Lies Beneath (12 page)

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needed to change my strategy. Or was it something else? Regardless of Maris’s plan, did I
want
Lily to like me? I pushed the thought out of my head. It was ridiculous.

Lily folded her arms across her chest. “Fine. Here it is. Why did you wait so long to save me?”
“That’s what all this hostility is about? So unnecessary. Lily, I got there as quickly as I could.”
She stared at my neck, and my Adam’s apple bobbed. I knew the silver ring didn’t show, but she seemed to be looking straight through me. She stepped closer, and I took a quick step back, suddenly . . . nervous, like she presented some unknown danger. Pavati’s accusation lurked somewhere in the back of my head.
“I guess,” she said.
“And you’re clearly fine.”
“Whatever.” She looked around the café. “Is there something I should be doing?”
“Come with me.” I led her to the back room and showed her where Mrs. Boyd stored the bags of coffee. “Bring a couple bags up to the front each morning. One for the bin. Put one underneath. The napkins and paper towels are here on this shelf.” I grabbed a big handful of paper napkins. “Make sure the holders are stuffed tight.”
“Got it,” she said, laboring under the weight of the coffee bag.
“So,” I said, choking back a laugh.
Make this light. Keep the conversation going.
“Are you enjoying Bayfield so far?”
She exhaled an exasperated sigh. “Well, as you know, it got off to an interesting start.
Uff da.
” She dropped the bag on the counter.

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“True, but I’m still waiting for you to tell me why you’ve never come before.”
“Mom and Dad just announced one morning we were moving.”
There was something more she wasn’t telling me, but I nodded. “Spontaneity is a good thing. The best things in life happen when you just let events . . . unfold. When you try to control things too much, you do yourself a disservice.”
“I know what you mean.” She headed back for the second bag, and I followed close behind.
“So, your dad teaches at the college?”
“Yeah. He’s going to teach in the Humanity and Nature Studies department starting next term. But enough about me,” she added quickly. “How ‘bout you?”
“Um. What do you want to know?” I asked, disappointed she was no longer willing to be the subject of conversation. “I’m an open book.”
“Then tell me everything,” she said. She looked around for something to cut the bag, and I handed her a scissors.
“How about the abridged version?”
“You can start there. Right here?” she asked, opening the bin. I nodded.
“Okay, let’s see, I like . . . wool socks and cotton T-shirts.”
“Duly noted. What else?” She combed her fingers through her hair and pulled it into a loose bun. I wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers through her hair like that, and I let myself get distracted in the fantasy until my skin burned under her patient gaze.
“I like the color of the Caribbean.” I paused and absorbed the warmth of her smile before adding, “Dogs, not cats.

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Boxers, not briefs. Redheads over brunettes . . .” I glanced sideways at her, and she met my gaze. “I have a penchant for girls in velvet jackets . . . and I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She choked in surprise, sputtered, and shook her head. “You see? This is what I mean.”
“What?”
“Nobody talks like that. I barely know you.”
I was genuinely confused. Didn’t girls like to hear this stuff? Besides, it was, conveniently enough, the truth. “Well,
I
talk like this. And you should be used to people telling you you’re beautiful.”
“Well, I’m not,” she said, and she sounded like she was getting irritated with me again. The feeling was mutual.
I leaned against the wall and pulled up one knee. “Okay. I take it back. You are completely average. Dull, dull, dull. Unremarkable in every way.”
“Much better,” she said, mollified. She flicked her finger against my shoulder.
A woman came in and bought six chocolate croissants. I showed Lily how to ring up the order, and she put them into a bag. “Thank you. Please come again,” she said, waving at the woman as she walked out the door.
“So . . . ,” I pressed, “back to you. Your family. What’s your dad like? He must be a complete bore to sire someone as banal as you.”
She exhaled an exasperated sigh. “He’s funny.” Then she smiled like she was remembering a joke. “He loves my mom a lot, and he’s not totally embarrassing in public.” Another smile.

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“Really? No lame jokes? No embarrassing pants?”

She dropped into a bright purple chair and stuffed a stack of napkins into the stainless steel holder. “Nope. He’s cool. He had a tough time as a kid with the whole parent thing, so I think he works extra hard to be a good dad. He’s wanted to come back here forever, but I think he was afraid to.”

