Page 93 of The Seekers of Deer Creek

What happens to all dreamers, V. They disappeared.

Six months after Vivi returned to America, she received a tearful phone call from Linh.Ki`êuhad passed in his sleep, a smile drawn across his lips. Vivi was devastated that Samuel would never meet her uncle. But she imagined theNguy?nbrothers reuniting within that glorious blue where hope still lived.

At the funeral in LongXuyên, Vivi half expected Calla to appear. She saw a woman with shoulder-length hair among the mourners and startled, but it wasn’t her. Calla was never one for a drawn-out goodbye. Samuel, next to her, squeezed her waist. Once, twice.I am here. I won’t leave you.

Calla was never far from Vivi’s thoughts. If Vivi woke in Deer Creek, she found herself turning to the opposite side of the room, expecting a matching twin bed, a pair of dark eyes alight with adventure. Sometimes, while washing dishes by the window, she’d see a wraith of a child hopping the fence, running like a golden arrow into the opening of the woods. She’d hear a clear voice calling her name. Then the light would shift, the contours would sharpen, and Vivi would pull herself reluctantly back to reality. Delusions, she knew, caught fast.

After her uncle’s funeral, she drove to Deer Creek to begin cataloguing some of the much-needed house repairs. She found, crammed in the decrepit mailbox among the junk ads and catalogues still addressed to her father, a stiff envelope with postmarks from Cam Ranh. There was no return address. She couldn’t open the envelope fast enough.

Inside, there was a small painting on thick-grained paper: two deer sprinting toward each other, limber legs kicking up clouds of dust while their necks arched proudly toward the boundless sky. The piece was astonishingly hopeful, full of artful technique and tender brushwork. No longer tainted by pain or cynicism.

Vivi didn’t bother to swipe away the tears; she let them cloud her vision until all she saw was the smudge of joy.

Since then, more paintings had arrived at the farmhouse. There was no regular rhythm to these deliveries; they seemed to come from the sky, as if dropped by capricious, winged messengers. The postmarks came from Quito and Amsterdam, Bangkok and Istanbul. Sometimes, the artist painted people in cafés; sad people, happy people, people in love. Those were Vivi’s favorites. Other times, the artist painted startlingly realistic landscapes and it was like seeing the world through her eyes for a single, dazzling moment. One day, Vivi thought she might have enough artwork to fill an entire museum.

There was never a return address on any of the envelopes and never a single word written on the paintings. But each was signed the same way, with a tiny, red button on the lower righthand side, precise as a stamp.

As they walked in the woods, Vivi told Phoebe a story about two sisters who loved each other so much that they created a whole world only they could enter. Like an abandoned garden or a lagoon hidden from sight. Everyone around them aged, but the sisters stayed young forever. Eventually though, they woke from the dream. They saw that they’d missed out on all the things that mattered. Their world was unchanging, but did they really want a world without change? Without the specter of death, immortality could be so very tedious.

“So they left their secret world?” Phoebe asked. One of her front teeth had fallen out soon after her eighth birthday and she lisped just slightly through the gap. “That’s so sad. Who would leave such a perfect place?”

“They can return anytime.”

“How will they find their way back?”

“They each carry a map inside of them.”

The two arrived at the edge of the creek, now drying up, going the way of all the other forgotten creeks of the town. Phoebe dragged her sneaker through the mud. Vivi couldn’t find it in her to stop her, even though she was staining her socks. Her Yaa regularly scolded them for the state in which she appeared. A wild child, a dirt-speckled sprite, alive to all the countless, unseen wonders around her.

As Vivi watched Phoebe play, she noticed Samuel making his way through the trees with his careful steps, that tremor of hesitant delight in his gaze, as if he couldn’t quite believe that this was their life now.

“Thought you two might be here,” he said. “Special delivery for you.”

He held out an envelope. There was no return address, only a postmark from—of all places—Latvia. Vivi laughed and shook her head in response to Samuel’s questioning look. An inside joke.

This envelope was unlike the others, much smaller, padded rather than stiff, and light, so very light. Vivi tore it open. Out dropped a silver ring with twin antler prongs.

“I was wondering when I’d see this again.” She held it to the light. The ring still needed a cleaning, now more than ever. She imagined it flashing through a flamenco on the cobblestoned streets of Valencia; shimmering within the clear waters of a natural spring; warmed by the midnight glow of an island bonfire. “This ring has been more places than I have.”

“Do you have regrets?” Sam asked.

“Not a single one.”

“There’s something else in there.”

A slip of paper floated from the envelope, landing in the dirt. Vivi picked it up and read the words scrawled in all-too familiar handwriting. They were the only two words that could summon so much history.

Vivi smiled. She folded the note and pocketed it. Someday. Someday she’d go seeking again. Not out of fear or duty, but out of curiosity and love, when the missing became too much. For now, she’d stay and build a home that Calla might someday wish to return to.

“What’s that?” Phoebe ran to her side. Vivi showed her. “Does that ring belong to one of the sisters in the story?”

“To both of them.”

“Can I try it on?”

Vivi wiggled the ring onto Phoebe’s thumb. Samuel admired it too, when Phoebe shyly splayed her hand in front of him. The antlers locked protectively around Phoebe’s soft flesh, like a vow. Vivi thought for a moment, then leaned down, whispering in Phoebe’s ear.

“Will you keep it safe for me? I think it might actually be the key to those sisters’ secret world.”