Marion Dane Bauer - Sunshine

Is that her?

Ben sits on the edge of the dock, shading his eyes to peer across the lake. He points to a narrow silver object poised on the water far away and asks again, Is that my mother?

Hope so. His father settles next to him onto the dock, his dangling feet reaching almost to the slapping gray water. Your mom said noon and its past that now.

But you said shed come in a boat, Ben objects. Thats a canoe.

His father zips his jacket against the cool breeze riffling across the lake. Early June so far north in Minnesota barely qualifies as summer. A canoe is a boat, he says.

Ben wrinkles his nose. When he heard boat, hed dreamed of a speedboat. Something that would go fast. Something that wouldnt need paddling.

Still... its his mother. And shes coming.

He leans as far forward as he can without losing his balance. If he cant speed her up, hell come as close as he can from his side. Its been so long since hes seen her. So very long. He can barely remember what she looks like.

Shes sure going to be glad to see me, Sunshine. I know she will.

Ben doesnt give voice to the words. He doesnt need to. His little dog hears his every thought.

Casually, so as not to call attention to what hes doing, he drops his hand to Sunshines soft fur. Then he looks down, startled. His hand rests on the rough boards of the dock. Sunshine isnt there!

Where is she? Hes been so excited about seeing his mother, hes forgotten her entirely. Has he thought about her even once since they got out of the car?

As always happens, though, the instant he calls her to mind, Sunshine is there. Not next to him this time, but running toward him down the rickety dock.

Her long ears fly. Her reddish-gold fur gleams. Her paws splay happily in every direction.

The sight of that galumphing run warms Bens belly.

Sunshine slides to a stop next to him, plops her butt down, and smiles her sweet doggy smile. Dont worry, the smile says. Im here. You know Im always here!

Ben lays a hand on her hard little skull and goes back to watching the approaching canoe. He can make out the paddler now. Or at least he can make out a baseball cap and a green shirt.

Sunshine leans into him, and Ben cant help himself. He bends over to kiss her wet black nose.

Youre doing it again, arent you? his father says.

Ben jerks upright. His father is studying him, his usually friendly face pulled tight with some idea he doesnt like.

Doing what? Ben widens his eyes.

His father doesnt answer. He just shakes his head and goes back to watching the canoes progress.

Ben studies Dads face. His cheeks are smoothly shaved and gleaming. Hes a teacher, and ever since school let out hes been sprouting dark bristles. Which means he shaved for her. Ben loves knowing his father shaved for her. What he doesnt love is the way his father gets annoyed these days by everything having to do with Sunshine.

Sunshine settles, half sprawled across Bens lap, and he closes a furry paw in his hand. He does it without looking down, though, keeping his eyes on the approaching canoe.

Sunshine licks the back of his hand.

They wait. All three of them wait. The canoe is moving so slowly.

His mother could hardly have gone farther away and still been in Minnesota. If the narrow road that brought them here had held out a few more miles, they could have driven right into Canada.

And she could hardly have found a quieter, more remote place. This town is so small, it hardly deserves to be called a town. Some tourist cabins and an old family resort scattered along the lakeshore, a general store that sells fishing tackle and bait and groceries, a gas station, a ramshackle motel and caf, a few houses.

A fish leaps out of the water not far away. When it smacks back down, silvery spray spatters the dock.

Hey! his dad says. That was a big one!

Ben wonders why his father cares how big the fish is. Hes not an outdoorsy guy. Hes never once taken Ben fishing.

Ben kisses Sunshines nose again, runs a hand along her back, stripping the wet from her fur.

Dad sighs and drapes an arm across Bens shoulders. Ben ignores the familiar weight, the warmth. He concentrates instead on Sunshine, moving his hand from the top of her head to the tip of her long plumed tail in exaggerated sweeps.

Im not sure what your mother will think Dad starts to say.

Ben interrupts. She knows about Sunshine, doesnt she? Youve told her? Surely theyve talked about the problem of his dog during one of their phone conversations.

His father shakes his head.

Ben considers that. So she doesnt know. Well... okay. Then maybe her mind wont be made up.

What else does she not know about him? She probably doesnt know that sometimes he hangs around his friends houses just to see if their mothers will notice him.

Dad has told him just about everything about her. That one day when he was only three years old, she left. Dad was off teaching, and she just walked out. She left everything, not just him and his dad. The city, her friends, her old life. And she moved up here to the wilderness. To live on an island. Alone.

You cant get much more alone than living on an island in the wilderness of northern Minnesota.

She doesnt spend her winters on the island, of course. When it gets cold, she moves to the resort near the town. The owners go off to Florida to get warm, and she takes care of the place through the long winter. As alone in the snow and cold as she is on the island.

And she never comes back to St. Paul. Not even to visit her son.

He knows, too, that shes a writer. She writes articles for magazines, brochures for resorts, stuff like that. He even knows that lately shes been working on a novel.

His father has told him all this, because Ben doesnt talk to her.

The truth is, he hasnt wanted to talk to her. Hes not sure why. He just hasnt. At least not until now when he came up with his plan. But for his plan to work, they have to do more than talk. They have to see one another, get to know one another. He has to visit her on her island for a whole week.

Dad didnt like the idea at first. He said Ben hardly knew his mother. He said she lives too far away. He said she might not want to invite him.

Finally, he said he would ask.

And his mother said yes.

The mother he can barely remember said he could come visit.

He remembers a few things. Like the animal pancakes she used to make. Giraffes with endless necks, rabbits with enormous ears, elephants with trunks so long they dripped off the edge of the plate.

But he doesnt remember what she looks like.

Youd think Dad would have photos, but he doesnt. Your mother hated having her picture taken, he says when Ben asks.

It wont matter now, though... photos or no photos. Because hes going to see the real thing. His real mother.

Bens mouth has gone dry and his legs jitter. Only running his fingers through Sunshines soft fur keeps him still. But despite Sunshines fur, another worry tugs at him, the one that started up the moment the canoe came into view.