Still Waters (10 page)

He blinked rapidly several times. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiled back, but it looked forced. “I was just startled, that’s all.” Abruptly, he turned and began swimming back toward the shore, his arms and shoulders moving in the same clumsy crawl.

“Colin, what …?” But he didn’t turn around. For a few moments, Hannah remained alone in the center of the lake, treading water. Then she followed, wading back through the muddy reeds near the shore and up onto the beach.

“Hang on,” Colin said over his shoulder as he disappeared into the house. He reappeared a moment later, carrying two old blue towels. He handed her one, then rubbed himself with the other, facing away from her toward the trees. Hesitantly, Hannah touched his shoulder. He turned around. She was relieved to see that his face looked normal.

The morning air was growing warmer and brighter as the sun burned through the clouds. The wind blew lightly, carrying the sharp scent of the pine trees. “What was going on back there?” Hannah asked.

Colin took a deep breath and smiled a little with his lips closed. “It’s nothing.” He plucked Hannah’s towel from her hands
and draped it around her shoulders. She clutched the rough terry cloth close.

Colin sank down on the beach. After a moment’s hesitation, Hannah sat down next to him. The gritty sand was cold under her rear. She stared at the ground in front of her. A large ant was trying to carry away a dead dragonfly. “Sorry I overreacted back there,” Colin said.

Hannah nodded, trying to sift some sand between her fingers. This wasn’t really the sifting kind though and just sort of fell in clumps.

Colin cleared his throat. “I guess I never told you that I hate swimming.”

Hannah looked over at him sharply. He was digging a short stick into the damp sand in front of him. His cheeks were a little pink.

Hannah put a hand on his back. She could feel the gooseflesh under her palm. “I didn’t know that,” she said softly.

Colin nodded still looking down. “Yeah. Ever since I was little. I mean, I know how, of course. But I don’t like it. I don’t know why. I just hate the water.” He dug the stick deeper into the sand and then abruptly threw it into the reeds.

“But you swam today,” Hannah pointed out.

Colin shrugged. “Yeah, I know. I came out and saw you there and you looked so cute and like you were having so much fun and … I don’t know, I just thought I’d try it.” He looked over at her for the first time. “Guess it didn’t work out so well.”

“Guess not.” Hannah rolled her eyes comically. “So, why do you hate swimming?”

“I don’t know,” Colin said. “It’s just one of those things I always avoided. My parents thought it was dangerous anyway. They got nervous every time I even came near a pool or a lake or anything.”

“God, that’s crazy. I guess all parents have weird hang-ups, though.” Hannah thought for a second. “I mean, when I was little, my mom was afraid of toads.”

“Toads?”
Colin asked incredulously.

Hannah nodded. “She’d read somewhere that they were poisonous. So anytime David or I found a toad in the yard, we’d bring it in and put it on the kitchen table, then hide until she found it. It was really funny watching her run around trying to sweep it up into the dustpan.”

Colin mock-punched her on the arm. “Hannah Taylor! I thought you never did anything bad in your entire life.”

“Until I met you, that was it. Now I’m lying to my mom and running away from home.” She grinned at him. “And it’s pretty fun too.” She dusted the sand off her rear as she got to her feet.

“Oh here, let me help you with that.” Colin swiped at her rear helpfully and then gave her a squeeze through her wet underwear.

“Thanks, thanks.” Hannah laughed. “I couldn’t handle that by myself.” She climbed the stairs to the house but stopped short as they entered the living room. Through the doorway into the kitchen, they could see a large crow perched on the edge of the kitchen sink, pecking busily at the solidified baked bean remains.
At the sound of their voices, the crow looked up, cawed loudly, as if they were interrupting and leisurely spread its wings, soaring out through the open kitchen window.

Hannah looked at Colin. “At least the bird likes baked beans.”

Colin snorted laughter, nodding. “Let’s go find the town.”

Hannah settled back in the passenger seat of the truck and rolled the window all the way open. Her skin felt sleek and freshly scrubbed after her postswim shower. She relished the sharp air that ruffled the artfully messy braids she’d spent a laborious fifteen minutes constructing. The endless pine trees and deserted pastures around them seemed flat and undramatic this morning, more run-down than ominous. The same skinny cows still stood at the same feed troughs, and the lonely strip of asphalt was still empty.

