by Karen White
“Yes, I did—and the purse, too. Lily made sure she put my lipstick inside so that I would have it available after every sip and bite I took tonight.”
Lindi laughed, then gave Merilee an impulsive hug. “Sorry, I had to do that. You look so . . . happy. And relaxed. I don’t think I’ve seen you look either in the three months since I met you.”
“Thanks. I am happy. And relaxed.” She beamed. “And I need to go find my date because I’m in the mood to dance, and I’ve been told that he’s a very good dancer.”
“Who told you that?”
“He did.” They both burst out laughing and Merilee was still grinning when she found Wade and he took her out on the dance floor and confirmed that he was, indeed, a very good dancer.
The evening passed in a blur of smiling faces, of loud music and cool fall air carrying with it the smoke from bonfires lit around the yard, groups of tables and chairs set nearby for people to take a break from dancing or just to enjoy the stars in the clear violet sky.
Merilee kept searching for Heather, wishing her dress had been red or orange to make her easier to spot, wanting to get the final tally on the auction. And, Merilee forced herself to admit, to hear some word of recognition from Heather for all her hard work. But as the evening wore on, she couldn’t spot Heather in the crowd. She hoped she was dancing and not holed up in her office punching numbers to confirm the gala’s success.
She was dancing a two-step with Lindi’s husband, Paul—also a great dancer—when Liz tapped her on her shoulder, making them pause in the middle of a step. “Heather wanted me to let you know that someone spotted your shoes on the dock.” She pointed behind her to the dark lake and the dock, where the boats had all been raised out of the water for the season, thick dark shadows against the moon-lapped waves.
“On the dock? Are you sure? I can’t imagine why they’d be there.”
“I’m only the messenger and that’s what Heather told me.”
Merilee looked past Liz toward the house. “Have you seen Heather? I’ve been looking for her for a while and haven’t seen her.”
Liz shook her head. “I haven’t either. She texted me to let you know about the shoes. She said she’s been trying to text you to let you know, but your phone’s turned off.”
“What? It shouldn’t be.” She glanced over to one of the tables where she’d placed her purse. “Not that I’ve remembered to check it, anyway. I must have done it by accident or just forgot I’d turned it off. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Mom brain,” said Liz. “Happens to me all the time. That’s probably how your shoes got on the dock—either you put them there and forgot, or somebody else was wearing them thinking they were theirs.” They both laughed as Liz waved good-bye, then headed off toward one of the bonfires. Merilee began walking toward the dock for her shoes but figured she wasn’t done dancing yet and her feet would thank her for keeping the flip-flops for a little while longer. Merilee resumed dancing, keeping an eye out for Wade, hoping for one last dance with him. He’d been requisitioned earlier by Heather asking for his help in assisting some of the other men in taking down the tables and chairs and moving them outside to the waiting catering truck.
The song ended and the band began to pack up as dancers drifted from the dance floor to pick up purses and coats and say good-bye. Merilee heard a dog barking from the dock area and, after one last look for Wade, headed down to search for her shoes and say good-bye to Puddles.
The barking got louder as she approached, the tone different from what she’d heard before. It was insistent, angry, almost. “Puddles,” she called, walking carefully down the sloping lawn, the grass slippery under her feet.
The dog bounded toward her from the dock, but instead of stopping and allowing her to pet him, he immediately began to run toward the dock again, pausing to look back as if wanting her to follow him. “What is it, boy?” she asked, silently praying it wasn’t a water moccasin or some other critter that could bite, fly, or run faster than she could.
She wished that she’d brought her phone so she could turn on the flashlight to guide her way. There were no lights on the dock, probably to keep partygoers away from it, but the crescent moon shone brightly from the sky, casting everything in its milky glow.
Puddles ran back to her and nudged her hand, urging her to follow. With one last glance over her shoulder to where her purse and phone were, she began following the dog down the main dock until the dog took a turn around the corner of a smaller walkway stuck between two boat lifts. The wood creaked and swayed as she carefully lifted her hem and then slowly followed the dog until she reached the turn in the dock. It was darker there, the light hidden between the two lifted boats, but she could make out the shape of the black Lab waiting for her. As soon as he saw her, he resumed his frantic barking, his head facing the water.
“What is it, boy?” she asked again, moving just an inch forward, waiting for her eyes to adjust and hoping she wouldn’t see something thick and coiled and shining in the moonlight. “What is it . . .” The word died in her throat.
The dock lifted on a gentle wave, allowing in a triangular slice of moonlight, illuminating something in the water. Something that appeared to be a mannequin stuck between two pilings of the dock and wearing a white shirt and dark trousers. Merilee blinked hard, suddenly feeling how very cold it was outside and wondering who’d put a mannequin in the water. She jerked back, almost stumbling backward off the dock. She heard an unearthly sound, a piercing scream that went on and on while the dog continued to bark. When she found she couldn’t breathe any longer, she realized the screams were coming from her own throat.
Twenty-eight
SUGAR
Wade held open the door to his fancy foreign sports car, then waited for Sugar. She glanced into the backseat at a black-clad Merilee, who appeared to have not slept in the week since she’d discovered Daniel Blackford’s body floating facedown in Lake Lanier.
