Run Danny Run (Chap. 19)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

Mrs. Cipek was annoyed. "Can't even get any peace around here," she muttered in the direction of her two cats.

One time, her life seemed to be under the control of others, when she was owner and camp director. At that time she was at the beck and call of inquiring parents. Sometimes complaining campers, strict government regulations and of course, her bankers.

            But that was a long time ago.

            When she lived on Queen Street in downtown Truro, it was the same. Busy, busy...busy. Always so many cars, hurrying down the street. She could never understand why there had to be one for each person. Hardly anyone took someone else along. She figured it must be a social status driving your own car.

            So she bought one.

            She was happy with her old clunker. That way she was boss of her own plans to get away. She also thought it was a good investment to buy the campground on Economy Lake. Sadly though, it was necessary to sell her lovely Victorian home on Queen Street, to secure the mortgage.

            Life had been good in the early years. Her two children learned to adjust to country living, and to grow up enjoying the space the outdoors provided. Of course, one special feature was the summertime. Her children matured immensely as they pitched in and helped momma with necessary chores.

Their father had died when they were very young. And they had learned to help momma in every way. This was followed by experiences as campers, and camp Counselors.

            After university her children moved into their own world of family and careers. Fred lived in Edmonton and Susan moved to Florida where she managed a tourist resort. Now Mrs. Cipek hardly ever saw them. And her dreams began to fall apart, not being able to keep up with the proper maintenance needs of her campground.

Her children felt bad about living so far away and unable to help, except to encourage their mother to sell. But she was stubborn and preferred to stay.

            Mrs. Cipek was bewildered by what happened. Everything had been going so well. Attendance was growing, future leaders were being developed and her finances were beginning to look attractive.

            But then Public Health inspectors were demanding new regulations be upheld, and her sewage problems brought everything to an end. And after several boil water orders, people were nervous about sending their children, or camping there. She didn’t have adequate finances to implement needed changes and was forced to shut down her children’s camping area.

            After all these years, she had a desire to reopen the campground on a much smaller scale. Imagine, Larry Reynolds and his family wanting to spend their holidays here. Then somebody comes along shooting and tries to spoil it all.

Maybe she should phone the police.

            And there’s that father and teenage boy, Roy. Both seem so nice and polite. They wanted to camp here too, just for one night they said, so they could visit the Reynolds’s. She sure could use this extra money, since her only income is the Old Age Pension.

            She looked out her trailer and searched among the stars. It was so peaceful here. As far as she was concerned, this was her home until the day she died.

*

Barb Sloan made her decision after carefully reviewing the facts about the "Danny Reynolds File." She called the boy that now since the father's blood tests had confirmed what everyone had begun to surmise. The boy and father were one.

            She decided to drop everything and follow her heart. Her usual stiff demeanor and predictable decision making wasn't used to making snap decisions. Drop everything and just take off? Why not? After all, she is the Executive Director of the London Children's Aid Society. Rank has its privileges.

            Besides, her well-trained professional staff was capable of managing without her for a short while. She also had her cell phone and would simply be a phone call away.

            As she made her plans she thought about the Reynolds boy. It wasn't fair he had been placed in a position to put up with so much. The same went for his father, Larry. She had the highest regard for a man of that caliber, not giving up, no matter what. Now there was a man and a father. He was exactly the type of father a boy like Danny needed. And finally, the lad would recover his own name…Danny Reynolds.

            The boy had used so many last names in his ‘leap-frog’ from one family to another. What was one more? Would the Reynolds name fit him any better than previous ones? Her answer was already on her lips. Somehow she knew this one was going to last, forever.

            She had shocked her staff and Board of Directors when first announcing she was taking two weeks vacation and heading off to Nova Scotia.

Imagine, Barb taking time off, to Nova Scotia? The pending trip was a source of gossip around the office for a few days. Each staff member wondered what caused her to make this decision so abruptly.

            It certainly wasn't like her to be secretive, either. She didn’t want any of her staff to make a fuss or even see her off at the airport. This mission of confidentiality and personal business was really none of their affairs. If only they knew why she was going, they would have a heaving fit.

