“School doesn’t start for another hour and a half.??
“I know. Get your coat.”
“But—”
“I’m taking you out of school for the day. Do you really want to argue?”
“No way.”
They went their separate ways for fifteen minutes and then met back at the truck.
“This is totally cool, Mom,” Noah said as they drove past the high school.
For the next two and a half hours, they talked about little things: the ranch, the mare that was ready to foal, Noah’s paper on the Civil War.
It wasn’t until Vivi Ann turned off the highway and began the long, slow climb into the Olympic National Park that Noah seemed to take stock of his surroundings. He straightened in his seat, looking around. “This is the road to Sol Duc.”
“Yes, it is.”
Noah turned to her. “I don’t want to do this, Mom.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ve been running away from it, too, but some things have to be faced.”
By the time they reached the main lodge, it was just past nine o’clock in the morning. The parking lot was nearly empty on this mid-September day.
She parked the truck and got out, putting on her Windbreaker and zipping it up. It was sunny at the moment, but this was deep in the heart of the rain forest, where the weather was fickle.
Noah stood by the truck, watching her as she came around to his side. “I can’t go up there.”
Vivi Ann took his hand, as she should have done so long ago. “Come on.” She tugged on his hand, felt him resist for the merest of time and then relent.
They hiked up the trail that was bordered by towering cedars on either side, into a world of impossible vibrance. Everything was green and rich here, and oversized. The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, taking her into her own past.
At the falls, they were alone, just the two of them: mother and son, as once it had been husband and wife. The area thundered with the sound of falling water; spray flew everywhere, stinging their cheeks and blurring their vision.
Noah stood at the railing and looked out at the falls.
Vivi Ann put her arm around him. “He loved it here, just like you do.”
Noah jutted his chin in answer. She knew he was afraid his voice would crack or betray him if he said more.
She held her hand out; spray fell like diamonds into her palm and turned instantly liquid. “He called this skukum lemenser. Strong medicine.” She touched her wet fingertips to her son’s temple as if it were holy water she’d gathered. “I should have taught you so many things about him and his people. But I never learned enough. Maybe we could work on that. Go to the reservation or something.”
He turned, wiping his eyes—whether from tears or spray, she couldn’t tell—and went to the small bower beneath the cedar tree.
Vivi Ann had prepared herself for this during the long drive, but now that the time had come, she was afraid. She followed Noah, sat beside him. As before, the waterfall sounded like an army thundering through the trees. Droplets of water fell from the boughs.
D.R. loves V.G.R. 8/21/92. She stared at the carving in the tree, remembering everything about that day. The girl who’d been here had believed in love and happy endings. She’d been strong and sure of herself, having married the man she loved even if the whole world despised her for it. That girl, like her son, would have fought for the DNA test and dared to believe in the truth. “I was wrong and you were right. You can’t run away from what’s in your heart. That was the mistake I made.”
“I know why you didn’t want Aunt Winona and me to reopen everything. I get it now.” Noah leaned against the tree. “He’s never getting out, is he?”
Vivi Ann put her hand on his cheek, seeing Dallas in his son’s face. “No, Noah. He’s never getting out of prison.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
For most of her life, Winona had been sure of one thing: her intellectual superiority. She might worry about her weight, or bend over backward for her father’s approval, or worry that no man would ever truly love her, but from her earliest memory, she’d felt she was the smartest person in any room.
That certainty had been one of the many recent casualties. Now she agonized constantly, second-guessed herself, wondered what she’d overlooked, how she’d screwed up. The memory of her day in court, when the judge hadn’t been moved enough by her argument to take the matter under advisement, rankled.