Deep Betrayal (Lies Beneath #2)

by Anne Greenwood Brown

  “I tried to copy you,” Sophie said, “but I couldn’t do it. Besides, it’s too cold for me. I guess I can only see the colors. She says it’s because I’m a ‘Half.’ ”

  “She? Who’s ‘she’?” I asked. “What colors?”

  Sophie swallowed hard. “I can see the prisms in people. That’s why I wanted to do the science project. When you’re happy, you look so pretty, Lily—like raspberry ice cream—but right now you don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

  I turned to Calder, but Sophie’s question did nothing to shake the rigid set of his jaw.

  Sophie was still talking. “But you don’t look as bad as Gabrielle’s big brother. It makes me sick to look at him.”

  “What have you been doing with the stopwatch?” Calder asked me.

  This was not the way I wanted to tell him. Sophie realized a little too late that he didn’t have a clue. She shot me an apologetic look before turning her attention back to the fish circling the boat.

  “I’ve been experimenting to see how long I can go without air. My best time so far is four minutes, thirty-two seconds,” I said sheepishly.

  “No tail,” he said, but it was a question, and the anxiety in his eyes needled me. Why didn’t he want that for me?

  Oh. I could read it there on his face. He was worried that if I was a mermaid, I would fall into their mental funk. Well, that was silly. Why would I need to look for energy in other lives when I was perfectly happy myself? Calder and I would still be enough for each other, wouldn’t we? Even if his worry was justified, we could keep each other from hunting. Couldn’t we? I was sure of it.

  “No tail.” Sophie sighed, reaching over the side of the boat and stroking a whitefish.

  Calder exhaled and, bracing himself, asked, “Anything else I should know?”

  I stared at my feet. “You and Dad aren’t the only ones I can hear in the lake.”

  Later that night, after the sun set, Sophie crept into my room and slid under the covers with me. I dropped my book to the floor and wrapped my arm around her. Her skin was cool through her thin nightgown. She tucked her head under my chin, and I could feel the moisture on her cheeks against my chest.

  I was about to fall asleep, when she spoke. “Do you think we should tell Mom the truth about Dad?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Sophie pulled out of my arms. “If she didn’t cry so much, if she wasn’t so sad, it wouldn’t hurt Dad so much to look at her. Then he could come home.”

  “I get your logic, Soph, but how does knowing the truth make her cry less?”

  “Wouldn’t knowing the truth be better than thinking he’s left us?”

  “He has left us.”

  “No, he hasn’t. He’s probably swimming out in front of the house right now, probably waiting for your light to go out. I think he wants to come in. But he can’t.”

  “No one’s locked the door,” I said.

  She shook her head, and her eyes glistened in the dim light. “It gives me a tummyache to look at Mom. It’s almost as bad as looking at Jack Pettit. I bet it’s worse for Dad. I think it would be better if Mom knew the truth. I wasn’t scared when I figured it out.”

  “And why is that, Sophie?”

  She shrugged, her shoulders nudging the pillow. “I guess no one told me I was supposed to be.”

  “I’ve been pretty dumb about things,” I said, tucking my blankets around her.

  The moon shone through my window, lighting her face in a silvery blue. “Not dumb. But you don’t trust people.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Remember when I fell out of the kayak?”

  How could I forget? That was the night Calder’s sisters almost succeeded in their plan to kill Dad. That was the night Calder confessed his part in their plot.

  “Why did you come after me when Dad had already got there? Why did you jump off the cliff this spring?”

  I closed my eyes tight, pushing out the memory. “Who told you about that?”

  “Why did you do it, Lily?”

  “I thought I was protecting the family.”

  “Mom’s tougher than you think,” she said.

  I chewed on my lip until the skin tore. “You’re sure he’s really out there?”

  Sophie pulled me out of bed and we tiptoed downstairs to the bedroom where Mom slept alone, her body curled around a pillow.

  I shook her shoulder gently. “Mom? Mom, wake up.”

  “What?” She pushed herself up on her elbow. “Everything okay? Is Sophie okay? What’s wrong?”