“You look terrible,” Sugar said as she carefully lowered herself into the seat, praying her knees could get her back up again. “Black is not your best color.”
Merilee sniffed as she raised a wadded tissue to her nose, the white glaring against her black leather gloves. “Thank you, Sugar. I had no idea.”
Wade closed the door as Sugar grimaced, glad to have forced something besides shock and sorrow from Merilee. There’d been a lot of both in the last week, and not just on Merilee’s part. Sugar had taken the news about Daniel hard. How did an expert swimmer and sailor, someone dressed in a tux and not known to drink alcohol to excess, drown on his own property at a party to which he was playing host? The autopsy results hadn’t been announced to the public yet, but Sugar hoped that he’d had an aneurysm or something to explain the unexplainable.
Because he shouldn’t be dead. In a fair world, he wouldn’t be. But, as she’d learned again and again over the last ninety-three years, life was never fair. Nor did it promise anyone that it would be. Maybe that was the point of life—that the water wasn’t always supposed to be smooth. That all the little storms were supposed to teach you how to keep your head above water no matter how high the swells.
“Nice hat,” Wade said in an attempt to break the silence that sat thick and heavy inside the car.
“It’s older than you by about forty years, but it still looks good enough to wear. I’ve worn it to every single funeral I’ve ever been to.”
“Good for you,” Wade said, but his voice sounded distracted as he glanced again in the rearview mirror to see Merilee, who seemed focused on something outside her car window.
It had begun to rain, and a thin drizzle coated the windshield, the wipers automatically swishing the moisture away. The wipers on her old Lincoln had sounded like semiautomatic gunfire, according to Daniel, and suddenly she was feeling the pinpricks of tears behind her eyes. She blinked rapidly, unwilling to break her promise to herself thi
s late in the game.
“We’ll have to stop back at the house to get my casserole for Heather and the girls before the reception after the service.”
“You made a casserole?” Merilee’s voice sounded raw and scratchy.
“Of course. I made cheese straws, too. You can carry them inside so people will think you made them.”
Merilee turned her head to look out the window again without comment.
“Have you spoken with Heather?” Wade asked Merilee, his gaze focused on the rearview mirror.
“No. I’ve called a few times, but someone else always answers. I can’t imagine . . .” She stopped. “She hasn’t called me back. I was hoping to have a chance to talk with her today—I have something I need to return to her.”
Wade glanced again in the rearview mirror, but Merilee didn’t say anything else.
“I’ve just never heard of a funeral without a visitation,” Sugar said. “It doesn’t seem right. It’s always a nice way to see a person for the last time and say your final good-byes. I just don’t understand why Heather would skip all that.”
Wade patted her clenched hands on her lap. “After the autopsy, he was cremated. They usually have the urn at the service, and you can say your good-byes then.”
She pulled her hands away. “It’s not the same.” She shook her head, trying to think of the appropriate words to express her disappointment. “It’s not the same,” she said again.
The service was well attended, which was usually the case when someone young died. If she ever made it to heaven, she’d demand an explanation for this and all the other unexplainables she’d encountered over the last nine decades. Her determination to have life explained to her was probably why she’d been allowed to stay on this earth for so long—her come-to-Jesus meeting was bound to take some time and ruffle a feather or two.
As they walked down the aisle looking for room for three in a pew, Sugar became aware of how people seemed to look straight ahead as they approached, rooted like anchors in their spots despite plenty of room in the middle of the pew. On the pretext of adjusting her hat, she turned her head to direct her stink eye at one such couple, only to find an entire row of mourners looking at Merilee’s back. One person pointed while whispering to the woman next to her. She continued to follow Wade and Merilee as a sick feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach.
They’d reached the front of the main aisle without any luck and were returning down the outside aisle when Wade stopped at a pew where a man was quickly putting down coats in the empty spaces next to the aisle. As if unaware of what the man was doing, Wade slid the coats into a pile, then motioned for Sugar and Merilee to sit. With an exaggerated mouthed thank you toward the man with the coats, Wade joined them on the end of the pew, doing a fine imitation of those around him by staring ahead and ignoring everyone else.
The blond woman sitting directly in front turned around to see who’d just sat down. It was that Sharlene person who Merilee carpooled with who couldn’t stay off Sugar’s grass because she was always talking on the phone. The woman shouldn’t be allowed to walk and talk on a cell phone, much less operate a moving vehicle with children riding as passengers.
Sugar saw Merilee’s eyes widen in recognition and then saw her open her mouth to say something, but immediately shut it when Sharlene turned around again, pretending she hadn’t seen them.
Merilee went absolutely still, focusing on the altar and the small table with the wooden urn on top, suddenly aware that everyone was looking at her while pretending she wasn’t there. Wade, sitting next to her, took her hand, and Merilee squeezed it tightly.
