Watery Graves (11 page)

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Chapter Eighteen

The footbridge was completely submerged. Even though the rain eased up, the waterline had been rising for days.  Mercy River had more life to it than Emmy had ever seen. Intricate arrangements of rocks and pebbles, once high above the shoreline, stirred up the water. It swirled into whirlpools as it swept through gullies and sprayed high with each crash against rock, falling in tiny waterfalls back into the currents.

For hours at a time, Emmy sat on the same rock on the hillside and watched. Each day the water rose a little higher,
as though it was taunting her. With a clenched jaw and her shoulders pressed back, she sat on. Even though their cabins were set high, she worried that the floods were bad enough this time to wash them away.

The day finally came when she could stretch out her feet and feel the water gush over her toes. Only then did the levels begin to recede. As it drew away, she edged her way down the hillside with it, not caring that the soggy ground soaked her cargo pants.

It was time to beat Mercy River.

The water tumbled across rocks with smooth flat surfaces stripped of old moss. With her pant
s legs rolled high, Emmy waded across the bubbling shallows over to one of the ledges.

The rain had washed the mountains. The air was dust free. With eyes closed for long moments, she allowed the water to tickle her ankles. She bent down and scooped some up. In her hand the water was
murky.

Emmy stepped down onto a ledge and then another, until she was knee deep. Again, she closed her eyes. Long cleansing breaths cleared her mind of fear. Ghosts of the past swam through purple light in front of her eyelids. It took time before she recognised each of them.

Whimpers started out faintly. By the time she heard them, they were more like sobs. Her eyes snapped open. Emmy spun around, and took three nimble steps over the submerged rocks and onto the grass.

Her chest ached. The sadness had been hers. 

Chapter Nineteen

The urn was made of ornate gold. It looked expensive but Emmy knew it was fake.  Money was too tight for unnecessary riches. Kristian knelt down and placed it in front of them. Emmy searched Kristian and Ingrid’s faces for reassurance. Sebastian sat across from her, his eyes appearing unfocussed, avoiding the urn, watching the rain on the window pane.

“What exactly did they do to her to stuff her in such a small container?” Emmy asked, her eyes darting between her mother and Kristian.

“It’s her ashes,” Ingrid explained, frowning. “You know, cremation?”

Sebastian’s face cleared and he looked at Emmy, turning the edges of his mouth down and shrugging. She reached across the coffee table offering one hand to him and placing her other hand in Kristian’s calloused palm. Ingrid completed the circle
, reaching out to Kristian and Sebastian. They bowed their heads and the room filled with the sound of rain tapping on the tin roof.

Emmy fidgeted and tugged on the hands she held. “But how do they do it exactly? Burn her up and then pull out the dustpan and broom?”

“Emmy. That’s enough,” Ingrid warned. 

Sebastian shifted his grip, interlocking his fingers in hers. “Don’t think about it, Em.”

Emmy bowed her head, closed her eyes and tried to imagine Maya somewhere in the room. All she could come up with was a vision of her on the roof tap dancing for their attention. But then she sensed something feathery touch her hair and brush against her skin, sending shivers through her body. Expecting to see something luminous, Emmy forced one eye open. But the room remained dull on yet another cloudy day.

“I miss how Maya puts her cold feet on me at night when she snuggles in,” Kristian said.

“I miss the way we work as though we’re in perfect sync. No need for words,” Ingrid murmured. “She knew what I thought and felt just by being with me.”

“She taught me about love and fear,” Emmy said. “And love and sadness. Love is always there if you look for it.”

“Nice,” Kristian said.

“
Midnight feasts,” Sebastian mumbled.

“The way her eyes lit up when she saw any one of us,
” Kristian said.

“The way she seemed to understand us all. Her wisdom on everything,” Ingrid said, “and the way she wanted us to feel safe and brave at the same time.”

“Remember when we bet she couldn’t drink the chocolate milkshake through her nose?” Emmy giggled. “I didn’t think she’d actually try to do it.”

The room fell silent.

Emmy bit her lip, closing her eyes tight. “Are you all looking at me?” She opened one eye to discover that they were.

Kristian chuckled and shook his head
. “Eehhmyyy.”

It gave them all permission to laugh.

