A Secret and a Promise

Karen's heart raced like a cornered rabbit. She knew what time it was.

Daddy squatted down and touched her. "Come kitten." The part of Karen's brain still functioning recognized the painful quiver in Daddy's voice.

The storm waves crashed against the rocks. Karen whipped herself around. "Why?" she demanded loudly. "Daddy! Tell me why she hadda die? Daddy, she wasn't bad! Why? It's not fair! Why can't anybody tell me why she hadda die?"

Daddy gathered her into his strong arms. Suddenly, any semblance of control disappeared. Karen squirmed and tried to break away. "No! No! Please! I don't want her to go! She's my bestest friend!" When Daddy had her securely in his grip, he stood up.

When Daddy turned, she was facing the casket and her friend for the last time. "No!" she cried, squirming. "No! Please!" At last, she cried out her friend's name in a high, keening lamentation, "Liiiiissssaaaaaa! Noooo, please! Liiiisssaaaa!"

With each of Daddy's steps, she was further away from her friend. When Daddy reached the door, Lisa disappeared from her view, and Karen's soul crumbled. She went limp in her Daddy's arms, and her agonized sobs announced to all who heard that the destruction of her childhood was complete.

**********

Karen had a hard time even looking at the lake, never mind bring herself to go in the water. She was a strong swimmer, where Lisa never got the hang of it. They used to joke about it. Lisa was OK as long as her head stayed above water when her feet were planted.

Secretly, when they were behind closed doors, or out in the fields away from everyone and it was safe for them to tell their secrets to each other, Lisa would pout and say, "I feel so stupid that I can't swim."

"Don't feel stupid," Karen would answer while savoring the warm glow in her tummy she always felt when she was alone with Lisa. "I can't run fast, and I don't feel stupid, an' I always lose at Tag or Hide 'n' Seek."

Lisa would sigh, clearly unable to refute Karen's logic, yet not reassured by it. Instead, they contented themselves wading and squishing their toes in the mooshy remnants of last year's leaf fall, and keeping watch over the younger kids.

At night though, she felt a strange compulsion to go sit on the end of the dock and look over the lake, the teddy bear nestled in the crook of her arm, and pine for her friend. At night she'd sit on the dock whenever the waning moon was visible, and curse it. "Yeah, go ahead and keep going away to hide, you bastard," Karen would whisper harshly at the ever waning moon. "It's your fault for bein' so bright, and now you only hide an' peek out to laugh at me."

The end of the hot, muggy weather was heralded one evening when the moon was a waning crescent - God's thumbnail, Grampy called it - by a thunderstorm, which came barreling over the ridge, charging down the lake in a fury.

Normally, unless she was with Lisa, thunderstorms made her edgy and nervous. But not this time. No, it brought back wonderful yet terrible memories with a stark clarity that was simply unbearable. She silently padded into the camp, and curled up on her bed, the teddy bear nestled close to her, and wept silently while images of the magical day tormented her.

The day after the storm dawned bright, crisp, even a little cool. Normally it would be a day for exploring the fields and woods, fishing, and, for the older cousins, doing chores for Grampy. Karen tried to eat breakfast, but she had no appetite. She plopped down in front of the TV with the teddy bear and watched reruns of "Ren and Stimpy," "Doug" and "Rug Rats" on Nickelodeon.

Her mother, who worked as the office manager for Daddy's growing general contracting business, was becoming worried enough about Karen that she stayed behind each morning until she was reasonably sure Karen was functional. "Karen honey," she called. "I have to go to work now. You OK?"

By rote, Karen answered, "I'm fine Mom." But she wasn't fine. Her world was now little more than a thick, oppressive fog. She was enveloped by apathy, functioning on a kind of inner autopilot. Memories of the day of the thunderstorm, of their final weeks hanging out together, and worst of all, horrifying visions of how it must have been out on the lake. Those visions stabbed her like a spear, and left her mewling aloud in anguish.

Without much conscious thought, she got up from in front of the TV and left the house. She had no destination in mind, just a vague, inarticulate need to move. Dressed in pink shorts, a unicorn t-shirt, and flip-flops, she made her way to the camp road and started walking aimlessly on the road away from the lake. A mile or two on, the camp road emptied onto the two-lane rural state route just down from Grampy's house, and the barn and garage where he repaired and sold all manner of farm and logging equipment. Karen's listless steps carried her in that direction, away from the lake.

