“Whose boat is this?” Kate asked.
“A friend of Mom’s. We’d head out to the island to look for the flowers. Do you know about them?”
“The giant lilies?” Flowers, a friend. The back of Kate’s neck tingled.
“Yep. Everyone said they lived here until a raging storm washed them away in 1927—but Mom thought that was wrong. She was sure a few were left, hidden under other plants or in a secret part of the quarries. We always searched. This was our island of flowers . . .”
“Flowers,” Kate said. “You and your mother searched for them?”
“With her friend,” Sam said.
“What friend?”
“An artist. I don’t think you know him,” Sam said. “He goes to the soup kitchen.”
“That’s where you met him?” Kate asked, trying to sound casual.
“He’s poor, but he’s really nice. I helped him with a couple of art workshops at the shelter. He’s great with pen-and-ink and charcoal. Mom always said I could learn from him, that he kept it simple, like so many great artists.”
“He’d help you search for the lilies?”
“Yeah. Apparently, he somehow met your father, who told him he should draw flowers. And as horrible as your dad was in one way, Mom said no one knew more about art than he did.”
“Where is your mom’s friend now?” Kate asked.
“Jed? He sometimes camps on the island, but he’s obviously not there now, or the dinghy would be on the other side. Come on; let’s row out. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we used it.”
They pushed the wooden boat off the silty bank, and Sam gestured for Kate to sit in the stern. Sam took the middle seat and, facing Kate, began to row. Popcorn galloped into the shallows and swam alongside. The passage was short, barely two minutes from the shore. Kate was silent, questions running through her mind.
“Was your Mom close to Jed?” Kate asked.
“Eww, the way you say it.”
“Well?”
“Just come out and ask!” Sam snapped. “I’m sixteen, not six. I don’t know, but what if she was? After how Dad acted with Nicola? I hope she was. I hope she was happy.”
Sam rowed through a narrow entrance to an inlet surrounded by rocks, and they both jumped out. Sam hauled the boat onto a strip of sand, threw the anchor high on the bank to hold it fast. Tension poured off her.
“Sam!” Kate said, watching her niece stalk away.
“I’m going to the quarry to look for the lilies,” Sam said.
“Wait, I’ll come with you.”
But Kate had upset her, and Sam began to run. Popcorn followed her. Kate started after them, then hung back, suddenly relieved to be left alone. She walked in the opposite direction, following a deer trail through tall grass. Glacier meltwater had torn the island from the mainland, its edges matching just like a puzzle piece.
Good luck to Sam, discovering a lotus. Beth had had a romantic view of life, and Kate wasn’t surprised to hear that she’d believed something rare and extinct survived here. All through their childhoods, and especially after their mother’s death, Beth had lived in her imagination. Kate had chosen reality. And now, strolling across the island, she didn’t believe anything could improve on the real and observable: golden grasses, pale- and dark-pink rose mallows, blue cornflowers, creamy Queen Anne’s lace. This was our island of flowers, Sam had said.
A cluster of scrub oaks and white pine trees grew at the top of a hill. Kate followed a winding brook up the rise. She looked out, watching the brook flow past granite boulders toward the sparkling river. A pair of ospreys rode the air currents overhead. Kate used to have dreams of being a bird. She could open her window and soar into the night, winged and powerful, not needing an airplane. She never crashed in those dreams. And she never wanted to land.
The ground was covered in pine needles. She walked farther into the woods, still following the brook. It was shady and cool, and she was glad not to have the sun on her head. She felt tired and sat down, then lay on her back, looking up through branches that filtered the blue sky. She blinked at the glitter of light, lulled by the sound of the brook. Then, as if she had no choice in the matter, as if she already knew what she was going to see, she turned her head. Set ten yards back, deep within the thick trees, was a dark-green tent.
It was well camouflaged, hidden beneath pine boughs. She walked over to it. The nylon had been patched with silver duct tape. The entrance was zipped up, so she couldn’t look inside. For a moment, her blood stopped. Maybe someone was sleeping inside. Not just “someone”—Jed.
“Hello?” she said quietly. “Hello?”
Her heart was racing. She looked down the trail, hoping Sam wouldn’t come. She’d hear Popcorn; that was a good thing. When no one answered, she tugged the zipper upward.
The tent was tidy. A rolled-up sleeping bag was tucked into the corner. A gallon jug of water was half-empty. A tin cup, plate, and utensils had been rinsed and stacked. The small, close space smelled musty, of sweat and pine pitch. She was having a hard time connecting Beth with a guy who lived in a tent. Beth, who seemed to safeguard her comfortable life and position in the community, who dressed the part of Black Hall business owner and Sam’s mom.
Another way Kate had sold her sister short.
Sticking out from beneath the bedroll was a hard-plastic envelope. She pulled it close to her, opened it. There were papers inside, and she paged through them. The shadowy light made it hard to see, but she peered at each sheet, looking for drawings.
Most were newspaper clippings, but there was one business-size white vellum envelope embossed with the Lathrop Gallery seal. It was addressed simply “Jed” in Beth’s handwriting. Kate opened it, intending to read whatever her sister had written, but saw only a small, murky black-and-white photo.
It took Kate’s breath away. She sat very still, staring at the photo, her hand on her heart.
When she heard voices in the distance, she replaced the plastic file, ducked out of the tent, and closed the zipper. The sounds were coming from the east side of the low hill, so she walked in that direction.
Hanging back in the woods so she wouldn’t be seen, she looked down at the inlet they had rowed across. She heard Sam laughing and Popcorn yelping. “Come on, Jed!” Sam called. “Swim faster!”
“I wouldn’t have to swim if someone didn’t steal my boat!” a man’s voice called.
Sam laughed again. She and Popcorn were hidden by the slant of the brush-covered hill, but Kate could see the man’s head, glossy as a seal’s back, slipping through the water. He held an orange backpack over his head with one hand, sidestroked across the channel with the other. When he reached shallow water, he stood and shook his reddish-brown hair, sending crystal droplets flying. He wore a gray T-shirt with an owl on it and knee-length tan shorts that stuck to his body.
Sam splashed him when he scrambled up the riverbank, and she gave him a hug.
“Sam, how’re you doing?” he asked.
“Everything sucks,” she said.
“I know,” he said, still hugging her. “I know, I know. I’m so sorry.”
He was tall and lanky. He pushed his hair behind his ears and ruffled his beard as if to dry it. He was in his early thirties, and Kate realized that although she hadn’t known his name, she’d seen him doing odd jobs around the Academy. She started down the hill, sidestepping her way over and through loose rocks and tangled vines.