Brass Ankle Blues by Rachel M. Harper

Author:Rachel M. Harper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Touchstone
Published: 2006-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

When my grandparents bought this property in the early 1960s, most of the lake was still uninhabited. You could walk for miles around the perimeter and not run into any homes. Now most of the lake-front lots have been split up and sold for ten times what my parents paid, but across the lake from us there is still a large chunk that remains untouched. My grandparents bought it right before Grandpa Brant died, hoping to cut it into enough lots for each one of the grandchildren to have an inheritance. Instead, our parents inherited it, and Uncle Flint ended up buying everyone else’s share so he could have a nice plot of farmland close to home. Unfortunately the land was too wet for most crops, so it just sat there, the pine trees growing taller and thicker each year, until it ultimately became a forest and the perfect hiding place.

Sometimes we would pitch tents and camp out for the night, pretending to be lost in the woods somewhere in Canada, but mostly this spot has been reserved for quiet walks on those afternoons when you don’t want to run into anyone, even yourself.

Today, when I have walked so long that I am no longer certain which side of the lake I’m on, I stop under a pine tree to eat a late lunch. The needles that have collected at the base of the tree, rust-colored in a quiet death, make a perfect bed, and I lie back and look up at the treetops, catching a few slices of blue sky through the intertwined branches. The sound of a twig snapping startles me and I sit up quickly, scanning the area for other signs of life. Nothing is moving; even the treetops are still. I hear the howl of a dog in the distance, then silence. I lay my head back down and close my eyes. A cool breeze covers me, making me wish I’d brought a blanket. That’s something my mother would have thought of: a blanket and a bottle of water. She remembers the details, those little things no one else would think of.

My mother is coming. Tomorrow she will be at Hettie’s funeral.

The snapping starts again, repeated in the rhythm of footsteps. This time when I lift my head I see a bright red shirt in the distance, seeming to float through the woods. I try to make out the rest of the body, but everything is a blur behind the trees and bushes. The red shirt stops suddenly and looks around. It’s dark in the woods and I know he can’t see me, but I still don’t move. He turns around and stands still with his back to me. I hear a strange sound, like he’s pouring out a soda, then I realize he’s peeing against the tree. When he finishes, he walks back in the direction he came from. I decide to follow him, staying a good distance back and ducking behind trees when necessary.

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