She hadn't gone far when she crossed paths with her cousin Jeremy. He was a year older than her, and he thought that meant he could boss her around, as if age alone bestowed certain privileges. "Hey Mopey-Dopey, where you going?" he called, running to catch up with her.

Karen shrugged. "Nowhere's. Leave me alone Jeremy."

"Jeezum crow, are you still mopin' about that. Get over it, life goes on."

Karen stopped dead in her tracks, holding her teddy bear in one hand, the other hanging down and her fingers twitching ominously. Rising up suddenly from somewhere deep inside was an irrational, white hot anger. She instinctively checked it, but her breathing grew rapid, her heart began to pound like a jackhammer, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. "Jeremy," she said, her voice low and measured. "I said, leave me alone. I'm not kidding."

"Oh for cripe's sake, look at you, still carrying that teddy bear like a baby. You gotta get over it and grow up, you see what I'm sayin'?"

Now her anger erupted. "I said!" she screamed with a force that left Jeremy looking stunned, "Leave! Me! Alonnnnne!" Karen dropped the bear and quickly gathered up stones and pebbles from the dirt road, and she began hurling them at Jeremy as hard as she could.

"Hey!" Jeremy cried out, instinctively flinching. "Cut it out! No fair throwin' rocks."

Karen didn't let up. As quickly as she could fling them and replenish her stock, she hurled the rocks. Several plunked her cousin and bounced off. He cried out in alarm, shock, and pain, and began retreating.

Karen had never felt such a boiling, burning, irrational anger before. In the heat of her outrage, she hurled the most deadly swear she knew, one she'd never before uttered anywhere but the solitude of her room during sleepovers with friends. "Fuck! You! Leave me the fuck alone!" she screeched, still flinging rocks and chasing after her tormenter.

Keeping instinctively scrunched up, Jeremy ran down a path leading to the lake to escape Karen's assault. When he disappeared down the path, Karen stopped at the edge of the road. "I tol' you to leave! Me! The fuck alone!" she screeched one final time.

Karen stood at the edge of the road, looking down the path but not seeing anything except the crimson waves of her anger. Her face was flushed, her breathing harsh and rapid, and her fist hung at her side, clenching and unclenching.

It seemed like an hour passed before she was calm enough to think clearly again. That asshole Jeremy was such a jerk sometimes. He knew now not to give her a hard time. Karen's mind drifted back to the blue funk she'd been in before Jeremy came and set her off. Even now, the only reason she moved was because she heard the faint but unmistakable sound of Grampy's green tractor, bup-bup-bup.

Karen knew from the sound that Grampy was driving this way. He'd be here within two or three minutes. She went back and retrieved the teddy bear. "I'm sorry I dropped you," whispered to the bear. "But that Jeremy, he was bein' such a jerk, I hadda show him." She hugged the bear, and resumed her desultory stroll up the camp road toward the paved road and Grampy and Nanna's place.

The bup-bup-bup grew louder until it was nearly on her. Karen turned around, and she couldn't help feeling a pleasant surge. Grampy, all gnarled up, sat in the metal seat of his green tractor, with it's enormous, deep treaded rear tires, tiny front tires angled in on each other (Why is that? She often wondered), engine you could see, and a lid over the vertical exhaust pipe that bounced up and down. He was hauling an old square hay baler.

Grampy stopped the tractor when he came even with Karen. "Ahoy!" he cried out in a cheerful voice. "Methinks I see a lovely young damsel who wants a ride."

Karen giggled in spite of herself. Grampy told the lamest jokes, but she always laughed at them. "Hi Grampy," she said.

"Hop on up, little princess. This ain't no hoss drawn carriage, but it is a Deere." He chuckled at his own joke.

Karen climbed up on the metal pegs Grampy had welded in place to make it easier for himself to get up and down. She'd ridden the tractor many times before, and Grampy had even let her try steering it, though that turned out to be impossible for her. Once up, she simply stood on the main horizontal frame rail and leaned back against Grampy.

Grampy released the brake, let out the clutch and shifted into first gear. The tractor started forward as smoothly as car at an intersection. The Bup-bup-bup of the engine rose up to a bupbupbupbup and crept along not much faster than a quick walk.

Karen could feel her anger melt away. For the first time since That Day, Karen felt at ease. Here was something and someone comfortable and familiar. She rested her gaze on Grampy's hands on the steering wheel. He was missing the pinkie and middle fingers on both hands. She asked him once how he lost them. "Well now, let's see if I can remember. This one," he said, indicating his right pinkie, "I lost that one to a tiger in Africa. The middle one, well Nanna cut that one off cause I was using it to say bad things. That other pinkie, well it got stuck my ear when I was scratchin' it, and I hadda take my jackknife to it. That middle one, I cut that one off to balance everything so I wouldn't walk crooked." Karen had collapsed in peals of laughter, telling Grampy he was such a liar. But at the same time, she wasn't totally sure if he was telling the truth or just having fun with her.

