Lies Beneath

by Anne Greenwood Brown

  I winced. I don’t know what she saw in my face, but whatever it was made her suck in her breath.

  “Oh my gosh, you know. You’ve heard the stories! You have, haven’t you?”

  I pretended to be distracted by the thermometer on the steamer and rebuffed her accusation. “Get a grip, Lily. I’m just thinking that’s quite a family history you’ve got there. Did your grandfather ever say what the monster looked like?” I cranked off the steamer.

  “Y’know what? Just forget it.”

  The way she shook her head when she said that, the way her face took on the same expression as when she looked at Jack Pettit’s painting … I could tell she knew exactly what kind of demon the old man warned them about. Of course, they all thought he was nuts, but his son wasn’t as oblivious as we originally thought.

  No wonder she was pissed at me for telling her she was crazy. She probably thought it was genetic. Maybe my little rescue stunt had her worried she was going to end up in a mental hospital. That was why I made her nervous. I was going to have to put a stop to this right away.

  “Listen, Lily. Just because your grandpa went off the deep end doesn’t mean you’re crazy, too. Seeing dolphins in Lake Superior does not make you certifiable.”

  “Yeah? What does it make me?”

  “Well, I’m still sticking to my hypothermia-induced hallucination theory, but how about we go with it makes you imaginative. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, I’d call it an asset.”

  She smiled, and I could see she liked that. Time to play my trump card.

  I held up one finger and went to the back room, returning with my new poetry book. I flipped the cover around for her to read the title. Her eyes brightened. The expression hook, line, and sinker came to mind.

  “Imagination is at the root of all creative efforts, Lily—painting, poetry … Look at Mary Shelley. If she hadn’t seen the monster in her head, she would have never written Frankenstein. Or, come to think of it, isn’t Tennyson’s ‘Lady of Shalott’ about a girl gone crazy?”

  “Cursed, more like it.”

  “Still, it’s a beautiful poem.”

  “Okay,” Lily said. “I get what you’re trying to say. I didn’t know you liked poetry. I don’t think I know any guys who do.”

  I winked at her and she blushed, looking away as the bell rang over the front door. My back stiffened as my sisters walked into the café in a triangular formation with Maris at the head. Her hair hung behind her shoulders like a white cape over a plain white tee. Her silver irises were flashing.

  Pavati winked at me. Her pink peasant blouse slipped off one bare shoulder. Tallulah eyed the book as I tucked it under the counter; then her eyes drifted up, pretending to read the menu board.

  “What can I get you?” Lily asked brightly.

  I yearned to put myself between her and Maris but had to satisfy myself with standing rigidly at her side. Lily didn’t show any signs of recognizing Pav and Lulah from the woods (or from Jack’s painting, for that matter). I hoped she wouldn’t. I just wanted to get them their drinks and push them out the door.

  “Hi,” said Pavati. “Remember me?”

  I groaned.

  “Calder’s sisters,” Lily confirmed.

  “Maris White,” Maris said, sticking out her hand. “We haven’t met yet.”

  I held my breath.

  “Lily Hancock,” Lily said, taking Maris’s hand casually in hers. She didn’t seem to register any sign of pain.

  I exhaled as the espresso machine hissed and squealed. I hurried to make the drinks and get them into to-go cups. Maris gave me a patronizing smile. They took their cups to a table by the window and turned the colorful chairs in an unnatural formation, their backs to the window, all facing the counter in a straight line. They raised their cups in choreographed unison, sipping slowly. Not showing any sign of leaving. Not talking. Just watching me. Very subtle, guys. The least you can do is blink.

  “Maybe you should go get another bag of French roast,” I said quietly to Lily.

  She started to protest, but then her eyebrows rose, and she stole a sideways glance at my sisters. She didn’t say anything more, just turned and walked to the back.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded of Maris.

  “We’re just seeing how things are going. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

  “You don’t have to follow me around.”

  “Pavati seemed to think we should check in.”

  I glared at Pavati, and she shrugged.

  “Quit worrying. Everything is going great.” Except that Jason Hancock’s already on guard against monsters in the lake, and Lily thinks she saw a mermaid. “I just need a few more weeks.”

  “Ten days, Calder. I’m giving you ten days. I want to end this.”

  Hesitantly, Lily came back out front, carrying another bag of beans. There was no good place to put it. My sisters stood up, their chairs scraping the floor.

  “It was nice to meet you, Lily Hancock,” said Maris.

  Pavati waved, and Tallulah shot me a nervous look. She came up to me under the pretense of throwing her cup away and leaned in to peck me on the cheek. She whispered in my ear, “Careful, Calder.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried to put her at ease. “I told you, Lulah. I’ve got this. I’ll see you tonight.”

  She pulled away, the words We’ll see expressed with her eyebrows.

  Even after the door closed, Lily stared after them, spellbound, then shook her head as if to clear the clouds. Why couldn’t she react to me like that?

  “Your sisters are very beautiful.”

  “They’re pains in the ass, that’s what they are,” I said, trying to dissolve her memory of them. Pavati looked remarkably like Jack Pettit’s oil painting. I didn’t need that kind of reinforcement in Lily’s mind. “Isn’t that how you feel about your sister?”

  “Sophie? No, not at all.”

  “Really? I got the impression you two weren’t much alike.”

  “Well, we’re not, but that doesn’t mean I think she’s a pain. Sophie just needs a lot of looking after. I don’t mind doing it. She’s a sweet kid.”

  A surge of self-disgust rushed through me. Lily was good and honest and loving, and here I was trying to exploit that. I repulsed myself. I ground my teeth together and gripped the edge of the counter as an electric heat bristled at the back of my neck.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay,” I whispered, backing away from her. I touched the espresso machine, and a white spark jumped from my fingers to the machine.

  “Whoa. Are you sure you’re okay?” She reached out and touched the back of her hand to my forehead. “You’re really hot.”

  I flinched, then laughed at her unintended double entendre. Lily Hancock seemed to have some kind of switch hooked up to my brain. Right now she was flipping me back and forth so quickly my mind was a strobe light.

  “I thought you said you didn’t like me,” I joked.

  She rolled her eyes. “I was talking about your temperature, jerk. But just to be clear, I never said you weren’t good-looking. If you remember, I said you made me nervous.”

  “Right. So, you think I’m good-looking?”

  She swatted me over the head with her fedora, then went back to the cash register, saying, “You’re really annoying. If your sisters are pains in the ass, I’m thinking they learned it from you.”

  17

  NO COWARD SOUL

  Mrs. 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?”

  “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 people 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?”

  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 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 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 possible 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 toward 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 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 raised 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—Was she 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.

  “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 back 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 down 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.

  “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.”

  “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.