Sweet Water (12 page)

“L
et’s
face it,” Horace said. “These old houses might look romantic, but what they are is one big pain in the behind.”

It was Saturday. Dropping by with some brushes and rollers, Horace had found me in the kitchen cooking on a hot plate because a gas leak discovered two days before still hadn’t been traced.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said in a confidential tone. He took off his baseball cap. “Why don’t you cut your losses and let me rent you a real nice place over at Forest Lakes Village, dirt cheap?”

“I’m fine,” I said, stirring canned soup with a plastic spoon. “Really. As soon as the gas is hooked up I’ll be all set.”

He nodded absently and then shook his head, scrutinizing the sink. “Looks like it’s sprung a leak. We’ll have to get somebody over here to fix it soon as—”

“Horace,
I’m
going to fix it. I bought some caulking stuff today.” With the bottom of my T-shirt I wiped dust out of a mug and poured soup into it. “I can’t believe you haven’t noticed how much work I’ve done. I’ve been at it for three days! Can’t you see a difference?”

“All I see is an old firetrap of a house and a girl with more brains than sense.”

“Is that a compliment? Look, you can stop worrying about me. I really like it here. I like the trouble. That’s what I came down here for.”

He sighed and assumed a pained expression. “Well, frankly, Cassandra,
it’s not that simple. Elaine is worried to death. She says, and rightly so, ‘What if she falls down the stairs and hits her head or breaks her leg and nobody finds her for a week?’ She feels responsible. Hell, we all do.”

I put my hand on his arm. “You are sweet, Horace. But I’m not your responsibility. I lived by myself for years in New York, which is a lot more treacherous than this place, I can tell you.” I leaned back against the counter, blowing into my soup. “And anyway, I’m getting a dog. I saw an ad in the paper for black Lab puppies. I’ll train it to run to Elaine if anything happens to me.”

Horace put his cap on backward and headed for the door. “I’ll never understand why some people need to make life harder for themselves than it has to be,” he muttered under his breath.

    The eight-week-old pups were being sold for fifteen dollars each. The moment I laid eyes on them I knew which one I wanted. Most of them were asleep, nestled together in a heap in the pen, but one, wide-eyed, was staring at me through the wire, pushing his dark, wet nose up to my outstretched hand and wagging the tip of his tail. His coat was so black it was iridescent, like the body of a fly: so black it was blue.

Once I had him home I sat cross-legged in my spartan living room, surrounded by boxes, watching him explore. I’d carefully cleaned up the poison and disinfectants; the floor was so shiny that the bare light bulb in the ceiling socket was almost perfectly reflected.

The dog pawed at the spot of light until I flicked off the switch. “Come here, Blue,” I said. I patted the floor and he came trotting over. I leaned my head forward and he sniffed, licking my nose, my eyelashes, my lips. I closed my eyes, the puppy’s muzzle next to my chin, his hot breath on my face. I had never owned a dog before. In fact, now that I thought about it, I’d never really owned anything. I opened my eyes and looked at him. So far it seemed pretty easy.

* * *

Late Sunday morning I was upstairs in the bedroom when I heard a knock on the screen door. “Who is it?” I yelled, balancing my paint roller on the edge of the tray. I went out into the hall and leaned over the banister.

“It’s just me,” Alice called. “I brought over some stuff I thought you might could use.” She surveyed the dark hallway, the scattered drop cloths and paint cans. “Decorating, I see.”

“Starting to,” I said. “Come on in.”

With her arms full of bags, she pulled open the screen door. “When I was married to Chet he wanted all the walls in the house to be white—eggshell, to be precise. So as soon as he left I went through and painted every room a different color. I loved those little sample squares. Avocado, honeysuckle, seafoam.” She laughed. “Some worked and some didn’t, but anything was better than white.” She disappeared into the kitchen and set her bags on the table. “Hey, nice color in here! Tangerine! Really livens the place up.”

“I was thinking about robin’s-egg blue for the bathroom,” I said, coming down the stairs. “I bought a pint to see what it’s like.”

