My Abandonment(14)

"Please," one policeman says. "Come slowly down from the tree."

Father gets down first and they're all around him.

"There's no problem," he says.

"Then why were you running?"

"We didn't know who you were," he says. "And then we were running since you were chasing us, and with the dogs."

"Slow, slow," a policeman says. "Do you have any identification?"

"Not on me," Father says. "I'm a veteran, though. This is a misunderstanding."

"I hope so," the policeman says.

I'm still in the tree, ten feet up. The other policeman has the dogs back on their leashes and is feeding them something from a pouch on his belt.

The men are very nervous with their guns out. They stay all around Father but when he moves in a direction they back up.

"It's a misunderstanding," he says again.

"Sir, stay where you are. Stop moving around."

He's trying to get closer to the tree where I am and I am trying to look back like he shouldn't worry.

"We need you to come along with us," the policeman says to Father. "Back to your camp, first. If you cooperate everything will be easier."

"Certainly," Father says. "There's no cause for handcuffs. I'd rather you didn't do this in front of my daughter."

The man with the tan pants and white shirt is beneath me now, wiping his head with a handkerchief, eyeglasses round around his eyes. He's reaching up like I need his help to get down.

"My name's James Harris," he says. "You can call me Jim. You'll come with me now."

"Father," I say.

"Trust me," Mr. Harris says. "We'll figure it all out."

Father's hands are behind his back and the men lead him away, back the way we'd come. After a moment Mr. Harris puts his hand on my shoulder. He's stayed behind with one police officer who stands in back of me when we start to walk after Father and the other men whose heads are lower than Father's and they're spread on all sides of him, walking with nervousness even though his arms are tied back.

"And what is your name?" Mr. Harris says. "Usually one person introduces themselves and then the other says their name."

"You can call me Caroline," I say.

"Is that your name?" he says.

"Yes," I say. "I said so."

"Caroline," he says, "this is Officer Stannard."

The policeman is walking behind me in case I try to run away and I almost laugh since I know that I could, that he couldn't catch me unless he let the dogs loose again and even then if I didn't climb a tree maybe I could gentle them. I almost want to try it but then that wouldn't help Father. I'm looking down at Mr. Harris's shiny black shoes with their pointed toes and slippery soles.

"Without the dogs you wouldn't have caught us," I say.

"We're trying to help you," he says.

"But you needed the dogs."

"That's probably true," he says, like that's not the point.

The dogs are up by Father, still wearing their red vests. I don't know if they would have smelled us if we'd reached the hiding holes in time. Mr. Harris stays close next to me and either can't walk any faster or is trying to slow us down. Soon I can't see Father ahead of us but I can hear the men's voices.

"This is a misunderstanding," I say but neither Mr. Harris or the policeman says anything. I wonder where Lala and my dogs are, or anyone who might help us.

When we get back to our house one of the camouflage men is gone and I don't see the dogs anywhere. Now I really could run, easily, but Father is facing away with his hands tied and when he tries to look around they try to turn him back. The runner is gone too, and two of the men are looking inside our house, then up at Father.

"I have some library books," he says. "Some other things I'd like to take, if we're going. My pack is the red one, there on the side. Yes. Come on, there's no call to make such a mess. We're not hiding anything from you."

"Except everything," a man says.

Mr. Harris leads me to sit on a log that we never sit on since it would crush down the grass and show that people live here. I look back to where they are talking to Father.

"Don't worry about him," Mr. Harris says. "He'll be all right. What we are going to do here is worry about you."

"Lettuce and beans growing over here," one man says. "That's really something. Check it out."

Everything is getting beaten down so it will take a long time to get it straight again so it looks like no person has walked here, like no one lives here. Father at least is still only stepping on the white stones. His voice is the calmest of all of them, the softest and deepest. I can see Randy still on the mattress, the black chess pieces against the white sheet. It's so strange to see Father's pack on someone else's back. It makes the policeman look small. He adjusts the straps, keeps bouncing it up to make it comfortable. Next to my hand on the log ants are going into tiny holes. I am so much smaller than everyone around me. My fingers are thin and can circle my wrist. I am not strong enough to change what is happening.