Lies Beneath (28 page)

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sorry. “We asked you to seduce the girl. I admit you accomplished the seduction,
although
”— she nudged my shoulder with her foot and appraised me— ”you’re not much to look at now. But I digress. We asked you to get Hancock out on the water so we could take him down.”

I opened my mouth to say something, although I wasn’t sure what.
She leaned one hand against a tree. “Yes, yes, I know, it ended up being a different Hancock, but it’s not your fault Tallulah changed my mind. As I think Pavati told you, one dead Hancock satisfies the debt as well as any.”
I stared at her, afraid to blink. It was too good to be true. Was Maris really unaware Lily had been rescued? Had my own thoughts been so addled she hadn’t seen any of it? Or— I dared not think it— did she know something I didn’t? Had Lily not survived after all? Surreptitiously I glanced at the dark house, the darker window.
Maris didn’t notice. “Damn it, Calder. You know I don’t have any choice in this. A promise is a promise.” She sighed. “Although I don’t see what good your independence will do you. I’ve never known a loner who survived for long, and if you keep up this landlocked melodrama, you won’t have much time left. Still, it’s not my place to judge.”
She shredded a sheet of birch bark in her fingers, then dropped it like confetti onto the ground. “You made good on your end. I’ll make good on mine. From this point on, you get your wish.” She locked her eyes on mine and said, “We are no longer family.”
With her words, I felt the click in my mind— as easy as flipping a switch— the breaking of the cord that bound me

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to the family White. I wondered how she did it. There was barely a flinch of her shoulders. But she wasn’t ready to leave me quite yet.

“She was just a girl, Calder.” Maris looked down at me with a combination of irritation, pity, and incomprehension.
“The truth,” I said.
She chewed on the insides of her mouth and debated her words. “What do you want me to tell you?”
“About me. Hancock. The whole story. I want to know the truth before I die.” I did my best to glare at her, though my eyes creaked in their sockets.
She crouched beside me, her skin still glistening with water droplets. She snaked a wet fingertip down my arm, leaving a trail of temporary relief in its wake.
“Why the lies, Maris?”
“Hancock confessed?”
“You could say that.”
“Tom Hancock promised to give the baby back to Mother as soon as he was walking. He broke that promise.”
“How is that Jason Hancock’s fault?”
“He grew up, didn’t he?” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “Years passed, Calder. Decades. He could have come home at any time. He had to feel the pull. He had to know where he belonged.”
“He did.”
Maris looked smug. “Of course he did. You have no idea what it was like to watch Mother die. Slowly. Slipping away from us every day. I was twelve. Pavati, Tallulah, you— you were all too young to understand. I shouldered this. Me. On my own.”

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“Mother died in the nets,” I reminded her. “I saw it.” “She died of a broken heart. It was no accident.” “But I saw.”
“You saw the memory I planted there for you, Calder. For

all of you. She hoped, by making you, she could replace the son she lost.”

“She was wrong,” I said, barely a whisper. Every inadequacy I’d ever felt multiplied in that second. I hadn’t saved Lily. I hadn’t saved Tallulah. I hadn’t been enough to save my mother. I stared up at the night sky, flat and matte without any stars. “But why kill Jason Hancock?” I asked. “He was your brother. Even more than me.”

Maris chuckled.

I used every bit of strength I had to roll over and look at her more closely. “What was my part in this, Maris?”
She drew her fingernail across the palm of my hand, slicing it like a scalpel. The brittle skin split neatly in a hairline of red that thickened and filled every crevice. “Neither the truth nor the lie really matters,” she said. “Brother or not, Hancock is the reason Mother is dead. He needed to pay. I wanted you to feel useful. I hoped helping us execute his murder would draw you closer to us.
“Then, when we discovered you’d fallen for the girl, Tallulah suggested it was a family debt and any member could pay it. The girl’s suicide would torture Hancock more than his own murder ever could. Let him feel the loss of a child— just like Mother did. And it had the extra bonus of getting the girl out of the way so you and Tallulah could . . .”
Maris turned and looked at the lake with confusion. The night breeze dried the ends of her hair. When she looked back

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at me, she clicked her tongue as the blood from my hand seeped into the wet leaves and stained the tips of her toes. “Pavati was harder for Tallulah to convince than I was. . . . I don’t understand. Where is she? We can’t hear Tallulah anywhere. What did you say to her?”

