by Karen White
I looked at him in surprise. “She was his patient?”
“I didn’t know at the time—patient confidentiality and all that—but she was seeing him for several things, mostly severe depression and a substance-abuse problem she’d struggled with since adolescence. She’d been in and out of rehab since she was a teenager, trying to cope with the fallout from a dysfunctional childhood. She was responding well to therapy, so when I met her, I didn’t . . .” He closed his mouth, seeming to struggle between loyalty and honesty. “I didn’t realize how emotionally unstable she was until we got engaged during my second year of medical school.”
“And you didn’t break it off?”
He looked away. “She found out she was pregnant and wanted the baby. I couldn’t let her have the baby on her own. It was my child, too. And at least if I were with her, I could keep her healthy if not for her sake, then for the baby’s.”
“Lucy?”
He nodded.
I was silent for a moment. “How did she handle motherhood?”
“After Lucy was born, she went back on her antidepressants. She seemed to be herself again, and I thought we could still make a go out of our marriage now that we were parents.”
“But that didn’t happen.”
Tucker shook his head. “Susan became more and more dependent on me, almost as if I were a substitute for her drugs. And if I didn’t give her the attention she needed, she’d stay in her room for days until I could find a way to get her to forgive me.” He flattened his hands against the garden wall, studying his callused fingers. “I knew she had serious issues dating back to her childhood. The details she gave me were sketchy, but enough for me to agree with her choice to cut off all contact with her family. But there were demons she fought every day. Shortly after Lucy was born, Susan started stealing prescription drugs from my medical office. We didn’t notice at first because she was just taking samples, but we eventually caught on and I knew immediately who it was. She went to rehab—again—and it seemed to help.”
His eyes held the haunted look I remembered from the first time I’d seen him, and I wanted to look away. “So things got better then?”
“For a while. But then she got pregnant with Sara. I shouldn’t have allowed that to happen. . . .” He shrugged. “And it was different this time after Sara. Her old antidepressants weren’t working and it took us a while to find one that did. When Sara was three, I took a leave of absence from my practice and moved us to Asphodel in the hopes that a change of scenery would help, and to get her away from her drug sources. She was too busy self-medicating for us to figure out something that might help, and taking her away was pretty much a last resort.”
He smoothed the dark hair from his forehead with both hands. “Then I thought we had the answer to all of our prayers when Susan got on this genealogy kick and seemed to have found a purpose for her life. Maybe she was pretending that the lives she was discovering were her own, in some warped way of erasing her own past. I didn’t bother to analyze it. She was happy and excited for the first time since we got married. And then it sort of . . . fell apart about a year and a half ago.”
“What happened?” I asked, watching as he stooped to pick up another handful of grass before disintegrating the blades between his fingers.
“I’m not really sure. She’d been after Malily to give her access to all of her papers. Malily told her that some things were meant to remain private, but that didn’t stop Susan. She apparently went snooping in Malily’s room when my grandmother was out of town at a horse event, and found something. I believe Malily discovered it was missing and got it back because I never found out what it was. But it was enough to send Susan into a tailspin.”
“Did you ever ask Malily what it was?”
“Yes, and she told me it was just a letter she’d written to a friend but never sent. But that with Susan’s mind being the way it was, she read things into it. Malily thought that Susan had somehow become so absorbed in my grandmother’s story that she was sort of reliving it—the good and the bad. Maybe there were parts that reminded Susan of her own childhood.” He dropped the shredded grass back to the ground. “I guess I’ll never know for sure. She drowned herself a week later. She simply . . . walked into the river. I’ve never been able to figure that one out. We had the pond here, after all. But she chose the river.”
A letter to a friend. The words hung in the air between us, and I had to keep myself from asking more.
