Shadow Keeper (12 page)

“Okay. Now you get moving. We’ll be at Sherry’s in about fifteen minutes.”

“Then I’d better hurry.” She started to climb into the car.

“Wait.” I slipped my hand around the crook of her elbow and turned her to me. “You can’t leave without getting some sugar.”

Her hands pressed against my chest. “Brendon, we haven’t known each other long enough to kiss.”

Kiss?
I glanced at her lips. Heat flashed through my body. “I, ah…” I shook my head to clear my mind. “I meant, sugar for your mom’s coffee.”

“Oh.” She glanced down. “Thanks for reminding me.” She walked around me and headed for the supermarket.

“Lisa,” I said before she got too far away. “How long do we have to know each other before we—”

“Brendon!” She put her hand against her mouth to smother her giggles. “You
are
a bad influence.”

Chapter Fifteen

The ride up the valley with Sherry and Paul in the same car could’ve been awkward, but the trip remained pleasant after we picked up the girls. Lisa climbed in the back with me, but she insisted on the spot behind the driver’s seat. Sherry took shotgun in front with Paul. As soon as Sherry buckled in, she turned sideways in the seat and started a conversation with Lisa.

Talk about control freaks. The two girls must have planned seating arrangements while they were waiting for us. With the way they sat, Sherry could talk to Lisa without twisting her head around too far. And she could also ignore Paul next to her.

They mostly talked about shoes and hair, and what they were going to wear to school tomorrow. I hadn’t heard so many words come out Lisa’s mouth since I met her, so I kicked back and listened. I also watched. Up until now, I hadn’t suspected Lisa could be so animated in her discussion. As she related the details of a silly movie she’d watched last night with her mother, her dark blonde eyebrows lifted and her blue eyes widened. Every so often, her tongue darted across her lips to wet them while she talked. When she laughed, she sometimes made a cute little snorting noise in between her giggles.

About fifteen minutes into the trip, Lisa pointed out the window on her side. “Have you ever been up there?”

I ducked down for a better view out the window. “You mean, Big Rock? No, I’ve never been.”

“Never?”

“No, but my Grandpa Nelson hiked up there a couple of times. He told me about it. Big Rock is only about five or six miles from my house, but the trail is unmarked so it’s easy to get lost. See how the giant rock sticks out of the ground at about a forty–five degree angle? It forms a kind of cave. Years ago, somebody put a wooden mailbox just inside the mouth. There’s a ledger in the mailbox and anybody who hikes up there can sign their name.”

“So your grandpa’s name is in the ledger twice?” Lisa asked.

“No. He said somebody stole the old ledger, but a new one showed up after a while.”

“My father’s been up there,” she said. “He was doing research in that area based on information he found in an old book.”

“Was it the old, lost mailbox ledger?” Paul asked.

We all laughed, but Lisa was the first to sober. “It was a ship’s log written almost five hundred years ago by a Spanish conquistador who sailed up the Sacramento River. The pages had deteriorated and only fragments remained, but the text he managed to translate led him to this part of the Capay Valley.”

“Wait a minute,” Paul said. “The Spanish conquistadors never reached California.”

“Wrong,” I said. “They sailed as far north as Oregon, maybe even farther.”

“But not inland.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “The San Francisco Bay wasn’t discovered by the Europeans until the seventeen hundreds.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Lisa said. “The Spanish explorers who made it home had mapped their expeditions. But what about the ones who didn’t make it back? No one knows what they might have discovered because they died before they returned home with proof of the exploration.”

“But if they did sail inland,” I argued, “artifacts of some kind, iron or metal works would have been discovered. And there would have been stories or oral tradition from the indigenous people if a shipload of Spanish conquistadors invaded the interior.”

“And the stories are exactly what my father found. After he translated the text, he checked out the early legends of the people native to this region.”

“Hold on.” I knew Lisa believed her father, but Spanish conquistadors sailing into the Sacramento Delta five hundred years ago was hard to swallow. “Where did your father get this old ship log?”

“The book was found about ten years ago when restoration was done to one of the Spanish missions along the California coast. It was buried under the floorboards directly beneath an altar. My father ended up with it. He’s been working on translating the text and researching the facts for the last several years.”

“Did your father’s research actually prove the conquistadors were here five hundred years ago?” Paul asked.

Lisa glanced out the window. “My father became ill and is unable to continue his research.”

“I’m sorry,” Paul said. “I didn’t know he was sick.”

“I told you that,” Sherry said.

While they argued, I reached over and took Lisa’s hand. She glanced at me long enough to flash a little smile before looking away.

“Say, Lisa.” Paul couldn’t see her sitting directly behind him, so he probably couldn’t tell she was upset about her father’s poor health. “Did you know the Capay Valley was the result of a unique geological formation? A pitch caused by a thrust fault superimposed the older rocks from the Cretaceous era over the younger Pleistocene rocks.”

“Wow, I am impressed.” Lisa wiped her hand across her face and glanced at the back of his head. “I knew about the geology of the valley, but I didn’t think it was common knowledge. Is that something that’s taught in the local schools?”

“No, just in college,” he said. “I want to be a geologist. Alexander and I took a college class last year for extra credit.”

Lisa glanced at me. “Is that what you want to be also?”

I shook my head. “I want to do research of some kind, but I haven’t decided on a major yet.”

“Have you thought about being an anthropologist? That’s what I want to be.”

“I don’t think that’s for me.” I hoped I didn’t hurt her feelings. “Anthropology is the study of humans and their culture. I’d rather study what they built, not why they built it. I’ve always been interested in the ancient pyramids.”