I closed my eyes. Despite the deceit and treachery, the loss of Tallulah still gnawed at my heart. Until recently, she had been my closest confidante, my dearest friend. The memory of her lifeless body was too raw for me to lie to Maris with any confidence. But I need not have worried. When I opened my eyes again, Maris was gone. No goodbye. No love lost there.

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41

THE MERMAN

I would kiss them often under the sea,
And kiss them again till they kiss’d me
Laughingly, laughingly;
And then we would wander away, away
To the pale- green sea- groves straight and high,
Chasing each other merrily.

— Alfred, Lord Tennyson
I crept out of the woods. Not because I was suddenly brave, but because I could be a self- pitying idiot for only
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so long without disgusting myself. And Lily deserved better.

The motion detectors on the floodlights were disabled; the lights left permanently on now, illuminating the water. I crept down to the Hancock dock, dragging myself when I couldn’t stand, and lay prone at the end. Raking my fingers through the ripples, I yanked them back before the temptation grew impossible to resist. I wasn’t ready yet.

I didn’t doubt that my thoughts were safely my own. I didn’t doubt that I could hide Tallulah’s fate from Maris and Pavati. The radio frequency of my mind was switched. I could feel it, even on land. There was no one in my head but me.

But I couldn’t leave without knowing what had become of Lily. The house behind me was just as dark, just as quiet as before. My imagination reached back to my last night in the hammock, Lily tracing my chest with a light touch, her calling my name.

“Calder,” she whispered.

I smiled to myself. My body might be withering, but my imagination was as sharp as ever. Her voice was as clear as if she were right behind me.

“Calder, are you out there?”

I jerked around. There was a light in Lily’s room and her familiar shape leaned through the open window.
“Lily.” I staggered to my feet and limped up the dock to the house, my legs stiff, not responding as they should. “I’m here.”
Exhaling, I released the tension caused by our separation, not really feeling its intensity until I could let it go, bit by bit. “Are you okay?” I asked the question, dreading the answer.

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“Better. Were you worried? You look worried.”

I searched her face for some sign of trauma. She was ghostly and for a moment I wondered if I was seeing her apparition.
“Calder, did you see?” She gestured at her neck. “My dad. Did you see?”
“Yes, but I’m surprised
you
did. What does he know? He had you out of the water so fast he never finished the transformation.”
“He knows my grandpa wasn’t crazy after all.”
“But he doesn’t know what he is? That’s good. There’s no reason for him to find out. What happened— it should give him even more reason to stay on dry land.”
“No,” she said. “He has no idea. He thinks some freakish adrenaline rush kicked in and allowed him to swim, but, Calder, he knows what
you
are. He’s forbidden me to see you ever again. He’s sending me back to Minneapolis tomorrow.”
Good, good. I couldn’t risk Maris discovering that Lily lived.
“Your dad thinks I’ll hurt you.”
“No. Yes. But . . . what I really want to know is . . . what I need to know is, if my dad is like you, then what am I?”
I shook my head to assuage her fears. “You’re not a mermaid, Lily. I think maybe you’ve inherited something— some trait that makes you comfortable in the lake. I always knew it wasn’t normal.”
“Are we related?”
My eyes closed. “Not at all. If anything, you’re related to my sisters.” I laughed one hard laugh. “I’m sincerely sorry about that.” She didn’t smile at my attempt to joke. “How is Sophie?” I asked.
“Fine. Why?”
Ah. So Pavati had shown some mercy. She might have

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allowed Maris to use the little girl as a pawn, but she had not allowed Sophie to remember. “Nothing. Forget it. Now please, Lily, come out to me. I can’t stand it anymore.”

Lily looked over her shoulder, then disappeared for a second. Returning to the window, she flung one leg over the sill. I watched nervously as she climbed out onto the porch roof, crouched low, and inched herself to the edge. She jumped, landing softly on the balls of her feet.

She grabbed my hand and dragged me, stumbling, across the yard to the edge of the woods, then down toward the shore by my willow branch. I groaned as the waves lapped at my ankles. She reached down and cupped the water, rubbing it gently into my bare arms and chest as if afraid I would fall apart at her touch.

After splashing my legs and shoulders, she filled her hands and let me drink. It helped, but it was only a superficial relief.

“Why did you do it, Lily?” I asked, my voice dry and rough. She stopped splashing and her face paled.
“How could you do that to yourself? To me?”
“It was the only way to end it,” she whispered. “It worked,

didn’t it? They promised if I gave myself to them . . .”

