Chapter Thirteen

chapter thirteen

June 18, 2019

My father fell asleep in the car on the way back to Sparrow Crest. We’d stopped off at an office supplies place, and I’d picked up some three-ring binders, plastic sleeves, and folders to help me start organizing Lexie’s journals and notes. I ran into the pet shop next door for more cat food, litter, treats, and even some little catnip-stuffed toy mice. I woke Ted up once we were back at Sparrow Crest. He opened his eyes. “Jesus,” he said, looking up at the house and giving a dramatic shiver. “Dracula’s castle.”

Once we got inside, he said he needed a “power nap.” I helped him get settled into the bedroom next to mine—Lexie’s childhood room. The last year, she’d been using Gram’s old room at the end of the hall, so all her stuff was still in there. We’d have to go through it—a task I couldn’t imagine myself ever being ready to face. For now, I’d just shut the door, sure I’d heard Lexie chiding, Outta sight, outta mind, huh?

The cat wandered in, and my father called out, “Pig!” He brushed against my father’s ankles, then disappeared under the bed.

Of course Ted knew about the cat.

I took in a breath, told myself to let go of the jealousy—the distance was my own doing. The healthy thing, my therapist brain told me, would be to acknowledge my feelings of resentment, then reframe and focus on the positive—wasn’t it wonderful that Lexie and Ted had been so close, that my sister had someone to tell all about Pig?

“Ted,” I said as I laid a quilt on top of the freshly made bed. “Thank you. For always being there for Lexie.”

He gave me a puzzled look, shook his head, said, “I wasn’t. But I did my best. That’s all any of us do, isn’t it?”

His words hit me like a cannonball in the chest.

“Barbara, it’s Jackie Metcalf. I was hoping we could schedule a time to talk by phone. Being here, it’s… it’s, uh, bringing up a lot of stuff. Old issues and new questions. Anyway, I could use a rational voice to help me out a little.”

The walk to town seemed farther than when we were kids. But then again, Lexie and I had made the trip on bikes, singing, screaming, daring each other to ride faster. We’d go to the Four Corners Store for penny candy—licorice pipes, Squirrel Nut Zippers, Bit-O-Honeys, Mint Juleps, tiny wax bottles full of bright liquid sugar. Stuff they didn’t sell at the corner store back home—hadn’t really sold anywhere else for years. Lexie called it “old lady candy.” We’d park our bikes out front, go into the store with its old creaking wooden floorboards, and load up paper bags and then get a couple of ice-cold Hires Root Beers to wash it all down.

Now, I followed our dirt road to Lower Road, which had been dirt when I was a kid but was now paved. Lower Road ran downhill to Main Street. So little had changed. It felt like there was a protective bubble over Brandenburg, keeping everything frozen in time—like the dome of a snow globe with the perfect little New England village trapped inside.

There was the Brandenburg Post Office, where Lexie and I sent postcards to our mom and Ted and friends back home. Having a great time at Sparrow Crest. Swimming every day. Gram sends her love. And the Blue Heron Bakery. When I was growing up people had been known to drive all the way from Burlington for the lemon-blueberry muffins Terri Mueller made. Ryan’s dad, Randy, greeted nearly every customer by name and gave Lexie and me free hot chocolate with extra whipped cream whenever we went in.

We played with other kids in town, kids whose names I can no longer recall—a girl with white-blond hair, a boy with thick glasses. But Ryan was like family. His grandmother, Shirley, was Gram’s best friend. They’d grown up together, Shirley’s family just on the other side of the hill from Sparrow Crest. They liked to sit by the pool drinking gin and tonics and playing cards on summer afternoons.

I passed Lily’s Bed and Breakfast—a quaint old farmhouse with a white picket fence and tidy flower beds. Lily had been running the place forever. In addition to the rooms in the house, she had riverside cabins out back and a large renovated barn where she hosted weddings, graduations, and local theater productions.

The Four Corners Store had a large wooden porch with benches for people to sit and enjoy the ice cream cones they scooped inside. A bulletin board out front held notices for yard sales, camp wood, a fly-fishing tournament, and a chicken-pie supper at the Methodist Church. I pushed open the heavy front door and crossed the creaking old floorboards to the beer cooler in the back. I grabbed a six-pack of a local IPA—something I thought my dad would like. If he was going to drink, I knew from experience that we were better off having him stick with beer. Besides, IPA sounded good to me, too. As I was closing the cooler, a memory came to me. Standing right in this spot, picking root beers from the cooler as two women we didn’t know talked in the next aisle over.