“Egyptian or Mesoamerican?” she asked.

“Both, but the Mayan architecture really fascinates me.”

The car slowed down, and I glanced out the windshield to the road ahead.

“Don’t turn here,” Sherry said.

“Why not?” Paul asked. “The turnoff to Carson’s ranch is right after the cement bridge.”

“He’s meeting us at the Scout Cabin.”

“What did he do that for?” The pitch in his voice rose. “The five of us can’t fit in his pickup. The dumbass!”

“Don’t call him that.” Sherry crossed her arms over her chest. “And he doesn’t have his pickup. I called him and told him we were coming along, so he got his father’s King Cab.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know he switched pickups.”

While Sherry glared at Paul, Lisa leaned to me and lowered her voice. “Why do we all have to fit into Carson’s pickup?”

I put my arm around her and moved closer. “We’ll leave Paul’s car at the old Boy Scout Cabin,” I whispered. I wasn’t worried about Paul or Sherry overhearing us; I just wanted Lisa’s warm body next to mine. “Then we’ll all hop into the pickup and drive to Low Water Bridge. That’s where we’ll jump in the creek with the tubes and float back down to the Scout Cabin.”

She nodded her head while snuggling against me. If the back seat of Paul’s compact car was any bigger, I’d have a hard time getting close. As it was, the seatbelt dug into my hips. We rode in silence for about ten minutes until we reached the old Boy Scout Cabin at Camp Haswell. Paul parked his car next to the pickup loaded with inner tubes, but Carson wasn’t around.

“There he is.” Sherry pointed to the sandy beach next to the creek.

Carson walked up the incline to the parking area, but he didn’t look happy.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Well, I got good news, and I’ve got some not so good news. I was talking to a park ranger and he said the creek flow is down. We can float on the tubes most of the way from Low Water Bridge, but we may have to walk about a quarter mile or so.”

I glanced around at everyone’s feet. Paul wore rubber aqua shoes, and Carson and I had on old running shoes, but the girls wore plastic flip–flops. “I guess we’ll have to put off the tubing. The girls can’t hike in those flimsy sandals.”

“I can walk.” Lisa stuck out one foot. “Even in these sandals, I can do a quarter mile.”

“You couldn’t walk two steps in those,” I said. “There are lots of rocks in the creek bed.”

“We can walk around the rocks where there’s no water.”

I shook my head. “The creek doesn’t dry up, but it can get low, especially this time of year. With our weight on the tubes, we’ll drag bottom. That’s when we’ll have to walk. The current’s still swift, and the rocks are slippery. You have to be sure–footed. You girls are not going to make it in those things.”

Lisa glanced at Sherry. “I don’t want to ruin their fun. Can’t we just stay here and let the guys go tubing by themselves?”

“We might as well,” Sherry said. “This was supposed to be a
guy
trip anyway.”

During the summer, Sherry had gone tubing with us a couple of times. She knew the type of footwear required, so it was a mystery to me why she wore those flimsy sandals. I glanced around at everyone, waiting to see if one of them had a different plan. Camp Haswell was safe enough for the girls to wait for a couple of hours until we returned, but I still didn’t want to leave them alone. Paul, evidently, didn’t share the same concern.

“If that’s what you girls want to do,” he said, “then I guess we can take off. Right, guys?”

“Sure,” Carson said. “I’ll drive you up and drop you both off, but I think I’ll drive back and watch after the girls.” His mouth curved into a wide grin. “It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.”

“What?” Paul’s head snapped around. “You want to hang out here with the girls instead of going with us?”

“Yeah, and the tortilla chips and the sodas,” he said. “Too bad we didn’t bring any steaks to barbeque. I could die a happy man.”

I never understood why people called Carson slow. He could come up with some brilliant ideas. “Sounds good to me. Let’s get the party started.”

Chapter Sixteen

While Lisa and Sherry spread the blanket on a sandy area next to the creek, Carson and I unloaded the inner tubes. We might not be able to ride the rapids on them, but they’d be fun to play with in the water.

“Hey, Paul,” I said when he pulled an ice chest from the bed of the pickup. “Put that on one of those picnic tables. We need to save a place for my mom to put the food when she gets here.”

“Your mom is bringing food?” Carson asked.

“Wipe off your chin, dude,” Paul said. “You’re starting to slobber.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, although he swiped the shirt sleeve across his face. “What’s your mom bringing?”

“All the good stuff.” I headed for the blanket where the girls sat. “Fried chicken, potato salad, and homemade biscuits.”

“X–man, I love your mom.”

“She loves you too, Carson,” I said over my shoulder.

Sherry turned around on the blanket so fast that she bumped heads with Lisa. “Who loves him?”

“I’m in love with an older woman.” He tossed the tubes on the beach. “If she wasn’t already married, I’d ask her to marry me.”

“You’re in love with a married woman?” Sherry’s eyes got big.

Lisa rubbed at the side of her head while looking at me. I flashed a smile and gave her a wink to let her know we were joking. Probably should’ve done the same to Paul.

“She’s a widow, you dumb—” The derogatory remark hung up on his tongue when he glanced at Sherry. “Carson is talking about Alexander’s mother.”

The icy glare Sherry flashed him gave me chills. Paul’s disrespect for people he thought inferior probably had as much to do with them breaking up as his cheating.

“A widow? Wow.” Carson seemed oblivious to the coolness around him. “Then she’s available. X–man, your mom is such a great cook, I don’t want to lose her. Do you think she’ll marry me?”

“No, but she might adopt you.”

“Great. We’ll be brothers.” He took off running for the creek. “Hey, bro. I’ll race you to the other side.”