Blue Lake

by Elizabeth Buhmann

  It was not until she was sixteen that she realized she was Alice’s and William’s child, not their grandchild. Her world at that time was exploding, and Bebe, in the course of shaming her, referred to Robert as “your sister’s husband.” Regina fled to the attic, where she stewed on the incomprehensible. She asked herself, as she had asked that Christmas when she was ten, what had she done to merit banishment that included her very name?

  Mary had come looking for her. When Regina came to the top of the attic stairs, Mary said, “Ree, don’t mind Bebe.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “What?”

  “You’re my sister.” William appeared behind Mary, and Regina repeated her demand to both of them. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  They answered at the same time, Mary saying, “Didn’t you know?” and William saying, “I thought you knew.”

  Now, all these years later, Regina gripped the sides of the attic window as if to shake the house to its foundation. “How? How would I have known?”

  15

  Cousin Sophie

  Regina woke to another bright, chilly dawn. She’d slept with the windows wide open, curled under two blankets, her nose and cheeks exposed to the cold, misty morning air. She crept down to the second-floor bathroom, then scampered back to the attic and dressed in the same flowered sundress with a sweater she could take off when the summer sun kicked in. She wouldn’t meet Al until nine, but she had no intention of joining the breakfast crowd at home. She could imagine what Bebe would make of her skipping church to meet a “boyfriend.” She’d left the top down on her car when she arrived on Friday, and the inside was damp with morning dew and lightly sprinkled with leaves. She fished a Kleenex from her purse and wiped the driver’s seat before setting out for town with an exhilarating sense of escape.

  She parked in front of La Maison on the south end of Main Street in downtown Piedmont at eight thirty. The café wouldn’t open until nine, so she walked the length of the business district, such as it was—five blocks of stores, all of them familiar, all looking smaller than she remembered. She compared her hometown to the hamlet of South Hadley, where she’d gone to college, and found Piedmont shabbier. By the time she got back to her car, she’d concluded that she couldn’t think of Piedmont as home.

  She came to a halt when she saw Al sitting on a bench in front of La Maison, engrossed in a newspaper he’d probably gotten from the box by the café door. She took the moment to observe him, seeing him again as he’d appeared when she first ran into him in Richmond, before she knew who he was. No trace of the sixteen-year-old’s goofiness or awkwardness. He’d filled out across the shoulders, and where he’d once been lanky, he now looked lean and strong. He must have sensed her eyes on him and looked up. His instant grin made her smile too.

  The door to La Maison was opening, and they were the first customers to be seated, taking a choice table by the tall front windows. Wide plank floors were waxed to a shine, and Boston ferns hung in a line from high ceilings over window boxes of geraniums. The restaurant smelled of fresh brewed coffee, cinnamon, and butter.

  “Wow.” Regina spread a white linen napkin on her lap and smelled the fresh daisies on the table. “This is so nice. Who knew there’d be a place like this in Piedmont?”

  “I knew. Do you remember Russ Cooper from high school?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “It’s his brother’s.”

  “Does it do a good business?”

  “It’s busy every time I come here.”

  Regina dropped her voice as more customers filed past, following a hostess. “I can’t imagine living in Piedmont again.”

  Al tipped his head. “It has its upsides. But maybe not. It’s pretty far off the map.”

  “What’re the upsides?”

  “The mountains. My family’s here.”

  “The country is beautiful if you look past the town,” she agreed. “How is your family?”

  “Good.” He told her about his brother, sister, mother, and father. “My dad wants me to take over the family business, which would mean moving back here.”

  “Do you think you’ll do that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can see myself actually selling cars.” Al shook his head and grinned. “My dad loves that part. He’s the car salesman of the world.”

  She laughed, then remembered with a stab that she had come because her own father was dying.

  Al seemed to read her mind. “How’s your dad?”

  “I don’t know. The same, I think. I’ll go from here to visit him with my cousin Sophie.”