He looked at me, as if just now realizing I was there. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
I thought for a moment, realizing how since my accident even strangers on park benches or in grocery store lines seemed to want to confide in me. I almost smiled, the reason why so clear to me now. “Don’t worry. It happens a lot. I think it’s because people see that I’m damaged, so they think I’ll understand their problems more than their spouses or friends. Like I have an inside track to figuring out problems because mine are undoubtedly greater than theirs.”
He regarded me and I could see him struggling with the correct response. “It doesn’t have to be that way, you know. Maybe you’re using your injury as an excuse. As long as your knee is stiff and painful, you have a reason for not trying. You don’t have to jump again, Earlene. Nobody’s asking you to. But wouldn’t it be nice to ride again—just for fun?”
I almost told him then that I was Piper Mills and that it had never occurred to me to just simply ride for fun. I was a competitor. I wasn’t a mountain climber who climbed a mountain just because it was there. I rode horses because I was good at it, because at one time I’d had a shot at being the best at it. I rode because there was something inside of me that wanted to be something other than ordinary.
Instead, I looked up at the copper and green magnolia leaves, how still they were as they waited for the next breeze to move them. “And because you’re a doctor you think it’s your job to heal everyone. But not everyone needs or wants healing, you know.”
I felt him watching me and I wanted to look into his marsh green eyes because I could always see a pain there that matched my own, but I didn’t. Because every time I did look at him I felt something else, too, something I wasn’t ready to explore. Two damaged people did not make a whole.
“Everyone needs healing,” he said softly.
Without waiting for me to respond, he said,“Before I forget, I think I found the necklace you were looking for.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out my angel charm, the chain dangling from his hand like an unanswered question. “It’s odd, because Malily has one identical to it—so much so that I would have thought it was hers if I hadn’t seen her wearing it right before I found this on the garden path.”
The words sprang to my lips before I could pull them back. “I think angel charms were like mood rings to our grandmothers’ generation. A lot of women their age probably had one.”
“With the same inscription?” He pulled his eyebrows together in question.
“Yeah. Latin must have been the ‘in’ thing back then.”
“Must have been,” he said, smiling, making me feel worse. “I hope you don’t mind, but I fixed the chain.”
“Thank you,” I managed, and before I could say anything else, he’d placed the necklace around my neck, fastening the chain while I held up my hair. Our eyes met, and I knew that if I didn’t speak up now, I’d have no defense later when the truth inevitably found its way to the surface.
“I need to tell you something. . . .”
My words were cut short by the appearance of Lucy, who came running around the corner of the garden wall. She was dressed and ready for her riding lesson, holding the fluorescent purple crop I’d purchased for her on a whim at a local tack shop. “Where’s Sara? We’re supposed to have our lesson now, but she’s not in her room and she’s not at the ring, either. And her riding clothes are still on her bed. I don’t want us to be late because then my lesson will be shorter.”
“
Where did you see her last?” Tucker asked, his voice firm but gentle.
“In the kitchen with Odella. Odella was making us pimento cheese sandwiches because that’s Sara’s favorite. And then we were supposed to go upstairs to get changed out of our swimsuits. I left first because Sara’s a slowpoke and hadn’t finished hers yet.”
“Did you look in the kitchen?”
Lucy shook her head. “No, because she was supposed to be done.”
As if an afterthought, Tucker gently tugged on one of her braided and bowed pigtails, causing Lucy to lean toward him. “She’s probably still in there, listening to some long-winded story of Odella’s. I’ll go find her and hurry her up. Meanwhile, you and Miss Earlene can get started with your lesson.”
I watched as he walked away, swallowing my confession until I could find him alone again. I turned to Lucy. “We’re going to work on a couple of new things while we’re waiting for Sara. I’m going to teach you something today called ‘two-point’—do you know what that is?”
Lucy nodded eagerly. “It’s to learn how to jump, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily,” I said cautiously. “It will strengthen your quads—those are your thigh muscles—and teach you proper positioning, which you need for all riding, including jumping.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “And then how much longer before I’m jumping?” Her dark brown eyes looked up at me eagerly. “I think Daddy wants me to be a really good jumper.”