Colin drove fast and confidently with one elbow cocked out the window and the breeze fanning his golden hair. “I’m starving,” he half shouted over the wind as they rocketed down the road. “I swear to God, if we don’t find this town and get some real food, I’m going to pull over and eat one of those cows. Raw.”

“Delicious.” Hannah rolled her eyes at him and snapped on the radio, dialing through a few stations. Static, static, a voice
reading grain prices, static, some sort of religious sermon, then an old-time country station way down at the end of the dial.

“Hey, who were you talking to this morning?” Colin asked, tapping his fingers on the wheel.

Hannah started a little. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was kind of drifting in and out. The walls are thin in that place. Was it your mom?”

She sighed and nodded. “She bought it—about me working with Laurie, I mean. I feel bad though. I hate lying to her. And leaving her with all the work.”

Colin reached over and took her hand from where it lay in her lap. “Hey, babe, come on.” He intertwined his fingers with hers. “It’s not like you do this all the time. You’re like the most responsible person I know. So for once, you cut out for a few days. It’s worth it—it’s for us.”

“I know. But David, too. He probably thinks I’ve abandoned him.” She swallowed and withdrew her hand.

“Believe me, he’s fine.” Colin braked for a squirrel scampering across the road. “Didn’t you say the neighbor was watching him while your mom was at work?”

“Yeah,” Hannah said slowly.

“And he loves walking that dog. So he’s totally okay. Stop freaking out. Anyway, look, we made it.” He pointed at a collection of small buildings approaching and glanced at the odometer. “Twenty-five miles. We weren’t even close last night.”

Colin slowed down as the tall oak trees slid by outside the windows. Hannah sat up, thumping her feet to the floor, and
stared out the window. Oxtown seemed to be composed of a one block Main Street lined with turn-of-the-century buildings and an additional smattering of decaying frame houses behind. A Chevy with a broken tailpipe and a riding lawn mower were the only vehicles parked at the curb. The sidewalks were mostly empty. Halfway down the street, an old woman sat on a bench under an awning, digging through her purse. Colin turned into one of the parking spots and killed the engine.

“Wow. Did we take a wrong turn and wind up in South Beach?” He raised his eyebrows.

Hannah giggled. “Yeah—that would be no.” She opened her door. “Come on. We’re here at least.”

Colin shrugged. “Yeah, let’s check it out.” He got out, pocketing the keys.

Joining hands, they began wandering up the cracked sidewalk. Most of the storefronts were empty, with fading
FOR LEASE
signs propped in the windows. Here and there, the ghosts of the former stores still remained: a sign reading
KOLAR’S PHARMACY
with a drawing of a druggist’s mortar and pestle on one corner.
LEHR’S MEAT AND GROCERY
had a rusted grill out front but soap coated the windows. Most of the storefronts though were completely erased, transforming the Main Street into a death march of blank plateglass windows and peeling paint.

Hannah stopped and peered into one window that looked like it might have been a gift shop. The grimy gray carpeting inside was scattered with a few crushed silk flowers. White aluminum shelves swayed precariously from the walls. One near the
front had fallen over. Random scraps of paper, a couple clothes hangers, and, near the front, a
CLEARANCE—EVERYTHING MUST GO
sign littered the floor.

Hannah glanced over at Colin and raised her eyebrows. “Cheery,” she said.

“Yeah, bustling.” He squeezed her hand and pointed down the block where a few cars were parked. “Look, at least something’s open down there.”

They passed a few widely spaced wood-frame houses. The tiny lawns were mostly bare dirt. In front of one, two blond-haired children were playing in an empty kiddie pool. They stopped as Hannah and Colin passed and stared with wide blue eyes.

“Hi there,” Hannah said as they passed. The children did not reply. Hannah looked back a few yards later. They were still standing, staring after them. Hannah faced forward fast. “Okay. They must not get a lot of pedestrians around here,” she murmured to Colin. “This place is totally depressing.”

“Yeah, well, think about it,” Colin said. “Where the hell do people work around here? There’s no factories or plants, just farms. And farming doesn’t make anyone rich.”

