Dark Water: A Siren Novel (5 page)

And then I looked at Brian and felt a million times worse than I did before.

His eyebrows were furrowed, his smile uncertain. “Marley … she’s … that is, I think maybe she’s …”

He couldn’t even remember her. His wife. With whom he’d probably been having a perfectly delightful day looking at houses before they’d run into me.

“So I just wanted to show you the view from this room.” I took one step back. And another, and another. “I’m glad you liked it. If you have any other questions or want to make an offer, our realtor, Anne, can help you.”

In the hallway, I ran. I flew downstairs, weaved through the small crowd exploring the house, and burst onto the back deck. There I paused briefly to catch my breath before hurdling the steps leading to the lawn. I still wanted to see Simon, to talk to him about where we were and where we could go … but after what I’d just done, I didn’t trust myself to speak logically,
rationally. Before I said anything else, I needed to calm down and sort out my thoughts.

I headed for the boathouse. Which was more like a run-down shed but still had a door that closed. The showing had just started, so chances were slim anyone would venture this far down the yard so soon.

“That makes no sense.”

“The whole thing was, like, boiling?”

I slowed down, listened to the hushed, unfamiliar voices. They seemed to be coming from behind the shed.

“That’s what I heard. The entire lake bubbled and swirled like some crazy whirlpool.”

The blood slowly drained from my face. I forced my feet to keep moving.

“But why? How?”

“No idea why. How is the reason we’re here.”

Every ounce of energy I’d gained from my exchange with Brian slid toward my belly and slipped away. By the time I rounded the back of the shed and saw the cluster of people gathered around Justine’s and my old red rowboat, I was just lucid enough to make out the next thing one of the guys said.

“The stranger-than-fiction yet here-in-real-life ladies of the sea. Otherwise known … as sirens.”

Then I gave in.

And fell to the ground.

C
HAPTER 4
 

T
HE WATER WAS COLD
. Bitter. By comparison, Boston Harbor was a warm bath. Normal people wouldn’t venture past their ankles in water like this. The more adventurous, like lifelong, headstrong surfers might—but with the protection of thick wet suits and for short periods of time.

I was neither normal nor adventurous. Wearing just a swimsuit, I swam and dove, not caring how deep I went or for how long. I paid attention only to my lungs, expanding and releasing; my torso, freezing and warming; my muscles, tightening and lengthening. At first, I gulped water like runners do oxygen after a race, but breathing soon became easier as my body adjusted. It felt so good, so natural, I stayed under until the ocean’s surface began to darken.

And then I paddled toward the beach, where Mom was waiting for me.

“Ninety-seven minutes,” she said. “Not that I was keeping track.”

I smiled, took the towel she held out. “Thanks.”

“So how was it?” she asked, as we headed for the steps.

“Great. A little cold, but great.”

We crossed the yard, stepped onto my bedroom patio.

“Do you feel better?” she asked.

It took me a second to respond. I was too distracted by the fire flickering in the iron pit Mom had bought that afternoon, the platters of food on the table, the fleece blankets folded on the new chaise lounge.

“I feel fine,” I said. “What’s all this?”

“Just a little welcome present. We’ve all been so busy, we haven’t had a chance to really sit and enjoy everything together.” She motioned to the lounge chair and started fixing a plate.

“Should I get Dad?”

She peered across the yard toward the other side of the house. I followed her gaze. Through the glass kitchen walls, I could see him stirring something on the stove.

“I put him in charge of dessert,” she said. “He’ll join us when he’s done.”

Her voice was firm so I sat down and pulled the blankets across my lap. I was still warm from my swim but the air was cold. It was only a matter of time before the heat faded and my body temperature lowered.

Mom handed me a plate, took one for herself, and sat in the chair next to mine.

“I talked to Anne this afternoon,” she said.

I dropped my hamburger bun. Reached forward for a new one. “Oh?”

“She claimed the open house was a huge success.”

I looked at her. “Did someone make an offer?” If so, maybe my terrible behavior had been worth it.

“Not yet.” She bit into her burger, chewed. “But she said there was a decent crowd. Especially considering that tourism’s down and there are more sellers than buyers right now.”

“There was a guy.”

She tilted her head, raised her eyebrows

“I talked to him and his wife a while. They seemed really interested. I think his name was Brian?”

She nodded. “Corwin. Yes, Anne mentioned him. Apparently he was ready to pay the asking price in cash right then and there, but his wife refused. They even got into a heated argument about it and Anne had to ask them to discuss matters outside. They left from there.”

My heart sank. I took a water glass from the table. “That’s too bad.”

“They may come around. Not everyone makes this kind of decision as quickly as we did.”

“Not everyone has to.”

She stopped chewing. Started again. Swallowed. “Right.”

We ate quietly. Or, Mom ate. I drank. I’d been out of the water a matter of minutes and already my skin was tightening, my throat constricting.

“Was that where you were?” she asked a minute later.

The glass started to slip from my fingers. I squeezed it gently.

“When?”

“During the showing. Anne said you disappeared for a while. Were you busy talking up potential buyers? Showing them around?”

My fingertips, still gripping the glass, turned white. “Yes. This one family wanted to know exactly where our property started and ended. I spent a lot of time with them outside.”

“Did you get their names?”

“Their what?”

“If you spent a lot of time with them, introductions must’ve been made, yes?”

I tried to think of random names, but my head was spinning. “Vanessa.”

I looked down. Mom’s hand was on my knee.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“What? Why?”

She sat back with a sigh. “For asking you to be there. You
love
that house. Who could blame you for ducking out? What kind of mother am I to ask you to do something like that?”

