Missing (15 page)

Livia

E
ighteen

The thrum of a boat engine jerks me out of my state of shock. Quickly I close the lid and put the box down.

I grab the used towels, hurry out the front door of the cabin and wave at Marion, who's almost back at the dock. “Clean towels,” I holler as I scurry up the path to the road.

I can't talk to Marion right now.

I need to think.

I go back to our cabin and lie down on my bed. My head whirls. There can't be more than one Livia. It's just too big a coincidence.

I need to make some sense out of this. I get up and search for a piece of paper and a pen. I sit at the table and make a list of everything I know about Marion.

1. comes all the way from England

2. goes out in the boat every day—where?

3. possibly lied about friends being here ten
years ago

4. what was she doing in the old abandoned
cabin?

5. acted weird when we looked at old
photographs

6. wasp stings?

7. gold locket with Livia's name

I stare at my list for a long time. At the bottom I write:

Who is Marion Wilson?

I fold the paper in half and put it in my pocket. I need to talk to Van.

It's the first time I've taken one of the ranch boats to Van's place by myself. The wind blows in my face the whole way and the boat struggles against the tiny waves that break against the bow. I'm worried that I'll never get there.

Van meets me at the dock. I had told him over the phone about the gold locket, and he's excited. “Grandma's in the garden,” he says.

We find her kneeling on a foam mat, thinning carrots. She straightens her back when she sees us and says, “Hello, Thea.”

“Hi,” I say.

The first few drops of rain start to fall, spattering on the frilly green leaves of a mound of lettuce. May stands up stiffly. “I only do a couple of rows at a time. It keeps my hands in the dirt and that's what I like.”

“Grandma,” says Van, “we want to ask you a few questions.”

“About that business with Livia Willard?” she says sharply, and I wonder how she guessed.

I nod my head
.

“It's best to let sleeping dogs lie,” says May.

“This could be important,” says Van.

May is silent for a moment. Finally she says, “All right, for a few minutes.”

We run to the house in the rain. May washes her hands at the kitchen sink. She takes a jug of lemonade out of the fridge and puts it on a round wooden table, along with three glasses. “Sit down,” she says.

We sit. “The family's gone to town and Heb is asleep,” says May. She gives me a long steady gaze. “What is it you want to know, Thea?”

I swallow. I'm not sure where to begin. So I plunge right in. “This might be hard to remember, but did Livia have a gold necklace? A little heart with her name on it?”

May is still for a moment, and I imagine her reaching back into the past. She pours lemonade into the glasses. Her back is straight, her movements slow. Then she folds her strong brown hands together and says, “How did you know?”

I hesitate. I don't want May to think I was snooping. I wasn't. It was just that the box was so beautiful. So I tell her about the locket in Marion's box.

“That's extraordinary,” says May slowly. “I don't understand it.”

“So Livia
did
have a necklace like that?” says Van.

“I haven't thought of it for years,” says May. “It was a ridiculous thing for a little girl to have. Her father gave it to her. Livia was very proud that her name was on it. She came running to the kitchen to show me when they arrived that year. Esta and Iris never owned anything so pretty.”

“It doesn't make sense,” says Van. “Why does Marion Wilson have Livia's necklace?”

“Was Livia wearing the necklace when she disappeared?” I say.

“I can't be certain,” says May, “but I think so. She never took it off, even when she went in the water.”

“There's something else,” I say. “This is going to sound crazy, but do you remember anything about wasps that year?”

“Wasps?” May sounds uncertain. “No, nothing about wasps.”

“What do wasps have to do with this?” says Van.

I tell them about the paper Marion left in the printer.

A door shuts somewhere in the house. May says quickly, “Heb is awake. I don't want him to hear any of this.” She reaches out and holds my hand. Her hand is steady, not shaking like mine. “Thea, you must tell me anything you find out,” she says quietly.

“I will,” I promise.

Van phones me late that night. I'm in bed, almost asleep. I've just talked to Chloe for an hour, mostly about horses. I roll over on my side, my cell phone cradled against my ear.

“The wasps,” says Van. “Grandma's remembered.”

