Dark Rivers of the Heart

where she grew up?"
        "I don't know why, but I think it was back east somewhere."
        "She ever tell you anything about her mom and dad, about having any brothers or sisters?"
        "No. But when anyone was talking about family, she'd get this sadness in her eyes. I think maybe… her folks are all dead."
        He looked at Rosie. "You didn't ask her about them?"
        "No. It's just a feeling."
        "Was she ever married?"
        "Maybe. I didn't ask."
        "For a friend, there's a lot you didn't ask."
        Rosie nodded. "Because I knew she couldn't tell me the truth. I don't have that many close friends, Mr. Grant, so I didn't want to spoil our relationship by putting her in a position where she'd have to lie to me."
        Spencer put his right hand to his face. In the warm air, the scar felt icy under his fingertips.
        The bearded man slowly reeled in the kite. That big red diamond blazed against the sky. Its tail of ribbons fluttered like flames.
        "So," Spencer said, "you sensed she was running from something,"
        "I figured it might be a bad husband, you know, who beat her."
        "Do wives regularly run away, start their lives over from scratch, because of a bad husband, instead of just divorcing him?"
        "They do in the movies," she said. "If he's violent enough."
        Rocky had slipped out from under the table. He appeared at Spencer's side, having fully circled them. His tail was no longer between his legs, but he wasn't wagging it, either. He watched Rosie intently as he continued to slink around to the front of the table.
        Pretending to be unaware of the dog, Rosie said, "I don't know if it helps… but from little things she said, I think she knows Las Vegas.
        She's been there more than once, maybe a lot of times."
        "Could she have lived there?"
        Rosie shrugged. "She liked games. She's good at games.
        Scrabble, checkers, Monopoly… And sometimes we played cards-five-hundred rummy or two-hand pinochle. You should see her shuffle and deal out cards. She can really make them fly through her hands."
        "You think she picked that up in Vegas?"
        She shrugged again.
        Rocky sat on the grass in front of Rosie and stared at her with obvious yearning, but he remained ten feet away, safely out of reach.
        "He's decided he can't trust me," she said.
        "Nothing personal," Spencer assured her, getting to his feet.
        "Maybe he knows."
        "Knows what?"
        "Animals know things," she said solemnly. "They can see into a person.
        They see the stains."
        "All Rocky sees is a beautiful lady who wants to cuddle him, and he's going crazy because there's nothing to fear but fear itself."
        As if he understood his master, Rocky whined pathetically.
        "He sees the stains," she said softly. "He knows."
        "All I see," Spencer said, "is a lovely woman on a sunny day."
        "A person does terrible things to survive."
        "That's true of everyone," he said, though he sensed that she was talking to herself more than to him. "Old stains, long faded."
        "Never entirely." She seemed no longer to be staring at the dog but at something on the far side of an invisible bridge of time.
        Though he was reluctant to leave her in that suddenly strange mood, Spencer could think of nothing more to say.
        Where the white sand met the grass, the bearded man cranked the reel in his hands and appeared to be fishing the heavens. The blood-red kite gradually descended, its tail snapping like a whip of fire.
        Finally Spencer thanked Rosie for talking with him. She wished him luck, and he walked away with Rocky.
        The dog repeatedly stopped to glance back at the woman on the bench, then scurried to catch up with Spencer. When they had covered fifty yards and were halfway to the parking lot, Rocky issued a short yelp of decision and bolted back to the picnic table.
        Spencer turned to watch.
        In the last few feet, the mutt lost courage. He skidded nearly to a halt and approached her with his head lowered timidly, with much shivering and tail wagging.
        Rosie slipped off the bench onto the grass, and pulled Rocky into her arms. Her sweet, clean laughter trilled across the park.
        "Good dog," Spencer said quietly.
        The muscular volleyball players took a break from their game to get a