Gathering Water (4 page)

After looking around the yard a bit, I realized I was alone. Luke was sitting on the tailgate of his truck and must have been pretty lost in his own thoughts because when I walked up to him and started talking he jumped about a mile high.

“So, uh, I’m going to try the key out on the front door. I guess you can go if you want to,” I said reluctantly. Now that I was there I was a little nervous at the idea of walking into the house alone. I was used to doing things alone, but something about having that bristly old man around while I confronted my mother’s past, and my future, was comforting.

“Actually, Della, I was hoping to take a look around the old house, if that’s
okay with you. I can tell you a little about the place as we go along if you like. There was a time that I here quite a bit.”

I don’t know if he really wanted to go inside with me, or if he could see the panic in my eyes at going in alone, but I was relieved either way. I grabbed my duffel bag while Luke picked up a cooler with all my food in it, leaving the rest of my stuff in the truck while we walked up the stairs and to the door. I could
hear Luke muttering behind me about steps needing repair, but I chose to ignore him for now.

The door didn’t really match the rest of the house; where the rest of the house was the color of weathered wood, the door had obviously been painted a cheerful blue at one time. The key that I kept around my ne
ck again fit perfectly in the lock, and I wondered if it was some sort of family master key.

It was incredibly dark inside and I
saw that all the windows were covered with wooden shutters. Luke immediately went back out and started opening them up all along the front porch. From all the swearing he was doing, it must have been quite the job. I walked farther into the house as the light slowly started to pour in.

All the furniture was covered in sheets and it made the place seem a little creepy. There was dust everywhere, and one of the windows was broken, leaving a smattering of broken glass in the corner. I was half expecting an empty house
, but this was anything but. There were paintings on the walls and knickknacks on the tables.

Luke came back in and gave a low whistle.
“You definitely have your work cut out for ya. You sure about staying here tonight?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Why is all this stuff still
here? Didn’t anyone want it?”

“Well, I expect that it was only shut up temporarily. It was Gabby’s house, and from what I heard, she was just getting r
eady to move in here and set up when she ran off. Let’s leave these sheets on the furniture for now, you’ll want to get rid of the dust everywhere else before uncovering them or you’ll just have to clean the furniture too. Someone oughtta be shot for leaving everything the way it is right now, even the paintings are still on the wall,” he shook his head in disapproval.

Sure enough, the walls were covered in paintings, a good
many that were portraits. I knew from art class in school that most portraits were supposed to be somber faced and serious, but for every one of the traditional poses I also found one where the person was smirking or full-out smiling. One man had a big grin on his face as if he were laughing. He was a character too, with a thick black beard full of little red bows. He was standing with what looked like a gun on his hip and in the background a big ship was floating in water.

“That’s your some-odd great-grandfather Teach. Can’t remember how many greats. Eddy there was something of a sailor. All of these are of your relatives. Here’s your grandma Anise over here.” And he dragged me across the room to the painting of a woman.

She was wearing the key necklace and had the most beautiful eyes, big and almond shaped with a blue that stood out with her black hair. Luke was right and I could see that I did have her eyes, though I doubt I pulled them off quite as well. I’d gotten her rosebud mouth as well, but on her it looked kinda pouty in a very sexy way. I looked over to Luke and saw that he was staring at the small painting next to Anise’s. I recognized the girl as my mother from the picture in the safety deposit box.

Again I searched her face for similarities and I had a childish urge to touch her portrait.
The only thing I noticed was our similarly round faces. She had grey eyes, her mother’s black hair, and was significantly curvier than I would ever be. I have what you call a “runner’s body”. Not that I’m complaining. Being beautiful, or ugly, wouldn’t have affected my life for the better in any way, so I didn’t really care too much. The guys who usually noticed me in the past were attracted to their power over me, so it didn’t matter to them either.

Luke seemed to shake himself from his reverie and went back outside to grab more of my things, bringing back far more than I remember
packing.

“Luke, what is all that stuff?”

“Well, you can’t just sleep on the floor for the next few nights, so I brought a sleeping bag and some other things for you to make it more comfortable here tonight. Now, I think I have a couple of old towels in my truck. Why don’t I go grab them while you pick out your sleeping quarters, then we can use the towels to clean up the area a little bit.”