  Sophie came around my right side and sat on the bed, taking Mom’s hand. “Come with us, Mommy,” she said. “It’s about Dad.”

  Sophie and I helped Mom to her walker and out toward the porch. We eased her across the uneven front yard. She asked why we were outside, but Sophie stroked her arm and told her there was something we needed to show her. When we got to the end of the dock, I turned on the motion detectors. They’d been off since I left last spring. For now, the lake was a silent black pool. We sat in the darkness and waited for something to activate the lights.

  Mom said, “I don’t understand. What are we doing?”

  “Like Sophie said, it’s about Dad. What we’re going to tell you, you know parts already. Other parts will be a surprise. We’re hoping it’s better for you to know the truth, than to imagine the worst. And Sophie thinks it was wrong of me to keep it a secret from you.”

  “The worst?” she asked. “What have you been keeping from me?”

  I started the story. Sophie filled in parts I didn’t know how she knew, like the part about Grandpa breaking his promise and stealing Dad away. Mom barely reacted. She stared straight ahead. Only occasionally did she raise her eyebrows or frown.

  I hoped Sophie was right about Dad swimming in front of the house. We’d been out on the dock for twenty minutes and there was still no movement on the water. I got to the part about Dad rescuing me from the lake when there was a small splash against the dock. A mechanical buzzing followed, then a loud clunk as the motion detectors activated and the spotlights snapped on, illuminating the night. A dark shape breached and Dad emerged, head above the waterline, ripples sloshing against his shoulders.

  Mom tensed and grabbed both Sophie and me by the knees. “Jason?” she called, terror in her voice.

  Dad stared at us with a cool, blank stare. We might as well have been strangers for the amount of concern he showed us. There was no panic, no apology, no explanation. His face was devoid of all warmth, and I hoped I hadn’t made the biggest mistake of my life.

  There was an intake of breath—maybe mine, maybe Mom’s—followed by a scream. “Jason! Jason! Oh my God, Jason!”

  I counted to three, and Dad dove—a rippling bull’s-eye marking his exit.

  MY SCRIBBLINGS

  An Unappreciative Man of Pure and Utter Suckage

  Ozymandias may be dust but

  he was a better man than you, who blew

  away with wind and water.

  So piss off.

  Signed, your loving Daughter

  MERMAID STATS

  Best Swim Time: 4 minutes 32 seconds

  Voices:

  Tail: Who are you kidding?

  25

  WORMS

  The rest of the night I slept, or I didn’t sleep, I don’t know which. Between thinking about Jules and everyone arriving tomorrow and Mom’s hysterics, there was nothing I could do to escape the incessant worry. I know I saw my clock turn to 2:15. And I also saw 4:27. But I must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next time I looked it was 10:41 a.m.

  A caramel mocha latte sounded like the only thing that could reach me right now, and I doubted Mom would be needing the car. I rolled out of bed, threw on a Fleetwood Mac T-shirt, an embroidered skirt, and combat boots, and headed for town.

  But when I got to the café, the door was locked. I shook the doorknob and checked my phone for the time. The neon open sig
n was unlit, replaced by a St. Jude vigil candle on the window ledge. I peered through the glass, cupping my hands at my temples to keep out the sunlight. Inside it was dark but for a sliver of light from under the office door.

  I shook the handle again and called through the glass, “Mrs. Boyd, are you in there? Mrs. Boyd?”

  The office door opened and Mrs. Boyd stepped out. She stopped just beyond the counter and said, “Sorry, we’re … Oh, it’s you.” She finished her walk to the door and unlocked it, opening it just enough to let me in. She tucked a wrinkled tissue in her bra.

  “Good Lord, girl, you look awful. I’ll have your coffee ready in two seconds.”

  I followed her to the counter. “Why are you closed? Everything okay?”

  Mrs. Boyd bent over behind the espresso machine and got a gallon of milk from the refrigerator. “I’m always closed on this day.”