Alice started unpacking jars of food and putting them on the counter. “I tried that one. It’s darker than you’d think, and brighter. Kind of what it looks like on cloudless afternoons. Good bathroom color.” She held up a mason jar of green beans. “Where d’you want these?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t do anything. All this is from Clyde. She told me to tell you she would’ve called but she doesn’t have the number. In other words,” she said dryly, “she wants to know why you haven’t been in touch since you left.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to. I’ve been so busy.”

“I know. That’s what I told her.” She took out a bag of apples. “But all it takes is a simple gesture. I’m not telling you what to do, just suggesting.”

“To be honest, Alice, I didn’t really think she’d care.”

She shined an apple on her T-shirt. “You never know with her, do you? She’s a tough old bird. Lord, it’s no surprise Mother turned out as neurotic as she did. My policy is to give her a call every now and then, just to be on the safe side.” She bit into the apple. “The banker called me again,” she said abruptly, grinning. “Hal. He’s taking me out tonight to the fanciest restaurant in Knoxville. I think he’s in love.” She peered into a bag. “You want a pear?”

“Sure.” I took one from her. “So what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you in love?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Who knows? There’s not a hell of a lot to choose from around here. You can only go bowling with Billy Bob McCallahee so many times before you start getting a scary picture of yourself in curlers watching soaps, four screaming kids clinging to you while you pack ham sandwiches and cheese curls into a row of lunch boxes.” She sighed. “Besides, it’s been a long time. Would you believe I haven’t been with anybody since I split up with Chet? Everybody talks about saving yourself for the right one. Hah! All I’m saving myself for is middle age.” She took another bite of apple and waved her hand. “But enough talk about me. How are
you
doing? This place looks great.”

I led her through the dining room to the living room, asking her advice about colors and light fixtures. We stood talking for a while in a patch of sunlight in the middle of the floor.

“It’s so different from when Clyde and Granddaddy lived here,” she mused, looking around. “It was always so dark.” She went to a window and leaned out over the sill, then pulled back in surprise. “Holy bejeesus! Is that dog yours?”

“Blue. I got him yesterday.” I came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. Lying in the shade under the window, the puppy gazed up at us and wagged his tail. “He doesn’t bark yet. I think he’s shy.”

“What a cutie.” Alice made kissing noises out the window. “You should keep him in here with you, though. Dogs are like men. They want lots of loving, they just don’t know how to ask.” She turned
and inspected the room. “You need some furniture. Mother’s bound to have some old chairs somewhere she’s decided are out of style. And what about a dining room set? Maybe Kathy’s got something you could use.”

“Actually, I bought a few pieces I’m starting to refinish. They’re out back. But I’m keeping the dining room bare, for a studio. I want to take advantage of all this light. I figure as long as I have the space—”

“Sure, you might as well use it.” She twirled around slowly, holding her arms out. “It’s hard to believe a family of five used to live here.”

I leaned against the wall and slid down it to the floor. “What I can’t understand is why they’d just let this house sit here all this times. When did they move out—ten years ago?”

“More like fifteen.”

“There are still beds here. Even my mother’s.”

“When they left, they just left,” Alice said. “Clyde didn’t keep anything. What she couldn’t give away she threw out or just abandoned.”

“And it’s been empty ever since? Why in the world didn’t they sell it?”

She sat down cross-legged on the floor. “From what I heard, she wanted to, but Granddaddy wouldn’t do it. He said somebody in the family might want it, which seemed a little strange, seeing how he never offered it to anybody. Of course, now it all makes sense. He was saving it for you.”

I shook my head. “I can’t understand why.”

“Well, we all have our own ideas. Guilt about your mama being at the top of the list. Getting back at everybody else maybe somewhere in there too. After the accident he felt like everybody blamed him for it—Clyde mostly, but all of us. And he was right, we did. There’s no question he was drunk and had no right to be.” She leaned back on her elbows and stared at the ceiling. “But nobody
really knows what he was thinking. He pretty much closed up after it happened.”

“Do you think he really thought I’d come down here?”

“Well, he must’ve. What point would there be if you didn’t?”

“But even
I
didn’t know. For a while I was all ready to sell it.”

“Look at it this way. What did he have to lose?” She rolled over onto her stomach. “I don’t think it ever occurred to him that you wouldn’t come. That’s just how he was.”