I stopped walking and squatted in front of her. “Lucy, if you want to be a good jumper, you have to want to do it—nobody else. It’s always great to have somebody you love supporting you in the sidelines. But when it’s just you, your horse, and a five-foot jump, there’s no room for anybody else, okay?”
Her eyes darkened, her face serious. “I want to be the best. It’s been my dream since I was really small. Mama told me that dreams were just food for heartache, but I didn’t believe her. I didn’t say so, though. She didn’t take very well to anybody disagreeing with her, but I let her think that she was right. And I never stopped dreaming.”
I nodded, knowing what it must have taken to tell me that one disloyalty. “I think it’s all right to have dreams. As long as you’re willing to put the hard work into making those dreams happen.”
“I’m ready to jump, Miss Earlene. I really am. I can taste it so bad, it hurts.”
I hid my smile and patted her helmeted head. “You’re not ready, Lucy. But we’ll get you there. Promise.”
We’d taken a few more steps toward the ring before Lucy stopped suddenly. “Miss Earlene? Sara left her favorite doll on her raft in the pond. She remembered when we were eating lunch. I told her she could get it after our riding lesson. Do you think she went back to the pond instead? I hope not because she can’t swim. She always has to wear her floaties and she doesn’t know how to put them on herself.”
The summer air seemed to go suddenly still; even the cicadas stopped their eternal whirring. The pond. I’d only walked by it, not interested in going swimming if only because a bathing suit gave no camouflage for my scars. But when I thought of Sara, and her beloved doll, I knew she’d gone to retrieve it.
I started to run, adrenaline making me oblivious to the pain in my knee. “Lucy—go find your father and tell him to go to the pond. Now.”
I didn’t stop to see if she followed my instructions, I simply ran harder in the direction of the pond, cold sweat beading on my forehead. I reached the far side of the water, opposite the decking that had been installed on the edge, connected to a jumping platform, where brightly colored floating toys bobbed in the dark green water. “Sara!” I shouted, my panic making me jerk my gaze from one end of the pond to the other without focus.
“Sara!” I shouted again, forcing myself to calm down so I could pay attention to what I was seeing. A flash of hot pink caught my eye on the jumping platform. I might have seen it at first and dismissed it as another water toy, but this time the tiny white hearts on her bathing suit caught my gaze and I began running again, skirting the side of the pond.
Sara was stretched out as far as she could go, reaching for her doll floating on her raft just beyond her reach. “Sara, don’t—I’ll get it.”
Sara looked back at me and smiled, then returned to her mission of saving her doll. I saw her toes flex, absently thinking how her toenails matched the color of her bathing suit right as her supporting arm gave way.
I shouted her name one more time before she tumbled forward into the pond, the small splash seeming much louder in my ears than it should have. I sprinted to the end of the platform but held myself back. Maybe I’d finally learned my lesson about looking before I leapt, or maybe I knew the stakes were so much higher this time. Either way, I stopped to stare at where I’d seen Sara go into the water, peering into the murkiness, where I saw only a hint of disappearing pink. Keeping my eye on that point, I held my breath and stepped into the water next to where I thought she would be.
I opened my eyes beneath the water, the sun illuminating the three feet above my head as my feet touched the bottom. I swirled around looking for Sara, stirring the lazy sediment and stilling my panic. I knew she was near me; I could hear frantic kicking. All I needed to do was hold my breath and still my panic and the voice inside of me that was telling me I couldn’t do it.
I thought of Helen and how she could hear things even before Mardi and I closed my eyes, focusing on what I could hear. At first, I thought it was my own heartbeat, the soft fluttering swish of blood. I closed my eyes tighter and listened for it again, the sound coming from behind me. My chest began to burn, reminding me that I hadn’t taken a big enough gulp of air before I’d jumped in. But I was so close; I could feel her now, her thrashing slowing. I blew air out of my mouth, lessening the burn for a second, then twisted toward Sara. I reached out into the darkness, feeling the cool wash of water on my face, teasing me with a memory.
