gently back into Izzy’s small hand. She should give the child the gift of honesty. I’m not safe, Izzy. Not really. This isn’t my life at all. . . .

But then she looked into Izzy’s liquid brown eyes and she was lost. “Always is a lot longer than you’ll need me, Izzy, but I’ll keep the coin until you’re ready to give it to your daddy, okay?”

“ ’Kay. Don’t lose it. ” Izzy grinned and nodded and started to run for the door. Halfway there, she skidded to a stop and turned around. She was staring at her right hand.

“Izzy, what is it?”

Slowly, Izzy turned. Frowning, she stuck her right hand up in the air. “I can see all my fingers on this hand again. ”