Chapter Twenty

Emmy woke in her bed. Feeling a little strange, she wondered if she’d been sick. She felt the warmth of her mother beside her. That in itself was weird. It had been a while since they’d spent a full night together.

“Mum?” Emmy said.

“No it’s me, Em,” Maya said, rolling over.

“Maya? I’m dreaming.”

“No. It’s not a dream.”

Emmy sat up. 

“I’m taking you back to the river,” Maya said. “Stay with me.”

Emmy took her hand. As they walked she realised she couldn’t feel the floorboards under her feet.

“Em?...Em?”

With a crash, Emmy fell to the floor. She looked up, rubbing her knees and moaning.

“Em?” Sebastian said from the bed. “What are you doing?”

Maya vanished.

“I was asleep, I think.”

Sebastian pulled the sheets back
. “Climb back in.”

*

At the lookout, the river gushed below them as it snaked around the bend. The hillside looked sludgy. “Let’s hope the rain holds off,” Sebastian said, as he spread the plastic tarp on the rocky outcrop.

“Yeah. It’s good to be out again.”

Emmy settled into Sebastian’s arms. She held the newspaper so they could flick through it together. They’d swiped it from the kitchen. No one seemed to be putting as much effort into hiding the news from them anymore. She decided she was better reading a national paper than the local one. Everything in its stories happened far away.

Police Dog Stabbed…Terror in the Suburbs: Random Machete Attack…Bullies Force Toddler to Drink Petrol…Earthquake Kills Seventy Thousand…Inquiry into Police Violence against Protesters Outside Parliament…Glaciers Disappearing at Alarming Rates…Network of Terror Suspects Arrested and Charged…International Paedophile Ring Uncovered…Children Victims of Internet Porn…Racial Riots…

“Depressing,” Sebastian murmured.

Emmy’s heart and mind grew as heavy as her arms. She wrestled with the paper, folded it and cuddled it to her chest. “What nice things do you think you’ll say about me when I die?” she asked Sebastian.

“Way to lighten the mood, Em.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not going to die,” Sebastian said. “I swear it.”

“We’re all going to die. I mean all these people in the paper didn’t wake up expecting to die or be attacked or whatever happened that day either. It happens.”

“You really shouldn’t be reading these papers.”

“It just gets me thinking that’s all. Isn’t that what reading a paper should do? Or a book or a movie?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to die next. You’re too young.”

“But we just read about a little girl who was playing and some kids forced her to drink petrol. She died. She was four.”

“That kind of thing happens when you drink something flammable. That’d never happen here in Mercy Falls.”

“My uncle died when he was little. Right here in this river.”

“That’s unnatural. Most of the time parents die first.”

“Maya was young.”

“Emmy, you’re not going to die. Just because one person dies doesn’t mean another one will.”

“You’re right. It’s been more than fifteen years between deaths.”

“Yeah, and for the next fifty years Mum’s death is about all I can handle. Thanks for offering yourself up to be next, but I don’t think I could take it.”

“When you’re dead you’re not really gone. You know that don’t you?” Emmy said. “Maya’s still around.”

Sebastian sighed. “I want that to be true too.”

“It is true. I know it.”

“It’s not the same though is it? I’ll never really be able to touch her or hear her speak to me. Not in the way I will know for sure, like when she was alive, in flesh and blood.”

“It’s something you just have to believe and then you feel her.”

*

Emmy carried in a pail of warm goat milk and heaved it up onto the kitchen bench. “I need swimming lessons, Mum.”

“Not yet,” her mother said, looking under the lid. “The goats were good to you today.”

“Maya wanted me to be brave in life and in the water.”

Before Ingrid went back to scrubbing the oven, she looked at Emmy, taking a moment to really look at her. “You can go and stay over at Libby’s. That’s the kind of bravery Maya talked about too. Mrs Bexley offered. It’ll help you take your mind off things.”

Emmy sucked in her cheeks. She looked at all the frothy milk, lined up the milk bottles and went searching for the funnel. “I need to go back into the water one day. Isn’t it better that I do it with Kristian and Sebastian helping me?”

“I’m not ready. If Maya hadn’t gone down there that day she would still be alive. I know it. That river filled her lungs with water and it just sat there making them spongy until it was impossible to breathe.”

