The Dead of Summer (26 page)

“Oh, Mama, I know. It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“He wasn’t moving,” she repeated. “He definitely wasn’t breathing, that much I could see.”

“Then he probably was dead already,” I tried to reassure her. I patted her hand sympathetically. I felt like we were talking about some stray dog she tried to rescue rather than the man who was responsible for my being. And lying dead in the cellar at that very moment.

“I don’t know long I sat there—it felt like hours—but I finally went over and was able to take his pulse. There was none, of course, and he was already feeling cold and I knew that he was really dead.” She paused for a second and stared at her own trembling hands. She waved them in front of her like they weren’t even attached to her body and she was seeing them for the first time.

“Mama?” I tried to gently bring her back to reality.

“I just was like a robot…I pulled him over to the side of the basement and put the tarp over him and then I cleaned up the blood. Thankfully there wasn’t a lot of blood.”

I shuddered, thinking of the body I had touched in the basement. And then—

What are we going to do now?

It wasn’t going to look good that Mama hadn’t called an ambulance or police and proceeded to cover the body with a tarp and let it sit in the basement for well over a week. No, that wasn’t going to look good at all. The way I saw it, there were only a few ways out of this conundrum and not one of them was leaving a good taste in my mouth.

Choice one; we could just leave the body down in the basement. Of course that would cause all sorts of problems with rodents and wild animals, not to mention the stench, so pretty much choice one was out.

Choice two; we could call the police. While the death would most likely be ruled an accident or self-defense or whatever, there was still the fact that my mama waited over a week before calling. That certainly wouldn’t help her case. Mama would go to jail for sure, even if it was just to await trial. And what would happen to me, without any other family? I would end up in a foster home or worse.

Choice three; we bury the body. Ewww.

Choice four; we leave.

There was a knock at the front door. Mama and I exchanged frightened glances. And then, I sighed with relief.

“It’s Carson,” I said as I stood. “Remember? He was waiting for me?”

Mama nodded and I turned to go downstairs to answer the door when Mama grabbed my hand. “We have to leave, Kennedy.”

I bit my lip, fighting my urge to simultaneously cry and throw up. “I know,” I said as I wrested my hand free from hers.

I practically flew down the steps; Carson was now pounding on the front door, probably hoping my mama hadn’t gone crazy and killed me, too.

When I threw open the front door, and shielded my eyes from the sun which was now setting, Carson looked alarmed. And then, his tense shoulders relaxed and he let out a deep breath that he must have been holding in.

“Wow, you guys were talking for a long time,” he said as I stepped onto the front porch and closed the door behind me. Colt struggled to his feet and cocked his head to the side as if he was also concerned.

“We had a lot to talk about,” I replied. Colt nudged my hand with his snout and I petted him absentmindedly.

Carson clasped his hands together and placed them on his head, like he didn’t know what to do with them exactly. “Everything okay? I mean, beside the dead guy in the basement and all that.”

I shook my head and headed toward the path between the houses, the one that led to the marshes.

“Anything I can help with?” Carson asked as he followed closely behind.

Wordlessly, I grasped Carson’s hand and led him onto the trail. We walked silently, the only noise being the snapping of twigs underneath our feet and Colt’s panting. We seemed to walk for miles, time stretching out in front of us as if we would never reach our destination.

When we finally stopped near the edge of Lindy’s backyard, I found that I couldn’t speak. I started to stare at Carson, the final setting light breaking through the trees casting an angelic glow on his face, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I wanted so badly to reach out, pull him close, and kiss his lips. God, how I ached to feel them, to put this whole mess with the body in the basement behind me, as if Carson’s lips would solve that problem. I willed him to kiss me with my thoughts, dared him to solve everything.

Suddenly, without a word from me, his mouth was on mine, his lips warm and moist, his tongue feverishly pushing its way past my lips. My tongue, with a mind of its own, joined his, halfway between our mouths in a strange, awkward dance of sorts. The only thing I can liken it to, now as I think about it, is a tango where one partner is an expert and the other barely knows how to put on her dance shoes. I was so nervous, I wanted it to be over as quickly as it started so I could obsess about how it went wrong.

