Chapter 3. Alice #2
The car drove away in a cloud of dust. Alice looked back to the lake, where Blue was knee-deep in the water and Ocean was sunbathing on the beach, and frowned.
Blue had brown hair and eyes. Ocean was blond and blue-eyed.
It couldn’t be them, could it? Had they lied about their ages?
Sweat dribbled down Alice’s neck. She wiped at her brow.
She wondered why the police were looking for the couple.
Maybe they were runaways and their families were desperate to find them.
No, that didn’t make sense. Even here in Canada, eighteen and twenty-one couldn’t be considered minors.
Well, the radio hadn’t said the girl was pregnant.
That seemed an important detail. So, another couple then.
But it was strange that they didn’t have a tent.
Blue was reluctant to talk about where he lived.
They had odd names. No. She was being ridiculous.
There were probably countless young travelers who could fit that description.
Alice watched as Ocean got to her feet and waded out into the water again. She talked to Blue and Tom for a few moments, then she turned, collected her belongings from the beach, and walked back to the RV.
“I’ve been sent to help you with lunch,” she said when she reached Alice.
“Lunch? Already?”
“They’re hungry.” She shrugged with a shy smile. Her nose and cheeks were prettily flushed from the sun, her shoulders freckled. “I’m a terrible cook. But I’m good at sandwiches.”
“Sandwiches are fine.”
Inside the RV, Alice got two sodas from the fridge, offered one to Ocean, then drank a few mouthfuls from her bottle before pressing it to her hot cheeks. “I feel like a baked potato. I need a moment to cool down. Would you mind laying the bread slices out?”
“Sure.” Ocean picked up the loaf of bread, but when she realized it wasn’t already sliced, she stared at the knives in the woodblock.
“The one with the serrated blade is best.”
Ocean began cutting, but she was pressing the knife down on the bread instead of sawing, so each slice turned out squished, with varying degrees of thickness. Ocean looked at Alice.
“I’m making a mess of it.”
“That’s okay. I can finish now.”
“Sorry.” Ocean stepped away from the bread, her shoulders slumped.
“Nothing to be sorry for. How about you make lemonade. There’s a can of concentrate.” She gestured toward the freezer. “And a pitcher in the cupboard.”
“I can do that.” Ocean gathered the items, while Alice finished slicing the bread and opened a can of tuna, dumping it into a bowl.
Ocean watched from beside her at the sink. “What are you making?”
“Tuna salad.” When Ocean looked curious, Alice went on. “I like it with diced pickles, celery, mayonnaise, lemon juice, and a teaspoon of mustard. You can use relish if you don’t have pickles. Tuna melts with cheese are yummy too.”
“I’ve never had one.”
“No? They’re fast and easy.”
“I’d probably burn them,” she said, almost apologetically. “My mom did the cooking. I wanted to learn, but she didn’t like if I made a mess. Blue’s trying to teach me now.”
Alice mixed ingredients into the tuna and thought over what Ocean had said.
That was twice now that Ocean had mentioned something she hadn’t been allowed to do.
Alice could understand a mother’s fear of injury in sports, but she didn’t understand not teaching your daughter homemaking skills because of a little mess. Maybe Ocean had been very young.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Alice said, “when did you lose your parents?”
Ocean was quiet for a few beats. “Last year. Car accident.”
Not a child then. Her mother must have been very particular.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” Ocean continued stirring the lemonade, which looked pale and diluted, like she’d added too much water, but Alice didn’t want to make her feel worse by pointing it out.
Tom’s and Blue’s voices were loud as they walked back from the beach. They entered the RV, smelling of sun and lake. Tom’s smiling face was ruddy, his hair damp and tousled, and the neckline of his short-sleeved button-down wet like he’d dunked his head in the cold water.
“How was fishing?”
“We landed a few but tossed them back,” he said. “Too small.”
The men sat at the table, and Alice and Jenny handed out the meals.
Lunch was entertaining, with Tom describing how he had tangled their lines and hooked Blue with a lure.