“The cancer was in her lungs too Mum.”

“No, it was the river in the end that took her.”

Emmy pressed on, “I believe she will be there to help me when I swim.”

Ingrid shook her head. “The river is still too wild.”

“It’s settling Mum. It will be like this for a while, especially if it rains a few more times. Shouldn’t I get experience when it isn’t so still?”

“The only time anyone should go near that river is when it is still, especially you and me.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Libby dropped her
racquet, fishing her iPhone out of her pocket. She opened the message and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Emmy asked.

Libby shook her head. “Nothing.” She dropped her phone back into her pocket. It was her turn to serve.

In the middle of a long volley, Libby dropped her racket again, fishing for the phone.

“Whahahat?” Emmy whined. “We were going so strong.”

Libby looked at the phone and laughed
. “You don’t want to know.”

“What?” Emmy swung her
racquet over her shoulder and walked around the net.

“I don’t know if I should show you.”

“That kind of hurts Lib.”

“No it’s not a big deal
. Sorry.”

“What’s the joke? I like a laugh too.”

“You might not think this is funny.”

“Let me see.”

Libby scrunched up her face but held out her phone to show Emmy the message. There was a photo of Sebastian. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. The text read, #
hot today.

“Sebastian’s hot?” Emmy questioned.

Libby rolled her eyes. “Hot, Em.”

“Oh…H
O T…Hot,” Emmy nodded.

“As in he’s got no shirt on hot. The girls are hanging out at Teagan’s watching him work on your grandparents
’ place.”

“Well tell them to tell him to put his shirt back on for me,” Emmy said, heading back to her side of the court.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Times like this I wish I had a phone,” Emmy muttered to herself. She waited for Libby to finish texting back.

“He is kind of cute, Em. The girls just like having new blood in town.”

“It’s just Sebastian.”

“But I see what they’re saying. Sebastian has grown up…in a nice way.”

“Girls
, dinner!” Mrs Bexley shouted from the kitchen.

Emmy and Libby finished their volley before heading in. They left their rac
quets on the porch before heading into the house. This was new to Emmy. She half wished she was at home having dinner with her own family. She nudged Libby as they sat down at the table. “I’ll follow you, okay?”

“Em, it’s only us. No need to be nervous.”

Matilda and Cassidy were at the table sipping milk. Mrs Bexley placed the last of the dishes in the centre, and then with a flurry of hands, portions were argued over and served. Sausages, mashed potatoes and vegetables.

“I’m having chocolate milk,” Libby said, spooning some powder into her glass
. “Do you want some?”

Emmy nodded.

“It’s not fresh milk I’m afraid, Emmy.  Kristian bought some to us this morning but it was gone by breakfast. The girls love it.”

“I’ll tell him to bring you extra next time,” Emmy said, with a grin. “The goats have been happy since the rain. There’s been plenty of milk.”

“No need to go overboard for us, sweetie. These girls have more than enough milk in one day.”

The instant Mrs Bexley sat down at the table, everyone picked up their knives and forks. “Hold it,” she said.

“Come on, Mum,” Matilda moaned.

“Cheeky
.” Mrs Bexley laughed. “I just thought it would be nice to welcome Emmy. It’s her first dinner with us.” Mrs Bexley held up her milk to make a toast. “It’s a long time coming.”

The girls raised their glasses in welcome, then took a couple of gulps. Emmy took a sip. Store bought milk tasted strange. It was weak and watery. And the chocolate flavouring was different to the drinking cocoa they used at home.

Just like Libby, Emmy cut off a piece of sausage, swiped it in tomato sauce and smothered some mashed potatoes and peas over it. It was a bigger bite than she expected and she chewed for ages. Again the taste was strange. It left a furry layer over her tongue.

“So how is it, Em?” Mrs Bexley asked.

“Fine, thanks.”

“Libby loves her sausages.”

Libby nodded, grunted and swallowed. “When I was a kid, Mum used to take me to the butchers and he’d hand over a raw sausage for me to eat. They thought I was completely wacked out.”

“They wouldn’t do it now,” Cassidy said
. “Too much chance of a lawsuit with uncooked pork and all.”