I'm wide awake now.

“She says there was a huge wasp nest above the door of the old cabin. She remembers that Livia's mother knew about the wasp nest and had told the girls not to play there that summer. Grandma said that when they were searching for Livia, the cabin was one of the places they looked. She said the nest had been knocked down and wasps were swarming around.”

My spine prickles. “That printout of Marion's
has
to mean something.”

“What did you say it was called—some kind of shock?” says Van.

“Anafa…latic or something like that.”

“I've never heard of that before,” says Van.

We talk for a while longer, but we don't get anywhere. After we say good night, I lie awake for a long time. I'm convinced that the wasp nest is an important piece of the puzzle, but I have no idea where it fits.

N
ineteen

It's been raining hard all day. I brought a book over to the lodge this morning and have been curled up in an armchair most of the morning, reading. Tully is working on the computer in his office, designing a new website for the lodge, and Dad is laying a pine floor in cabin five. There has been no sign of Marion.

I put on a slicker and run out to the barn a few times, once to feed Renegade and the other times just to visit. He's in his shelter, sleepy-eyed, but he nickers when he sees me. In the afternoon there's a break between rain showers, but it doesn't look like it will last. Tully takes the dogs for a walk. I go to our cabin and make myself a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch and then come back to the lodge to use the computer.

I hunt around in a pile of loose papers for the article on wasp stings but it's gone.

I google
wasp stings
and
anaphylactic shock
, making a wild guess at the spelling. Google corrects my spelling, and I click on a few sites. This time I read the articles carefully, searching for clues.

One article calls anaphylactic shock
an explosive
overreaction of the body.
It lists the symptoms: painful hives, swollen tongue, difficulty breathing, loss of blood pressure, unconsciousness, death.

I keep reading.

The insect responsible for the largest number of
severe allergic reactions is the yellow jacket wasp.

Anaphylactic shock is usually caused by multiple
stings.

Anaphylactic shock is more likely to occur in
people who have asthma.

Although rare, death can occur within as little
as five minutes.

Five minutes. I feel slightly sick. I tilt my chair back, thinking.

It's pouring again. The rain is thundering on the metal roof. Tully comes back with the dogs, yelling at them to stay on the porch until they're dry.

I stare at the computer screen
. Asthma.
I frown, reread that part.
Anaphylactic shock is more likely
to occur in people who have asthma.
Why does that seem important? My brain is foggy with information. Finally I turn off the computer and take Tully up on his offer to make us some hot chocolate.

While I sip my hot chocolate, I hunt through the old guest book, studying the names of the guests who were at the ranch the same time as the Willards. Is it possible Marion's family stayed at the ranch too, that Marion played with Esta and Iris? Is that how this all fits together? I imagine Marion as a little girl, finding the gold locket that Livia dropped somewhere and keeping it because it was so pretty. I check the names carefully, especially those that look like they were written by a child. But nowhere do I find the name Marion.

Later, when I call Van to tell him what I've learned, he says, “Thea, don't you remember? Grandma told us.
Livia
had asthma.”

Marion doesn't join us for dinner. Tully sends me over to see if she's okay. She comes to the door of her cabin when I knock, wearing a dressing gown and blue slippers. She looks ill.

“It's nothing,” she says. “A migraine headache, that's all. But I don't feel like eating.”

I don't know how to act around Marion now. I felt like I knew her when we were working with Renegade. Almost like she was a friend. Now I realize that I don't know her at all. “Can I bring you anything?” I say.

“I've got some canned soup. I'll make that later. I'm sorry you've had to come all the way over here in the rain.”

Marion wants me to go. I can see it in her eyes, which are glassy and filled with pain.

“If you're sure then,” I say.

Marion closes the door, but I have the feeling that she's watching me through the window as I run back to the lodge.

After dinner, I offer to do the dishes while Dad and Tully head over to cabin five in the rain to look at the new floor. The phone rings while I'm loading the dishwasher.

I pick it up on the third ring. “Double R Ranch,” I say. “Can I help you?”

A woman answers, her voice crisp. She has an English accent. “I'd like to speak with Marion Wilson, please.”