  I leaned against the counter and waited for her to finish steaming the milk. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “That’s sweet, honey, but no, thank you.” From where I stood, I had a clear view of the office. Its door was still partially open. I’d never been inside; Mrs. Boyd always kept it locked. Through the gap I could see a bulletin board covered in faded photographs. Another vigil candle burned on the desk.

  “Another St. Jude?” I asked, gesturing vaguely toward the office.

  Mrs. Boyd looked, then went over to close the door. “St. Adjutor.”

  I’d never heard of him, but that didn’t mean much. Mrs. Boyd handed me my coffee, put a day-old apple fritter in my hand, then practically pushed me out the door. Once she had me on the sidewalk, she locked the door again and pulled the shade.

  “Okayee,” I said to myself. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Lil.” I headed toward a red-lacquered bench by the water.

  It was almost the Fourth of July, but the lake air still kept the mornings cool. Halyards ting-tanged off the sailboat masts in the marina, and cars rolled idly through town. There was an Eeyaw, aw! Yaw! and two seagulls landed a few yards from me, eyeing my breakfast with tilted heads.

  Hungry? They took two synchronized steps toward me, so I pinched off some of the fritter and tossed it their way.

  “Feeding the birds, Miss Hancock? That’s very Franciscan of you.”

  I shielded my eyes from the midmorning sun and found the speaker, a man dressed in worn sneakers, khaki pants, and a jean jacket. Underneath, he wore a black shirt and white collar.

  “Father Hoole! I didn’t recognize you at first.”

  “Ha! A full cassock seemed a little formal for a walk in the park.”

  “Yeah, guess so.”

  He sat down beside me, and I shuffled to my right. “Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

  I shrugged and threw the remaining pastry to the birds. They fought over it, snapping at each other in turns. “Not really.”

  “I didn’t see your family at Mass this morning. I haven’t seen your dad in a few.”

  “Oh, is it Sunday?” Father Hoole leaned back to see if I was kidding. “Sorry, Father. I guess we all forgot. Rough night.”

  “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

  “You mean like a confession?”

  “Well, if you’d like to go up to the church we can, but I was thinking more like a conversation.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I fingered my necklace absentmindedly, trying to think of a good explanation. “Let’s just say I’ve let some things get a little out of hand.”

  Father Hoole shifted his weight and looked out across the lake. He was right. This might be easier if we didn’t look at each other. “I see. Maybe you could define ‘out of hand.’ ”

  “What if I told you I was hearing voices?”

  Father Hoole’s shoulders relaxed. Apparently he preferred this question to the direction he thought our conversation was going. “Ah. Well. The prophets heard voices.”

  “They heard God,” I said.

  “Fair enough. Are you hearing God?”

  I shook my head and kicked at the seagull who’d lost out on the meal. “I seriously doubt it.”

  “Are the voices coming from a place of love?”

  “Exact opposite. They sound angry.”

  “Ah. Common misconception.” Father Hoole leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, his fingers clasped together. His khakis were frayed at the bottoms. “Anger is not the opposite of love. The opposite of love is indifference. Indifference, neglect … these things can do terrible damage to a person. Apathy can suck the life right out of someone.”

  Apathy? Maris and Pavati could be described in many ways, but apathetic was not one of them.

  Father Hoole sat back again and folded his arms across his chest. “Find out what the voices care about. If it comes from love, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

  In the distance, I saw Calder approaching us slowly. “I’ve got to go, Father.” I pointed to Calder. “Some friends of mine are coming up for the week. We’re meeting them at the ferry in a few minutes.”

  “Ah, well, you have fun. I think I’ll sit here for a while longer. Oh, but hey, how’d you get Mrs. Boyd to make you a coffee? Isn’t she closed today?”

  “I guess I was just being pushy. I didn’t know she wasn’t open.”

  He eyed the seagull that was now tugging at the laces on my boot. “Huh. Maybe I can convince her to make me a cup. So we’ll see all the Hancocks at Mass next Sunday?”

  “Um, yep?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I dropped my empty cup into a trash can and jogged over to Calder, who slipped his fingers through mine. “Who’s that?” he asked.

