The Night the Lights Went Out

by Karen White

  THE PLAYING FIELDS BLOG

  Observations of Suburban Life from Sweet Apple, Georgia

  Written by: Your Neighbor

  Installment #9: Death and Taxes

  As Benjamin Franklin was fond of saying, there are only two guarantees in life: death and taxes. I’ve always found it reassuring not having to wonder if I’ll get that tax bill or if one day I’ll die. Because we all will. Someday. Sadly, it will happen to some of us sooner rather than later.

  For those of you who aren’t from around here, there are certain customs we here in the South adhere to when someone dies. First of all, bring a casserole to the deceased family’s home. Or deviled eggs. There’s very little (grief included) that cannot be made softer by either one of these. When in doubt, look in the back of your favorite cookbook under the “freezes beautifully” section to choose a variation of noodles, cheese, and bean dishes to bring to the bereaved family.

  Second, go to the funeral. Even if you only knew the deceased from the post office line or from sitting on the same bleachers at your son’s football games, here in the South you’re expected to be in attendance. How else are they going to get rid of all those casseroles?

  Lastly, a Southern funeral is not the place to wear your new red sundress. Think black or brown or blue, and definitely low heels. Nothing flashy or anything remotely sexy. Wearing red to a funeral is frowned on in the South just as much as wearing white to a wedding unless you’re the bride.

  Why, you may ask, am I bringing up such a somber topic? In case you are not aware, we have recently lost an important member of our Sweet Apple community. A husband, father, and local businessman was found dead at his home on Lake Lanier last week during a gala fund-raiser for a local private school. Nobody—including the police—seems to know exactly what happened, as the poor victim wasn’t known to dabble in destructive behaviors and those who knew him well—including his beautiful widow—claim the circumstances of his death are simply beyond comprehension.

  The death is being called an accident, but nasty rumors are churning up like a cyclone over warm waters. And if we get enough hot air blowing, we’re going to create us a hurricane. Sadly, all the rumors and innuendos seem pointed at the poor woman who happened to discover the body. I don’t claim to be an insider, but then, I don’t have to be one. Just listening to the crowd at the local coffee shop, I’m going to assume that they all must be insiders because they all had more fuel to add to the fire. Everybody had an opinion they were sure was based on fact, supporting all sorts of allegations about that poor woman. And because I don’t support gossip, rumors, or innuendos, I’m not going to repeat any of them here. Just know that nobody’s been arrested (according to one account), and I’m quite sure there was no conspiracy or mob involvement. This is Sweet Apple, after all. Not Chicago.

  Now, I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the Bible, but I’d wager that most of you know the story about stoning the sinner and how only the person without sin was supposed to cast the first stone. There’s been a lot of talk about certain people having secrets from their past, and how secrets are a lot like chickens: They always come back home to roost. Show me one neighbor who doesn’t have a secret and I’ll show you a liar. Remember that when you pick up a stone with the intent to throw it.

  Which brings me to today’s Southern saying: “You’re driving your chickens to the wrong market.” That’s what I’d like to say to all those people in the coffee shop trading rumors like they were at the New York Stock Exchange. And if you need me to define that one for you, then I’d just say that you won’t hurt your back totin’ your brains. Bless your heart.

  Twenty-nine

  MERILEE

  Colin looked up at his mother where she stood on a ladder, hammering a hook into the side of a tree to hang the ancient bird feeder she’d found in the back of the hall closet. She’d remembered Sugar telling her how Lamar had hung bird feeders around the house and how she’d kept them stocked with seeds in an effort to make good karma when Tom went to fight in the war. Not that it had worked out, but it had set a precedent for Merilee and given her a project to keep her busy while hiding out from the rest of her life.

  “It’s crooked,” Colin pointed out as she hung the wooden feeder on the hook, the ubiquitous field glasses pressed to his eyes as if he needed them to judge the less-than-expert hanging job his mother was attempting.

  “Thanks,” she said, wiping her hands on her jeans as she climbed down the short ladder and looked up to admire her handiwork. Or lack thereof. The bird feeder definitely hung at an odd angle, but perfection wasn’t what she’d been going for. “I don’t think the birds are too picky this time of year—they’re just wanting food. And if they don’t like it, they can move on.”

  He smiled broadly and she hugged him just because. Colin was the only one who still approached his life totally unaffected by the fact that his mother was a pariah. His sister walked around like a black cloud hovered over her head.

  “When can we go back to school?” he asked, his head tilted back to examine the birdhouse again. “We’re supposed to be starting an art project with Popsicle sticks this week and I was going to build a supercool birdhouse mansion.”

  Merilee regarded her son, trying to remember not to frown. She’d taken a brief leave of absence from her job and had pulled the kids out of school for a few days of personal leave. Not that the school offered that, but the administration seemed almost overly helpful when she’d come to ask if such a thing was possible. Lily had seemed relieved, mostly due to the fact that only Jenna Matthews would sit next to her in any of their classes, and none of the other cheerleaders were speaking to her.

