Regina laughed without pleasure. “No, I don’t think I’ll be missed.”
“You are more valued than you know.” She linked her arm through Regina’s and shook a finger. “Not by all of them, I know, but by the best of them. It doesn’t do you any good to play the martyr. You have your allies.”
The dining room was full, but Mrs. Marsden had a table waiting for them in the far corner, by a front window with a fine view of the mountains. A waiter pulled the table back from the cushioned chair that had been specially placed there for Sophie, who eased herself down and sighed with relief. The waiter pushed the table back into place and then held Regina’s chair. A waitress appeared almost immediately with bowls of potato soup.
“I know you feel left out, Ree. You’re so much younger than the rest of them.”
“It’s more than that.”
They ate in silence. The soup was rich with cream and chives.
When the bowls were cleared and salads served, Sophie said, “What more is it?”
“Oh. They live in the past. She lives in the past, and they all play along. All my life I’ve heard about how wonderful it used to be.” Regina shrugged. The salad was homegrown, crisp and sharp with vinaigrette dressing and cracked black pepper. “I’ve heard so much about the glory days that I almost feel like I was there, except not really. And now it’s forty years later. Sometimes I wonder what happened in between. By the time my memory kicks in, it was all long over.”
“Oh well, I don’t think anybody likes to remember the Depression or the war. You know my first husband took his own life when the market crashed.”
“Oh, Sophie, I’m sorry.” Regina was seized with remorse. In angling toward her own questions, she had touched on Sophie’s tragedy.
But Sophie smiled and shook her head. “I long ago came to terms with that. It was hard though. I was penniless. I lost my house and had to take a room in a boarding house, and not a very nice one. William rescued me, you know. He struggled, but your father is a very smart man. He lost a lot, but he managed not only to keep his own household intact but to help some of us who were less fortunate. He helped me move out of Petersburg and found a decent place for me to live.” She sighed. “Your family suffered less than most during those hard times. Alice might not agree with that. She grew up with servants, like her mother. Alice’s father was a pastor, but her mother had her own money from her family. Neither Lucy nor Alice knew how to do anything around the house. It was Mary who learned how to cook and bake and can. I don’t know how, but she rolled up her sleeves and managed. What makes you ask about that time?”
“Oh, it’s just that they talk about the past all the time, but… they don’t talk at all about Eugenie.”
Sophie said nothing, only shook her head.
Regina shifted in her chair. “I never realized until recently that for a while, they thought Eugenie had been killed by someone.”
“Oh, Regina.” Dismay in her voice. “How did that come up?”
“I brought it up by accident. Somebody mentioned the old gardener, Sam Rawley, and Alice became upset. They suspected the gardener’s son. Did you know that?”
Sophie pressed her lips into a thin line. “They found no evidence of that.”
“That’s what Mary said, but why did they suspect him?” Regina leaned forward, determined. “My family accused him, didn’t they?” So Al had said. Sophie shook her head, and Regina persisted. “Didn’t they?”
“Robert started that.”
Regina blinked. She had not expected that. “Robert Medina? Was he even there?”
“Oh yes. He was working in Richmond, at Saint John’s in Church Hill, but he was engaged to Mary at the time.”
Regina sat back. No one had mentioned that he was present.
“He did it to curry favor with Alice, if you ask me,” Sophie continued. “Robert Medina was an ambitious young man.”
“I don’t understand. How would that please Alice?”
“So she wouldn’t be blamed. Or Mary, for that matter, since Mary was the one who watched the children, not Alice.”
“Mary does blame herself. She said so last night. What did you mean, ambitious?”
“Robert wanted to marry Mary. You understand, Regina”—Sophie laid a withered hand over hers—“I was not there in those years. I only know what William thought.”
“I’ve never seen Robert act like he cares anything for Mary. She thinks he walks on water, but he never so much as looks at her.”
“He was very charming in those days. And handsome, many women thought, though I never did.” She shook her head, seeming lost in thought.
