Stillwater

by Mary Jo Hazard

  “Stop,” I yelled at the people on the boat. “Hey, stop!”

  The closer the boat got to the dam, the faster it went.

  “Louanne, we’ve got to stop them! Oh, stop, please stop!”

  “Hey,” Lou shrieked. “Turn around. STOP! STOP!”

  “They can’t hear us,” I shouted, jumping up and down. “Oh, Lou, where’s Vinnie? They’re going over.”

  We screamed and screamed and finally Vinnie’s cowbell rang out loud and long, but the people on the yacht didn’t hear him; they were too busy laughing and drinking. Sunlight danced on the water, and white spray splashed up the sides of the boat as it moved closer and closer to the dam.

  A tall lady in a white dress held her hat on her head with one hand and pointed back at the bridge with the other. The long red ribbons on her hat blew in the breeze, and she smiled and posed as a man in a black bathing suit took her picture. The boat’s hull sliced through the water, and the hat with red ribbons flew off the lady’s head and landed in the boat’s wake. The people on the deck lifted their glasses and laughed.

  “Stop!” I screamed as loud as I could. “You’re going to die!”

  The lady turned toward me with a questioning look.

  I screamed again, “You’re going to die! Turn the boat around.”

  She grabbed the man’s shoulders and pointed to me.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you kids?” he shouted over the engine.

  “There’s a dam! You’re going over the dam,” Louanne yelled.

  The man shaded his eyes with one hand and gazed down river. “Holy shit!” he yelled, running into the cabin.

  The boat picked up speed as it passed our beach.

  Louanne’s face turned white, and her voice shook. “Please God, please God, please God.”

  Hail Mary full of grace…

  A harsh grating sound came from the boat’s motor. I held my breath and watched the pretty white boat shudder and slide sideways across the water. The engine coughed a few times—like Doc’s car when it flooded—then it caught, and the boat slowly circled around and pointed upriver.

  “Yes!” Louanne and I screamed and jumped up and down. “Yes!”

  The hat lady and Speedo man were hugging each other tight. I took a deep breath, tried to slow my breathing down, and smiled at Louanne. Her face was pure white, but she smiled back.

  “Piece of cake,” I said, throwing my arms around her. “We didn’t even need Vinnie.”

  “You saved our lives,” the lady on the boat yelled. “Girls, what are your names?”

  “Grace,” I yelled, waving my arms.

  “Louanne,” Lou yelled, waving her arms.

  The passengers raised their glasses. “Hip hip hooray! Thank you, Grace! Thank you, Louanne!”

  “You’re welcome! You’re welcome!” we shouted as they moved upriver away from us.

  “Piece of cake? You’re crazy, Grace,” Louanne said, linking her arm through mine. “I thought they were goners.”

  “Hey, ladies,” Aunt Michelle said, walking up to us. “I thought that was you yelling at the people in the boat.” She shaded her eyes and watched as it motored below Vinnie’s butcher shop on its way back to the canal.

  “Damn fools,” he yelled as it went by. “Wake up and smell the coffee. You could’ve killed yourselves.”

  “I’m so proud of you girls,” she said, hugging us tight. “You saved those people on the boat.”

  I smiled at Aunt Michelle. Her long brown hair blew softly in the breeze. She had on a yellow shirtwaist dress under a starched white apron, and her toenails were painted a bright red. She was the one who reminded me of Rita Hayworth. I wondered why she and Vinnie never got married.

  “All we did was scream,” I said, feeling my cheeks burn. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Grace, those people would have died if you and Louanne hadn’t been here,” Aunt Michelle said in a serious voice. “It’s a very big deal.”

  She stepped back and looked from me to Louanne. “You kept screaming until they realized what was happening. You never gave up.”

  “You’re right,” Louanne agreed. “We saved them.”

  And if we saved them, we could save Uncle Tony too.

  “I’m going up and making a celebration dinner,” Aunt Michelle said as we followed her up the path to the house. “Vinnie’s coming over tonight. Grace, you stay, and let’s invite Maggie.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Michelle,” Lou said. “I’ll ask her.”

