The Edge of the Light

by Elizabeth George

  Seth said, “Grand, you gotta calm down,” and he looked around for the device to take his grandfather’s blood pressure. He said, “Okay okay, Grand. I’ll text Derric, okay? I’ll tell Becca to come home, all right?”

  “No!” Ralph cried. “Houch . . . banks . . .”

  “Okay. No Becca. I’m calling Dad,” was Seth’s reply.

  27

  Becca wanted to help the Darrows. She wanted to figure out something that was going to end the dispute in their family. But what that something was . . . she had no clue. So because she spent the most time of everyone alone with Ralph, she used those chances she had to connect with him.

  His whispers were limited mostly to banks and houch. His visions were more varied. On one occasion she’d picked up the sensation of being in a car, she’d seen Grand’s hands clearly on the steering wheel, and the course he drove looked like a dirt road through forest deep with shadows thrown by mostly untrimmed cedars with lacy branches screening the way. On another occasion, she’d seen a house with cedar shingles that were blackened by the Pacific Northwest damp. On a third she’d once again walked up a stairway on the outside of a building with him, also cedar shingled. He’d gone through the screened door she’d seen once before, and there was a woman behind a desk strewn with papers. She’d looked up, smiled, made a gesture toward a chair against a window. And that was that. Who she was and why Ralph Darrow had her in his memory remained a mystery. Even when Becca told him of the vision, all Ralph would say was banks, banks, banks. He said it so urgently that Becca got scared she might drive him into another stroke.

  There were other matters on her mind, too. When she and Derric left Ralph’s place to pick up Josh and Chloe, she knew she had the opportunity to give Derric some information he wasn’t going to like.

  She hadn’t wanted to do this on the phone. Truth be told, she needed to violate her own resolution about giving Derric the privacy of his thoughts. From what had happened to her on the previous night, it was clear that he hadn’t taken her advice about the scores of letters he’d written and never mailed to his sister. As they headed along Newman Road toward the highway, she casually removed the earbud of the AUD box.

  She said, “Der, I got some news for you.”

  He glanced at her. He was very adept at reading her, so what he said was, “When you look like that, it ain’t good.”

  “Rejoice called me last night,” she told him.

  “Like I said,” was his reply.

  “Yeah. But it’s sort of worse than her just calling me. She was, like, totally wrecked.”

  “Drunk?”

  Becca hastened to clarify. “No. I mean wrecked, like in emotionally.”

  They were at the highway. Derric was waiting for a chance to make a left. It was obvious that the ferry had docked eight miles to the south in Clinton because the stream of traffic on the road was unbroken, which meant a wait for the traffic light down at Bayview Corner to turn red and cause a gap up here. The fine weather was bringing hordes to the island now. They would grow every weekend until, during the summer, the ferry line would be no less than two hours long.

  As they waited, Derric chewed on his lip. He said, “I don’t know if I want to know what she said.”

  “I think you got to hear it,” Becca told him. “She’s wrecked because you aren’t calling and you’re not returning her texts. She says I’m the one responsible, like I’m making you stay away from her.” Becca didn’t add the rest because there was really no point: Rejoice’s tears and her accusations of Becca’s refusing to put out for her boyfriend unless he stopped seeing Rejoice. The girl hadn’t wanted to hear that Becca wasn’t even sexual with Derric yet, not in that way. She’d shouted, “Oh right. Oh really and truly right, Becca! You must think I’m stupid!” and her sobs had been unnerving to hear.

  Derric directed his gaze to the Forester’s roof, as if there was someone up there—like God—who was going to tell him what to do next. He finally spoke once they’d managed to make the left turn onto the highway. “I’ve screwed this up.”

  “I think you just got to give her the letters,” Becca said.

  “And that’s not going to freak her out?”

  “It probably will for a while. She might feel hurt or whatever. But—”

  Derric’s head filled with swear words that he was directing at himself.

