Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon [34]
Warren nodded. Shes doing all she can.
You know, I was on the fire department back when Rebecca was killed, Cecil said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. I was one of the first on the scene. Im the one who grabbed Patty and took her away. She didnt need to see her sister all messed up like a bunch of dog food.
Rebecca? Rhonda asked. Nothing about this story was familiar to her.
My moms and Pats little sister, Warren explained. Rhonda remembered the photograph in Pats office, the littlest girl on the end, her hair in ribbons.
Hit by a logging truck back in 73. Im no headshrinker, but know what I think? Cecil asked. I think Pattys always blamed herself. I mean, she was the only one at home that day with Rebecca. She was supposed to be keeping an eye on her. But little girls can be as slippery as snakeswerent her fault and nobody ever said it were. Just the same, all these years later, heres a chance to save another little girl. And she jumps on it. Throws herself into it like its her lifes calling. Right?
Warren nodded.
Two lost girls,Rhonda was thinking.
Cecil got up to leave. She was holding one of Rebeccas little shoes when I found her. A white sneaker stained with blood. Wouldnt let it go. He pulled on an old VFD baseball cap. Damn shame, he mumbled. They thanked Cecil and watched him go.
I cant believe I never heard the story of Rebecca, Rhonda said.
It was a long time ago, Warren said. And one of those things people dont talk about, like cancer or something. I barely know the story myself and it was my own family.
Rhonda nodded, thinking of the secrets in her family.
So, what do you think? Warren asked. Is it worth sticking around or should we go for beer? He opened the envelope from Katy and shook it to let the paper fall out.
I vote for beer. Its been a hell of a long day and its not like the phones have been ringing off the hook.
She glanced down at the paper on the table. It was a color photocopy of Ernies drawing of Rabbit Island. Attached to it was a sticky note:Worried the original might get confiscated, so I made a copy. Thought you might want one too. I still say its some kind of park with a stone garden or something. K.
Warren turned the drawing to face him, and Rhonda was looking at it upside down, and only seeing it from this unfamiliar perspective did she recognize Rabbit Island for what it was.
The beers going to have to wait, Rhonda said. Come on, were going for a ride.
JUNE 12, 1993
PETER HAD HISscripts printed and everyone was ready to go. He decided they would start at the beginning: with Peter Pan arriving in the nursery and taking the children away. Little Jamie OShea was playing Michael, and his brother Malcolm played John. The OSheas were quiet, red-haired boys from the end of the street, who had to be coached constantly to say their lines louder.
What? Peter yelled after one of them had spoken. Speak up, John! Speak up, Michael! Or Ill feed you to the crocodile!
But the problem was, they had no crocodile. Not yet. The lost boys, Indians, and pirates were all younger kids, summer kids whose folks owned cottages on the lake. They came back year after year, making their way to the woods to shyly ask Peter if they could try out for the play. Anyone who tried out got a part, even if it meant having to write in a new character.
The summer kids couldnt make it to every rehearsal, because their families took them swimming, boating, and fishing. None of these kids wanted the role of the crocodile. All the girls wanted Tiger Lily or Tinker Bell, but some were made pirates, others lost boys and Indians. The littlest girl of all, Natalie, played Tinker Bell in her pink bathing suit with wire wings draped in gauze.
Peter was perched in the window of the nursery, about to make his entrance, when, suddenly, Jamie OShea screamed.
What is it now? Peter demanded.
A bee stung me! Jamie yelled. Ow! It got