  “Who is she? Does she live in town?”

  “She’s my godmother from Savannah. She flew in last night. I’m supposed to take her to the hospital before the rest of the family gets there. So they don’t run into each other.” She made a wry face. “Sophie and Alice don’t get along.”

  “Alice?”

  “Old Lady Hannon,” she teased, and his ears reddened. Then they both laughed. “Everybody calls her Alice. Not so much to her face. They call her Mama. Except me.”

  “What do you call her?”

  “I don’t call her anything.” She made a little it’s-a-long-story movement with her hands.

  Their omelets arrived. She refused his offer to split the chocolate croissant and waited while their coffee cups were refilled.

  “Savannah,” Al said. “That’s where you said you went. You went to stay with your godmother? We thought you dropped out of school.”

  “No, I transferred to Savannah High for my last year. They had a great art program. I applied to college from there and spent the summer after senior year in France, at an art school.”

  “Have you been back here at all?”

  She kept her eyes on her plate. “Only once.”

  She willed him not to press for more, and as usual, he sensed her wishes, turning the conversation to food and work and weather.

  During a pause, she set down her fork and looked up. “Mary had her own life. She was trying to mend fences with her husband. Heaven knows why, but she wanted to. My parents had all those grandchildren. And my actual mother had never—” She stopped mid-sentence. She had meant to explain, not to make herself sound pitiful, which she did to her own ears. “Anyway, Eugenie’s death ruined everything here, you see.”

  “So you keep saying, but I don’t see. I don’t see why losing one child would cause a mother to reject her other child that’s still alive.”

  “I looked just like Eugenie. I reminded her of Eugenie.”

  “But so what? I can’t understand it.” When she didn’t reply, he added, “I guess it wasn’t like you weren’t right there. I mean, she wasn’t giving you away away.”

  “Mary kept me in the cottage. I might as well have been a hundred miles away. And Alice was so consumed with grief that I’m not sure if she remembered who I was.”

  He made a wincing, incredulous face. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s just, I don’t know, fragile.” Regina pushed away her plate. “It was me too. I was too much for her. Apparently I was a very rambunctious child.”

  At that, he smiled broadly. “Somehow I don’t think of you being, um, rambunctious.”

  “Well, apparently I drove her crazy.”

  “Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

  She shook her head, frowning. “What do you mean?”

  “Parents make their children crazy. Children don’t make their parents crazy.” After a moment, with studied casualness, he asked, “Think you’ll ever have children?”

  “No. They would drive me crazy.”

  They both laughed, but her smile failed quickly. He reached across the table and picked up her hand. The waitress arrived and they separated.

  An awkward moment passed, then she remembered what she wanted to tell him. “So, by the way, Mary clearly implied, the first time I asked, that the police never seriously investigated Eugenie’s death as a murder. But they did.
Frank confirmed it.”

  “Your uncle?”

  “My brother. Why is she lying to me? She’s not a liar.” She could no longer say that with conviction though.

  “I should never have repeated that stuff about murder. It just makes a bad situation worse, and they probably feel bad about it now.”

  “Who? Feels bad about what?”

  “The Hannons. Your family. For accusing that guy.”

  Regina stared while his words sank in. “They accused him?”

  “Why can’t I just shut up? I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s just that every time I think I know what happened, I find out they’re still holding back. Why can’t they just tell me the truth?”

  Outside, he followed her to her car. When she dropped into the driver’s seat, he asked, “Are you going back to Richmond tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know.” She hadn’t even thought about it. Ron expected her. “You will, I guess?”

  “I’ll head back in a little while. Unless you need me here.”

  His words touched her more than she would have expected. “Why are you so nice to me?” Then she turned the key in the ignition before he could answer.

  Under clear skies, in sunshine, the Shackley Road had none of the menace she associated with it. She slowed as she passed the low point where she had run into the old man so long ago. She could see now that his house was little more than a shack, though well-kept, with fenced gardens all around. She wondered if he still lived there, if he was even still alive.

