‘Really? Truly, Dad?’
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘I said anything you like, right?’
Happiness shines out of her.
I put some supplies in a backpack. Flashlight, blanket, tarpaulin, energy bars, bottled water, toilet paper. Behind me I hear the dry sound of skirts rustling. Oh no. I squeeze my eyes closed really tight.
Her hand is like cold clay on the back of my neck.Don’t let anyone see who you are, Mommy says.
‘I won’t,’ I say. ‘I just want to give Lauren a little treat. Only this once, I swear. I’ll make sure she never wants to go again.’
You need to move them.
The sun falls slowly into the treeline. I watch through the western peephole that faces the forest. When the light is almost gone I shoulder the backpack and turn out the lights.
‘Time to go,’ I say. ‘Pens and crayons, please.’
She counts them into my hand one by one, and I put them away. They are all accounted for.
‘Do you need a drink of water before we go? Bathroom? Last chance.’
She shakes her head. I can almost see the excitement coming off her like a series of little explosions.
‘You have to let me carry you.’ The pink bicycle will be useless on the forest floor.
She says, ‘Whatever.’
We go out the back door and I lock it after us. I check the street carefully before we come out from the shadow of the house. The road is empty. Midges dance around the buzzing yellow streetlight. The neighbouring house stares with its newsprint eyes. Further down the block it’s a different story. Sashes are pulled up, spilling noise and warm light. I catch the distant tone of a piano, the faint scent of pork chops cooking.
‘We could go knock on a door,’ Lauren says. ‘Say hi. Maybe they’d ask us to stay for supper.’
‘I thought you wanted to go camping?’ I say. ‘Come on, kitten.’
We turn away to where the trees are outlined against the purple sky. We duck through the wooden gate and here we are, among them. The flashlight casts a wide bloodless beam on the trail.
All signs of the city are soon behind us. We are enclosed by the forest. It is waking. The dark air is filled with hoots, clicks and song. Frogs, cicadas, bats. Lauren shivers and I feel her wonder. I love having her so close to me. I can’t recall the last time she let me carry her like this without a fight. She hates to be helpless.
‘What do you do if someone comes by?’ I ask her again.
‘I stay quiet and let you do the talking,’ she replies. ‘What’s that stink?’
‘Skunk,’ I say. The animal wanders alongside us on the path for a time, curious, perhaps. Then it ambles off into the wooded dark and the scent fades.
We don’t go far, about a mile. A couple hundred feet off thepath there’s the clearing. It’s hidden by boulders and thick scrub and you have to know how to find it. I know the way well. This is where the gods live.
The scent of cedar and wild thyme is in the air, as strong as wine. But the trees that circle the clearing aren’t cedar or fir. They are pale slender ghosts.
‘Dad,’ Lauren says in a whisper. ‘Why are the trees white?’
‘They’re called paper birch trees,’ I say. ‘Or white birch. Look.’ I peel a sliver of bark from a trunk and show it to her. She strokes its whispering surface. I don’t tell her their true name, which isbone trees.
I find the spot I want in the north-west corner, where I spread the groundsheet over the earth, still warm from the day. We sit. I make her drink some water, eat an energy bar. Overhead, the branches show through the stars. Lauren is quiet. I know she feels them. The gods.
‘This is nice,’ I say. ‘You and me together. It reminds me of when you were little. Those were wonderful times.’
‘I don’t remember it like that,’ she says. I feel a spurt of frustration. She is always pushing me away. But I stay calm.
‘I love you more than anyone else in the world,’ I tell her. And I mean it. Lauren is special. I never showed any of the others the clearing. ‘All I want is to keep you safe.’