With her mouth full of her second bite, Emmy froze. Pushing the sausage and vegetables with her tongue into the side of her mouth, she asked, “You get your sausages from the butchers?”

“Yeah,” Matilda snorted. “Bums and lips, eh Mum.”

“So crass, Matti
.” Mrs Bexley chuckled and shook her head. “Mr Grant’s sausages are the best in Mercy Falls.”

“But Mr Grant sells meat,” Emmy said, still unable to swallow the food in her mouth.

“Oh dear.” Mrs Bexley covered her mouth. “Oh no,” she said, standing up and swiping the plate out from under Emmy, and disappearing. “We should have known,” she called from the kitchen.

Emmy sat looking at the girls, with a mountain of food still in her mouth she could neither swallow or spit out.

Mrs Bexley dashed back out from the kitchen with a serviette. “Here Em. Spit it into this.”

Emmy stood up and turned her back as she sp
at it out. As Mrs Bexley headed back to the kitchen with the mushed up meat, Emmy dashed for the porch door, her face hot and tears stinging her eyes.

Outside in the rose garden she knelt, wanting to vomit but unable to. The furry layer in her mouth was animal flesh. It stuck to her tongue, fat and meat and blood and gristle and bone made into sausage.
The insides of a dead animal.

Emmy heard footsteps behind her. It was Libby, holding a glass of water and some toothpaste. “I’m so sorry, Emmy.”

“It’s okay.”

“In the time I’ve known you, I never knew you were a vegetarian.”

“I just don’t eat meat. I’ve never eaten meat.”

“Hence the term vegetarian.”

Emmy sat back on her haunches and started to cry. “What animal did I eat?”

“Umm. Pork. I think. Mum usually gets pork sausages.”

“Pork?”

“A pig.”

“I…ate…a pig,” she said. She swished more water around her mouth and gargled, choking on the water between sobs. “The poor pig.”

“But as Matilda said, it’s only bums and lips.”

Emmy lunged for the toothpaste.

*

The girls sat down to a night in front of the television. Emmy and Libby had made a makeshift bed on the pull out couch and were cosied up together, under sheets pulled tight. A tub of popcorn sat between them. Libby dug in by the handful.

“Have some?” she urged Emmy, while they waited for Mrs Bexley to set up the movie.

Emmy shook her head. “I’m right.”

“It’s real popcorn. No meat. I swear. Nothing you can’t have. Not even a preservative.”

“What’s that?”

Matilda smothered a laugh, but Cassidy stopped her with a flash of a look.

“Sorry,” Matilda said, “I’m not laughing at you Em, really.”

Emmy felt the tell-tale heat rise in her neck. “I know. It’s okay.” She dug into the popcorn and popped a couple in her mouth. She couldn’t take her eyes off all the equipment and images that flashed up on the screen at the push of a button. It amazed her how Mrs Bexley could make a movie play and stop, pause and fast forward from the armchair.

“‘Wizard of Oz’, it is,” Mrs Bexley said, smiling at Emmy. “We’ll make it a classic. You’ll love it.”

“But Mum,” Cassidy whined, “
there’s classics and there’s
classics.
Can’t we have something more up to date?”

“After what happened at dinner, I’m not taking any chances. Ingrid will never let Emmy stay here ever again.”

“No. That won’t happen,” Emmy said.

“What about
‘The Sound of Music’ then,” Mrs Bexley suggested.

“I’ve seen that so many times,” Cassidy moaned.

“We haven’t seen ‘The Wizard of Oz’ for years,” Matilda said. “I’ve forgotten what it’s about.”

“It’s old
, Matti.”

But the movie was starting and the girls stopped their complaints. It wasn’t as easy to watch as Emmy thought. She couldn’t imagine being dropped in the middle of nowhere without her family to look after her and having to find her own way home. The wicked witches,
a talking scarecrow, a tin man and that stressed-out lion were hard to watch. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something else.

But then, memories of Maya kept crowding her mind.

She forced herself to squint at the screen through her fingers.

“Are you okay, Em?” Libby whispered.

“Huh?” she dropped her hand and watched Dorothy give a pep talk to the Lion, “Yeah, just tired. Great movie.”