Grampy suddenly broke into a cheerful song. "She'll be comin' 'round the mountain when she comes, She'll be comin' round the mountain when she comes, She'll be ridin' six white hosses, She'll be ridin' six white hosses, she'll be ridin' six white hosses when she comes."

Karen giggled in spite of herself.

"Well here's a girl who appreciates my singin. Maybe I oughta make a record, whatcha think?"

"Not with that song," Karen giggled.

"How 'bout this one then," Grampy said. He started singing in his crusty voice, "On a summer's day in the month of May A burly bum came hiking, down a shady lane through the sugarcane, looking for his liking. He strolled along and hummed a song of a land of milk and honey, where a bum can stay for many a day and he won't need any money. Oh the buzzin' of the bees and the cigarette trees, by the soda water fountain, by the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings, in the Big Rock Candy Mountains. In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, you never change your socks. Little streams of alkeehol come a tricklin down the rocks. The farmer's trees are full of fruits, the barns are full of hay. I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow, where the sleet don't fall, and the wind don't blow, in the big rock candy mountain."

Karen was giggling uncontrollably. Grampy seemed to know how to raise her up from her inner crypt. He always did, pulling out silly old songs like this and making her feel warm and loved.

Before he could finish the song, they were in the sprawling gravel driveway in front of the barn and garage. There were gleaming tractors, hay balers, harrows, tedders, plows, log splitters, and all manner of equipment arrayed for sale on the lawn between the house and the barn and garage. The barn, it's door open, held Grampy's farm equipment. The garage was empty now.

Grampy stopped the tractor in the middle of the yard, and he shut it off. "Well now," he said, jumping off. He held his arms up, took Karen in his strong hands, and lowered her to the ground. "This ol' baler seen better days. Whatcha think? Is it worth tryin' to fix, or should I just retire it? Seen a lot of summers, baled a lotta hay."

"I don't know, Grampy," Karen giggled.

"Well, let's go in the garage and get some tools, and we'll see if she can stand one more operation."

Karen followed her Grampy into the empty garage bay. She always loved the smell of oil, kerosene, and grease. It was comfortable and rich and soothing.

They'd no sooner gotten into the garage when Jeremy came bolting out of the house, his expression one of righteous anger. "There you are!" he declared, glaring at Karen. "Ain't throwing no rocks now that Grampy's here."

"Jeremy..." Karen began, her voice rising.

"Hush," Grampy said softly, but firmly, and Karen reluctantly clamped her mouth shut.

"Grampa!" Jeremy cried. "She threw rocks at me, and said the worst swears!! I din't do nothing, either."

Before Karen could protest, she noticed Grampy was scowling at Jeremy from under the bill of his green, oil and grime smattered work hat. "Jeremy, are you a boy or a girl?"

By the sudden change in his expression, it was clear Jeremy knew he was being called out by Grampy. He looked at the ground and scuffed his feet. "A boy."

"Then act like one," Grampy said in an even voice. "Now go do your chores."

When he was gone, Grampy shook his head. "Never mind him, he just don't know any better. Now, I want you to go in the house and get some lunch. Your Daddy and Mommy are worried you ain't eatin' properly lately, and that ain't good for a growin' girl. Nanna'll fix you a nice thick fried bologna san'wich, which I happen to know is your fav'rite."

Karen looked at her feet, and said, "I haven't been very hungry lately, Grampy."

"I know that, an' I know why. I ain't a girl, so I can't say I un'erstand your way of grieving. But I'll tell you som'thin' I ain't told many people."

