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Ash's voice brought me back again. I tore my gaze away just long enough to nod. When I looked back, Mom and Dad were at the front of the car, helping Grandma from the passenger seat.
"They Navajo?" Ash asked. "The women?"
"My mom and grandmother. They're Haida."
"What the hell's that? Some Canadian tribe?"
"Yes."
He snorted. "Figures. Got a spare Indian baby? Give it to any Indian who'll take her. They're all the same anyway." He waved at my parents. "Hell, doesn't even matter if the new dad is Indian or not. He's a forest ranger? That's close enough. At one with nature and all that--"
"Shut up," I snarled. "Just shut the hell--" I choked on the rest and turned back to my family. They were making their way forward. Dad had his arm around Mom, gripping so close he seemed to be holding her upright. Grandma was on her other side, clasping her hand.
Someone met them and gestured to chairs in front of a giant photo. It was from this past spring, of me crouched, hugging Kenjii, and grinning. We were both splattered with mud after Dad let Daniel and me take his Jeep off-roading after a heavy rain. We'd come back and Mom made us stay outside--not because of the mud, but because she wanted pictures. In the real photo Daniel was there, too, standing behind me, and I could see his hand in the blown-up version. A disembodied hand resting on my shoulder. I wished they'd left him in it, maybe even let us have a joint photo, but his dad had picked one of Daniel in a suit, looking somber and uncomfortable and not like Daniel at all.
When the man directed them to their spot, Mom seemed to notice the photo for the first time. She stopped, making Dad falter and Grandma stumble. Then she . . . she made this noise. This horrible noise. A keening wail as she dropped. Just dropped, like someone had cut her legs out from under her, and Dad grabbed her before she hit the ground, and he crouched there, bent on one knee, with Mom collapsed against him, and I could hear her crying. Even from here, I could hear her crying.
"I can't do this," I said, scrambling onto all fours. "I have to go tell--"
"No!" Ash swung up. He poised there, ready to pounce on me. "You can't, Maya."
I looked back at my parents, buried against each other, my dad's back rising and falling hard, and I knew he was crying, too. I should have listened to Daniel. Why the hell hadn't I listened to Daniel? Because I'd been stubborn. Stubborn and proud, as always, and now I saw exactly what he'd meant and how right he'd been. This was cruel--unbelievably cruel--watching my parents suffer when all I had to do was leap from this tree and run over--
I let out a shuddering breath and looked over to where Daniel was hiding and saw him there, half rising from the grass, his gaze fixed on me. He raised his hand, not quite a wave, more just . . . something. Some attempt at contact, at comfort, and I wished I was there. Damn it, why wasn't I with him? What the hell had possessed me to be up here, to go through this alone?
I lifted my hand, reaching out. Then Corey pulled him down.
"Good," Ash grunted.
I glanced over and reminded myself I wasn't alone. Not really. But in some ways, I wished I was, because I got nothing from Ash. Not a smile. Not a kind word. Not even a sympathetic look. He just scowled, like I was going to blow our cover over nothing.
I turned back to my parents.
"Don't."
I looked over again. Now I saw some glimmer in his eyes, though he held his face tight, lips still compressed.
"Don't look," he said. "Just . . . don't look."
I hesitated, and I wanted to say I could handle it. But I couldn't. Not this. So I dropped my cheek to the rough bark, closed my eyes, and listened to the ceremony.
Listening wasn't easy, either. It was surreal when you knew that the kids they were reminiscing about were still alive. It was like hearing speeches at a wedding or a graduation, talking about someone's life, the best of their life, but instead of joy and laughter, each new recollection brought a sob or cry of grief.
When my dad got up to speak, I plugged my ears. I knew I had to. One crack in his voice and I'd have leaped from that tree, running to the stage, shouting, "I'm here, Daddy. I'm still here." So I plugged my ears and I squeezed my eyes shut until Ash reached over and tapped my arm.
When I took my fingers from my ears, he caught my hand and I looked over to tell him not to worry, that I wasn't going to do anything stupid, but he only gave my hand a squeeze--a quick one--before letting it fall.
THIRTEEN
THE SERVICE ENDED AFTER that. It wasn't until it did, and people started filing back to the cars, that I realized what had happened. Nothing. Not a single parent had wandered from the service for a few minutes of solace. How could they? They were all trapped in the front row. They couldn't have slipped away even if they had wanted to.
When the service ended, ushers surrounded our parents and escorted them directly to their vehicles, just as they'd escorted them in.
"They're not letting
them stop for nothing," Ash said. "Not even a piss break. They have to hold it until they get them someplace safe."
I kept watching. Kept hoping. But Chief Carling and Travis climbed in their car. So did Daniel's family and Mrs. Tillson and the Morrises. My parents and Grandma lingered. They didn't get up and talk to anyone, just sat in their seats as if they hadn't realized it was over. Two more ushers came over and finally got them into the car.