Still, it was my very first kiss, and I swear Carson practically sucked the life out of me with it, because as we pulled away from each other, I felt unnaturally dizzy and as if I were about to faint dead away on the ground. I wondered if my blood sugar could plummet from kissing. But still, I wanted more.

And then, as if possessed by Lindy herself, I grabbed Carson’s shirt aggressively and pulled him close to me. Without a second thought, I pressed my lips firmly against his. His body was tense, but then I felt his face relax, his lips giving way to my kiss. His hands touched my bare arms and despite the fact it was easily a hundred degrees out, goosebumps erupted up and down my flesh. His lips parted and I found my tongue seeking his until I felt as if I could no longer breathe and I pulled away.

As our lips broke away from each other, Carson’s hands gripped my arms tighter, causing me to tingle. He pulled me closer, but didn’t kiss me. Yet, somehow, being enveloped in his arms, inhaling the scent of his deodorant and shampoo, it was a thousand times more intimate than a kiss. At that very moment, I felt closer to him than I had felt to anyone ever before in my life.

Intoxicated by his touch, the words came pouring forth—I was unable to stop myself. “I’m leaving, Carson. We have to go. The body—”

Carson placed his finger on my lips. “You don’t have to tell me…I understand.”

I shook my head. “No, you don’t understand…Mama is innocent. She didn’t kill that man. She didn’t kill…” My voice trailed off and I gazed up at him. “It
was
my daddy. She didn’t kill him. He fell.”

“What? I thought your daddy was dead? How’s that possible?” Carson’s eyes widened, confusion apparent. I could hardly blame him. Hell, I was still confused.

I leaned up against the nearest oak as I sighed, “No. Apparently my mama ran away from him because she was afraid he was going to hurt me.” In the most abbreviated way possible, I quickly recounted my mama’s story.

“Wow,” Carson said, scratching his mop of hair, when I was finally finished “Do you believe her?”

“Of course I believe her. You don’t know my mama like I do. She’s not a violent person. She just did what she had to do to protect her family. Me.”

Carson nodded. “Parents do crazy things when bad things happen to their kids.”

I shrugged. “I guess that’s one excuse. I just can’t help thinking that everything would have been fine maybe if she just went to my grandma. Maybe things could have been different. Or maybe if Mama had not gone out that night. Or I had stayed out of my daddy’s way—”

Carson shook his head. “You can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You can’t do the ‘what if’ game. You’ll never know and you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

I knew it was true, but it was difficult to not think that way. I nodded and tried to smile.

“You want to go?” he asked.

I caught a glimpse of Lindy’s house, her bedroom light on. “I do,” I said slowly as I pulled out my cell phone. “But there’s something I need to do first. I have to talk to Lindy.”

Carson glanced at my phone and asked, “Are you gonna tell her you’re leaving?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. She’ll want to know why and I can’t—” I swallowed. This was too difficult. I couldn’t leave her without saying goodbye, but I couldn’t really say goodbye either.

“I get it,” Carson said. “Colt and I will wait for you here.” He sat against the nearest tree, disappearing into the shadow like my protector.

I took a few steps toward the hydrangea bush, texting a message to Lindy that I would wait for her outside by the bush.

She appeared within seconds out of nowhere, as if she had been waiting for me to show up all along.

“There you are!” she cried out in an exasperated voice. “Oh my God, you won’t believe what my mama did when we went to see the bands!” She plopped down dramatically in front of the hydrangea bush.

I sank to the ground next to her, my legs trembling. How would I say goodbye without uttering those words? “What did she do?” I could only imagine, knowing Lindy’s mama.

Lindy gripped my arms and shook me. Staring directly into my eyes, she said, “She got drunk. She got fricking wasted at a fricking hall in front of seven bands who were playing for nobody but us.” Lindy dropped my arms and rubbed her temples. “I swear it’s like having a child of my own.”

“What did you do?” Although appalled, I couldn’t say I was particularly shocked by Mrs. Lincoln’s behavior. I had seen her drunk on more than one occasion. Usually when Mr. Lincoln was absent.

