You Believers (19 page)

Livy stood, rinsed out her cup. She had a jangly feeling. The feeling had started with Billy’s phone call that awful night he’d told her Katy was gone. Sometimes the jangling would fade, like when she was doing something: making phone calls, doing laundry, washing dishes, but it never really went away. It just faded the way the sound of a barking dog seems to fade when you turn up the music a little louder.

Livy was feeling less like flesh and blood and more like mismatched silverware banging around in a box, waiting for someone to come clean her up, sort her out. In truth, there was no real peace of mind, just the “distracted from distraction by distraction” feeling. Livy had read those words in Katy’s scrapbook. T. S. Elliot’s words. Katy had written his name in tiny letters under the quotation. Katy wanted to write one day, but all she managed to do was collect other people’s words. Livy figured there had to be some value in that.

Livy put her cup and saucer in the drainer and looked around the kitchen, felt the ceiling coming down, making it hard to breathe. She’d been up since dawn, had awakened with the sound of the birds that had made a nest in the gutter outside the guest-room window. Normally she liked the feeling of waking to the sound of life twittering. But now it seemed that every waking moment hurt. She was beginning to understand why people did drugs. Ambien wasn’t enough. A beer before bed wasn’t enough. And she knew to avoid the habit of vodka. So she had lain there in the dark, trying not to think of all the awful places Katy might be.

Livy went to the back porch, where she could admire the garden. It was overgrown with weeds, the herbs going to seed. Katy had always been a girl of good intentions. She’d have to tell the REV woman that. Katy wasn’t a tramp, and she wasn’t a drunk. She had a few flaws, like anyone, but she always tried to do the best she could. Livy looked at her watch. It was 8:45. Shelby Waters was supposed
to be there at 9:00. Livy went back inside, picked up the scrapbook, and held it close to her chest, trying to feel Katy there. She put the scrapbook on the coffee table and went into the bathroom to check her makeup. She wondered if the capris and sandals were too casual. She had gotten dressed quickly because she had waited for Billy to be up and out of the house before she started moving around. She’d lain there in the predawn darkness, listened to the sounds of Billy in the bathroom, in the kitchen, then back in the bedroom for something. She’d listened to the back-and-forth of his steps in the hall.

Now Livy studied her face in the mirror. She saw Katy’s face looking back, an older, thicker version of her girl. She closed her eyes, said, “Where are you, Katy?” She heard only the twittering of birds outside. She opened her eyes and headed for the kitchen.

Billy had said Shelby Waters was from Tennessee, said she was one of those backwoods country types. Livy had let him talk, wondering how much Katy had told him about her own past. Livy had trained her country manners out of herself and had brought Katy up with the ways and tastes of an educated, middle-class young woman. And sometimes Livy was sorry about that, thought maybe Katy had missed out on something.

Billy said this Shelby Waters was scrappy—like those mountain people. Livy didn’t like the word
scrappy
applied to anyone. It made a person sound like some kind of stray dog with fleas. “And what do you mean by ‘mountain people’?” she asked. “Katy and I are mountain people.” He looked at her, grinned, and said, “But you’re top-of-the-mountain people. There’s top of the mountain and there’s those from back in the hollers. This Shelby Waters, she’s a back-in the holler kind of girl.” Livy decided then that she’d probably like Shelby Waters. “So this Shelby, she’s from back home, but not like me and Katy.” Billy shook his head. “Nah, she’s kick-ass. You know,
like those rednecks who can look you straight in the eye and grin, and you know they’re just figuring how they could take you when you turn your back. You know the type.”

She said, “You don’t know squat about mountain people, Billy.”

“I saw
Deliverance
,” he said. Then he laughed and lit a cigarette.

She turned to do the dishes to keep from saying things she’d like to say. Billy said, “I bet you’ve never even seen
Deliverance
. ‘I’m gonna make you squeal like a pig.’ Bet you don’t know that.” She turned, wanted to throw the beer bottle at him, but she set it down carefully in the drain, wiped her hands on a towel, said, “You’re stoned again, Billy. And I’ve got no use talking to you stoned.” She went straight to Katy’s guest room and waited there, listened to the sound of Billy opening the refrigerator and getting another beer. She couldn’t stand the way she could hear every little sound in the house. She sat on her bed, hating him for no clear reason. Then after a while she caught the scent of another joint lit. She thought of going to yell at him, but it was his house, Katy’s house, not her house. Then, as if Lawrence could hear her thinking, her cell phone buzzed. She decided she hated him too and clicked the phone off. She sat there on the narrow little futon bed that was awful for her back, thinking there wasn’t anyone in the world she could stand. Except Katy.