            Barb Sloan had a secret, one that no one else on staff knew. In her heart, she felt an obligation to try and make sure both Larry and his son did not repeat her own mistake many years before. During her late teens, she had a fling with a young man, became pregnant and had given her baby up for adoption.

All these years she never had the courage to seek out her daughter as Larry Reynolds searched for his son. Barb Sloan wanted to be there when they were re-united.

            She wondered where her own daughter was this very moment.

*

Walt had been so certain this was the right path. He thought he heard voices from that direction. If only he hadn't spent so much time daydreaming in the outhouse. Being sheltered from the wind had given him a chance to warm up a bit. However, he had remained too long.

            And of course, as was his custom, he had to walk around the premises checking out everything he could. His eyes recorded discarded items rusting in piles mingling with the majesty of the forest. Humans are so messy, he thought.

His meandering took him off the trail his family and taken. Without realizing it, the boy had wandered in the wrong direction. Now everyone had disappeared. Looking around once more he tried to find the right trail. Surely his family couldn’t have disappeared that quickly. Besides, they must be looking for him too.

Dad always said to be careful in the woods. "If the wind was mischievous it could take voices and place them in the opposite direction," he once said.

            And it was like that now for Walt. He was sure he heard voices, but their return echoes kept coming from different directions. After listening carefully he decided the family was heading back to the canoes. All he had to do was keep in a straight line and eventually he too would come to the lake.

Walt stepped carefully around a pile of rusted cans and stacked up bottles of pop. There was even an old mattress showing fire stains. Someone must have been careless in the cabin.

He was glad to get around the old pile of junk and garbage dump.

It felt eerie being alone in the woods, away from his family. Tree limbs creaked and a squirrel’s sudden scampering sent shivers up and down his spine. Every once in a while he gave a shrill blow on his silver whistle.

Dad said if ever alone it would act as a friend. And more importantly, it might prevent him from coming up unexpectedly on a large animal.

Walt tried not to think of bears or wolves…what’s that? He stopped in mid stride and listened carefully.

            It sounded as if a paddle had struck the hull of a canoe. The lake can’t be much further, he thought. He hurried in the direction of the sound. A branch snapped back and smacked his cheek. The stinging didn't slow him down. All he wanted right now was some company.

            Walt finally broke through the heavy brush and stepped into a tiny clearing. It was the family's original landing spot. "Hey!" he yelled at an unfamiliar figure. "What are you doing? Those are our canoes!" It was a boy, not much older than himself. He had never seen him before. "Stop!" he yelled again.

            But it didn't seem to faze the stranger. He continued to pull their canoes from the shore using the untied rope lines.

            Dad said the rope tied to the bow is called a "painter."  Right now it didn't matter. Someone was trying to steal the canoes. How were they going to get off the island?        The stranger waved in a mocking way from his own canoe, making Walt furious.

Walt waded in up to his knees and was prepared to swim after the intruder. But the wind was too swift to overtake the three craft now drifting quickly away from the island.

            Laughter followed Walt as he turned and furiously worked his way back to the cabin. The woods were so thick he almost passed the old shack without seeing it. And of course, in his headlong rush he stumbled over the familiar garbage pile. He had to get a hold of mom and dad. Now he realized he even missed Susan, big time.

Once again Walt was undecided. Which way should he go? He decided to follow what might have been a deer trail, a thin line of space showing between the trees.

            It took him away from the cabin, and away from the lake and deeper into a wooded area. Then he headed across a small clearing and beyond.

            After working his way through waist high ferns, the boy turned in another direction, then another. Suddenly Walt stopped. An understanding shook him from his sneakers to the tip of his head. Weird feelings worked their way into his brain. His hair felt as if static electricity raised each strand as high as possible.

            Suddenly he realized he was lost.

            No one was around. No voices could be heard. And there was no trail left, only a wall of tall trees. The wind wailed a lonely song. It must have been written just for him, he thought.

            How could he be lost? It wasn't possible. This was just an island. His folks and sister must be here somewhere.

            "MOMMM! DAADDD! LEAAHH!"

            Even his blowing whistle could not be heard.