  “And after all that screaming, you two must be thirsty,” Aunt Michelle said when we got to our towels on the grass. “I’ll make you some lemonade.”

  I smoothed the wrinkles out of my towel and lay down. “I’m so tired.”

  “Me too—saving lives takes a lot out of me,” Louanne said, fiddling with the radio. “I think the batteries are dead.”

  Aunt Michelle knocked on the kitchen window and motioned for us to come in.

  “Why aren’t Vinnie and your aunt married? He visits her every night,” I said, waving at Aunt Michelle to let her know we were coming.

  “Don’t spread this around,” Louanne said in a serious voice. “My grandmother says Vinnie is just a butcher, and he’s not good enough for my aunt.”

  “Why?” I said, looking back at Aunt Michelle. “What’s wrong with being a butcher?”

  “My grandmother wants her to marry a doctor, somebody who saves people’s lives, not just cuts up their meat.”

  But that didn’t make sense. Vinnie had saved a lot of people’s lives.

  CHAPTER 10

  My mother, Denny, and I lived in the upstairs apartment in my grandfather’s building on the banks of the Hudson River. Doc’s apartment was downstairs, right next to a small grocery store that he rented to Vinnie the butcher. We had a big yard surrounded by a white picket fence. There was plenty of room for the swing set that my father had built for me when I was two years old and the tree house that Doc made me just last summer.

  Doc insisted we move into the upstairs apartment after my father died because my mother was too upset to take care of us. Some days she didn’t get out of bed, and if she did, she didn’t speak. She’d sit in my grandmother’s old rocking chair on the back porch, staring at the river. If I hugged her, she’d absentmindedly pull me on her lap and play with my hair. Tears would run down her cheeks, but she never made a sound during the day. At night her crying would wake me up, and I’d crawl into her bed and rub her back while she sobbed herself back to sleep. I was afraid I’d lost her too. But when summer ended, my mother pulled herself together and went back to teaching third grade.

  “Don’t cinch your belt so tight,” Doc was telling Denny when I walked into the kitchen for my breakfast.

  Denny was eight years old. He didn’t remember much about our father or the way things were before the accident, but I did. It sounds selfish, because I still had an amazing life, but after my father died, nobody bought me a wrist corsage for Easter, nobody tickled me until I couldn’t breathe, nobody sang “Amazing Grace” to me one hundred times a day, nobody gave me bear hugs, and nobody cared about me the way he did. When you’re a kid, you miss those things.

  “Grace,” Denny said, loosening his belt. “Doc’s paying me a quarter a week to pick up his newspapers at the corner store. It’s a real job.”

  “That’s great, but aren’t we going over to the Millers’ this morning?” I said, reminding him.

  “I’ll hurry.”

  We spent a lot of time at the Millers’. They felt bad for us after my father died, and they invited us over a lot. Maggie’s brother, Jimmy, was Denny’s best friend. Mr. Miller was gruff and kind of stern, but he took us to the movies and out for double-dip ice-cream cones with chocolate jimmies. Mrs. Miller kept us well supplied with peanut butter sandwiches and cupcakes. We raided their kitchen when we were hungry, and they never yelled at us for building forts in their yard or cared how many nights we slept over.

  I put the dishes in the
sink and waited for Denny out on the front steps. He came running back with the papers and gave them to Doc, and we took off on our bikes.

  “Hey, Grace,” Denny said when we were in front of the Dodds’ house. “Is that window Uncle Tony’s room?”

  I stopped my bike and pointed at the other window. “It’s the window where the curtains are drawn. He’s probably asleep.”

  “If he wakes up, what will happen?” Denny asked, getting off his bike.

  Uncle Tony’s window was open, and the curtains were blowing a bit in the breeze.

  “Like Doc said, don’t bother him, and he’ll be fine.”

  “That’s not what Jimmy says.” Denny’s eyes opened wide. “He said that Uncle Tony tortures kids.”