“Lets those girls run around wild with the Mueller boy.”

“What’s she going to do? Keep them locked up in the house with her?” the other woman had said to her companion.

“Those girls shouldn’t be staying up there in that house. Shouldn’t be swimming in that pool. That pool should be filled in. I don’t understand why Maggie didn’t do it after she lost poor Rita. Nothing good ever came from that place. Cursed, that’s what my mother always said.”

They’d been talking about us. Us and Gram.

I shook off the memory and brought my beer up to the counter, where an older man rang me up. The store owner. I struggled to remember his name. Bob? Bill?

“That be all for you today?” he asked.

“Actually, I don’t know if you’ll remember me. I’m Jackie Metcalf, my sister, Lexie, and I used to spend summers up at Sparrow Crest with our grandmother, Maggie Harkness. Lexie recently…” I fumbled for the word. Died? Passed away? Went totally out of her mind and drowned herself in her own pool?

“Oh my gosh, Lexie’s sister! Of course I remember you. I was sorry as hell to hear what happened. My son, Vern, he’s in the VFD, he was one of the paramedics who got there first. Terrible thing.”

A knot formed in my throat as I imagined this man’s son standing over Lexie’s naked body, knowing there was no reviving her. “Thank you,” I managed. “We’re having a memorial service tomorrow. You’re welcome to come.” I gave him the details.

“Me and the missus will be there. She was in here a lot and always so friendly. A good girl.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Oh hell, I nearly forgot,” he said. “I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?”

“Something your sister placed a special order for. It’s all paid for. I’ve got it out back, just a sec.”

Lexie never shopped online. She didn’t own a computer. Or a cell phone. She hated the idea that people could track everything you did online, every site you visited, everything you looked at or bought.

He went through a curtained door behind the register and came back with a sealed and taped cardboard box addressed to Lexie, care of the Four Corners Store. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the box from him. It was long and narrow—about four feet by eight inches. It weighed very little. I thought about opening it, but I wanted to be alone when I saw whatever Lexie had ordered. “I know Lexie wasn’t a fan of computers.”

“It wasn’t just the computer thing,” he said. “She didn’t trust the UPS guy. Didn’t like strangers coming to the house. Didn’t even get her mail there, rented a PO box in town. If she needed something, she’d come to us and we’d order it for her. All her swimming and diving stuff, things for the house, whatever she needed and couldn’t buy locally.”

“That was very kind of you,” I said. “Thank you. For being so good to my sister.” Tears filled my eyes. I bit my cheek. I did not want to start crying here. Not like this.

“We were glad to do it. You need anything while you’re here, you come see me,” he said.

I thanked him and left the store, six-pack of beer in one hand, the long package tucked under my arm. In search of comfort, I headed straight for the Blue Heron. The warm bakery smell was instantly reassuring. I made my way to the counter, where rows of pastries, muffins, and cookies sat in a glass case.

“Hi there! What can I get for you?” the man behind the glass asked. He was tall and red-haired, and his eyes were as green as ever. “Oh my God,” he said. He had the same infectious grin as when he was a boy. “Jax? Is that really you?”

“Ry,” I said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry about Lex.” He came out from behind the counter and we hugged. “I can’t believe it’s real. I keep expecting her to come in for a muffin and cappuccino.”

She was a regular at the bakery. Of course. The little things I didn’t know about my sister worried at me like splinters under my skin. Your own fault, Jax. “I know,” I said, feeling my eyes tear up. “At Sparrow Crest I catch myself thinking she’s upstairs or in the next room. Somewhere just out of sight.”

“I know what you mean. Can I get you a coffee? A muffin?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

He poured two cups of coffee, grabbed a couple of muffins, and joined me at a table.

“How is your mom?”

“She’s doing really well now. I got divorced last year and came back up to help her out. It seemed like the MS was progressing really rapidly, but now things have stabilized, even improved a bit. She’s on a medication regime that seems to be helping, and she’s taking care of herself—eating well, doing yoga.”

“And how about your dad?” I asked, looking around, wondering if Randy might be in the back baking.