  “I was thinking tomorrow would be a good day to start back. But I’ll drive you and Lily. Mrs. Cavanaugh stopped by yesterday to let me know that the carpooling situation wasn’t working out for her the way she’d hoped, so it’ll be just the two of you and me, buddy.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. Mostly because Sharlene Cavanaugh had stopped by to snoop, to ask questions about Dan that Merilee had no idea how to answer, and had allowed her eyes to roam over every surface and through every door crack in Merilee’s house.

  The front door was thrust open as Lily ran through it, sobbing as she collapsed into Merilee’s side. Lily had been extra emotional, even for her, ever since she’d heard the news about Dan. She’d always been an empathetic child, feeling others’ hurts sometimes more than she’d feel her own, and her heart had broken for her friend. It might have been easier for her if Bailey had answered her phone so Lily could tell her how sorry she was that her daddy had died.

  Merilee ran her fingers through Lily’s hair, feeling its baby-fine softness, reminding her of how young Lily still was and how it was too early to have to deal with real life at this age. Merilee had always assumed that David’s death might mean she’d paid her dues already, and if that wasn’t enough to protect her from life’s seemingly insurmountable hurdles, then maybe her own kids would get a hall pass. At least in that one respect, she and Sugar were very adept at lying to themselves to get through another day. Or another decade. Surely Sugar realized that by now. But it was one thing to realize it and another thing to accept it. Self-denial was a wonderful substitute for reality.

  “What is it, pumpkin?”

  Lily kept her face buried in Merilee’s sweater, muffling her voice and making it hard to understand her. Merilee placed her finger under Lily’s pixie-like chin and raised her teary face to look at her. “Say that again, please.”

  “Bailey finally answered her phone and she said she can’t come over this weekend to spend the night and that she can’t come over ever or speak to me again.”

  “What?” Merilee held on to enough reason to know her anger was out of proportion to the crime. But she had tried to reach out to Heather for more than a week, with no response at all, and her nerves were frayed. She needed to talk with Heather, needed t
o know whether Liz had told her she’d seen Dan kissing her. Needed to explain to Heather that it had meant nothing and that Dan had loved his wife until the day he died. Surely Heather knew all this, though, without Merilee’s telling her. They were friends, after all. “But that’s ridiculous! Did she say why?”

  Lily pressed her face into Merilee’s sweater again and nodded. Turning her face so she could be understood, she said, “Mrs. Blackford told her not to. And when I asked her why, she hung up on me.” This was followed by a loud hiccup and then hard sobbing, with Lily’s head pressed against Merilee’s hip bone so hard, she imagined it leaving a bruise.

  Merilee knelt on the ground, the coldness of the earth seeping through her jeans. “Sweetheart, the Blackfords have suffered a horrible loss, one that we can’t comprehend. They are grieving in their own way, and we need to give them space now to allow them to do it. You’ve called and left messages to let Bailey know you’re thinking about her, so she knows how you feel. Maybe her mother just doesn’t think that Bailey’s ready to spend the night away from home yet. The ball’s in her court now. Give her some time, and I know she’ll call you.”

  Merilee wasn’t sure how much of that she believed. She’d reached out to Heather in every way possible—including through Patricia and Claire and every person she knew on the gala committee. From the people who’d actually answered her phone calls, she’d received the same response—that Heather was grieving and couldn’t talk about it yet. But Merilee was supposed to have been Heather’s friend and had even considered Dan to be her friend, too. She’d found Dan’s lifeless body floating in the lake—maybe she just needed to hear from Heather herself that she didn’t blame Merilee for not getting there sooner to save Dan.

  Or didn’t Merilee count because she was too new to what Lindi referred to as Heather’s “posse”? She’d done everything she could think of to reach out to Heather except showing up on her front step, not wanting to intrude on what she imagined to be Heather’s desire for a very private grief. But knocking on their front door was exactly what would happen if Merilee still hadn’t heard from Heather by the end of the week. She’d even bring a casserole. She would have smiled at the thought if her own heart hadn’t been weighed down by the heaviness of her grief for Dan and for his family, and for her own daughter’s misery.

  “Wade’s here!” Colin shouted, running toward the drive.

  “That’s Mr. Kimball to you, young man,” she said, trying to think of what she was supposed to say to Wade.

  “Mr. Kimball’s here!” Colin shouted again, the binoculars bouncing against his skinny chest as he ran to greet their visitor.

  Lily wiped her nose on her long sleeve and seemed to perk up at the mention of Wade’s name. Sticking her hand in Merilee’s—something she hadn’t done in a while—she walked with her mom to where Wade was climbing out of his truck.

  “Hello, strangers,” he said, but his eyes were on Merilee. “Thought you might have fallen off the edge of the earth because I hadn’t heard from you since the funeral. And either you’ve changed your number or you keep forgetting to return my texts and phone calls.”

  “I’m sorry,” Merilee said, feeling chagrined. She’d treated Wade the same way Heather had been treating her, but with a lot less reason. Unless being caught in a lie of omission counted. “It’s . . . complicated.”

  “I’m sure it is,” he said. “Want to talk?” He jerked his head in the direction of the porch swing.

  “Ugh. Adults talking.” Colin pressed his palms against the sides of his face like a vise. “I’m going inside to watch TV,” he said as he marched up the porch steps. Merilee knew that he’d already watched his amount of TV for the day, just like he was aware that his mother wouldn’t argue if he watched a little more right now.