  “Denny, that’s—”

  “Uh-huh. Jimmy said he plucks their eyeballs out—slits their stomachs and eats their guts raw.” He started talking faster. “When they’re almost dead, he drags them up the street and hands them over to Dr. Whalen. Once he left a kid in the alley next to the funeral parlor.”

  “Stop it,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Jimmy’s crazy.”

  “No, honest. Nobody knows it’s Uncle Tony because it happens to ‘stranger’ kids in the dead of night.”

  The front door swung open.

  “He’s coming,” Denny shrieked, racing away. “Run!”

  Louanne walked out on the porch with a puzzled look on her face. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing,” I said, wondering why she was home. “Hey, you said you were going shopping with your aunt.”

  Louanne came down the porch steps. Her eyes were red, and her lips trembled. “My parents called last night and asked Aunt Michelle to ‘prepare’ me. My father moved out.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I said, throwing my arms around her. “Are you sure?” It didn’t make sense. Her parents had always seemed happy when they came back to visit. They took her on vacations to New York City; last year they went to Florida for Christmas. They seemed like the perfect family.

  “It’s true,” she said, burying her head in her hands and sobbing.

  “It’s all right, Lou,” I said stupidly. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

  People had said the same thing to me when my father died—of course it wasn’t true. It wasn’t all right, but I didn’t know what else to say.

  After a few minutes, Louanne stopped crying and straightened up. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m a mess. Don’t look at me, Grace.”

  “No you’re not. You look fine.”

  “Don’t lie,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m okay. Stuff happens. See you later.”

  She slowly walked back up the steps into the house. If her father didn’t come back, she wouldn’t be okay—nothing would ever be the same. That I knew for sure. Why God lets stuff happen, I have no clue. He didn’t ask me, but he should have better rules than the Ten Commandments—rules you couldn’t break no matter what, like gravity.

  I’d have better rules. Rule number one would be that families stay together. Nobody would die. Nobody would leave. No father would desert his kids. Everyone would love everyone forever and ever. Amen.

  Denny had drifted back to get his bike, and I decided I’d think about rule number two another time. We got on our bikes, rode across the street, and cut through the parking lot next to Howard’s Hardware Store.

  “Hurry up, Den,” I said, riding faster. “Move it. We’re late.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Maggie and I took orange juice and blueberry muffins out to her front porch and sat down on her swing. It was the first time she’d invited me over in a couple of weeks. The swing needed paint, and it creaked, but we didn’t care. We had food, and we were in the shade. I finished my juice and told her about Louanne’s father moving out.

  “Holy shit,” Maggie said, chewing on her bottom lip. “Did she say why?”

  “No,” I said, brushing muffin crumbs off my shirt. “After she told me, she couldn’t stop crying. It’s tough finding stuff like that out.”

  The day I found out that my father died, Denny and I were having lunch. My mother had just finished cutting the crusts off the bread on our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The three of us were singing Denny’s favorite song, “Old MacDonald Had a Farm,” when Dr. Whalen and my grandfather walked into the kitchen.

  My grandfather said, “Sarah, there’s been an accident. Dr. Whalen will explain.” He gave Denny and me a strange smile and cleared his throat. “Come on, you two. Let’s put those sandwiches away and go have ice-cream cones.”

  We hadn’t even taken two bites of our sandwiches. I looked at my mother; she was never going to let us do that, but she had both hands over her mouth and was staring at Dr. Whalen with scared eyes. My heart started beating funny.

  “Let’s go, Grace,” my grandfather said, lifting Denny out of his chair. “Come on, honey bunny.”

  I wanted to stay with my mother, but Denny grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. “Ice cream, Grace,” he said. “Come on.”

  We weren’t even down the porch steps when my mother screamed. I turned around to go to her, but my grandfather grabbed me by both shoulders and stopped me. I planted my feet and looked up at him. Tears were running down his cheeks, and I knew. I knew I’d never see my father again.

  “Daddy?” I whispered, hoping with all of my heart Doc would say no. “Is it Daddy?”

