Page 97 of The River We Remember

“I’ll show you. But it has to be at night. Will your mom let you camp out tomorrow?”

“You and me? Where?”

“The campground next to Fort Beloit.”

“I don’t know. I could ask her. You got a tent?”

“It’s summer. Who needs a tent? I’ll bring a bedroll. You’re a fuggin’ Boy Scout, so you probably got a sleeping bag, right?”

“I can’t promise anything. My mom’s kind of weird about what she’ll let me do.”

“You’re a hero, Madman. Use it. Get yourself free. I promise you a night you’ll never forget. Deal?”

Del held out his hand, and they shook on it. Man to man.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

THE HOUSE WAS in an area of relatively new constructions, all single-story, built postwar to accommodate the demand created by the low-interest government loans authorized in the GI Bill. The front lawn was nicely kept, with a crab apple tree almost dead center. Bright marigolds fringed the sidewalk on both sides. The air carried the pleasant smell of freshly mown grass.

A young woman answered, blond, maybe sixteen, with a bit of red at the end of her nose, perhaps a pimple in the making. “Yes?” She smiled graciously.

“I’m looking for Fiona McCarthy.”

“Mother’s in the backyard. May I tell her who’s come to call?”

“My name is Charlotte Bauer.”

“Would you like to come in and wait, Mrs. Bauer?”

Charlie was always called “Mrs.” Bauer by default. She accepted the invitation and found the home to be as lovely and well kept inside as it was out. The young woman offered her a seat, then went to fetch her mother.

Charlie had fled Black Earth County about the time Jimmy Quinn’s daughter Fiona was born, so she’d never seen the woman. But the moment Fiona walked through the sliding door that opened onto the backyard patio, Charlie saw Jimmy Quinn in her features. She was tall, with blazing red hair, and large hands. She carried a sunhat and gardening gloves, and she set these on the dining room table as she passed. Charlie stood to meet her.

“Mrs. Bauer?” Fiona offered her hand.

“Miss, actually.”

“Forgive the dirt,” Fiona said, indicating the soiled spots on her sundress. “I’ve been seeing to my roses. What can I do for you?”

“I have a law practice in Black Earth County. I’m representing a man named Noah Bluestone.”

She’d been smiling cordially, well-defined laugh lines cutting through the freckles of her cheeks, but the smile fell from her lips. “I can’t even imagine what you want with me.”

“Just to talk, if you’re willing.”

“About what?”

“Your father mostly.”

“I try never to talk about my father.”

“I’d like to know why.”

“I don’t want to be rude, Miss Bauer, but I’m simply not going to have this conversation with you.”

“Will you at least allow me to explain why I came?”

Fiona considered this request and begrudgingly gave a nod. She sat in one of the two matching wing chairs, so stiffly that she couldn’t possibly have been comfortable. Charlie took the twin chair.