Grampy took out his pipe, and as he spoke, he went through the ritual of filling and lighting it. "When I was a young man, I was in the Navy durin' World War Two, on a ship called a destroyer, over in the south Pacific, exactly where don't matter. I had me a great friend, best ever, name of Jim Deakins. We was both on the deck crew, the pissants who done alla nasty work no one else wanted to do. One night, our ship got inna scrap with some Japanese ships. Well, they put a torpedo in us, blew the ship all to hell, and sunk her. Was I scared? I was never so scared in my life. The details don't matter. My friend Jim got hurt. Bad. We was in the water, I'd muckled on to some piece o' floating junk. I heard my friend Jim callin' for me to help him. I tried swimmin' over to him, but by the time I got where I thought he was - nothin'. I din't hear him no more. I din't have the time or the chance to grieve. It was war, and, well, war don't care if someone was your friend, war is all about tryin to kill, you best get used to it, or you'll be the one gettin' killed. It don't like grievin'. But I never forgot Jim. He lives here." Grampy thumped his chest. "Now I ain't ever gonna talk about it again, but now you know somethin' even your Daddy don't know, and I hope you don't be talkin' with others about it. It's a secret we share, somethin' terrible we have in common."

Karen watched her Grampy closely as he told his story, and she knew with absolute certainty that he wasn't making it up. There was a sadness she never saw before on his creased-leather face. Suddenly, without thinking about it, she flung herself on her Grampy and hugged him. "I love you Grampy. I won't tell anyone. Ever. I promise."

"I know you won't, sweetheart. I wouldn't of told you if I didn't think I could trust you. Just remember, your friend will always be with you, in your secret heart. Now go get somethin' to eat."

Karen's cheeks glistened with tears. "OK, I will."

***************

School was just a few days away, but Karen couldn't generate any emotions over it, positive or negative. In normal times, back-to-school shopping would be nearing its climax, and Karen, Lisa, and their other friends would excitedly discuss what they were getting for new school outfits and accessories, what was cool, what wasn't, what middle school would be like, whether or not various rumors about the new and intimidating teachers were true.

Not this year, though. School without Lisa was beyond imagining. All it conjured in her was a low, formless dread. She simply went through the motions when shopping, trying mightily to appear engaged. Tomorrow would be the last shopping day, and she could put that painful exercise behind her.

Karen went to bed early, anxious for the escape from pain sleep brought. She dreamed neutral dreams most nights, so there was no fear of nightmares. She slipped on her nightie, kissed her mother and father goodnight, and slipped under the crisp covers. She hugged the teddy bear close and drifted off.

**************

It was an unusually vivid dream.

Karen was at what she knew was school, but it didn't look anything like any school she ever attended, a mish-mash of the familiar and places her brain created. That didn't matter. It was the first day of school, and she couldn't find any of her classes, and everyone she passed in the corridors was a stranger. She felt like she'd wandered onstage in the middle of the play.

If only she could find a friend who would tell her where her classes were. And where the heck was Lisa? Lisa would know where they were supposed to be.

Just as she scolded herself, "She's dead, dummy," Karen turned a corner and there was Lisa, standing at an open locker. She looked up and smiled when she saw Karen.

Karen ran to her friend. "Lisa, I thought you were dead," she cried with excited glee at her friend's unexpected appearance.

"I am dead," Lisa said matter-of-factly. "You know that. You were at my funeral."

Karen pulled up short. "Yeah, but you're here now, I can see you," Karen protested.

Lisa shrugged, still smiling. "Doesn't matter."

"You can't be dead!" Karen cried.

"Why not?"

"Because I miss you. And I love you, Lisa. I love you!"

"And I loved you too, really, I did."

"Then don't go," Karen pleaded.

"I have to, Karen. I just wanted to tell you I loved you." Lisa turned to face her locker, and she started to step into it.

"Lisa! Don't go! Please! I can't go one without you."

"Yes you can. Remember what Grampy said. He was right, I'll always be there, right where he said."

The vaguely familiar school had dissolved into the more familiar tree-lined street leading to the school. Lisa turned and walked away, unmoved by Karen's frantic pleas to stay, even just for a while.

Karen came awake instantly. The teddy bear was mashed between her face and the pillow, and she sobbed and wept uncontrollably. Through her tears, she tried to make sense of the dream. It had been so real, so vivid. After a time - she had no idea how long - her sobs tapered, and her tears eased to a trickle.

Karen lifted her head and glanced at the digital alarm clock on her night stand. 1:37, the dead of night, the house absolutely still and quiet. She sat up, paused, then padded barefoot to the bathroom so she could blow her nose.

When she returned to her bedroom, Karen peeled off her nightie, grabbed a pair of shorts and t-shirt from her bureau, pulled them on, then found her flip-flops. She silently crept from the house and into the night air. It was comfortably cool, not a hint of a breeze. She made her way down the road. Lisa's house was only three houses down. Karen knew where she was going, but she didn't know why yet, nor did she question the inner impulse that pushed her there. She made her way down the side of the road, until she reached the driveway of Lisa's house.