River’s End

a look, struggling not to smirk.
    “You spoil her, David,” Val stated as she stacked dishes. “She wasn’t going to get that backpack until her birthday this fall.”
    “Spoil her?” His face bland, David poked a finger into Olivia’s ribs and made her giggle. “Nah, she’s not even ripe yet. Plenty of time yet before she spoils. Do you mind if I switch on the TV in the other room? I’ve got a client doing a concert on cable. I promised I’d catch it.”
    “You go right on,” Val told him. “Put your feet up and get comfortable. I’ll bring coffee in shortly.”
    “Want to come up and talk to me while I unpack?” Jamie asked her niece.
    “Could we take a walk?” Olivia had been waiting for the right moment. It seemed everyone had conspired to make it now. “Before it gets dark?”
    “Sure.” Jamie stood, stretched. “Let me get a jacket. It’ll do me good to work off some of that pasta. Then I won’t feel guilty if I don’t make it over to the health club at the lodge tomorrow.”
    “I’ll tell Grandma. Meet you out back.”
    Even in summer, the nights were cool. The air smelled of rain and wet roses. The long days of July held the light even while a ghost moon rose in the eastern sky. Still, Olivia fingered the flashlight in her pocket. They would need it in the forest. It was the forest she wanted. She would feel safe there, safe enough to say what she needed to say and ask what she needed to ask.
    “It’s always good to be home.” Jamie took a deep breath and smiled at her father’s garden.
    “Why don’t you live here?”
    “My work’s in L.A. So’s David’s. But we both count on coming up here a couple of times a year. When I was a girl, your age, I suppose, I thought this was the whole world.”
    “But it’s not.”
    “No.” Jamie angled her head as she looked over at Olivia. “But it’s one of the best parts. I hear you’re a big help at the campground and the lodge. Grandpop says he couldn’t do without you.”
    “I like working there. It’s not like work.” Olivia scuffed a boot in the dirt and angled away from the house toward the trees. “Lots of people come. Some of them don’t know anything. They don’t even know the difference between a Douglas fir and a hemlock, or they wear expensive designer boots and get blisters. They think the more you pay for something the better it is, and that’s just stupid.” She slanted Jamie a look. “A lot of them come from Los Angeles.”
    “Ouch.” Amused, Jamie rubbed her heart. “Direct hit.”
    “There’re too many people down there, and cars and smog.”
    “That’s true enough.” All that felt very far away, Jamie realized, when you stepped into the deep woods, smelled the pine, the soft scent of rot, felt the carpet of cones and needles under your feet. “But it can be exciting, too. Beautiful homes, wonderful palm trees, shops, restaurants, galleries.”
    “Is that why my mother went there? So she could shop and go to restaurants and have a beautiful home?”
    Jamie stopped short. The question had snapped out at her, an unexpected backhanded slap that left her dazed. “I—she . . . Julie wanted to be an actress. It was natural for her to go there.”
    “She wouldn’t have died if she’d stayed home.”
    “Oh, Livvy.” Jamie started to reach out, but Olivia stepped back.
    “You have to promise not to say anything to anyone. Not to Grandma or Grandpop or Uncle David. Not to anyone.”
    “But, Livvy—”
    “You have to promise.” Panic snuck into her voice, tears into her eyes. “If you promise you won’t say anything, then you won’t.”
    “All right, baby.”
    “I’m not a baby.” But this time Olivia let herself be held. “Nobody ever talks about her, and all her pictures got put away. I can’t remember unless I try really hard. Then it gets all mixed up.”
    “We just didn’t want you to hurt. You were so little when she died.”
    “When he killed her.” Olivia drew back. Her eyes were dry now and glinting in the dim light. “When my father killed her. You have to say it out loud.”
    “When Sam Tanner killed her.”
    The pain reared up, hideously fresh. Giving in to it, Jamie sat beside a nurse log, breathed out slowly. The ground was damp, but it didn’t seem to matter.
    “Not talking about it doesn’t mean we don’t love her, Livvy. Maybe it means we loved her too much. I don’t know.”
    “Do you think about her?”
    “Yes.” Jamie reached out a hand, clasping