  Merilee regarded her daughter. “Didn’t Jenna bring you homework from Mrs. Adler? You might as well get it done, because you have no idea what she might bring home for you today.”

  “I guess.” She stubbed the toe of her sneaker into the dirt. “And I suppose that I’m still not allowed to read the blog?”

  “Absolutely. There’s nothing in it that you need to know about. As soon as everything calms down again, we’ll reevaluate. Until then, the blog is off-limits.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” With a heavy frown, Lily let herself into the house, her feet dragging as if she’d just been condemned to seven years of hard labor.

  Merilee felt the same way as she headed to the porch and sat down on the swing, bracing herself for Wade’s weight as he sat next to her, keeping a hand’s width distance between them.

  “So . . . ,” he began, giving her the chance to explain herself. When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “Whatever we have between us, whatever you want to call it, doesn’t matter right now. At the very least I thought we were friends. I told you about my rather painful past with Heather, yet you didn’t think you should reciprocate about your own past. Specifically, that you’d been married before Michael.”

  “I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “So it’s true? You were married? And widowed?”

  She couldn’t look in his face, her shame like bile in the back of her throat. “Yes. I was married right out of college.”

  He continued to look at her, making it clear that he was expecting her to say more. “What could be so bad about your first marriage that you didn’t think you could tell me?”

  She took a deep breath, not sure how much she could tell him. “He drowned. On our honeymoon.”

  Wade sat back, digesting this bit of information. “I’m sorry, Merilee. I really am. That must have been horrible for you.”

  She focused on pushing the swing with her feet, looking at everything except his face. “Oh, it was.”

  He waited for her to say more, but she wasn’t ready. Couldn’t even imagine finding the words she hadn’t spoken in more than a decade. Because she couldn’t take the look of recrimination and doubt in his eyes if he knew the rest of the story.

  Unaware of her inner turmoil, he said, “There’s one thing I keep thinking about. Who knew about your first marriage? And why would they choose now to talk about it?”

  She looked at him with surprise, wondering why the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “I have no idea. No one here knows. Even Michael.” She caught his sidelong glance. “My only excuse is that I was young and stupid and I wanted to put that horrible time behind me. When I met Michael, I simply pretended it hadn’t happened. All I wanted to do was move forward.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Heather’s called me a couple of times. She wanted me to know that you’re not the person I think I know. That I should be careful.”

  Merilee slid from the swing to face him. “What?”

  “I don’t know what she’s talking about, and I don’t care. I hung up each time she mentioned you. I want to say it’s because she’s out of her mind with grief, and she’s looking to blame anyone for her sadness. But I’ve known her for a long time, and I think there’s something more.” He looked up at the hooks holding the ropes of the swing, as if hoping they’d hold the weight of his words. “I don’t think she’s your friend, Merilee. And I don’t think it’s because of Dan’s death.”

  Merilee started to protest, but he held up his hand to stop her.

  “Let me finish. She wasn’t your friend before, and I know she isn’t now. You haven’t been in a position to hear this, but maybe you are now. When you first met Heather you were vulnerable—newly divorced, knew no one at the school—and she latched onto that. She’s always been really good at seeing the weak spots in people, and yours was your loneliness. I haven’t yet figured out why, because she’s always looking for something in return for anyone she ropes into her circle. But you’re too nice. You don’t really buy into all that brand-name-and-appearances game that Heather and most of her friends like to play. And you don’t play tennis.
”

  He’d tried for a lighter note, but Merilee was too upset and too angry to go along. Jabbing her finger into his shoulder, she said, “She is my friend, Wade. I know she broke your heart, which is why you have this grudge against her, but I’ve seen her many kindnesses toward me and my kids. Her husband just died and she must be out of her mind with grief and not thinking clearly. There has been some horrible misunderstanding, and if I haven’t heard from her by Friday, I’m going to go to her house and knock on the door and talk to her face-to-face.”

  He held her gaze. “You do that. And when she closes the door in your face, just remember that there’s more to friendship than giving people stuff and having your minions do things. It’s about showing your vulnerabilities. You wear yours on your sleeve, so it was easy for her. But did she ever show you hers?”

  Merilee couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry. And it wasn’t just his insistence that Heather wasn’t her friend. Because in a small corner of her brain, she had the niggling suspicion that there might be some truth to his words, which would make her the biggest fool out there. Heather had never seemed vulnerable, not even at the moment when she’d come to see why Merilee was screaming outside on the dock. She’d taken Merilee aside and tried to comfort her as all the remaining guests gathered around them.

  “We’ve got company.” Wade stood, too, and put his arm around her shoulders right at the moment Merilee realized who it must be. A dark four-door sedan with a man wearing a jacket and tie in the front seat. She’d seen it before, after all.

  “Oh, no,” she said, hearing the sob in her voice. “No, no, no.” The backs of her knees hit the edge of the swing, but Wade kept her standing. She had a brief flashback from fourteen years before, another front porch, another dark sedan. Another man found floating in the water.

  “Are you okay?” Wade asked.