“He never even contacted me. Not once.”

Alice reached over and squeezed my foot. “I think it would’ve been easier for him to give you a million dollars than to face you after what happened.” She looked at me for a long moment. Then she pulled back and sat up, brushing her hand along the floor, absently tracing patterns. “Can I ask you something? Don’t you get lonely out here?”

“I get a little scared sometimes at night.” I smiled. “But now I’ve got an attack dog.”

“Hah! That dog couldn’t frighten a rabbit.”

“So he needs a little training.” I paused. “Sure, I get lonely sometimes, but I think it’s a good thing. This is the first time I’ve ever been alone like this.”

“Isn’t it weird for you, being in this house? Your mother growing up here and all?”

I nodded. “You know, it’s funny. Sometimes it feels like there are all these people here and I’m not alone at all.”

Alice shivered. “Ugh. You’ve got to admit it’s a little creepy when you think about everything that happened here.” She winked mischievously. “Like that both our mothers were conceived right up there, for example.” She jabbed her finger at the ceiling.

“Now, how do we know that for sure? It could have happened right here where we’re sitting. Or maybe even at a drive-in.”

“Oh, come on—look at Clyde.” Alice giggled. “Does she strike you as the drive-in type?”

“Who’s to say? I saw some pictures of her when she was young, and she had this kind of gleam in her eye. And she was very pretty.”

“Really?” Alice said doubtfully.

“Haven’t you seen them?”

“Oh, I don’t like looking at old things. The past just seems so sad to me.”

“Does it? I always think of the past as happier.”

“Well, not for Clyde, at least from what I’ve heard. I don’t think she was ever very happy with Granddaddy.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, they used to call him ‘lunch-hour Romeo’ down at the mill. Remember that old gossip we ran into downtown, May Ford? I guess she was one of his Juliets.”

I sat up. “Who’d told you that?”

“Oh, nobody ever told me directly. If you live in one place long enough you get wind of everything.” She stretched out her legs. “Anyway, they say after your mother was killed he never so much as looked at another woman. Of course, he didn’t look at Clyde either, but at least he wasn’t catting around anymore.”

“How terrible for her.”

“Yeah, well.” Alice shrugged. “Who’s to say she didn’t drive him to it?”

“Oh, come on.” Suddenly, inexplicably, I felt protective toward Clyde.

“Look, everybody knows they had to get married because she was pregnant with Horace. So what if Granddaddy just got stuck with some woman he didn’t even love who nagged him and nagged him and drove him to drink and everything else?”

I frowned. “Alice, no one can ‘drive’ anybody to do anything.”

“Now, how do you know that? Have you ever tried it? My ex-husband used to say I drove him up a wall.” She looked at her watch. “Jiminy! Hal’s coming by in three hours. I’ve got to get my nails done and pick Eric up at the pool.” She stood. I stayed where I
was on the floor. “Hey, are you all right?” she said, touching my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I tapped the wooden floorboards with my fingers. “I just didn’t know about all this.”

“All what?”

“Amory. The affairs and everything.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

“It does matter.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I’m glad you did. Now I know what he was really like.”

Alice crossed her arms. “Well, I’m sorry I told you, because now that’s all you know.”

“What else is there?”

She hesitated. “You’ll never believe this now,” she said finally, “but I think he was a kind person.”

I contemplated the floor.

“Look,” she said. “All you know about him is that he drank too much and he fooled around—and he was responsible for your mama’s death. But there was more to him than that. That accident—it was a shame, Cassie, it really was, but it was an
accident.
He was the one who had to live with it. He did his time.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake! She was my mother, Alice. I’m the one who had to live with it, not him.”

“He had to live with the guilt, with Clyde, with it never being over. You and your daddy could go home and start again.”

I looked up at her. “I can’t believe you’re saying that. You have no idea what it was like.”

She leaned against the doorframe and shut her eyes. “You’re right. I don’t have any idea. It’s just that it was so terrible for so long, and Clyde was so awful to him, that in the end all I could feel was pity. And on top of that, knowing he left you this house as some kind of apology—”