Lies Beneath (13 page)

17

NO COWARD SOUL

M rs. Boyd pointed to the clock. “Good first shift, you kids. You’ll make a good crew this summer.” She wrapped up some day- old muffins and handed them to Lily. “Take these home to your family. Tell them to come down to the café sometime.”

“Will do. And thanks.” Lily retrieved her bag from under the counter and pulled out her cell phone.
“Oh, don’t bother your folks,” said Mrs. Boyd. “I bet Calder here would be happy to drive you home.” She winked at me. I could have kissed her. “I’ve got you both on the early schedule tomorrow. Be here at six?”

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“I’ll be here,” Lily said. She looked at me to see if Mrs. Boyd’s offer was legit. I nodded and led her out the door to my car. Lily climbed into the passenger seat, and we headed up Manypenny Avenue toward the county road. It felt incredible having her in the car, sitting next to me, like two normal teenagers out for a ride. She slipped out of her sandals and put her feet up on the dash. She pushed her seat back as Bob Marley blared from the speakers.

“But I did not shoot the dep- u- ty,”
sang Lily. Then she reached forward and groaned, rubbing the balls of her feet. “Ugh. My feet are killing me. It’s hard just standing like that all day.”

My eyes went back and forth between the road and the shiny turquoise paint on Lily’s toes, around the arch of her foot, back to the road, and then along the curve of her calf up to her knee, exposed by the fact her long skirt had slid up around her thighs. I caught myself before the fantasy distracted me from the job at hand.

She leaned over to change the station; then her hand stopped in midair. She reached under the seat, pulling out Pavati’s skirt— the same one she’d been wearing earlier.

“What’s this?” Lily held it up to show me.
Oh, shit.
“I don’t know. Looks like a skirt to me.” “Isn’t this your sister’s?” She bent over and dug out the

matching pink blouse and Maris’s white T-shirt and jeans. “Why’d they ditch their clothes in your car?”

I shrugged, trying to think of a reasonable explanation. Better to stay as close to the truth as possible. “Out for a swim, I guess.”

“Won’t they be mad that you drove away with their clothes?”
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I sighed. So much for a normal ride home. “Why don’t you let me worry about my sisters.” Lily faced forward and crossed her arms over her chest.

A few minutes later, I pulled into her driveway, and Hancock came out to meet us. I put the car in park as Hancock put his hands on the edge of the doorframe and leaned in the open window toward me. My jaw flexed, and my mouth ran dry.

“Bringing her home again, I see.” His voice was friendly, but there was an edge to it. A fatherly warning, perhaps? I smirked at the thought of
Jason Hancock
having to warn
me.

“Yes, sir. We’re both working down at the Blue Moon.” “Are you now?”
“Thanks for the ride, Calder. I guess I’ll see you later,”

Lily said, and even though she hurried to get out of my car, she didn’t seem entirely put off by the thought.
“Right. Have a good night, Lily.”
“No,” said Hancock, “why don’t you stay for a while? I could use some help moving a pile of lumber closer to the house, and we’re going to have a bonfire and cook hot dogs down by the lake later on.”
Lily froze, but there was a hint of anticipation in her eyes. I decided I wouldn’t be pushing my self- control too much to accept the invitation. Besides, Maris would like this.
“Sure thing.” I unbuckled my seat belt and climbed out. Hancock signaled for me to follow. Lily trailed nervously behind.
“So, you said you live north of Bayfield?” Hancock asked, looking back over his shoulder at me.
Ah. This wasn’t about moving lumber. Hancock wanted to know what type of boy his daughter was hanging out

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with. I hid a smile behind my hand. No matter how bad Hancock might imagine me to be, no matter what story he’d heard about his father, I was pretty sure
serial killer
still hadn’t made his list of concerns. I prepared myself for the string of well- rehearsed lies I was going to have to unleash on them for the rest of the afternoon.

“We did, sir.”
“Did?”
“We had a summer house up towards Cornucopia. But

my parents sold it and bought a sailboat.”