Regina finished her salad and waited until Sophie spoke again.
“I never took to Robert Medina, but most of the others thought well of him. William wasn’t fooled. In my opinion, Robert Medina wanted the house and land. He thought that if he married Mary and they lived at Blue Lake, he would eventually be able to have it all. He miscalculated.”
Regina mulled over this, then returned to her questions. “You seriously think Robert accused a man of murder just to be gallant? Not that I’d put it past him.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past Robert Medina.”
“But you don’t think he could have been right?”
Sophie pressed her lips together. “I can’t say anything about it, and that’s the truth. But the idea is horrible. What must it have been like for the poor little girl when she died? Drowning is bad enough, but to be deliberately drowned? It doesn’t bear thinking of.”
Regina couldn’t let it go. “Edith says Alice believes she was murdered.”
Sophie studied Regina gravely. “I know it’s hard for you to understand what went on back then.”
“I just think it might help if there were closure.”
“It’s much too late for that.”
“Maybe not for me.”
16
The Library and Attic
Regina left Sophie to settle in with her Lynchburg friends at three thirty. Loath to return home in the afternoon, she went to the Lynchburg public library to look up old newspapers. They were on microfiche. She couldn’t remember the actual date of Eugenie’s death, so she began on August 31, 1945, and scanned every issue until she found the obituary for Eugenia Hannon. Survived by her siblings, listed from oldest, Mary Hannon, to youngest, Regina Hannon. Funeral arrangements were to be announced.
Regina Hannon. She sat back and folded her arms. It was as though there were a blackout in her own memory and she had awakened with amnesia, calling herself Ree Medina. But she hadn’t done that. It had been done to her. Never had this fact of her life sat so squarely in the center of her consciousness. Her very identity had changed. Somehow she had lived with this switch, uncomfortable and at the same time unaware, for a decade.
“Why did you do that to me?” She spoke softly, but aloud, and looked up to see if anyone had heard.
The only other person in the room, a librarian, was absorbed in shelving books from a cart.
I know why. The same old answers, she was sick of them. Mary wanted a child. Alice couldn’t handle her. You were too much for her.
“Was I all that difficult?”
This time, the librarian looked up and around. Her eyes lingered briefly on Regina before she turned back to her task. Regina reached for the dial to advance the microfiche. An article two days later reported that funeral arrangements for a local girl were delayed pending a police investigation into her death by drowning. No details were given, just a summary statement about the child having been pulled lifeless from Blue Lake after being found by her mother.
A week later, police were questioning a former employee of the Hannon family in connection with the incident. No comment. No mention of the Hannons or of Robert Medina. No mention of the Richmond murders in that one, but in a follow-up two days later, on the front page of the Lynchburg News and Advance, she read that Richmond police had no leads in the deaths of four little girls over a two-year
period in the Church Hill area of Richmond, and that the Bedford County Sheriff’s Office was working with the Richmond police department in the recent apparent drowning of a local girl. The Richmond murders were believed to be work of a serial killer dubbed the Shockoe Killer by the Richmond Times-Dispatch.
The article jumped to page ten. Regina scrolled ahead to read that the four Richmond girls, aged seven, nine, ten, and nine, had all been sexually assaulted. Regina rocked back in her chair. Sexually assaulted! Three had been smothered, and one had died from a blow to the head. Regina sat cold in her seat, rubbing at goose bumps on her arms, wondering if she could continue.
She finally did move forward, turning the wheel of the microfiche slowly with a growing sense of dread. Her heart sank at the sight of a grainy photo of a little girl who looked scarily like herself. A local man had been questioned by the Bedford County sheriff and the Richmond police in connection with the Richmond murders and the drowning of Eugenia Hannon in Piedmont. The man’s family vouched for his presence at home in Piedmont at the time of the Hannon girl’s death. A ruling on that matter was expected on the following Monday.