My fingers closed on a soft Lycra ruffle and I tightened my grasp, pulling Sara toward me. With her cradled in my arms, I opened my eyes and watched the sun push the darkness away from us as I lifted off the silted floor, moving us toward the murky light. We burst through to the surface with a loud gasp of air.
Tucker and Lucy were just reaching the platform, Odella close behind them, running so fast that I thought for a moment they couldn’t stop before they reached the water. Tucker knelt on the edge and reached for Sara as my fingers grabbed hold of the platform to keep me from slipping back into the water. She was coughing and spluttering and clinging to her father as he held her tight and kissed her temple before handing her to Odella, who wrapped her in a large pink towel.
Then Tucker leaned forward and lifted me up, too, as if I weighed no more than Sara, and I felt myself enveloped in his arms, too, exhausted yet exhilarated, remembering the teasing memory I’d had in the sanctuary of the still water: the blind reaching for Sara and the confidence of knowing I had just the one chance gave me the same feeling I got from landing the perfect jump.
I rested my head on Tucker’s shoulder as we both looked at Sara, clutching tightly to the doll that been the instrument of near disaster, and I knew with a sudden clarity that I’d just done something extraordinary.
CHAPTER 16
Lillian walked down the hallway to the girls’ bedroom as fast as her arthritic joints would take her, her cane tapping impatiently on the carpet runner. She threw open the door and went in, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming in from the windows and illuminating the colorful palette on the walls and furnishings.
Sara sat propped up in her bed on large, fluffy pillows with her father in a chair on one side and Earlene on the other. At Tucker’s insistence they’d taken Sara to the emergency room to make sure she hadn’t inhaled any water. Satisfied with her clean bill of health, he’d brought her home and put her to bed to rest.
Now, judging from the rosy circles on Sara’s cheeks and the piles of her favorite dolls and stuffed animals crowded around her in
the bed, she seemed no worse for the wear. In fact, if Lillian had to guess, she was enjoying the attention. Even the sodden doll clutched in the crook of Sara’s arm seemed to have a smug look about her, as if finally they were getting their turn in the spotlight.
Tucker stood and offered her his chair, which she thankfully accepted. After leaning her cane against the bed, she took Sara’s small hand in hers and had to fight back tears. She knew what burying a child was like, knew already what needed to be done to survive it. But Tucker was still slipping on the ice of his first great loss, and she closed her eyes in a prayer of thanks that not only had Sara been saved, but so had her father.
“Don’t cry, Malily. Me and Samantha are fine.”
Lillian looked up and smiled, noticing that Sara and her doll Samantha wore matching nightgowns. She squeezed the small hand. “Yes, I know. But you have to promise me that you’ll never go near the pond again without an adult, and never without your floaties. And maybe Samantha should stay inside the next time you decide it’s time for a swim.”
Sara’s blue eyes widened, working out something in her head. “Do you think that’s what happened to Mama? That maybe she fell into the river by accident and nobody was there to pull her out?”
Lillian’s gaze rose to meet Tucker’s, and she was surprised to see calmness where she’d expected the ghost of old grief. Maybe with Sara’s accident he had finally begun to see that life continued after a fall, and that the hands that reached to pull you out didn’t have to be your own.
Tucker pushed Sara’s blond hair from her forehead. “Maybe. But what matters is that Earlene was there and that you’re safe now. Just promise me that you’ll never, ever go near the water again without an adult with you.”
Sara rolled her eyes in such a perfect imitation of Lucy that Lillian almost laughed. “Like I would, Daddy. It’s not like I had any fun or anything. And now Samantha’s hair is all stiff.”
Earlene leaned forward to take the doll to examine the hair closer. “We could try to shampoo it. Or we could call the manufacturer and see what they suggest.”