So she took her Ambien and wished she had another one of those martinis, or two, or ten, or whatever it would take to turn her brain off. She finally slipped out of her clothes and into her gown and got under the thin blanket. She had told herself she could wait until Billy went to bed before she went out there to brush her teeth.

Now, awake to another day with Katy gone, Livy walked through the living room and wished this Shelby Waters would hurry up and appear.
Positive
, she thought.
Think positive
. She’d tried teaching Katy that. And Katy acted like she believed in positive things like lucky
charms and that special license plate. She was always ready to treat anyone more like a friend than a stranger.

Heaven beguiles the tired
, Livy thought. Katy’s words, well, someone else’s words in Katy’s scrapbook. It was written several times in the scrapbook. Livy hated to think of Katy being so sad. She picked up the scrapbook, went to the page where Katy had written more of the poem as if it was a treasure she’d found. It was only the last line of the stanza that kept reappearing on other pages. Livy read the words:

As Watchers hang upon the East
,

As Beggars revel at a feast

By savory Fancy spread
—

As brooks in deserts babble sweet

On ear too far for the delight
,

Heaven beguiles the tired
.

Livy ran her fingertip over the last line, considered whether
beguile
meant
beckons
or
teases
or
deceives
. She decided it meant all those things, and that only made her sad. She closed the book, went to the screen door, and looked out. A black Durango pulled up slowly and stopped in front of the house. It was one of those oversized things boys like to drive, and it had tinted windows, fancy rims, and lots of chrome. Definitely a man’s truck. Some friend of Billy’s, Livy thought, bracing herself. Then she saw a woman step out, a little woman with big reddish-blond hair. She had thin, muscled arms. Billy was right; she did look like one of those tough women from back home. Livy pushed open the screen door and stepped out. The woman stopped, looked up at Livy, and smiled.

Livy moved forward, offering her hand, “You must be Shelby Waters.”

The woman came up the steps and shook her hand with both hands, warmly, softly, the way a preacher does. “I’m happy to meet you.”

“No one’s really happy to meet me. But I do my best to remedy that.” She gave Livy that smile again, still holding her hand. She had the sharpest, greenest eyes Livy had ever seen.

“Billy didn’t say you were so pretty.”

Shelby laughed. “That’s sweet of you to say, Mrs. Baines.” Livy invited her into the house. “Thank you for getting my name right. Katy carries her daddy’s name.”

“Billy told me.” Shelby stood in the living room, looked around.

Livy studied her. She looked so small but was muscled as if she were used to moving the world stone by stone to wherever she needed it to go. “Would you like some coffee? Water?”

“No, ma’am,” she said, her eyes going to the stack of books on the table.

“Sit, then,” Livy said. “You can call me Livy. My name is Olivia, but my friends call me Livy, and I’m counting on you to be the best friend I can have.”

“I’ll try,” Shelby said.

Livy picked up Katy’s scrapbook, thought to offer it to Shelby, but then just sat and said, “It’s a nightmare.”

“It always is,” Shelby said. Livy watched Shelby look around the room as if there were something she needed to see. “Where’s Billy?” she asked.

“Work. We’re trying to keep things normal. He has to work. The police want him to come take a lie-detector test. Do you think he had something to do with this?”

“No,” Shelby said, her hands moving over the books on the table. “He’s as lost as you are.” She looked up. “We’re going to find her. I’ve got a sheriff friend out at Lake Waccamaw. He’s the one who found
her truck. As soon as Billy told me Katy liked to drive out there, I got Roy looking. And they’re checking out her phone records. We’ll find something soon.”