I ended up camping out in that front room since it had the least amount of furniture and therefore the least amount of dust. It took us a little while to clean it up with only towels, and when we were done Luke promised to bring some more cleaning supplies by the next day. I was a little uncomfortable taking so much from him, but desperately needed some so
rt of friend so I got over it. Besides, he seemed to genuinely want to help and my something told me he would just ignore me if I told him I would do it on my own.

After he left I took a little tour around the house. There were three bedrooms that I hadn’t looked in while Luke was there. The first two were much the same, probably because there were sheets covering pretty much everything. The third bedroom was much bigger, and obviously the master room. I gave in
to temptation and took the dust sheets off the bed, discovering that the frame underneath was a beautifully carved four poster, with each of the four posts carved into the shape of a mermaid with hands straight up to hold the canopy of fabric in place, if there were any fabric to hold in place. I decided right then that this would be the first room that I wanted to clean out since I’d always wanted to sleep in a four-poster bed; I wanted to be a princess before I grew up and considered these beds the height of princessy-ness.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon wishing I had some actual cleaning supplies so I could get started on the house. I went ahead and opened the shutters on the rest of the windows, sat down in my back yard within a few feet of the water and started making a list of all the things I needed to do and buy until the sun set. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen and the best way to finish a day. I didn’t think I was really tired since my body was used to California time and it was still pretty early, but I went on ahead to my sleeping bag in the living room and got ready for bed, fine tuning my list to the artificial light of my lantern until I fell asleep.

Unsurprisingly, I woke up fairly early the next morning. The method of waking, however, was surprising. Some girls might find the idea of being woke
n up by a good-looking guy appealing. However, being poked in the ribs by some monstrous huge feet while in a deep sleep is not my idea of a good way to start your day. I, of course, have had experience being woken up very suddenly by unwanted males and didn’t hesitate to grab my still-on lantern by the handle and start beating the stranger as high as my arm would reach, and as quickly as my arm would allow. My arm just so happened to be just the right, or wrong, length to do some serious damage.

“Holy mother of- what are you
doing
? You crazy b-“ and before he had the chance to call me a very ungentlemanly name, he collapsed to his knees grasping at the very tender bits I had just pummeled with my light. I jumped up, my blood rushing and holding my bright yellow lantern like it was a loaded gun and glared down at the yellow-haired fool who dared try to attack me. He looked about my age, and I clutched my lantern tighter when I saw he was in good shape and could probably overpower me if he tried to. Looking back, I may have overreacted just a touch. Not that I’ll ever admit that out loud.

“What are you doing here? What do you want?” I managed to get out in
between puffs of air.

“What am
I
doing here? You crazy person, what are you doing here? This is someone’s home, not some empty warehouse that you can squat in! Jesus, I can’t feel my legs and I have a date tonight!” He started to stand up, in obvious pain, and I felt a twinge of guilt. Well, I did before his grey, accusatory eyes met mine and reminded me that I hadn’t actually done anything wrong.

“I’m not squatting. This is my house. I own it. Do you always just barge into people
’s homes and wake up the occupants for no good reason?”

“I know for a fact
that you do not own this house,” he said.

“Well, you clearly need a fact-checker because I do, you idiot. Now get out!”
I pointed my free arm in the direction of the door.

“You can’t make me get out of a house that you’re
pretending to own. There’s no “finders keepers” when it comes to real estate. I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t leave.”

This guy was seriously starting to annoy me. The possibility that this was just some huge misunderstanding finally crossed my mind, but he was acting like such a jerk I almost wanted him to call the cops so I could get
him
arrested for trespassing. I came to my senses though, pulling out my VIF (very important folder) from where it was sitting on a side table, and shoving it into his hands.

“I’m assuming you can read,
” I said as he looked at me in confusion, the small frown on his face making me notice his chin was dimpled.

“Of course I can,” h
e all but snarled at me, but he opened the folder and read.

I knew
the paperwork for the house that proved my claim was on top and I expected him to hand me the folder back after he checked it out. I certainly did
not
expect him to keep flipping through the pages, perusing through the rest of my private documents and letters, eyes widening in shock and disbelief as he read. Yeah I know, dummy move on my end but I had just woken up and I wasn’t at my best.