She paged through to an article that reported a finding of accidental death by drowning following autopsy. Again, Regina reeled. They had performed an autopsy. She felt sick, sorry she had even looked. According to the Medical Examiner, the child had suffered a contusion that was consistent with her having struck her head in an accidental fall from the wooden dock.
Scrolling forward, Regina scanned a feature about the Richmond murders. Police believed a single killer was responsible for the Church Hill murders, but the police chief had issued a statement that they were looking at all possibilities, casting a wide net, opening a tip-line twenty-four hours a day.
Feeling distinctly unsettled and still not wanting to return to Blue Lake, Regina mulled over the new information and read old news aimlessly until the library closed at six o’clock.
As she pulled up to the house almost an hour later, she saw Edith’s car, Frank’s, Pace’s, and Mary’s all parked in the circle drive. She pulled her own car aside onto the grass and trudged up the front steps thinking she had made things worse for herself by staying away all day. But no, she told herself, as she stepped into the front hall. She had taken Sophie to the hospital and spent the afternoon with her. She had done her part by entertaining the other outcast.
Inside, apparently an early dinner was ending, and Alice had already excused herself and gone upstairs. Frank and Pace sat with coffee cups in the living room, talking about the war raging unchecked in Vietnam. Dishes clattered in the kitchen, where Mary was of course cleaning up. Bebe, drying dishes, said, “Well, well. Look who’s back.”
Mary turned and smiled, “How is Sophie, Ree?”
“She’s fine. Papa seems a little better.”
“He seemed much better to us,” Edith said, joining them from the dining room. “Didn’t you think so, Mary?”
“He seemed to know who we were, at least,” she agreed.
Fran appeared behind Edith. “I thought he understood everything you said to him.”
Mary paused, up to her elbows in soapy water. “Have you had dinner, Ree?”
“I had a late lunch with Sophie at Mrs. Marsden’s.”
Frank and Pace soon joined them, and from where the general conversation picked up, Regina realized that not only was Frank heading back to Roanoke, but Pace and Fran were going back to their home in Raleigh. Better yet, when Bebe mentioned packing, Mary explained that Bebe was going home with Edith, whose youngest was coming home from college for the summer. As everyone split up to get ready to leave, Regina could scarcely conceal her relief.
“They’ll all be back the next weekend,” Mary concluded. “What about you, Ree?”
She made a split-second decision. “I’ll stay tonight and go back to Richmond tomorrow, early. I have a new project, but I’ll ask if I can work on it here. I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon if I can.” A few days alone with Mary and Alice seemed like a gift.
“That would be lovely.”
“Did you talk to the doctor? Does he think Papa will actually recover?”
Frank answered. “He was not at all optimistic, but he thought we could stand down for the moment. We’ll just have to see. Mary, I’m off.” He hugged Mary and Regina, clapped Pace on the back, and called up the stairs, not too loud, “I’m heading out. See you all at the end of the week.”
Mary said, “Did I block you in?
“No.” And he was gone.
Fran came back downstairs, and she and Pace left. Edith and Bebe were right behind them. Regina closed her eyes and savored the draining tension. Amazing how their presence had oppressed her, all of them except Frank.
Edith leaned back in the door. “You’re blocking me, Mary.”
Mary followed them out to the hall, Regina trailing, and pulled open the drawer to the side table where she kept her keys. Leaving the drawer half-open, she ran out, and the house was momentarily silent. Regina looked up the stairs, where only Alice remained. Cars started outside. A picture formed in Regina’s mind of William Hannon coming home after work, opening that same drawer, and tossing in his heavy brass key chain.
Regina pulled the drawer all the way open and spotted his keys in the back corner, a dozen of all sizes sprawled to one side. Keys to his car, trunk and ignition, the house, front and back. With a glance at the door, she lifted the heavy chain and fingered through the keys, stopping at the small brass key that would unlock his desk drawers.
Mary was calling a last goodbye, her voice close by the front door, which was open. Regina laid William’s keys quietly where she had found them, pushed the drawer back to the halfway position, and caught her hands behind her back.