  Mrs. Marsden’s Bed and Breakfast overlooked a valley, situated on a rise that offered a long view of the Blue Ridge Mountains to the west. The rambling country home, frame on a pier-and-beam foundation, had been painted white so many times that it had no sharp edges. Fresh black enamel shone on the trim, and the front windows sported dark green shutters. Sycamores towered over extensions built onto both sides, and a breezeway connected the main house to a sprawling kitchen, smokehouse, and pantry.

  The wide front porch creaked under Regina’s feet. She hesitated, wondering if she should ring the bell or try the handle. She chose the bell and heard its echo inside. A young black woman in a cotton dress and apron opened the door and stepped aside as Mrs. Marsden appeared from an office behind an oak counter.

  Before Regina could speak, a familiar voice called from the sitting room, “Is that you, Ree?”

  Sophie Blount, nee Wilcox, bent and plump, rose from a deep armchair, gripping the sides. Sophie’s eyes were sharp, her smile sweet. Her silvery hair was mixed with darker gray and loosely pinned into a bun at the back of her neck. With a soft cry of joy, Regina hugged her, breathing in the old-fashioned powdery smell. Though not often at Blue Lake when Regina was growing up, Sophie had come to Piedmont for weddings and funerals, and whenever she did, she scooped up her goddaughter and took her out for treats and shopping.

  After a long moment, Sophie held her at arm’s length. “Oh my, look at you! You know Mrs. Marsden, don’t you, Ree?”

  “I haven’t seen Regina in years and years, Sophie. She’s prettier than ever. How is your father, Ree?”

  “Not well. I saw him yesterday, and he was awake part of the time, but he couldn’t speak.”

  Sophie squeezed Regina’s hand reassuringly. “Let’s go see. I’ll be back for lunch, Ellen. How late do you serve? Can you have lunch here with me, Regina?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “You all don’t need to hurry back. Sunday lunch runs into the afternoon.”

  Outside, when she saw Regina’s little MGB, Sophie said, “Oh my!”

  “Oh, Sophie, I’m sorry. I should have put the top up. Here, it only takes a minute.”

  “Oh no, let me ride in it. I think it would be exciting. I’ve never been in a car like this. Just don’t drive too fast!”

  Regina laughed. “I promise I won’t.”

  Once they were on their way, and Sophie had exclaimed over the breezy openness of riding on the country roads in a sports car, Regina said more seriously, “I’m embarrassed that I haven’t written to you in so long, Sophie.”

  “Well, I haven’t written to you either.”

  “And I’ve never thanked you enough for taking me in the way you did. I know it was a hard time for you, and I just showed up.”

  “You were more than welcome. You were a help. I’m sorry I was so preoccupied.” She sighed. “Henry was a good man.”

  Regina had hardly known Sophie’s second husband when she went to Savannah at the end of her junior year in high school. At the time, he was gravely ill and died shortly after.

  “Now tell me all about what you’ve been up to. Mary says you have a good job in Richmond?”

  Like Frank, Sophie was a favorite with whom Regina felt free and chatted easily. She found herself describing the job, her new project, and the chance meeting with Al, all in such detail that she was herself surprised at half of what she said. The two of them were laughing when Regina leaned into the heavy doors of the hospital.

  “It’s a wonder a sick person can get inside this place,” Sophie grumbled as Regina held the door for her.

  Their smiles died once they were inside. Regina guided Sophie to William’s room on the third floor, then she stepped back, gripped again with an uncomfortable mix of emotions she couldn’t name.

  Sophie entered ahead of her and sat in the chair next to the bed. “William, it’s Sophie. And I’ve got Ree with me.” She beckoned to Regina. “Pull up that chair.”

  William’s eyes fluttered open, found Sophie’s, then settled on Regina. His hand flexed slightly, and Sophie took it. “Regina brought me here.”