“Hey, that stuff’s private!” I tried to grab it back, but he had crazy jackrabbit reflexes and pulled it away before I could get my hands on it. A
fter a few more tries I gave up, seriously wishing I had a cell phone so I could call the police to kick his butt out. He finally finished reading and handed me the folder.

“So, my bad… Della, right? Della Deare? You
’re Gabriella Deare’s daughter? How long ago did she pass away? Does your father know you’re back here?” He asked breathlessly from talking so fast.

“Uh, I guess I am her daughter, but she died when I was born which was 18 years ago
, and I don’t even know who my father is so…”

“Oh, well that sucks. So you just
woke up one day and decided to come here?”

“I didn’t really have many other options. Not that it’s any of your business.” I was starting to get sick of the same responses from everyone I met here.

“Chill. I was just curious! Besides, I’m sorry I barged in here and woke you up. The shutters were open and I knew this house was unoccupied, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t a vandal or something. Man, you’ve got an arm on you though; it hurts to walk! Oh, my name’s Cash, by the way.” Then he laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. His attitude had flipped completely around due solely to the contents of one little folder; in fact he seemed downright cheery.

“Uh, I guess it
’s okay. I mean, you were just being a good citizen or whatever. Um, sorry about the, you know…” I trailed off.

“Smashing me in the nads with a lantern? Eh, can’t say I blame you.
So what are you doing right now?”

“Well, I
was
sleeping.”

“Duh, I’m an idiot. How
‘bout I make it up to you, for scaring the daylights out of you and stuff. Breakfast, my treat,” he offered.

“I don’-
”

“Good, you go get ready or whatever. I’ve got to make a phone call. I’ll wait for you in the driveway.”
He walked out the door before giving me a chance to answer.

I stood there for a moment wondering what to do when my stomach growled.
Taking that as a sign, I changed into some clean clothes then went outside with some bottled water to brush my teeth since the water wasn’t turned on yet. The toilet hadn’t been a problem since Luke had foreseen that issue the night before and had given me a few gallon jugs to fill the bowl with so I could flush.

When I got to the driveway Cash was standing next to a bike
and finishing up on the phone.

“Sorry about that, I was going to meet up with a friend down the road before heading
oceanside to catch some waves. You don’t have a bike or anything do you?”

“Uh, no. I just got here yesterday.”
Plus, I wasn’t twelve.

“Oh well, just hop on the ha
ndle bars and we’ll get going.” He patted the center of the bars.

I looked to see if he was joking, but he was already astride his bike and looking expectantly at me like handle-bar riding was the most natural thing in the world. Not wanting to seem like a chicken I struggled into position with one leg on either side of the front wheel and both hands tightly
gripping the bar underneath me, very thankful I wasn’t wearing a dress. It wasn’t the most comfortable ride, but it was exhilarating once I got the hang of balancing on such a tiny little bar.

Just a couple of minutes later we pulled into
a driveway next to a broken-down jeep, and the abrupt stop made me jump off rather awkwardly or suffer a face plant into concrete.

“Okay, we’re here,” h
e said, while tossing his bike onto the grass and strolling into the front door, correctly assuming I would follow him in.

“Mom! Dad! I brou
ght someone by for breakfast!” he called into the house.

It was turning out to be a strange day.
Not sure exactly how I ended up in a stranger’s house meeting his parents, I was just hoping that this wasn’t some sort of weird first date because I was so
not
getting those kind of vibes from this guy.

“Oh great! Perfect timing, we’re just about to sit down. Ya’ll go grab a plate
and come on out to the patio,” called out a woman’s voice, who I assumed was his mother. She was already out the back door in the kitchen by the time we walked in.

Cash popped
some bread into the toaster and started loading up two plates. The plate he handed me contained way more food than I would have grabbed for myself, but I decided not to comment and skip the argument.

“You’re lucky your mother made enough for an unexpected guest. Are you sure it
’s okay that I’m here?”

“Yea
h, my mom always makes plenty. And believe me, my parents will love the fact that you’re here.” He grabbed a couple of glasses from the cabinet and handed me one.

“They get excited when you bring home a friend for breakfast? Do you seriously have so few friends?”
I was only semi-joking, and perhaps still a little annoyed with him for waking me up.

