Look at that, Cissy said when she saw the carving, It’s so romantic. I wonder who they were.
I took out my phone and took a picture of the carving. I can’t remember what excuse I made to Cissy. From then on I was totally freaked—I don’t even know how to put it—I sat there by the fire, totally tripping, waiting to get home so I could finally ask my mom who the hell Dallas Raintree was.
The worst day of the year for Vivi Ann was August 21. Sometimes she saw it coming for weeks, bearing down on her like a semi truck with bad brakes, and sometimes she was startled by its sudden appearance in the midst of an otherwise ordinary week, but either way the effect was the same: a pale gray depression. Years ago the pain of this day had been sharp, almost unbearably so, but time had sanded away its edges. It had gone from unbearable to bearable; that was the arc of her progress. She hoped she lived long enough to see it become just another day on the calendar.
She woke up late and fed the horses and steers, and then joined her father for coffee. They talked for a few moments about things that needed to be done, and then went their separate ways: him to Seabeck to look at a used Bush Hog, and her to her chores. For the rest of the day she worked tirelessly, careful never to slow down, until the effort exhausted her. Finally, as sunset drew near, she sat down in the rocking chair on her porch and dared to close her eyes.
Within mere moments she was where she wanted to be: lost in the land of memories. In some cool, rational space of her mind, she knew she shouldn’t want to be here, but that voice was small and easily ignored. On this of all days, she couldn’t help herself.
“Vivi Ann?” Winona said, walking toward her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry, I guess I dozed off,” Vivi Ann said. She got to her feet slowly, feeling a little unsteady. Memories were like alcoholic drinks; too many too fast could ruin your equilibrium. “Where’s Noah?”
“I’m right here, Mom,” he said, getting out of the shiny black SUV.
Mark got out of the driver’s side. “Hey, Vivi Ann,” he said, taking Winona’s hand. “Thanks for letting us take Noah along. He was a lot of fun.”
“Thanks for taking him. That was very generous of you two.”
Mark smiled. “We thought we’d buzz down to the fish shack for dinner and then have some ice cream.”
I was at the ice-cream shop, working late, when I saw Dallas come out of the alley . . .
“You want to join us?” Winona asked.
Vivi Ann smiled as brightly as she could. “No, thank you. Not feeling good,” she added as an afterthought.
“I think I’ll stay with Mom,” Noah said. “Thanks for the trip, though.” He went back to the car, said something to the girl in the backseat.
Winona let go of Mark’s hand and moved toward Vivi Ann. “Are you really okay?”
Some days Vivi Ann loved the way sisters could read each other, and some days—like today—it pissed her off. The only good news was that Winona would never take the time to figure out the importance of this date. “I’m fine. Really. Go have fun.”
She watched her sister walk back to the expensive black car/truck and climb inside. As they drove away, Noah walked across the lawn and up onto the porch. “Today is August twenty-first,” he said. “Does that mean something to you?”
Vivi Ann’s whole world was momentarily upended. “W-what do you mean?”
“Don’t,” he said sharply.
Where only moments ago his expression had been blank and demanding, she saw now that he was nervous.
“We were up at Sol Duc,” he said, coming nearer. “Cissy and me—”
“Cissy and I.”
He rolled his eyes and went on. “We hiked up this long trail to the waterfall and then we sat down for a while to look at it. I saw this carving on a tree.”
“A carving,” she said, unable now to look her son in the eyes.
“It said, D.R. loves V.G.R. August 21, 1992.”
Vivi Ann felt the last bit of her resistance fall away. She was so tired of evading her son’s questions. God knew he had a right to ask. She reached out for her chair and sank into it. The pain she tried so hard to outrun sat down beside her, taking up too much room.
“Mom?” he said; pleaded, really.
She nodded at him finally, revealing the fullness of her emotions for the first time in years, holding nothing back. “Today is our wedding anniversary. Your daddy carved that on our honeymoon.”
“You never call him my daddy.”