Lindy waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Oh David shoved her in the car and brought her home.” She flopped her hand over her eye. “So how did you make out tracking down your daddy’s impostor?” Lindy eagerly sat up, suddenly remembering this afternoon’s excitement. I’m pretty sure she meant “impersonator”. “And the baby sister, too. What happened with that?”

“Well,” I inhaled sharply. “Mama took care of the impersonator thing. So that’s not really a problem.”
No, not if you didn’t count the dead daddy in the basement. Not a problem at all.

“And your sister? Is she living in Texas?” Lindy asked excitedly.

“Not exactly,” I said, pulling at that grass again. Lindy’s daddy would spit fire when he saw this. “She’s dead. She died in Texas when she was two months old.”

Lindy recoiled like I had slapped her clear across the face. Her eyes widened and her face crumbled. “Oh my God, Kennedy. That’s. . .
horrible
.”

I nodded. “That’s why I didn’t remember her.”
Please don’t ask how it happened, please don’t ask how it happened. . .
I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking that maybe, just maybe Lindy would see it upset me and she wouldn’t ask any more questions. Instead, I felt her arms wrap around me. My eyes snapped open, startled by this sudden display of affection.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “That really sucks. To discover you have a sister and lose her in the same day.”

“Um, yeah,” I replied, still stunned by her empathy.

I had never actually seen her this upset about something that affected someone else and not her. It suddenly made me sad to realize I was going to have to leave her. Just when she seemed to grow a heart.

She pulled back and studied my face. “I never had a sister.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“But you’re like a sister to me, Kennedy. You the closest thing I have to family. You and Maria.”

“Um, what about your mama and daddy?”

Lindy shook her head. “It’s not the same. They’re blood. But you and Maria are my only friends.”

I felt like I was being stabbed through the heart. “Lindy, that’s silly. You have lots of friends.”

She shook her head sadly. “No. They’re just people I hang out with. You’re the only one who gets me. You’re my only real friend. You don’t think I’m a good friend, do you?”

I couldn’t argue this. “Well, sometimes you’re mean to me. And bossy. And you haven’t made it easy for me to get to know Carson. Or any other boy for that matter.”

Lindy shrugged, hanging her head slightly. She didn’t answer me. It made me feel bold.

“I really like him, Lindy. You don’t. He’s not even your type. Why can’t you just let me have him? Why do you have to try to ruin it for me?”

“I’m not trying to ruin it,” Lindy said, still staring at her legs. She started picking at her freshly painted toenail. The color was
Mint Moss.
I personally thought it looked like toe fungus. “I’m just not used to losing.”

“Losing? How are you losing if a boy takes interest in me?” I asked.

“I’m losing you if you have a boyfriend,” she said simply, as if this was the most logical thing in the world. “I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with. But you’re best friend and I love you. I would die if I lost you.”

I stifled a gasp and it came out sounding like a squeak.
Dear God in heaven, do you hate me? Why are you doing this to me? How can I leave her?

The window to Mrs. Lincoln’s bedroom flew open just then and Lindy’s mama poke her head out. “Lindy!” she called out, in a weird strangled sounding voice. “Lindy? I’m stuck in my robe! I need help!”

“Dear God,” Lindy muttered as she rose to her feet. “I gotta go make sure she doesn’t hang herself accidentally trying to get out of her robe. Daddy’s on another one of his business trips—he was home for about five minutes today—so I’m in charge.” She offered me a sparkling toothy smile. But this one had sadness behind it.

I clamored to my feet. “Good luck.” I raised my eyebrows in amusement.

“Gee, thanks.” She turned and started walking toward the house. I stared after her, wondering if I would ever see her again. When she was almost to the door, she turned back to me. “For what it’s worth, I think you and Carson make a cute couple,” She called loudly. And then she waved and disappeared into the house.

Less than a minute later, I found Carson in the same place I had left him.

“How’d that go?” he asked as he stood and jerked on Colt’s leash.

“It was. . .okay,” I said thoughtfully. I slowly started walking back toward my house. I was sure Mama was itching to go.

Carson followed me, wordlessly. We walked in complete silence, with me stealing glances at him every so often. He seemed deep in thought, contemplating his words carefully before he spoke.