“What’s there to be afraid of?”

Lily hesitated like she hadn’t planned on getting so personal so quickly. Her mouth hung open and blood rushed into her cheeks. “I guess you could say this place tore his family apart.”

I was fascinated by the irony. Wasn’t it my family that was destroyed? I couldn’t let her stop there. I stared into her eyes and willed her to share more information. Thoughts spun out of me— images of the two of us whispering in confidence— and I pushed them into her mind, compelling her to trust me. She fought against it. She was stronger than I expected, maybe stronger than any human I’d ever encountered. But right when I thought I couldn’t get through, right when I thought I was a bigger failure than even Maris had guessed, Lily’s resistance gave way.

She drew up her chin and said, “The story is that this place made my grandpa go crazy.”
I leaned against the counter, the marble cool under my palms, and braced myself against what was coming next. She pushed her chair back hard, making it screech across the floor.
“He said he saw a monster in the lake.” She watched me closely. “Sorry you asked?”
“No,” I said.
“He dragged the whole family away from here without

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any warning. Everyone said he was crazy. After that, my dad was never allowed in the water—
anywhere
— and they for sure never came back here. Even when my dad was old enough to come alone, he stayed away out of respect for his dad.”

“So why the change of heart?”
“Partly because of my mom’s health. And Grandpa died in January. I think this move is a meet- your- demons- head- on kind of thing for my dad.”
I swallowed hard. Fortunately, she had no way of knowing the demon was inches from her, steaming a carafe of milk into a perfect froth.
“The whole monster obsession broke up my grandparents’ marriage. Grandpa was even medicated for a while. I don’t know. Maybe he was crazy, but— aside from the weird stories— he always seemed pretty normal to me. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re in pain or something.” She frowned. “You’ve been around here a long time, right? Have you ever seen— ”
I winced. I don’t know what she saw in my face, but whatever it was made her suck in her breath.
“Oh my gosh, you know. You’ve heard the stories! You have, haven’t you?”
I pretended to be distracted by the thermometer on the steamer and rebuffed her accusation. “Get a grip, Lily. I’m just thinking that’s quite a family history you’ve got there. Did your grandfather ever say what the monster looked like?” I cranked off the steamer.
“Y’know what? Just forget it.”
The way she shook her head when she said that, the way

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her face took on the same expression as when she looked at Jack Pettit’s painting . . . I could tell she knew exactly what kind of demon the old man warned them about. Of course, they all thought he was nuts, but his son wasn’t as oblivious as we originally thought.

No wonder she was pissed at me for telling her she was crazy. She probably thought it was genetic. Maybe my little rescue stunt had her worried she was going to end up in a mental hospital. That was why I made her nervous. I was going to have to put a stop to this right away.

“Listen, Lily. Just because your grandpa went off the deep end doesn’t mean you’re crazy, too. Seeing dolphins in Lake Superior does not make you certifiable.”

“Yeah? What does it make me?”
“Well, I’m still sticking to my hypothermia- induced hallucination theory, but how about we go with it makes you imaginative. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, I’d call it an asset.”
She smiled, and I could see she liked that. Time to play my trump card.
I held up one finger and went to the back room, returning with my new poetry book. I flipped the cover around for her to read the title. Her eyes brightened. The expression
hook, line, and sinker
came to mind.
“Imagination is at the root of all creative efforts, Lily— painting, poetry . . . Look at Mary Shelley. If she hadn’t seen the monster in her head, she would have never written
Frankenstein.
Or, come to think of it, isn’t Tennyson’s
‘Lady of Shalott’ about a girl gone crazy
?”
“Cursed, more like it.”