Alice caught herself laughing, and stopped, surprised.
When was the last time she’d laughed like that?
Maybe she was beginning to climb out of the dark hole that had swallowed her.
Blue also seemed to have lightened up and was adding comments to Tom’s story, teasing him for nearly falling into the water when he cast his line. When Tom gave him a friendly slap on the back, calling him a fishing genius, Blue smiled and sat straighter.
After lunch, Alice and Ocean cleaned up, while Tom and Blue looked over Tom’s map.
“Kamloops seems like the next biggest town,” Tom said.
“You can leave us there,” Blue said.
“Why don’t you come to Salmon Arm with us?” Tom said. “It’s only two hours farther down the road, and we’ve got a nice camping spot on the Shuswap Lake.”
Alice turned around from the sink, the sponge dripping soapy water down her arm. Did he just invite them to spend the night again without discussing it with her?
“You’ve already helped too much,” Blue said. “We’ll be fine.”
“There are wineries in that area. Houseboats. You might be able to get seasonal work.”
“It would be nice to make some money,” Ocean said, looking at Blue.
“You really don’t mind, Tom?”
“Happy to do it. We can fish the Shuswap. Maybe we can keep one this time!” Tom laughed, and Alice couldn’t help smiling as she turned to wash the rest of the plates. It was hard to stay angry at Tom when he was so enthused to find someone who shared his interests.
“I’ll show you how to pan-fry it in butter,” Blue said, and Alice noted again how he had changed from the quiet, wary boy she’d met at their campsite to this friendly young man.
“Alice? Is it okay?” Ocean said.
“It would be lovely to have you for another night.” And she meant it this time. Having the young couple around was proving to be a good distraction.
“Wonderful.” Tom beamed at her. “The adventure continues.”
Back on the highway, Blue asked Tom about Seattle, and he told them about Pike Place Market, the Space Needle, and the Boeing factory, which led into a discussion about the military and the Vietnam War.
Blue asked if Tom had served, but thankfully his number had never been called.
Tom had been devastated, though, when two of his former students had been killed.
As they neared Kamloops, the terrain changed to wide-open grasslands and sage-covered rolling hills.
Tom and Blue were talking again about fishing the Shuswap Lake, which Tom shared was fifty-five miles long with four different arms. They were deciding what tackle would be best when Alice remembered Blue’s promise to fry a fish for dinner.
What would she make for breakfast? Pancakes again?
Maybe they’d prefer cereal. Alice caught sight of a corner store with a red-and-white striped awning and baskets of fruits displayed outside.
“Can we stop?” Alice said. “We need milk.”
Tom glanced at her. “Sure.”
He pulled into the parking lot, and Alice grabbed her purse. “I’ll just be a second.”
A bell jingled as she pushed through the front door. The teenage boy working the counter had a fresh-faced small-town look, with a blond buzz cut, freckled nose, and tanned arms in his red short-sleeved uniform. He was flipping through what looked to be a car magazine.
He glanced up. “Welcome to Sam’s.”
Alice nodded, and her gaze dropped to the newspaper stand, where she noticed a front-page photo of Olympic athletes and a headline about an African boycott. Would that change the event schedule? She picked up a copy, skimming the article. The kid cleared his throat loudly.
Alice slid twenty-five cents across the counter, then walked distractedly down the aisle toward the dairy coolers at the back, still reading.
Tanzania had withdrawn in protest that the New Zealand rugby team had toured Apartheid South Africa.
More nations were threatening to follow.
She flipped the page and stopped when she noticed another headline on the opposite side.
Suspects Wanted in White Cliff Double Homicide.
Two black-and-white photos were below. Formal shots, the kind taken in high school for the yearbook, stiff poses, every hair combed back, a slight sheen of gloss on the girl’s lips, her eyelashes spikey with mascara.
She wore little gold earrings, her light hair parted in the middle.
The boy didn’t smile for the camera but looked steadily ahead, his dark eyes serious.
Ocean and Blue.