Hancock stopped and turned around to face me. “You’re a sailor?”
“So- so. My dad’s really more into it. At first it was part of the leasing fleet over on Madeline Island. Now when we come up for the summer, we stay on the boat.”
“This early in the season? What’s the boat called?”
Lily came up alongside her dad. She kissed his cheek, and I swallowed hard. “You’re giving him the third degree, Dad.”
“That’s my job, Lil.”
We lifted four two- by- fours and started walking back to the house. Lily raised her eyebrows at me and mouthed the word
Sorry.
“So, how old are you, Calder?”
“Eighteen, sir.”
“You going to college?”
“Not yet.”
“Going to work for a while?”
“Something like that.” I set my end of the boards onto the stack already taking shape by the front porch. We returned to the original pile and picked up another load. That was

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when I spied Mrs. Hancock. She was sitting in a chair by the lake, a canvas set up on an easel, a crocheted afghan wrapped around her shoulders. Sunshine streamed through the tree branches, casting three clawlike stripes across her body.

“You didn’t tell me your mom was an artist.”
“Oh, I’m full of secrets like that,” Lily said mysteriously. The way she said it, coupled with my own darker secrets, made me laugh out loud. Lily raised her eyebrows to say it wasn’t
that
funny.
“How was work, Lily?” Mrs. Hancock called. “Is that Calder, too? Our hero!” She smiled and lifted a hand, coaxing us over to her. As we got closer my pulse raced. I didn’t know if it was because Mrs. Hancock was sitting in a wheelchair—
Had she been
that
hurt when she fell in the kitchen?
— or because there was something about being close to a mother. Any mother. Carolyn Hancock’s face softened when she looked at me. Or was I imagining that? Was wish fulfillment another symptom of prolonged abstinence? Was I becoming delusional?
“Hi, Mom.” Lily bent over to kiss her cheek. “Calder and I are working together at the café.”
“Well, that’s wonderful,” she said. “Jason, don’t work him too hard. Let them relax. They’ve already been working all day.”
Hancock grunted and dismissed us. Lily signaled for me to follow her. I hesitated, reluctant to leave Mrs. Hancock.
“Go on,” Mrs. Hancock said, misreading my hesitation. “Jason’ll have plenty of help tomorrow. You go.”
I followed Lily down to the dock. Sophie came up beside me and touched my elbow. I jumped at the unexpected contact.

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“Do you want to come with
me,
Calder? I made a fort this morning on the edge of the woods. I have some of my plainer dolls set up in there like it’s a hotel.”

“I’d like that, Sophie, but maybe in a little bit?” She frowned and sulked away.
Lily looked over her shoulder to see if I was coming.

She was already sitting on the edge of the dock, between the two newly installed floodlights. I kept my shoes on, stepping over her discarded sandals and the fedora, and walked the length of the dock. Lily had two beach blankets laid out on the cedar slats, and I lay down prone on one of them. She dangled her bare legs in the water. I imagined the smell of oranges spreading out through the lake.

“Why is your mom in a wheelchair?”
Lily stared up at me. “You’re very blunt aren’t you?” “Is that bad?”
“No.” She sighed. “Actually, it’s refreshing. Most people

are too uncomfortable to ask. They pretend everything’s normal, when obviously it’s not.”

I waited. Lily stood up and stripped off her top. I sat up in shock, at first not realizing she had her bathing suit on under her clothes. She grinned down at me, enjoying my scandalized expression.

“It’s good to be prepared,” she said. She shimmied out of her skirt and gracefully lowered herself off the dock.
“Wait, don’t!” The water only reached her thighs. Under the direct rays of the sun, it was warmer than the open lake, but I’d never seen a human in the water this time of year. At least not voluntarily. Was her skin already turning blue? I wasn’t sure.

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“What?” Lily asked.
“It can’t be more than fifty degrees.”
“Really? It doesn’t feel that bad.”
“Seriously,” I said. “Get out. Aren’t you the one who said

no one swam in April? It’s dangerous without . . . a dive suit.”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m used to it now.” She dropped down under the water and came up chin first, letting her long, wet hair drag in a solid sheet behind her. Goose bumps popped up on her arms and stomach, but she wasn’t in a hurry to get out. I chewed on the insides of my mouth.

“To answer your earlier question,” she continued, “Mom has MS. Some days are better than others. A couple days ago she was walking with a cane; today she needs her chair. It’s frustrating not knowing what each day’s going to be like. It’s like we’re losing her bit by bit. I mean, this will sound weird: She’s here, but I really miss my mom.”

