Chapter 69

Earl and Lizann had brought their motorcycles and little trailer to the edge of the grass, setting up a sort of household. It was Alden Sutherland who first offered comment on the camp, happening by as he took a late night stroll.

“Burned you out,” he said, stating the obvious. “Can’t they put you somewhere?”

“Not unless you have space for us in your room,” replied Lizann. “Everything is full, Alden. You know that.”

“Quite a sight,” he said.

Lizann looked him down then up then down again, taking in the light blue shirt straining to cover his thick torso, his white knee-length shorts, his chins, his wide mouth, and the forehead that disappeared into his smooth scalp.

“Spare yourself, Alden,” Lizann said to get him moving. “Good night.”

Jennalee and Harley arrived as Alden left. “Home,” said Harley.

“Such as it is,” replied his mother.

“I’ve invited Lee to camp with us,” Harley said.

Lizann smiled. “More the merrier.”

“I’ll get my sleeping bag,” Jennalee said. “Be right back.”

She ran all the way to the main building, flying across the deserted lobby. The desk was manned by no more than a sign advising to ring bell for service.

In the Preece living room, she found the scene much as she’d left it. Clifford was asleep with Bascomb Bunny while Bob sat talking to Jane.

“The Laidlaws are camping on the lawn and Harley invited me to join them,” she announced. “Can I?”

“I suppose,” said Jane.

“How are you doing?” Jennalee asked Bob.

“Okay, I guess. Have you heard anything about Danny?”

“No. I’m sorry, not a thing.”

“I’m sure your mother will call with any developments,” offered Jane.

“Okay then,” said Jennalee. “I’ll get the sleeping bag.”

In her room, she dug the thing from her chaotic closet and tossed it on the bed. She was at her mirror brushing her hair when her mother came in.

“Bob seems more relaxed now,” Jennalee noted.

“We’ve been talking. He’s such a nice boy. It’s a shame Noel makes it so difficult for his family.”

“Have you told him his dad is alive?”

“Not yet. He seems relieved to be free of his father, which is awful, yet not.”

“He needs to know,” said Jennalee. “I think he’s pretty strong and he deserves the truth. Let him step up. He’d want that.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Is Phyllis still at the hospital?”

“Yes. Marian called. Noel has been stabilized, but is on a breathing machine.”

“It’s so sad,” said Jennalee. “I can’t believe a father could be so bad, his son wants him dead.”

Jane just shook her head.

“Okay, I’m outta here.” Jennalee flew past her mother and out the door.

* * * *

At the Laidlaw camp, she unrolled her pink sleeping bag next to Harley’s olive green one. “Whoa,” he said. “Chick bag.”

“Blame my parents. It was a Christmas present when I was twelve.”

“Long as it keeps you warm.”

When Jennalee had the sleeping bag spread beside his, he asked if she was sleepy yet.

“Not really.”

“Let’s go look at the fire damage,” he suggested.

Jennalee hopped up and followed him toward Building Eight. Earl and Lizann appeared to already be asleep.

The fire engine remained, hoses strewn like tentacles. Firemen still sprayed water here and there, the place now a soggy mess.

“They’re drowning it,” noted Jennalee.

“Hot spots. The fire can hide and then spark when everyone thinks it’s out. It can actually start back up if they’re not careful.”

“How do you know that?”

“No idea.”

“I can’t believe there’s any spark in that mess.”

They couldn’t get close so they settled on lawn chairs Sutherlands had dragged over during the blaze. “Want a Coke?” Harley asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wait here.”

He ran around Building Seven to where a Coke machine stood and was back in a minute with two cans. “Some weekend,” Jennalee said as they sipped and watched the firemen.

Harley snorted a laugh. “Right up there with the best of them. Or actually the worst of them, although this is the first time anybody set the place on fire. Usually it’s just people going at each other.”

“Like what?”

“Well, two years ago, Alden beat hell out of Russell for some reason nobody but them knows.”

“Russell? Is he here?”

“Nope. Never came back again. Left on a stretcher, broken jaw, ribs. You don’t cross Alden Sutherland.”

“Wow. What else?”

“You name it. You get over a hundred relatives together every year, you’re going to have problems. It’s like Thanksgiving dinner times ten. Somebody gets drunk and says the wrong thing. Stuff from last year flares up like that fire might. Sometimes I think they warm up on the drive here, poking at wounds from last year or even the year before or five years, ten, who knows. And yet, if you count how many flare-ups there have been, the percentage is relatively low.”

“I never thought of it like that. We have a small family, tiny actually, both my parents only children so forget aunts, uncles, or cousins.”

“When I was little,” Harley continued, “five or six, three women got into it, yelling at brunch, husbands trying to quiet them. Food was thrown and one lady was dragged out by her husband. Then other people got into it because they disrupted the meal so arguments were all over the place. My mom had to pry us out of there. We thought it was fun.”

“Your mom is great. It’s hard to believe she’s a Sutherland.”

“That’s what she says.”

When their Cokes were gone and Jennalee started feeling sleepy, the fire engine made ready to leave. What seemed to be miles of hose was folded back into the truck while assorted axes and other equipment were tucked into appointed compartments. The men then climbed aboard, all except one.