  Becca said, “Seems to me, like I said before, that the one thing she’s going to see—aside from the fact that you really are who you say you are, her brother—is that you love her and she’s not alone. She’s not on the planet without a blood relative.”

  True but God . . . maybe it’s better because that way Mom and Dad wouldn’t know . . .

  Becca was pleased with the accuracy with which she heard the whisper, less pleased with how Derric was thinking about things. She said, “Course, it’d end up with a huge change in your life if she does believe you, since all of a sudden hello you’ve got a sister and then you . . . I guess then you start introducing her around. But it’s sort of cool, if you think about it. Least, if I was you, I’d think it was cool, having a sibling. I wish I had one.”

  “In what way is it cool?” he demanded. “Hey I’ve got a sister I pretended wasn’t my sister for the last . . . what? . . . twelve years of my life?” To this he added selfish and what’s it going to be like when everyone knows it.

  “You didn’t know where she was once you got to America,” Becca reminded him. “And you didn’t pretend to yourself she wasn’t your sister, since you spent all that time writing her letters. I say give her the letters. Do it in person and sit there while she reads them and see what happens.”

  He sighed, but he kept his eyes on the road. “You’re not letting me get out of this, are you?” he said.

  • • •

  THE CLIFF MOTEL, sitting on its corner with the waters of Saratoga Passage glittering behind it, was aglow with spring: the ground blooming with the last of the winter pansies and freshly planted wallflowers, while Canterbury bells were sending up shoots that heralded their summer spikes of blue and white flowers. Josh and Chloe were out in front of the place, dancing with excitement as Derric and Becca drove into the parking lot.

  “Yea, yea, yea!” Chloe cried as Derric and Becca got out of the car. “Grammer said I could wear a costume, Becca.”

  She wore a costume indeed. Debbie had fashioned her into a fairy with a castoff tulle ballerina’s tutu, a pink Hello Kitty T-shirt, tennis shoes newly done up with stripes of gold glitter, and small wings of wire covered in tissue paper. For his part, Josh was having nothing to do with costumes. He was all man all the time in jeans and a flannel shirt. But he couldn’t hide the thrill of seeing his Big Brother. He bounced over to Derric and they high-fived each other with “Hey man” and “Wha’s happening, dude?”

  Their grandmother came out of the motel office. Debbie Grieder stood at the edge of the porch, arms akimbo. “Take these two loony birds off my hands.” She directed this to Becca and Derric, but she said it with a smile. “They’ve been up since five.”

  “We got ’em covered.” Derric opened the back door of the car so that Josh and Chloe could pile inside. “Okay for them to have pizza after?”

  “Pizza!” Chloe shrieked.

  “Cool,” Josh said.

  Debbie waved a yes at them before she turned and went back inside. They set off, then, with Bayview Corner in their sights. It would be crowded with costumed people and their costumed dogs, set to parade before a panel of judges.

  Bayview itself was some four miles away. The route took them through the forest before it skirted several farms climbing the emerald hillsides and a thoroughbred horse ranch where three foals scooted close to their dams. It passed by Lone Lake, whose waters reflected the day’s perfect sky, and ultimately it deposited them near an old 1895 schoolhouse that was used by the island’s literary arts community
. Across the street from this, the buildings that had once been visited by farmers buying everything from tools to grains were now used for other purposes: arts, hair salon, taproom, wine room, restaurants, and the great red barn of a gardening center.

  Some careful maneuvering got them a place to park up near the highway in a hard-packed field. Out of the car, they were at once in a stream of people heading toward the Big Event. To the joy of the kids, there were dogs everywhere: all shapes and sizes, purebreds, mixed breeds, and a slew of unidentifiable, cocky mutts. They were dressed in all manner of costumes. Space dogs, princess dogs, zombie dogs, Scuba dogs, hot dogs (those would be the dachshunds, of course), pumpkin dogs, beach dogs, surfer dogs, artist dogs, gardener dogs, and everything else one could imagine. Over the sound of excited chatter all around them came the amplified voice of the master of ceremonies in the distance.