Lily didn’t know how well I understood that. “When did she get sick?”
“When I was twelve. It started out slowly but it’s gotten really bad this year. Some days she can barely hold her paintbrushes. Her doctor said living in the city was putting too much stress on her. He said we should get out into a ‘more restful climate.’ Dad thought it was a good time to try it up here. I don’t know. I guess it’s a good thing. Not as many people to stare at her, at least.”
“Why would they stare?” I asked, watching for any signs of hypothermia.
“Because they don’t know what’s wrong. So they try and figure it out. Sometimes I wish they’d just come out and ask, like you did.”

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“They probably think that’s being rude,” I said.

Lily laid her hands flat on the water and turned quickly in a circle, sending droplets scattering off the surface. “It’s ruder to stare.”

“It’s not like it’s something to be embarrassed about.”

She stopped spinning and raised her chin in the air. “I’m not embarrassed. It would just be nice to have a regular family again.” She tipped her head to the side and scrutinized me with a puckered brow. “Aren’t you going to come in?”

“Do you paint, too?” I asked, avoiding her question. “No. Not at all.”
“You look artistic. Or at least your clothes did before you

took them off.” I picked through her lace blouse and velvet jacket that lay in a pile by my feet. “You dress like an artist.” “Role- play.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to be a poet, so I try to dress like one— or like how I imagine my favorite ones would dress.”
“You like the Victorians, too,” I said with confidence.
“How’d you guess?”
“Your tattoo.”
She smiled broadly and signaled for me to keep my voice down. “You know that poem?”
“Some.” I let my mind wind itself backward to my recent study sessions and plucked out the words from memory.
“No coward soul is mine, / No trembler in the word’s storm- troubled sphere: / I see Heaven’s glories shine, / And Faith shines equal, arming me from Fear.”
She nodded and a honey- colored glow emanated from her shoulders. The light followed the curve of her arms and

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then intensified into a sugary pinkish orange. I knew the color well. Lily was happy. I could only hope I was the cause. “That’s amazing,” she said. “I’m impressed.”
“So, how do you decide what a poet should dress like?”
She shrugged. “Simple, really. I look at what everyone else is wearing and do the opposite.”
Nonconformity,
I mused.
What a luxury.
“So let’s hear it, then.”
“Hear what?” she asked.
“Some poetry. Your poetry.”
Despite the cold, a rush of blood heated her face. “I can’t just spout something off.”
“Why not?” I asked.
She sputtered, clearly off balance. “I have to be . . . inspired. I have to be looking at something beautiful . . . or, or amazing.”
I gestured at myself as if to say,
What am I?
She answered the question as if I’d spoken it. “
Yo u
are an annoying guy who has no problem asking questions but won’t share any answers.” She cupped her hand and flung water at my chest.
I leaned to my side, dodging the spray. “Let me get you started,” I said. “How ‘bout a limerick? There once was a guy most amazing.”
She shook her head.
So I continued. “Who thought that his girl had gone crazy.”
She raised her eyebrows at me. I was definitely pushing it with the “his girl” line, but she picked up where I left off.
“The girl, he annoyed,” she said.
“But she couldn’t avoid,” I added.

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She smiled confidently and finished strong: “His stalking and silence so puzzling.”
“Ha. You’re right, Lily Hancock. You are a poet.”
“Oh, shut up. Why don’t you come in? It’s not too bad in the sun.”
“You’re lying. But even if that were true, I didn’t bring a suit,” I said, waving her off.
“Swim in your shorts.”
“No thanks.”
“Your loss.”
She enjoyed teasing me. A trail of happy satisfaction burned like pink fire, then spun out of her like a pinwheel. It was a magnet that lured me to her. My hand involuntarily reached forward. She came closer, not realizing the motivation behind my gesture, and shocked me by weaving her fingers through mine. I watched— horrified, spellbound— as the pink shimmer crept from her fingertips, across the top of my hand and over my wrist. My forearms hummed and heated until the warmth pushed up my arm and broke across my chest, finally bursting through my lips with a sudden, surprising laugh.
“I know you know something,” she said in a low voice. “About what my grandpa saw in the lake. I want you to tell me.”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
“Calder, you say more with your eyes than most people do with their mouths. Right now your eyes are saying you’re afraid. A minute ago they were saying it wasn’t safe in the lake. You might as well say it plainly, Calder. I know you know something.” Then she lowered her eyebrows and faked a terrible Russian accent. “Vee haf vayz uff makeen you talk.”