Ryan frowned. “I guess you haven’t heard. They got divorced. Are getting divorced, more exactly. I don’t think it’s legally official yet.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Terri and Randy had always seemed so happy together, joking with each other all day at the bakery.

“You’re not the only one. Mom hasn’t told most of our family yet. She didn’t even tell me. Dad did. Poor guy. Totally shell-shocked. This came out of nowhere. Mom just woke up one morning a couple months ago and told him it was over; she wanted a divorce. He moved out of the house and is down in Connecticut with my uncle James now.”

“Wow,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “She won’t talk to me about it at all. I don’t have a clue what’s going on with her. I’m trying to be supportive and all, but she’s making it pretty difficult.” He took a sip of coffee. “Your aunt didn’t mention anything about it to you?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“I just don’t get it. I mean, if my dad was an asshole or something— but they seemed happy together. There were no warning signs. And my mom, she’s always been so open with me, but these days she’s like a closed book. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be there for her when she won’t let me in.” His face tensed with frustration.

“That sounds hard for all of you,” I said, feeling myself slip into counseling mode. “I think the best thing you can do to support your mom is just let her know you’re here and you’ll be here no matter what. But give her the space she needs to go through whatever she’s going through. I’m sure she’ll open up to you again when she’s able to.”

“I hope so.” He gripped his coffee cup hard, looked down into it. “Anyway…” he said, seeming eager to change the subject.

“The bakery looks the same,” I said.

“That’s pretty much true of the whole town,” he said. “Brandenburg: the town that time forgot.” We laughed. “That’s not entirely true, though. We’ve made a few changes to the bakery. And there are some new houses here and there around town. The old Miller farm burned down last winter. The library got rid of the old card catalogs and got computerized. But some things haven’t changed a bit. At the Four Corners the floors still creak, and Bill Bisette still calls me Red.”

I laughed. “Bill! I just saw him. It’s so great that you’re back, though, Ryan. But aren’t you a fancy architect?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘fancy,’ but yeah, that’s what I do. I’ve been taking on freelance work up here to keep my feet wet. And I’ve done some work to the bakery—opened up the wall between the kitchen and storage room so it’s one big space with better flow, added those skylights.” He pointed up. “Did you see the solar panels on the roof? Helping make the building more green. And we’ve got a heat pump.”

“How great!” I said. “Being an architect was always your dream.”

I thought back to the summer he tried to help Lexie catch the peacock: how he’d drawn designs for all of these elaborate peacock traps on paper—things involving springs and hinges and underground chambers, contraptions that they’d never be able to build.

“Lexie didn’t tell me you were back in town,” I said now. “But then again, we weren’t talking all that much.”

Ryan nodded. “She told me.”

I sank back in my chair. “I was an asshole, Ry.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said.

“No? I got resentful because my mentally ill sister inherited the house and I didn’t? So pissed off I stopped talking to her. And that doesn’t make me an asshole?”

He shrugged. “It makes you human.”

“I did my best to justify it. I told myself that distance was a healthy thing for both Lexie and me. That I needed time and space to work on myself.” I shook my head.

We were quiet for a minute, sipping our coffees. Grief and guilt settled in the pit of my stomach, and the coffee swirled and burned. I pushed the mug away.

“She hadn’t given up on things between the two of you,” he said. “She said she was going to invite you to visit this fall.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “She was determined to find a way to get you to come, making all kinds of plans. She wanted to do some work on the house, get it all fixed up. She had me up there a couple of months ago to give her my professional opinion on some renovations she was considering.”

“What kind of renovations?”

“Nothing major. Some built-in bookcases. New windows. Another dormer up in the attic to let in more light. She wanted to cut a hole in the wall between two bedrooms upstairs and put a little door there.”

Tears filled my eyes. I let myself imagine it—the little door letting us whisper to each other. What would I tell her? I’m sorry Sorry for being a shitty sister.

“I was worried about her up in that house all alone,” he said. “That house… the history.”

“What history? You mean what happened with Rita?”

He looked down, and just then, I remembered the last time Ryan swam in the pool. He and Lexie had been treading water, trying to stay warm. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. You could count his ribs, see every bone in his body. His lips were blue and chattering.

“Are you ready, Rye Bread?” she’d said with a mocking smile. “ ’Cause I am so gonna beat your ass.”