  “The parade comes first.” Chloe grabbed Becca’s hand and began to pull her. “Come on, Becca. We don’t want to miss that ’cause it’s when all the doggies march with their peoples.”

  Becca allowed herself to be pulled. She waved good-bye to Derric and Josh, who were striding behind them.

  The parade was silly and colorful and lots of fun, since both the participants and the viewers along the route became thoroughly engaged. Someone had passed out kazoos to those watching, and they were providing the music: “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Becca demonstrated kazoo playing for Chloe, who picked it up pretty much as quickly as anyone picks up the use of a kazoo. With lots of giggling, they kazooed with the crowd although when the dogs came into sight, Chloe spent more time crying out “Look! Oh look!” and “I wish Grammer would let me have a dog.”

  Each person in the crowd fell into line with the parade as it passed until about two hundred people were strutting along with the costumed participants. The parade wound its way throughout Bayview Corner, into and out of the gardening center as well, and it finally came to a stop in a parking lot between the barn and the repurposed buildings, where a tiny viewing stand had been set up. Here the judges sat.

  Now was the time for the costume contest. Chloe squirmed to the front so that she could see. Along with other small children, she sat in the gravel. There someone dressed like a clown was passing out balloons twisted into the shape of dogs.

  Becca found a spot where she could watch the action. Derric came to join her, and she slid her hand into his. The noise put her in the position of having to use the AUD box or ending up with a terrible headache, so she had the earbud where it belonged, and the soothing static allowed her to enjoy being among the happy crowd.

  “Where’s Josh?” she asked Derric but before he could answer, she saw the little boy joining the other children. He’d given in to balloons and a good view of the contest. Evidently one could participate in this and still be cool.

  The contest itself involved the master of ceremonies calling forth one at a time the name of a costumed dog and the dog’s costumed person. Every couple got a moment in the limelight. The rules required each costume to be handmade, so there was much hilarity—not to mention loud applause in an attempt to sway the judges’ opinions—as dog and person made their strut before the crowd.

  The event was well under way when so many things became clear to Becca. The master of ceremonies announced, “Sophie and David Banks along with their grandma and her dog, Prince. What have we here? Elves and a reindeer and Mrs. Banks seems to be Mrs. Claus.”

  Hearing this, Becca wanted to slap herself on the forehead. She wanted to shout “You idiot!” followed closely by “Of course, of course.”

  Grand had been telling her all along. He’d been saying it and visualizing it and doing what he could to get the message across to her, but she’d been too dim to get his point. Banks was a person, not an institution. And when she looked closely at Mrs. Claus, she recognized the woman within Grand’s vision.

  28

  Gertie and Giselle closed G & G’s for two consecutive days during the week, so on those days Jenn pushed herself in training more than usual. She could see that she was improving her skills by working with Cynthia and Lexie. Each of them was especially encouraging when it came to an area she considered her specialty. For Lexie, it was running, and when Cynthia joined them, her job was to keep Jenn moving the ball, passing it, while dodging her attempts to snatch it away. For Cynthia, it was weight training, and Lexie spotted her while Cynthia determined how much weight Jenn should be using each time they worked out. In return, Jenn kept Cynthia on her toes as a goalie, and she timed Lexie on her runs.

  On these days, Jenn didn’t rush home. No matter her increased liking for Cynthia and Lexie, she still didn’t want them to see where she lived. They’d both offered her rides a couple more times, but Jenn had said no. There was the general dumpiness of her family’s house and the property itself, but there was also her mom’s attitude. She figured her mom wouldn’t ever have known or guessed about Cynthia’s sexual preferences, but Kate had already seen Lexie at G & G’s, so Jenn assumed that her mom had probably drawn conclusions based on that. And one thing about Kate that had to be said: She wasn’t a live-and-let-live sort of person.