  “Father Hoole. He noticed we weren’t at Mass. Dad still hasn’t come home. Have you seen him?”

  Calder squeezed my hand and looked out across the lake. “I heard your mom saw Jason in the water last night.”

  “You did see him!”

  “Do you think that was smart to tell her?” he asked.

  I thought of my mom crying into the morning hours. “Jury’s still out on that one. By the way, it was Sophie’s idea to tell her. She thinks Mom will feel better … eventually … now that she knows.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to help that along,” he said.

  About fifteen minutes later, Zach’s familiar blue van rolled up to the ferry dock.

  “That them?” Calder asked.

  “That’s them,” I said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. It seemed like an invasion, this other part of my life arriving uninvited. Not like I owned the town, but it still felt weird. And it made me nervous to have them here—now—with crazed mermaids on the loose.

  Calder rubbed my shoulder, trying to relax me. “Come on, babe,” he said. “Get it together. You’re muddying up.”

  “Right,” I said. “Happy thoughts.”

  He kissed my hair, and it must have improved my color, because he groaned quietly under his breath.

  The sliding side door opened, and Jules practically fell out of the van. Rob tumbled out behind her, laughing and pushing her. Jules ran toward me, yelling, “Lily! Lily! We made it!” but Rob held back to talk to Phillip at the driver’s-side window.

  For a second, Jules’s excitement stripped away my fears and made me laugh. “Did you think you wouldn’t?”

  She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way and pulled her dark hair into a ponytail. “Phillip was driving the last hour. It was a leap of faith,” she said.

  I hugged her. “You seem to be in one piece.”

  “Barely.”

  Rob came up behind her, his face tense—hopefully he was embarrassed by his behavior the last time I saw him. “Hey, Lil.”

  “Hey, Robby. You remember Calder?”

  “Yeah. How you doing, man?”

  Calder didn’t answer. His attention was on Jules. “So you’re staying on Madeline?” he asked. “What side?”

  “I don’t know,” Jules said. “Phillip said it’s past a marina and a golf cou
rse. There’s room for you two if you want to come stay at the house.”

  I glanced at Calder, and then Jules was begging. “Please, Lily? We’ve got to catch up.”

  “That sounds like a great idea to me,” Calder said.

  “I’d have to ask my mom,” I said, hedging.

  “She already said it was okay,” Calder said.

  I looked at him, silently asking, She did? But Calder wasn’t looking at me. He was staring directly into Jules’s eyes, her pupils dilating. Hmmm. So it was Calder’s idea to invite us to the house—not Jules’s—and Rob wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea. He shifted in his shoes and scowled at the ground. What was Calder’s angle?

  “The van’s kind of crowded,” Rob said.

  “That’s okay,” Calder said. “We’ll find our own way there.”

  Phillip came over as the ferry crew started loading cars. “Hey, Hancock!” He gave me a big hug.

  “They’re going to stay at the house,” Jules said.

  Phillip’s eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah? Hey, that’s awesome! My uncle’s got a ton of room, and it’s easy to find. Take Middle Road until it Ts. Hang a left and we’re on the lakeside. I’ll park the van at the end of the driveway.”

  “Between Chebomnicon Bay and Big Bay Point?” Calder asked.

  “Um, I guess,” said Phillip. “I only know the roads.”

  “We’ll find it,” Calder said. “No problem.”

  “Guys! We’re loading!” yelled Zach, now in the driver’s seat. Colleen waved at me through a back window.

  “See you in a bit, Lily,” Jules said. “We’re cooking out. Don’t be late.”

  “Absolutely not,” I said, and Calder raised a hand to wave goodbye.

  Zach tentatively pulled his mom’s van onto the ferry and followed the crewman’s direction to even out the weight. The ferry groaned as it rubbed against the black rubber bumpers lining the pier.

  “That boy’s a nervous wreck,” Calder said.

  “That makes two of us. But you should cut him some slack. It’s his first time taking a car on board.”

  Calder shook his head. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Maris hijacks the ferry and pulls them all out of the van and down to the bottom of the lake.”