Page 2 of Canyon of Deceit
Kate drew in a breath. “Ouch. Something bit my leg.”
I searched Kate’s matchstick-thin leg and found a quickly swelling bump on her ankle. “Looks like a fire ant nibbled on you. Let me make sure no more are crawling on the quilt.”
An ant hill rose three feet from our picnic site, and we moved several feet away. I washed the bite with water from the thermos and a clean cloth. “I’ll put soda on it once we’re home. Do you want to leave?”
“No. I’m fine.” Kate curled up on the quilt and closed her eyes. “I’m ready.”
I sang the song twice, picturing brighter days ahead for my family. My sister would win this fight.
Kate’s eyelids hung at half-mast.The ant bite?I stuffed the remains of our picnic into my backpack and hoisted my guitar strap over my shoulder.
“I’ll carry you,” I whispered. “Go ahead and sleep, and I’ll tuck you in when we’re home.” I picked up Kate and nestled her close to me.
“Would you sing your song about me on the way?”
“Of course.” The words and tune had come to me one night when Kate sobbed in pain. Love burned inside me, and I’d much rather God take me and heal her.
“Where are you going, my little girl?
Has your innocence laced the stars?
Are you warm in sugar-sprinkled dreams?
Have you seen the angels from afar?
Where have you wandered, my little girl?
Have you tasted nature’s honey?
Are you skipping down a rainbow path?
And singing with daisies in harmony?
Where will you journey, my little girl?
When life’s troubles are all you see?
Will you rest secure in childlike faith?
And remember the One who set you free?”
The mile of green rolling countryside to our off-the-grid cabin that my great-grandfather had built took me across the pasture where our temperamental bull, three cows, and two spotted goats grazed. I kept one eye on the bull—Kate had named him Kitty. Cautious of his horn-filled fury, I made it to the gate, then latched it behind me. My shoulders ached. But Kate wouldn’t have made it on her own.
In the distance, corn tassels waved in the breeze. Our half-acre garden grew vegetables and every herb and plant our parents plied into home remedies to try to kill Kate’s leukemia. My sister’s soft snores and rhythmic breathing calmed my worries.
Please God, make her well. I’ll do anything You ask.
Once home, I laid sleeping Kate into her bed, cleaned her bug bite, then covered her with a new pink-and-green quilt that Mom had made for her. I pulled the rocking chair close and clung to her cool hand, the bluish color filling me with dread. I blew on it to warm her up.
Mom joined me and kissed Kate’s cheek. “You shouldn’t have worn her out.” She gasped. “Why is hydrogen peroxide and soda here? Did you let her get stung or bitten?”
I gazed into Mom’s furious face, and my eyes welled with tears. “A fire ant. I didn’t see the hill.” I showed her the swollen spot on Kate’s ankle, but Kate didn’t waken.
“What have you done?” Mom wailed. “Get your dad right now.”
I raced to the barn, my tears blinding every step. “Dad! Hurry! It’s Kate.”
He rushed past me. The smell of animals following in his wake.