  Jenn was thinking about this as she descended Possession Road from where the island bus dropped her. The days were getting longer now as spring advanced, and filtered light reached fingers through the trees and dappled the road. It was a day of no breeze at all, so the birds were making a racket. Crows and gulls seemed to be competing with each other, and a flash of blue zipping by told her the jays were out and about. Purple martins were doing their warbling thing in the trees, and wherever Scotch broom had invaded, yellowthroats were making their bizzing sounds. It was a time of year that lifted people’s spirits on the island, and Jenn’s spirits were high as she made the turn down the gravel lane that led to her house.

  Those spirits crashed when she saw that two cars were sitting between the house and the brew shed. One of them was the island taxi. The other was an old Ford Explorer with a Christian fish affixed to its bumper and those dad, mom, and kids stickers on the rear window. There was also a bumper sticker displaying a reference to the Bible merely by book, chapter, and verse. All this put into the same kettle told Jenn what was cooking inside the house: Her mom was home and Mr. Sawyer was paying a visit.

  Jenn swore in a way that would not have pleased the minister. She glanced at the brew shed. The Rolling Stones were singing about not always being able to get what you want. Nothing, she thought, could have been truer.

  Up the front steps she went. Into the house she trudged. She figured her mom and Mr. Sawyer would be reading the Bible together or laying miracle hands on Petey and Andy to alter their generally rambunctious behavior. But it turned out that they were sitting side by side on the threadbare flowered couch in the living room.

  Jenn saw that her mom was deadly pale. With her brothers not around at this time of day, she felt a little stab of fear. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “What’s going on? Where’s Petey and—”

  Mr. Sawyer spoke as he rose from the couch, saying, “Jennifer. We’ve been waiting for you. Please sit with us, child.”

  Jenn didn’t like his tone. His voice sounded like one he’d use when he thrust someone under the water to be baptized, and she especially hated his use of child. She went on to hate the fact that he held the Bible in one hand and extended his other hand, palm downward, as if he intended to bless the scratched-up coffee table. As soon as he started to talk, her mom started to move her lips. Jenn stayed where she was by the door. Mr. Sawyer repeated his request.

  “Sit with us, child.”

  “I got homework and a test to—”

  “Do as he says!” Kate’s voice was so sharp that it made Jenn jump.

  “It’s the word of God, Jennifer,” Mr. Sawyer said.

  “Huh? God wants me to sit?”

  “God wants you to walk away from sin,” he replied, �
�and Jesus His Son wants you to shun that which exposes you to the fires of hell.”

  “Uh . . . okay,” Jenn said. “C’n I do my homework now?”

  “Don’t be smart with Reverend Sawyer,” Kate McDaniels said. “He’s here to talk to you and after that, there are arrangements that need to be made.”

  To this, Jenn said nothing. She shrugged out of her backpack and put it at the foot of the stairs.

  Reverend Sawyer said, “Do you know what eternity is?”

  “Another word for forever?”

  “And do you understand that when someone is cast into the fires of hell, it is for eternity? It’s torment forever with no escape, torment after you die. Torment after the Second Coming. Torment without an until attached to it, stretching into infinity.”

  “Sort of sounds like having to be in math class,” Jenn said.

  Mr. Sawyer didn’t smile. Kate shot eye bullets in Jenn’s direction.

  Mr. Sawyer said, “When individuals engage in an act against nature, they engage in that act against God, and for this they are condemned to hell. Engaging in an act against nature is worse than the sin of knowing another outside the bonds of holy matrimony for this act is so unnatural that its bestiality creates in the eyes of Our Lord and Savior, in the eyes of His Father, and in the eyes of the Holy Spirit an abhorrence so profound that no blessing can descend upon the sinner unless there is a profound repentance. Do you know what this means?”

  “Which part?” Jenn asked. “You sort of just threw a lot at me.”

  “We begin with the word of God.” He gestured with the Bible. “We move from there to your baptism.”

  Jenn swung to look at Kate. “I told you, Mom. No. Way. I said I’d go to your stupid church and I’m doing that and—”