I put down the glass. Faced her. “The kind who’d turn her whole life upside down—more than once—for her daughter.” I shook my head. “I do love the house and, yes, part of me will miss it. But that’s not why I ducked out.”

I hoped this would put her at ease, but her frown only deepened.

“Mom, really, I promise—”

“Simon.”

My back hit the chair.

“You were with him, weren’t you? Oh, sweetie. You know that’s not a good idea. To try to rekindle things when they’ll only have to end again in a few months? Long-distance never works, no matter how much you want it to, and—”

“I didn’t feel well.”

Her mouth snapped shut.

I chose my words carefully. “I didn’t want to worry you, so I wasn’t going to say anything … but I started to feel a little weird while I was there. So I hung out in the boathouse a while. And just rested.”

She nodded as she processed this. “Weird, how?”

“The usual ways. Tired. Thirsty. Weak.”

“Headache?”

My eyes met hers. “No. No headache.”

She looked down, pushed her food around her plate.

“Mom.” Now my hand was on her knee. “They’re gone. We don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“That’s what you say but how do you know? How do you
really
know? Because you also said you thought they were gone once, and then they weren’t.” She trembled. “Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we were better off at home. Or, I don’t know, moving to Canada. Or somewhere else far, far away.”

My ancestors were actually from Canada. I didn’t share this now, though. Unlike everything else I’d told Mom over the past several months, including the fact that I was stricken with
blinding migraines anytime vengeful sirens were near, I didn’t think that was information she needed to have.

“I saw the bodies,” I reminded her softly. “I saw how fast they disintegrated in the lake. I had to for that very reason—to know there was no way they’d come back.”

She sniffed, brushed at her eyes. “You’ve been through so much, Vanessa. More than any sweet, young girl ever should. And I just want to do whatever I can to make you happy, to help you move forward.”

“Um, have you seen where we are?” I motioned to our surroundings when she looked up. “Coffee-table books could be written about this place. Entire travel magazines could be devoted to its architectural marvels and natural splendor.”

She smiled. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s amazing. And I’m the luckiest girl I know.”

She started to say something else just as my cell phone rang. I took it from the table.

“It’s Paige. I’ll call her back.”

“No, no. Take it.” Mom jumped up, patted down her windblown hair. “I’ll freshen up and check on your father. Say hello for us.”

She kissed the top of my head and hurried inside. I poured another glass of water and answered the phone.

“Aged grape.”

“Is this some sort of riddle?” I asked. “Because it’s been a long day and my brain’s not exactly firing on all cylinders.”

“It’s not a riddle,” Paige assured. “It’s the official new color of Betty’s Chowder House.”

“So you went with purple. Louis must be freaking out.”

“There’s been some pot banging and pan slamming, but no total meltdowns. Besides, aged grape is a solid compromise. It’s still in the blueberry pie family but more sophisticated than sweet. And it’s going to be just the face-lift we need to attract new customers.”

“It sounds great. I can’t wait to see it.”

“You and me both. Now, what’s wrong?”

I forced the water I’d just sipped down my throat. “What do you mean?”

“You said it’s been a long day. Why? Did something happen at the open house?” She gasped. “You saw him, didn’t you? You saw Simon.”

I poured another glass of water and drained it before answering. “Yes. Through a window about a hundred feet away.”

“You didn’t talk to him?”

“Not a word.”

This was followed by silence. I knew she was pouting on my behalf.

“But it’s okay,” I said. “At least I know he’s still around, right? He didn’t flee town the second Caleb told him I was here.”

“That’s the dullest silver lining I’ve ever heard.”

I couldn’t help but smile. But then I remembered her other question and the expression faded.

“Something did happen at the open house, though. Besides that, I mean.”

“Hang on. I’m going to the dining room for privacy.”

On the other end of the phone, doors slammed and voices grew louder, then softer. While Paige moved, I did, too. I went to the farthest corner of the patio and faced the house to keep an eye on Mom and Dad. He was feeding her something from a pot on the stove, so I guessed I still had a few minutes before their return.

“We’re good,” Paige said. “Start talking.”

“Okay, so everything was fine for a while, but then—” I stopped myself. “Did you just say you went to the dining room for privacy?”

“Yes. It’s totally empty right now.”

“But it’s still dinnertime.”

“I guess people are eating at home tonight. Anyway, keep going. What happened?”

I took a deep breath and tried to ignore any reservation I had about sharing what I was about to. This was too big to keep to myself, and Paige was the only one I could tell. Plus, if it meant what I thought it did, she needed to hear it sooner rather than later.

“People know,” I said quietly.

There was another second of silence. “Know what? Which people?”

“At the lake house today, I went outside for some air and found a few people behind the boathouse.” Through the wall of
windows, I watched Dad kiss Mom’s cheek. Mom put her arms around his neck. “They were talking. About the lake boiling.”

The silence that followed was long. Heavy.

“Paige?”

“I’m here.” When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “What do you mean, boiling?”

“Bubbling. Swirling. Like it sat over an enormous pit of fire.”

“But how did they—? How could they possibly—”

“Know about what happened last fall? When we were all so careful to make sure no one found out?”

“Yes. Charlotte sweet-talked the police who were there, right? So they wouldn’t say anything. Were the other houses on the lake not totally empty, the way we’d thought?” As if to convince herself, she added, “But that’s okay. If someone saw, they probably blamed it on more weird weather. And whoever was there today was just curious.”

I paused. “That’s not all they were talking about.”

She swallowed. “What else?”

I closed my eyes, remembered the hushed, excited voices. “Ladies of the sea,” I practically whispered. “Otherwise known—”