Livy handed her the scrapbook. “I wanted you to see this. The detective seemed to think my daughter was some kind of tramp. I wanted you to see the kinds of things Katy kept, words she hung on to. Scripture, poetry. She’s thoughtful. Not the kind of woman who just gets drunk and runs off.”

“I know that.” Shelby said. She went through the book, running her fingers over the words.

Livy noticed her long lashes, the fine angle to her cheekbones. “You’re too pretty a girl for such an ugly business,” she said.

Shelby looked up, smiled. “Thank you.” She closed the book. “It isn’t always ugly. I found two kids the other day. Alive. They were fine in spite of their mother. She reported them stolen by her boyfriend, but she was trying to sell them off.”

“And that isn’t ugly?”

Shelby stood, paced around the room a bit, stopped at a bookshelf. “The thing is, we found them. It had a happy ending. There are happy endings sometimes, Mrs. Baines. You have to have faith in that.” She went to the screen door, looked out. “It’s a long road,” she said. “It’s a very long road you’re about to go down.”

“I’m not going back home without my daughter,” Livy said.

Shelby nodded. “I figured you for staying. I guess that means you’ll be wanting something to do. It helps to stay active.”

“I’ll do anything it takes.”

Shelby kept her eyes on the truck gleaming in the sunlight. “Well, there’s search crews. I’ve already got them going out by the lake. It’s hot work, and it’s dirty.”

Livy pushed away the thoughts of Katy in the weeds out by the
lake, Katy in one of those canals. She swallowed hard, blinked her eyes, said, “What else could I do?”

“There’s posting flyers. And meeting with the media.” Shelby turned, looked at her. “You’ll do well on camera. When they see your face, they’ll see your daughter’s face. They’ll start to remember things. Everybody tries to remember something that could help.” Shelby turned to look out the door as if she knew Livy needed time to get her face back from the crying inside. “Billy gave me a list of her friends, the acquaintances he knew of. It might be helpful to meet with them, ask questions. You might learn some things about your daughter you don’t want to know.”

Livy couldn’t stop the tears running down her face.

Shelby turned to her, squeezed her shoulder, paced around the room. “We’ll also need to do a few things to help you relax. Are you eating?”

Livy couldn’t remember. “I think so.”

“That’s not good enough.” Shelby pulled out her cell phone, speed-dialed someone. Livy listened to the greeting at the other end. A man’s voice, deep and soft, a South Carolina sound. “Roy,” Shelby said, “I know you’ve got court all day, but when you can spare some time, I’d like you to meet Katy Connor’s momma. Give me a holler when you can.”

Her voice was warmer, softer, when she left the message for this man.
She likes him
, Livy thought;
she lets her real accent come out
.
She lets this man know who she really is
. Livy waited until she clicked the phone shut, put it away.

“Billy told me you’re from Tennessee.” Livy studied Shelby’s face, that fair coloring to her skin, her hair. She knew that face, those eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to be from the Waters family in Suck Creek, would you?”

Shelby nodded, pulled out a notebook, started writing things down. “That’d be where I came from, but I left it behind years ago.”

“I can still hear it in your voice. I left Suck Creek too. Went to college, took speech classes to lose the accent, changed religion, married two husbands, and moved to the top of Lookout Mountain, but I still can’t shake that place loose.”

Shelby hugged her quickly. “Shoot, what’s your family name? We might be related.”

“McLain.”

She nodded, her gaze fixed on Livy. “The tame ones or the wild ones?”

“The tame ones. My family established the Suck Creek Baptist Church.”

Shelby laughed. It felt good to hear a laughing sound. “Well, there’s just one question I’ve got to ask. What kind of church board members get together and decide to name a place of worship Suck Creek Church?”

Livy smiled. “Suck Creek just meant a creek back then. Nothing dirty to it. More innocent times, I guess.”

Shelby looked out through the screen toward her truck. “Definitely.” She sighed again. “That truck of mine’s been down some sorrowful roads, Livy. I’d give everything and anything to get back to more innocent times. But the road to there just doesn’t seem to be on any map I can find.”

“I don’t know the way back either.” She wanted to touch Shelby somehow but held back. “You’ve read Katy’s journal. Her last journal. Billy said he gave it to you.”

Shelby nodded.

“Was there any kind of clue there? Anything?”