“They’re off!” Mary threw her keys in the drawer and pushed it closed, smiling at Regina. “Let’s have tea and cake.”
“I can get it.” She followed Mary into the kitchen.
“It’s a big help that you took care of Sophie. I hate to not have her come to the house.”
“Why doesn’t anybody like Sophie? She’s so nice.”
“Oh, why do you say that? We all love Sophie.”
Regina didn’t have to say anything.
Mary threw her an apologetic glance. “The house was full. Look at you, staying in the attic. Do you want to move downstairs to one of the bedrooms?”
Regina didn’t answer that either. They both knew she would stay where she was.
Mary set a plate in front of Regina, who asked, “Does Alice ever go anywhere?”
Mary glanced toward the staircase. “Not really. She doesn’t want to. She goes out on the lake in the boat sometimes. Do you want tea?” The kettle was whistling. Regina half-rose, and Mary said, “Don’t get up,” touching her shoulder.
Mary opened the cabinet and reached for a flowered pot-bellied teapot. Regina waited while Mary set out teacups, too busy to answer questions. Always quick to wipe surfaces and clear dirty dishes.
But when Mary sat down with the tea, she said, “We all love Sophie, but Alice is uncomfortable around her. Bebe talks about Alice stealing William from Sophie, but she’s just being melodramatic.”
“How would she know anyway? She acts like she was part of it all, but she was too young to remember anything for herself.”
“Bebe just thinks those times were romantic and exciting.”
“Bebe just wants to make sure nobody ever gets the idea that I’m part of this family.”
“Oh, Ree.”
“No, really. She never talks to me, have you noticed that? Unless it’s to blame me or shame me. She talks about me like I’m not even there. ‘Look who’s here.’ Like I’m some unwelcome stranger who wandered in off the street.” Regina bit her lip, fought down rage.
Mary made a soothing noise. “I sometimes think Bebe feels as left out as you. The crash changed everything, right after she was born. Papa wasn’t around a lot in those first years of the Depression. He closed his
local office and traveled to Richmond and Petersburg every week, just keeping himself afloat. I don’t know how he did it.” She sighed. “Then, by the time things got back to normal, little Eugenie came around, and she was the apple of his eye.”
But Regina was still smarting from Bebe’s jibes. “Why does she have to be so mean to me?” She hated the petulance in her own voice and remembered Frank’s words. She’s not the beauty you are. And, Bebe doesn’t like a rival. “You make excuses for her. You all do.”
Mary touched her hand. “No, I understand her, just like I understand you.” She got up and moved to the sink.
Regina thought but didn’t say, Oh, Now what are you washing? She stirred her tea and tried to fight down her frustration. She wanted to say, Why don’t you ever protect me when she acts that way? Instead, in a flash of anger, she blurted, “Sophie said Robert was here when Eugenie died. He was the one who accused Tiberius Rawley of murder.”
Mary’s back stiffened, then she whirled. Regina watched as Mary’s chest rose and fell twice before the mixture of expressions on her face settled into cool composure. “I can tell you who wasn’t there—Sophie.”
A while later, as she climbed the stairs to the attic, Regina thought, I wasn’t a difficult child, no. And everybody loves Sophie, and there never was an investigation. No murder. And Alice—she just worries. At the top of the stairs, she took a deep breath and let her shoulders drop. Mary was not a liar. But neither did she tell the whole hard truth. And truth was what Regina craved.
She looked around the attic. A pull from her center brought her to the portrait of the two Wilcox girls. Alice, dreamy and beautiful, was even at ten every inch a fairytale princess. Her little sister, equally pretty.
Regina decided to tackle the old roll-top desk, lifted the top, and stared at the clutter. Letters, handwritten sermons, a clipping of William’s and Alice’s engagement announcement. Their wedding invitation, engraved on thick ivory bond. Letters from Emily Worthington. Aunt Emily! George Wilcox’s sister, and Sophie’s guardian.
Blue Lake Page 14