Heather sat in the front row, her blond hair in stark contrast to a black suit that looked like she’d been poured into it. Her two daughters, little replicas of their mother, sat beside her, pressing wet faces onto the sleeves of Heather’s jacket. There were no grandparents in attendance, but a man who looked startlingly enough like Dan for Sugar to assume it was his brother sat on the other side of Bailey, his long arm stretched along the back of the pew behind Heather’s shoulders.
As if sensing someone watching her, Heather turned and met Sugar’s gaze. Sugar held it until Heather turned away. Several times during the short service, Sugar allowed her eyes to stray to the front pew, catching Heather surreptitiously watching Merilee and Wade before refocusing her attention on the pastor and the urn carrying the ashes of her recently departed husband.
Following the service, Merilee walked quickly from the church, keeping her gaze on the ground in front of her, ignoring the clusters of people huddled under black umbrellas who looked right through her. Wade and Sugar followed her under their own umbrella, unable to convince Merilee that Wade was happy to get wet if she wanted shelter from the rain. As they reached the bottom of the steps, someone called Merilee’s name, and she looked up with such an expression of relief that Sugar almost clapped.
“Lindi!” Merilee said, embracing her friend, then stepping under the offered umbrella. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”
Lindi said hello to Wade and Sugar, then hugged Merilee again. “I was a little late—Paul’s at home with two sick children—so I was standing in back of the church and getting a pretty good view of everything. What was that all about?”
Merilee looked close to crying. “I don’t know. Heather’s not returning my calls, and nobody’s talking to me. It’s like because I found Dan in the water, they think I’m guilty of something.”
Lindi stepped back, her eyes compassionate. “Please don’t give any thought to what people are saying. Daniel’s death is a shock to everybody, and they just want to find a reason, an explanation.”
Merilee blinked at her. “What do you mean? What are people saying?”
Lindi looked sincerely baffled. “Look, you’ve been through a hell of a time. I don’t think this is the time or the place . . .”
“What is it, Lindi? What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry. I thought maybe you’d heard some of the rumors. I know they’re all lies, so I didn’t bother you with them. Why don’t we meet for coffee this week and we can talk about it?”
“What rumors?” Merilee insisted. “Lindi—you might be my only friend. Whether they’re true or not, you need to tell me.”
Lindi looked as if she might cry. “I’m sorry. I really thought you knew. I heard it this week in the carpool line, but I figured it was just gossip. Something bored housewives made up to make what happened to Daniel even more tragic and awful—as if that’s even possible.”
“What rumor?” Merilee asked again, her voice higher pitched than usual.
Lindi seemed to consider her words. “People are saying that this isn’t the first drowning you’ve been involved with.”
Merilee clutched at her throat, pulling at the collar of her coat as if she suddenly couldn’t breathe. “They’re talking about my little brother?”
Lindi looked surprised and then a little sickly. She put her hand on Merilee’s arm. “No. Someone else. They’re saying you were married before Michael. And that your husband drowned under suspicious circumstances. I told them they were all lies. That you and I are friends and you hadn’t said anything . . .”
Wade grabbed Merilee’s elbow before her knees buckled, keeping her upright.
“Let me go get you something to drink,” Lindi said, already turning back toward the church steps.
“No,” Merilee managed. “I just want to go home.”
Lindi looked at Wade. “You’ll get her home and make sure she’s all right?”
“Of course.” He put his arm around Merilee and she leaned into him.
“I’ll call you later,” Lindi said, brushing hair out of Merilee’s eyes and raising Sugar’s opinion of lawyers up exactly one notch.
They made it to the car and drove in silence on the short ride home. Merilee stared out her window, he
r face the color of a bleached bedsheet. Wade parked in front of the cottage and had unbuckled his seat belt as if to get out, but Merilee put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t. Please. I need to be alone right now. Thank you for the ride.” She opened her door and placed both feet on the ground.
Never having been one to listen, Wade followed her out of the car. “That’s it? Thank you for the ride? You haven’t said one thing to me about what happened that night. And now this. And all you can say is ‘Thank you for the ride’?”
“I’m sorry.” Merilee turned and ran up the porch steps, then let herself into the house without looking back.
Wade climbed back into the car and shut his door, then sat for a long moment without putting the car in drive. “What was that all about?”
“It’s not my place to assume,” Sugar said.
“If she was married and widowed before, don’t you think she would have mentioned it?”
Sugar looked at Wade over the tops of her glasses to make sure she got her point across. “That’s not what you should be concerned with. She’ll tell you the truth if you ask her. For some reason, she’s taken a shine to you. What worries me is who did know, and why they decided to let that particular cat out of the bag now.”
The rain began to fall again, hard this time, splashing against the windshield as the wipers silently swished back and forth in a steady rhythm. Sugar looked through the rain toward the woods, her view obscured intermittently by the blades, the tops of the trees fuzzy in the rainy haze of late morning. But she didn’t need to see the woods to know they were there. She knew where they were and what they looked like whether she could see them or not. Just like she knew that Merilee was hiding something, a secret she’d never wanted to reveal but that Sugar had known existed from the first moment she’d met her. Because, as Sugar had learned, everybody has at least one secret that could break a heart.