“I know, but this is so sad.” Hannah pointed to a large town square to their right. Gracious oak trees still towered over peeling wooden benches, but the grass around them was brown and neglected. “Doesn’t that look like a Norman Rockwell painting gone bad?”

“And check this out.” Colin pointed to a storefront they were just then passing. The big glass display windows were broken,
with the glass littering the sidewalk. “Someone should come clean this up.” He sidestepped a particularly jagged piece.

“This didn’t just happen,” Hannah said. Birds had built nests on the empty shelves. More broken glass was strewn on the floor.

“Okay, food ahead,” Colin announced. They’d reached the end of the block where two battered pickups and a station wagon were parked in front of a café with a moldy yellow awning stretching overhead.
EAT N’MEET
read the sign. Broken venetian blinds slanted crazily at the windows and covered the door.

“Great,” Hannah said. The stale candy of the night before was just a distant memory, and her stomach was so empty, it felt like it was turning in on itself. “I need some hash browns stat.”

“I’m guessing you can have that.” Colin indicated a hand-lettered sign in the window, which trumpeted
BREAKFAST ALL DAY! $3.75 SPECIAL!

“Oh, wow, three seventy five. Are you treating?” Hannah teased. “Big spender.”

“Just don’t let it get around. I won’t be able to keep the chicks away.” Colin pushed the door open and a bell jingled.

The air inside was hot and still and reeked of sour mop water. In one window an old air-conditioner worked fitfully, while overhead, a few ceiling fans lazily stirred the thick air. At a Formica counter along one wall, a sunken-cheeked elderly man hunched over a bowl. A fat paperback was held open by a butter knife beside him. The only other inhabitant was a pale woman with a straggly brown ponytail sitting at a table near the front
window. She was dreamily smoking a cigarette, a full ashtray in front of her.

At the back, some plain pine shelves held groceries. All around on the walls were black-and-white pictures of stern-faced farmers posing next to new Model T’s and grainy snapshots of people seated around long picnic tables loaded with food. The place was so quiet Hannah could hear the scrape of her sneakers on the gritty wood floor. Beside her, Colin let the door close behind him with infinite care.

A man who must be the café owner bustled over to them. He seemed to be composed entirely of circles: round face, big round body, short fat arms and legs. He was the only cheerful person in the place—maybe because he was also the only business open in town.

“Help you?” he asked pleasantly.

“We were going to have breakfast?” Colin said. The ponytailed woman looked around at the sound of his voice. Hannah shifted a little under her stare.

The man nodded and pointed to a booth under the air conditioner, handing Hannah two sheets of paper encased in limp plastic. Colin slid in and leaned back in the booth on the other side and looked around expansively. “This place is classic. Like something from
Deliverance
.”

Hannah raised her eyebrows. “Thanks for that reference. I feel so much better now.” The air conditioner dripped steadily onto the tabletop. Hannah pulled a handful of flimsy paper napkins from the smeary metal holder and shoved them under
the drip. “Should I be scared of the food here?”

Colin examined the tiny menu. “Definitely not. If you get sick, we can just play doctor.”

Hannah laughed aloud and reached across the table to smack his shoulder.

“Shhh,”
Colin stage-whispered. “You’re disturbing that man’s meal.” He nodded meaningfully.

Hannah followed his eyes to the counter where the elderly man was scowling at them over his soup. “Oops,” she whispered, opening her eyes wide as they both collapsed into giggles.

They were interrupted by a voice above them.

“Can I get you folks?” The round counterman had appeared at their table with a small pad of paper in one sausage-like hand and his dingy apron straining around his middle.
MIKE
read his name tag.

Hannah scanned the menu quickly. It wasn’t hard since there were only about five items on it. “Um, can I get the Farmer’s Friend, please, scrambled, with hash browns? And coffee.”

Colin held out his menu. “I’ll go for the western omelet. Looks good.”

“Oh it is,” Mike said, his hand reaching out for Colin’s menu. “My mom’s recipe—” He stopped suddenly.

Hannah and Colin glanced at each other. There was a brief, uncomfortable pause. Mike stared at Colin as if frozen. Colin cleared his throat politely and held the menu out a little farther.

Mike jumped and offered Colin a weak smile. “I’ll get your order,” he mumbled before hurrying away.