“Har har, naw. They’ll just be excited because of who you are. Now come on. There’s juice on the table.” And he walked off. Again.
It was starting to annoy the crap out of me when he just assumed I was going to do what he said. But the smell of bacon on my plate was too hard to resist, so I followed him out and sat down at the glass patio table opposite him.

There were two empty seats, one on either side of my chair, and
two people who must have been Cash’s parents were sitting in the remaining seats. They were clearly related; Cash had his father’s lithe build and grey eyes, and his mother’s blonde hair and dimpled chin.

His parents were talking about a party they were going to that weekend and surprisingly enough, I r
ecognized the name of the host: Ed McCay. I wondered if they knew my family, since they too would be attending. I continued to eavesdrop while slathering apple-butter on my biscuit, only stopping the parade of food into my mouth long enough to swat Cash’s hand away from my bacon a time or two. The last time he did it his mother took notice, and swatted him upside the head.

“Cash! We’ve taught you better than that. I’m sorry my son’s a heathen, dear; he hasn’t even introduced us yet.”
She shot him a scathing look before going on. “I’m Cash’s mother, Ellis, and this handsome man is my husband Connor.”

Connor
seemed to be looking rather intently at me, like he already knew me, or something. These people were starting to make me feel a bit uncomfortable, but only because I felt so comfortable around them. Does that makes sense? I felt the same way around Luke the day before, but it was disarming being around so many people that I was at ease around, that I felt I could drop my barriers with.

I’m really hoping I had subconsciously recognized that feeling back at the house, because if not
, then jumping on some dude’s bicycle and heading home to his parents’ house was really the dumbest thing I’ve ever done; I like to think it was just intuition leading me there.

“Oh, I’m Della Doe Deare.” I didn’t mean to say my full name, it’s just that I wasn’t used to the ‘Deare’ part and had already said ‘Doe’ when I remembered it wasn’t my last name anymore.

“Your name is what?” Connor asked in a very rumbled voice.

Before I could repeat my name, Cash spoke up.
“So, about that. Dad, you may want to take a look at this.” And then, the dirty thief pulled my folder from the back of his pants (ew), and tossed it up to his dad. I immediately started choking on the orange juice I’d been drinking, the acid burning up my nose as I started to splutter.

“What is-“

“Della are you-“

“Just read the da-“

“You-ou-ou i-idiot-“ It is remarkably difficult to yell at someone when your lungs are filled with a pulpy citrus drink. And when everyone is trying to say something at once.

It’s not like he was paying attention
anyway. Cash went on eating the rest of his breakfast and, with all the commotion and my being distracted by my inability to breathe, he also finally got hold of my bacon. By the time I was done hacking up my lungs, Connor was well into the folder and my plate was woefully depleted of pork products. I’d never had very much personal information before, and now that I did everyone and his friggin’ father was reading it. I wondered if I should just go up and grab it out of Connor’s hands when he forcibly shut it, his face chalk-white and for a split second his eyes looked full of tears.

“Cash, if this is some sort of joke, it’s not funny.” I was starting to feel a bit awkward. The man was clutching my VIF and his eyes had traded their almost teary look for so
mething fairly icy, making me afraid to ask for it back.

“No joke dad. Hey mom, there’s a great Youtube video I want to show you inside, we’ll be right back guys.”

Ellis didn’t get a chance to reply before her son pulled her up by the arms and pulled her back in the house. While it was nice to know he treated everyone like his personal doll, I was bewildered that he thought this was a good time for internet browsing, and why he’d just leave me outside, alone, with his father when he was the one who’d invited me there.

“Is everything in this folder real?” Connor asked me in the same stern tone he had used with his son.

“Well, yeah. But that stuff is really private, and very important. I’m gonna kill Cash for stealing it… uh, not really, but do you mind giving that back please?”

“Where is your father and why didn’t he tell us all this? What exactly-“ I knew the start of a tirade when I heard one, so I decided to cut him off right there.

“Look sir, I don’t owe you anything. I’m not your child, and I haven’t done anything wrong. Oh, and I don’t have a father. You obviously didn’t read very carefully when you were going through someone else’s private things.” I punctuated the last word by reaching across the table and grapping the folder from his hands.