I took her into my arms and rested my chin on the top of her head. “You did fine. You fulfilled the promise. They heard that much in Tallulah’s mind. The rest . . .” I struggled to finish the sentence.

“I should have never left that goodbye note for Mom and Dad,” she said. “It was so stupid, but I wanted them to know what happened to me. I didn’t know Jack was working at the house. He saw it first. Poor Jack. Will they go after
him
now?”

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“It happened too fast for Tallulah to project any kind of fear in her thoughts. Maris and Pavati don’t know.”
Lily looked up at me, her eyes glossy. “Have I made everything worse?”
I pulled her closer. “What did I ever do to deserve you, Lily? You are the hero. You saved us. Your dad . . . me . . . You freed us both.”
“Not Tallulah,” she whispered.
“No. Not her.” My voice caught in my throat.
“I’m so sorry.”
I pulled back to get a better look at her. She was the most unbelievable girl. “They tricked me, Lily. If I’d known what they were planning, I would have never left you. I almost got back in time. Your heart stopped beating.” I felt her tense under my hands. “I was there. I was right there. For a moment, I considered . . .”
She nodded.
“But I was too afraid to try. And even if it worked, I couldn’t bear the thought of ripping you from your family.” I dropped my chin to my chest. The water pulsed against my ankles. My whole body vibrated with the urge to dive, and I swayed dangerously. I was at my limit.
“You’re leaving,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“But I’ll be back.”
“At the migration?”
I looked up at her quickly. “Actually, I was referring to you. I don’t think I have much choice in this anymore. I’ll be back for you. Wherever you are.”
“Is that one of those merman promises?”
“No other kind.”

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“Well, if that’s true”— she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to mine— ”we better get you out of here before you turn to dust.” She looked back at the house. “And before my dad wakes up. He’s had enough revelations for one weekend.” She laughed despite the tears welling up in her lower lids. Then she said, “Wait here.”

I watched as she ran back to the house, then focused my attention on my feet in the water, the ripples rolling away from my ankles as I twisted my toes in the sand, a lump rising in my throat. She came back with a small drawstring bag.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be able to ditch your clothes in the car anymore,” she said.
I held her close and drank in the scent of oranges and pine. A rose- colored light spread from her arms and soaked into my shoulders, my chest, my legs. . . . It warmed me to a point where I almost forgot my own name. Then her lips met mine.
Too soon she broke away, turning her back on me. I stripped down, shoving my clothes into the bag, and slung the straps across my chest.
“Go,” she said, still facing the house.
And I dove.
Instantly there was a burst of light and heat that surely lit up the night sky. Every cell in my body broke open, crying with relief, welcoming the water that flooded through me. I seemed to expand— in fact, I’m sure I did— like a wasted sponge submerged. Burning with pent- up energy, my legs knitted and fused, exploding into the silver tail that bent the water and propelled me like a bullet from the shore.

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I arched and turned, breaking the watery plane, the midnight air on my face. Lily watched from the dock, her hand raised. The memory of her kiss was still fresh on my lips and I knew, with Lily, I was both free and imprisoned for all eternity.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This is the scary part where I get to thank all those people who helped me bring Calder and Lily to the world (and pray I haven’t left anyone out). In chronological order of events (because I’m a linear thinker) they are:

All those people who introduced me to Lake Superior when I could barely walk— and who rescued me when I tumbled in;

My sister, Elizabeth, who told me to get off my butt and write something for cripe’s sake;
My first three novels, which taught me what works and what doesn’t;
My parents, Steve and Deede Smith, who read the first draft of the first chapter of what would someday be
Lies Beneath
and told me to keep going;
The talented writers of the Minneapolis Writers Workshop, who caught my every misstep as I read Calder’s story aloud;
My beta readers and all- around cheerleaders, including Stephanie Landsem, Laura Sobiech, Beth Djalali, Weronika Janczuk, Therese Walsh, Kristina Riggle, Malena Lott, Elissa Hoole, the Apocalypsies, and my talented critique partner, Nina Badzin, who said, “I think this is the one!”;
Ian Baker, for forgetting his book at home and loving Weasel (which won’t make much sense to anyone but him, but I am sincerely indebted, kid);
My enthusiastic agent, Jacqueline Flynn, Joëlle Delbourgo Associates, the Jenny Meyer agency, and Rich Green of Creative Artists Agency; and