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“Still, it’s a beautiful poem.”
“Okay,” Lily said. “I get what you’re trying to say. I didn’t know you liked poetry. I don’t think I know
any
guys who read the stuff.”
I winked at her, and she blushed, looking away as the bell rang over the front door. My back stiffened as my sisters walked into the café in a triangular formation with Maris at the head. Her hair hung behind her shoulders like a white cape over a plain white tee. Her silver irises were flashing.
Pavati winked at me. Her pink peasant blouse slipped off one bare shoulder. Tallulah eyed the book as I tucked it under the counter; then her eyes drifted up, pretending to read the menu board.
“What can I get you?” Lily asked brightly.
I yearned to put myself between her and Maris but had to satisfy myself with standing rigidly at her side. Lily didn’t show any signs of recognizing Pav and Lulah from the woods (or from Jack’s painting for that matter). I hoped she wouldn’t. I just wanted to get them their drinks and push them out the door.
“Hi,” said Pavati. “Remember me?”
I groaned.
“Calder’s sisters,” Lily confirmed.
“Maris White,” Maris said, sticking out her hand. “We haven’t met yet.”
I held my breath.
“Lily Hancock,” Lily said, taking Maris’s hand casually in hers. She didn’t seem to register any sign of pain.
I exhaled as the espresso machine hissed and squealed. I hurried to make the drinks and get them into to- go cups.

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Maris gave me a patronizing smile. They took their cups to a table by the window and turned the colorful chairs in an unnatural formation, their backs to the window, all facing the counter in a straight line. They raised their cups in choreographed unison, sipping slowly. Not showing any sign of leaving. Not talking. Just watching me.
Ve r y subtle, guys. The least you can do is blink.

“Maybe you should go get another bag of French roast,” I said quietly to Lily.
She started to protest, but then her eyebrows rose, and she stole a sideways glance at my sisters. She didn’t say anything more, just turned and walked to the back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded of Maris.
“We’re just seeing how things are going. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“You don’t have to follow me around.”
“Pavati seemed to think we should check in.”
I glared at Pavati, and she shrugged.
“Quit worrying. Everything is going great.”
Except that Jason Hancock’s already on guard against monsters in the lake, and Lily thinks she saw a mermaid.
“I just need a few more weeks.”
“Ten days, Calder. I’m giving you ten days. I want to end this.”
Hesitantly, Lily came back out front, carrying another bag of beans. There was no good place to put it. My sisters stood up, their chairs scraping the floor.
“It was nice to meet you, Lily Hancock,” said Maris.
Pavati waved, and Tallulah shot me a nervous look. She came up to me under the pretense of throwing her cup away

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and leaned in to peck me on the cheek. She whispered in my ear, “Careful, Calder.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to put her at ease. “I told you, Lulah. I’ve got this. I’ll see you tonight.”
She pulled away, the words
We’ll see
expressed with her eyebrows.
Even after the door closed, Lily stared after them, spellbound, then shook her head as if to clear the clouds. Why couldn’t she react to me like that?
“Your sisters are very beautiful.”
“They’re pains in the ass, that’s what they are,” I said, trying to dissolve her memory of them. Pavati looked remarkably like Jack Pettit’s oil painting. I didn’t need that kind of reinforcement in Lily’s mind. “Isn’t that how you feel about your sister?”
“Sophie? No, not at all.”
“Really? I got the impression you two weren’t much alike.”
“Well, we’re not, but that doesn’t mean I think she’s a pain. Sophie just needs a lot of looking after. I don’t mind doing it. She’s a sweet kid.”
A surge of self- disgust rushed through me. Lily was good and honest and loving, and here I was trying to exploit that. I repulsed myself. I ground my teeth together and gripped the edge of the counter as an electric heat bristled at the back of my neck.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay,” I whispered, backing away from her. I touched the espresso machine, and a white spark jumped from the machine to my fingers.
“Whoa. Are you sure you’re okay?” She reached out

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and touched the back of her hand to my forehead. “You’re really hot.”

I flinched, then laughed at her unintended double entendre. Lily Hancock seemed to have some kind of switch hooked up to my brain. Right now she was flipping me back and forth so quickly my mind was a strobe light.

“I thought you said you didn’t like me,” I joked.

She rolled her eyes. “I was talking about your temperature, jerk. But just to be clear, I never said you weren’t good- looking. If you remember, I said you made me nervous.”

“Right. So, you think I’m good- looking?”

She swatted me over the head with her fedora, then went back to the cash register, saying, “You’re really annoying. If your sisters are pains in the ass, I’m thinking they learned it from you.”

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