  “Yes, honey,” he said, pulling me in close. “I’m afraid so.” He rubbed my back and sighed a big sigh. “The angels came this morning and took your father to heaven.”

  That was a long time ago, but whenever I thought about it, part of me wanted to die too. I put my arms around myself and rocked back and forth, trying not to cry.

  I glanced over at Maggie to see if she’d noticed how upset I was, but she’d moved to the far side of the swing and was staring straight ahead—like people do when they’re not seeing.

  “How did Louanne find out her father is leaving?”

  “Her mother called and asked Aunt Michelle to tell her,” I said.

  “Maybe her father will change his mind,” Maggie said. “Sometimes people do.”

  “Could be.” I sure wished my mother would change her mind about Mr. Howe.

  “You know, maybe it’s not so bad,” Maggie said in a low voice. “What if her parents hated each other and fought all the time? What if he was mean to Louanne?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Louanne would have told us.”

  “Maybe she didn’t want anybody to know; maybe she was embarrassed.” Maggie crossed her arms and looked across the street, where O’Malley the cop was mowing his lawn.

  There’s an arsonist on the loose, and what’s O’Malley doing? Mowing his front lawn! They would never hire anyone like that on Dragnet.

  He waved. “Hey, girls, want to trade places?”

  We laughed.

  It was a lazy day. Mr. Miller had taken the boys to the country to get sweet corn for dinner, and Mrs. Miller was running the vacuum in the living room. She never vacuumed when Mr. Miller was home because if she did, he went off of his rocker. He’d yell, “Ruth, turn that goddamn thing off! I mean it. I can’t think straight.”

  Once I was there when she didn’t turn it off fast enough, and he threw his magazine across the room and jerked the vacuum cleaner plug right out of the wall. Maggie acted like she didn’t notice—just kept playing Monopoly like it happened every day—but he scared me.

  Mrs. Miller was older than my mother. Her hair was white, she wore granny glasses and no makeup unless she was teaching or going to church. She looked like Mrs. Santa Claus, but she was very accident-prone—last year she broke her nose running into a door, and right before spring break, she broke her arm falling down the cellar stairs. The noise from the vacuum cleaner stopped, and Mrs. Miller poked her head out of the front door. “Grace, I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Where’ve you been, darling?”

  I was about to say
I hadn’t been invited over when Maggie jumped in. “We’ve been at Louanne’s house, Mom. You know that.”

  “Well, you girls had better start spreading your charm around here some more. I’ve missed you. In fact, when I’m finished cleaning, I’m going to bake chocolate chip cookies for the Nelsons. How about you help me?”

  “Um, okay, Mom,” Maggie said. “Call us when you’re ready.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I said, my mouth salivating for some good cookie batter. Mrs. Miller always left a lot in the bowl for us. “That’ll cheer the Nelsons up for sure.”

  “It will,” Maggie said, watching her mother close the door. “My father said the Elks are collecting money for them too. He’s the head of that committee.”

  “Oh, right. Doc told me that,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Who do you really think set Mr. Nelson’s barn on fire?”

  “Don’t act stupid. I feel bad for Louanne, but we know it was her uncle.” Maggie slapped a mosquito that had landed on her left arm and sucked the spot where he bit her. “He started the other ones too. Tony Dodd is always there before the fire truck. And don’t pretend he doesn’t go berserk and try to kill Mrs. Dodd and Aunt Michelle every chance he gets. Remember when he snuck into the attic to spy on us?”

  “That was your fault,” I said, blowing some air over my top lip. “You turned the music up.”

  “So what? He scared us half to death. Even Louanne was scared.”

  “Okay, Uncle Tony acts scary,” I said, agreeing with her. “But Doc says it’s because he forgets to take his pills. What if he didn’t start the fire? I think he’s innocent.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “We need to find the real arsonist and prove—”

  “Grace, you’ve completely flipped your lid.” Maggie stopped the swing with her feet and glared at me. “We could get into so much trouble—like we did with Mr. Kutter.”