I searched her face for some sign of trauma. She was ghostly pale and for a moment I wondered if I was seeing her apparition.
“Calder, did you see?” She gestured at her neck. “My dad. Did you see?”
“Yes, but I’m surprised you did. What does he know? He had you out of the water so fast he never finished the transformation.”
“He knows my grandpa wasn’t crazy after all.”
“But he doesn’t know what he is? That’s good. There’s no reason for him to find out. What happened—it should give him even more reason to stay on dry land.”
“No,” she said. “He has no idea. He thinks some freakish adrenaline rush kicked in and allowed him to swim, but, Calder, he knows what you are. He’s forbidden me to see you ever again. He’s sending me back to Minneapolis tomorrow.”
Good, good. I couldn’t risk Maris’s discovering that Lily lived. “Your dad thinks I’ll hurt you.”
“No. Yes. But … what I really want to know is … what I need to know is, if my dad is like you, then what am I?”
I shook my head to assuage her fears. “You’re not a mermaid, Lily. I think maybe you’ve inherited something—some trait that makes you comfortable in the lake. I always knew it wasn’t normal.”
“Are we related?”
My eyes closed. “Not at all. If anything, you’re related to my sisters.” I laughed one hard laugh. “I’m sincerely sorry about that.” She didn’t smile at my attempt to joke. “How is Sophie?” I asked.
“Fine. Why?”
Ah. So Pavati had shown some mercy. She might have allowed Maris to use the little girl as a pawn, but she had not allowed Sophie to remember. “Nothing. Forget it. Now please, Lily, come out to me. I can’t stand it anymore.”
Lily looked over her shoulder, then disappeared for a second. Returning to the window, she flung one leg over the sill. I watched nervously as she climbed out onto the porch roof, crouched low, and inched herself to the edge. She jumped, landing softly on the balls of her feet.
She grabbed my hand and dragged me, stumbling, across the yard to the edge of the woods, then down toward the shore by my willow branch. I groaned as the waves lapped at my ankles. She reached down and cupped the water, rubbing it gently into my bare arms and chest, as if afraid I would fall apart at her touch.
After splashing my legs and shoulders, she filled her hands and let me drink. It helped, but it was only a superficial relief.
“Why did you do it, Lily?” I asked, my voice dry and rough.
She stopped splashing and her face flushed.
“How could you do that to yourself? To me?”
“It was the only way to end it,” she whispered. “It worked, didn’t it? They promised if I gave myself to them …”
I took her into my arms and rested my chin on the top of her head. “You did fine. You fulfilled the promise. They heard that much in Tallulah’s mind. The rest …” I struggled to finish the sentence but couldn’t.
“I should have never left that goodbye note for Mom and Dad,” she said. “It was so stupid, but I wanted them to know what happened to me. I didn’t know Jack was working at the house. He saw it first. Poor Jack. Will they go after him now?”
“It happened too fast for Tallulah to project any kind of fear in her thoughts. Maris and Pavati don’t know.”
Lily looked up at me, her eyes glossy. “Have I made everything worse?”
I pulled her closer. “What did I ever do to deserve you, Lily? You are the hero. You saved us. Your dad … me … You freed us both.”
“Not Tallulah,” she whispered.
“No. Not her.” My voice caught in my throat.
“I’m so sorry.”
I pulled back to get a better look at her. She was the most unbelievable girl. “They tricked me, Lily. If I’d known what they were planning, I would have never left you. I almost got back in time. Your heart stopped beating.” I felt her tense under my hands. “I was there. I was right there. For a moment, I considered …”
She nodded.
“But I was too afraid to try. And even if it worked, I couldn’t bear the thought of ripping you from your family.” I dropped my chin to my chest. The water pulsed against my ankles. My whole body vibrated with the urge to dive, and I swayed dangerously. I was at my limit.
“You’re leaving,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“But I’ll be back.”
“At the migration?”
I looked up at her quickly. “Actually, I was referring to you. I don’t think I have much choice in this anymore. I’ll be back for you. Wherever you are.”
“Is that one of those merman promises?”
“No other kind.”
“Well, if that’s true”—she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to mine—“we better get you out of here before you turn to dust.” She looked back at the house. “And before my dad wakes up. He’s had enough revelations for a while.” She laughed despite the tears welling in her eyes. Then she said, “Wait here.”
I watched as she ran back to the house, then focused my attention on my feet in the water, the ripples rolling away from my ankles as I twisted my toes in the sand, a lump rising in my throat. She came back with a small drawstring bag.
“I don’t suppose you’ll be able to ditch your clothes in the car anymore,” she said.
I held her close and drank in the scent of oranges and pine. A rose-colored light spread from her arms and soaked into my shoulders, my chest, my legs.… It warmed me to a point where I almost forgot my own name. Then her lips met mine.
Too soon she broke away, turning her back on me. I stripped down, shoving my clothes into the bag, and slung the straps across my chest.
“Go,” she said, still facing the house.
And I dove.
Instantly there was a burst of light and heat that surely lit up the night sky. Every cell in my body broke open, crying with relief, welcoming the water that flooded through me. I seemed to expand—in fact, I was sure I did—like a wasted sponge submerged. Burning with pent-up energy, my legs knitted and fused, exploding into the silver tail that bent the water and propelled me like a bullet from the shore.
I arched and turned, breaking the watery plane, the midnight air on my face. Lily watched from the dock, her hand raised. The memory of her kiss was still fresh on my lips, and I knew that with Lily, I was both free and imprisoned for all eternity.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is the scary part where I get to thank all those people who helped me bring Calder and Lily to the world (and pray I haven’t left anyone out). In chronological order of events (because I’m a linear thinker) they are:
Everyone who introduced me to Lake Superior when I could barely walk—and who rescued me when I tumbled in;
My sister, Elizabeth, who told me to get off my butt and write something, for cripe’s sake;
My first three novels, which taught me what works and what doesn’t;
My parents, Steve and Deede Smith, who read the first draft of the first chapter of what would someday be Lies Beneath and told me to keep going;
The talented writers of the Minneapolis Writers Workshop, who caught my every misstep as I read Calder’s story aloud;
My beta readers and all-around cheerleaders, including Stephanie Landsem, Laura Sobiech, Beth Djalali, Weronika Janczuk, Therese Walsh, Elissa Hoole, the Apocalypsies, and my critique partner, Nina Badzin, who said, “I think this is the one!”;
Ian Baker, for forgetting his book at home and loving For Weasel (which won’t make much sense to anyone but him, but I am sincerely indebted, kid);
My enthusiatic agents, Jacqueline Flynn, Jenny Meyer, and Rich Green; and
Françoise Bui, for her keen insight and finely tuned questions, as well as all the good folks at Delacorte Press and Random House Children’s Books.
Big hugs to my three beautifully weird kids, Samantha, Matthew, and Sophie, whose joy and creativity brighten my world. Let this be a lesson to you. Never give up
on your dreams.
And finally, thanks to my husband, Greg: at the end of the day, it’s always you.
ANNE GREENWOOD BROWN
(annegreenwoodbrown.com) lives in Minnesota with her husband and their three children. She grew up sailing the Apostle Islands on Lake Superior, leaning over the rail and wondering, in a lake that big, that ancient, what amazing thing might flash by. Now she knows.
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