Seb looked up and jogged back to the porch with Punkin trailing. When they were almost to me, Punkin stopped near Mr. Legs and peed.
“Again?” Seb asked. “That’s about five times since we got home. How much water did you drink while we were gone?”
The dog looked up at him, red Frisbee firmly held between her gnarled front teeth, and for a moment, the last rays of the sun beamed over the beach, lighting up both Punkin and Mr. Legs with the most spectacular shade of orange.
It almost looked like they were on fire.
What had that woman Katie said, when we were in the Neelys’ hallway, looking at Nana’s painting?
The eyes really jump out at you with those orange irises.
It felt like being hit with lightning.
As close as I’d probably ever come, anyway.
“My God!” I said as Seb stopped in front of me, chest heaving from running around the beach with Punkin. “MY GOD!”
“Yes? I’m here, my child,” he joked. “What does thou needest from thy Lord?”
“Mr. Legs!” I said, standing up. “It’s Mr. Legs!”
He squinted. “Huh?”
I scrambled toward the old tree-trunk sculpture, nearly tripping over the bottom step, and then again when Punkin veered in my way. Seb followed, and then the other two Wags.
I stood at the base of the sculpture, looking up at it in the dazzling, fleeting light that shimmered as the sun dropped into the lake.
Mr. Legs’ eyes looked like they were on fire, just like Nana’s painting.
They were carved deeply, the circular ruts that defined the heron’s eyes.
The perfect size to fit a pair of rings.
“The eyes!” I said as everyone ran up behind me. “The rings go inside the eyes!”
We stared up at the heron, and one by one, everyone made noises of surprise.
“Is it possible?”
“How would it work?”
“Are you sure?”
Seb put a hand on Mr. Legs. “Only one way to find out. Move.”
Before we could stop him, Seb grabbed the base of the sculpture—the part that was still an old tree truck—and hoisted himself up, climbing it like a monkey trying to get a coconut.
“Be careful!” I called up to him.
“Fucking splinters,” he complained, but he made it to the head of the heron.
We stared up at him. “What do you see?” I asked. “Is it just the sculptor’s style choice, or... ?”
He shifted his grip and peered into the bird’s eyes. “Holy shit! You guys—she’s right! Something fits inside the eyes!”
Our combined cheer echoed around the beach. I looked behind us, paranoid that Paul and Lulu might show up out of the blue. But we were still alone.Thank God.
“If we only had Mabel’s rings,” Jazmine lamented.