  Sophie put Regina’s hand in her father’s, and Regina bit her lip. She had not held his hand since she was a child. He squeezed, and Regina squeezed back, tears rising in her eyes. She blinked them away, but her throat ached.

  Sophie settled herself, smoothing her skirt and crossing her ankles. “I’m staying with Ellen Marsden. I stayed there in 1920, when you were married, William, do you remember that?” She turned to Regina. “I always stayed at the Rectory before then, but Alice had all her bridesmaids there for the wedding, so Aunt Emily and I stayed at Mrs. Marsden’s B&B. Ellen and I have been friends for a long time.”

  Regina had seen pictures of the long-ago event and hadn’t known who any of the bridesmaids were. Now it struck her, for the first time, as odd that Sophie had not been a part of Alice’s wedding. Sophie had been near Alice in age and, as Alice’s cousin, had often stayed at the Rectory.

  Regina’s mind drifted back to the conversation of the night before as Sophie continued. “My mother died when I was ten, and I went to Charlottesville to live with my aunt, Emily Worthington. But I often visited the Rectory where Alice grew up. Her father, George Wilcox, was Emily’s and my father’s brother.”

  “I don’t remember him.” Ree moved uncomfortably in her chair. She had thought Alice and William were her grandparents, so she’d thought of the Wilcoxes, who were actually her grandparents, as much older, long-gone ancestors.

  “You and I are first cousins once removed.” She patted Regina’s hand and resumed her recollections. “When I was twenty-four years old I spent the whole summer at the Rectory. That’s when we all met William.”

  Who had first been Sophie’s suitor. Regina glanced at Sophie, whose expression was serene. “So you’re related to Alice but not to Alice’s mother.”

  “No, Alice’s mother was Lucy Pace. Alice was the Paces’ only grandchild. They were an old family of substantial property and wealth. The Wilcoxes were respectable and educated but never wealthy.”

  William appeared to be drowsing peacefully. Regina eased her hand from his limp fingers, stood, and moved to the window as Sophie nattered on. A group of Hannons formed in the parking lot between two cars—Edith’s and Mary’s. Alice’s lavender hat and white hair were unmistakable in the center. From their clothes, it looked as though the Hannons had come straight from church. Fran and Pace joine
d them, and they all filed toward the main door of the hospital.

  “Sophie, we should go.”

  After a short goodbye, during which Sophie did not rush and Regina silently prayed she’d be quick enough, they boarded one of the two elevators. When they reached the first floor, the family was nowhere in sight, but the other elevator was on the way up.

  Sophie took Regina’s hand and whispered, “Lucky escape!”

  “Let’s get out of here before they look out the window,” Regina agreed, feeling lighter-hearted already.

  As they headed back to Mrs. Marsden’s, Regina said, “He seems better.” When Sophie didn’t answer, she stole a glance. Sophie was gazing off to the side thoughtfully, one frail hand laid across her heart. “Are you okay?”

  She answered absently, “I’m fine. Regina, while I’m here, I would like to visit some old friends of mine in Lynchburg. Would you mind terribly driving me there after lunch?”

  “Of course not. I’d be glad to.”

  “They’ve invited me to stay with them for as long as I need to, and they’ll bring me back here. I don’t want to fly back to Savannah and have to turn right around.”

  Regina bit her lip as the significance of Sophie’s words sank in. “Do you think he’s dying?”

  “I think he will be gone soon.” She turned to Regina and smiled gently. “My generation will all be gone soon.”

  “Alice seems as strong as ever, physically.”

  “What will become of her now? Will she stay on at Blue Lake? With Mary?”

  Regina explained the plan to sell the house and move Alice to Westover Hall. “I hate to see the house go, but I can’t really complain, because I’m hardly ever there and don’t do anything to keep it going. Mary takes care of everything, and she wants to sell.”

  As they pulled up to Mrs. Marsden’s, Sophie said, “You won’t be missed at home if you stay for lunch with me, will you?”