I closed the book. I thought I would just go inside and ask Mama more about it all. I would make her tell me things, but before I got up, she came rushing out of the house. She had a paper shopping bag in her hand, and without even looking at me, started down the steps toward the car. She looked absolutely furious, pressing her lips together and striding away.
"Mama, where are you going?" I called.
She stopped and looked back at me. "Oh, Jordan. Just hang around. I'll be gone for most of the day. I made your and Ian's sandwiches for lunch. They're in the refrigerator. If your father ever gets up and asks you where I am, tell him I went on an errand I should have gone on years ago," she added, and got into the car.
I stood up and watched her back out of the driveway and then drive off very quickly. I stood there looking after her until the car disappeared around a turn.
An errand? She should have done it years ago? What kind of an errand could that be? Why didn't she ask me to go along with her?
I sat again, confused, and for reasons I didn't understand, feeling very frightened. Not long afterward. I heard Daddy come down the stairs and go into the kitchen. I went inside.
"Where's your mother?" he asked.
He stood there in his underwear. His hair looked like rats had been running through it all night and his face was gray, his eyes like two poached eggs.
"She went on an errand."
"An errand? Why didn't she make any coffee this morning, damn it?"
He started to grind some coffee beans. The noise made him grimace.
"Why didn't she take you along?" he asked, turning back and squinting at me as if he just realized I was there in the kitchen, too.
"I don't know. She went very quickly," I said.
He held the coffee pot and stared at me a moment. "What sort of errand?'
I shrugged and then remembered what she had said. "An errand she should have done years ago."
"What?"
"That's what she said, Daddy.*
"What the hell's that supposed to mean? Damn it," he muttered, put water in the pot, and began to make himself some coffee. "Between your mother and your grandmother. I'm sure to end up in the loony bin," he said.
"I could make you breakfast, Daddy," I offered. I could make scrambled eggs and toast. Nancy had taught me and even let me make it twice. I was never sure if Grandmother Emma knew or not.
"Naw. I just want some coffee and some peace and quiet," he said. "Just go play. Don't make any noise, and when your mother returns from her ancient errand, tell her thanks a lot for bringing me up a cup of coffee.'
He flopped into a chair and waited for the coffee. His eyes closed and opened, closed and opened. He looked like he was going to fall asleep any minute. I knew what was the matter with him. I had heard the word hangover a few times before when Mama complained about his being drunk.
"Do you have a hangover from drinking whiskey, Daddy?" I asked.
He seemed to struggle to open his eyes. His forehead filled with creases and he brought his thumb and his other fingers up to squeeze his temples.
"I don't need whiskey to get a hangover from this family," he said. "Go on and play. I'll talk to you later," he said, and closed his eyes again.
I hesitated and then went back out to the porch. Where was Ian? I wondered. He should know about Mama leaving on this errand. I wandered around to the rear of the cabin. The sky looked like God had dipped a paintbrush into a pail of clouds and wildly drew long and short strokes across the blue, some of them thick and others so thin they looked like pieces of tissues. It didn't look like it would rain, however. I ventured closer to the woods and called for Ian. He didn't respond so I walked into the woods and shouted louder.
All I heard were the distant sounds of motorboats on the lake., cars on the roads, and then a commercial jet plant making its way west. Even though I had been in planes like that one when we went on trips and vacations, it was still almost impossible to imagine people up there eating and drinking and watching movies. I watched it until I could no longer see it and then I ventured deeper into the woods until I recognized the path Ian and I had taken to Flora's camper.
Maybe. I thought, he had decided to go back to see her and her butterfly collection after all. Maybe he just didn't want me tagging along, taking their attention away from their exploring. I thought I might just continue through the woods until I could see the campers and see if Ian was there. If he was. I could tell him about Mama's leaving.
I walked slowly, tentatively, nevertheless, thinking that any moment. I might just decide to him around and run back to our cabin. The deeper in I went, though, the more courage I had and the more determined I became. Then I heard some branches cracking off to my right and I stopped to listen. I didn't hear them again.
"Ian?" I called.
The branches of bushes snapped. Was it the black bear?