She was good at psyching people out. Making them feel like they’d lost before the game even started. But she didn’t notice other stuff about people. She had no idea that Ryan’s favorite color was blue, his favorite place was his grandpa’s cottage on Cape Cod, his favorite meal was spaghetti and meatballs. She didn’t know because she’d never asked him. I had.

Ryan shook his head. “Not this time.”

He’d never won against her. Not once. Not yet. But I wanted him to. I was wishing for it. Wishing for it with all my might. I was so tired of her always winning at everything, then gloating about it.

“Jax, you’re timekeeper,” Lexie ordered. “And Rye Bread,” she’d said, voice low. “Be careful down there. You don’t want to meet up with poor little Rita.”

“Shut up, Lex,” I said.

“She’s down there,” Lexie said. “It’s true and you know it, Jax.”

“On three,” I said. “One…”

“If you’re a scaredy-cat chickenshit, you can always keep your eyes closed,” Lexie told him.

“Two,” I said. Ryan had looked terrified. “Three!”

They both dove.

Unlike the Dead Game my sister and I played, the goal here was different. They’d swim down deep and see who could stay under longer, try to touch the bottom. Neither ever had.

Ryan was a strong swimmer. Not as strong as Lexie, but close.

I kept my eye on the second hand of Ryan’s Timex.

Thirty seconds.

I looked down into the water, saw no sign of them. No movement. A few air bubbles rising up, but nothing else.

I listened to the sound of the water trickling down the spillway, imagined it had a voice, that it was whispering something I couldn’t quite make out.

Fifty seconds! Ryan had never made it past one minute. At one minute and four seconds, Lexie popped up and looked around. “You have to be shitting me!” she’d yelped.

“You lose!” I said, elated.

We waited five seconds. Ten.

“Where the hell is Ryan?” Lexie asked—she had sounded scared, and Lex was never scared. I felt panic bubbling up. She went back under. Ryan surfaced five seconds later, gasping and choking, slapping at the water, lunging for the edge. Lexie was right behind him.

“There’s something down there!” he yelled. He’d flailed his way to the side of the pool, pulled himself up, and scuttled away from the edge as fast as he could. “Something grabbed me!”

“That was me, dumbass,” Lexie said. “You’d been under too long.”

“No! This was before! Something had me by the ankle. It was pulling me down!”

“There’s nothing down there, Ryan,” Lexie said, swimming to the edge. “I’m sorry about what I said. About Rita. I was just…”

“Look!” Ryan said, pointing to his ankle. There, on the pale gooseflesh skin above his right ankle, were three red scratch marks, blood coming to the surface.

“I gotta go,” he said, throwing on his T-shirt and sneakers. “Creepy-ass pool!” He’d practically run home.

“You’re such an asshole,” I told my sister. She was taken aback. I never called her names like this. She looked at me like she wasn’t sure who I even was. “What? Why?”

I took a step closer to her, my face only inches from hers. She smelled watery and metallic. “Did you grab him?” I’d demanded, a fierceness in my tone that I didn’t recognize.

“No! I mean, I grabbed his wrist for a second—I was gonna pull him up, but he swam up on his own.”

“Swear to God?”

“I swear! It wasn’t me. I didn’t touch your stupid little boyfriend.”

I scowled at her, furious. I thought back to the wish I’d made to the pool once: for her not to be the special one, for things to be harder for her, for something bad to happen. I looked at the black water and was angry with it, too, for never granting my wish.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, me with all the anger I could muster, and her with a look of bemusement.

“So if you didn’t grab him, what did that to his ankle?”

She shrugged. “He probably scraped it on the side of the pool. It’s so dark. Being under for a long time, down deep, you get disoriented. You see stuff that isn’t there. Imagine things.”

And hadn’t I imagined that I’d seen things down there? A flash of white that I’d thought for a split second was a pale hand—but it was only a reflection.

Lexie added, “There’s nothing in that water except what we bring in with us.”

It was a phrase I thought about every time I got in the dark water. And it came back to me now as Ryan said, “It’s a huge house for one person. Way out there with no neighbors. You’re not staying there, are you?”

“I am,” I admitted. “But Ted’s with me now.”

He looked at me for a long time, like he was waiting for me to say that he was right, it was a creepy place and I shouldn’t be staying there; no one should.

“You know,” he said at last. “It’s hard not to blame myself for what happened. She was in here every morning. She’d go for a run, then end up here. The last few times, something seemed off about her.”

“Off in what way? Manic?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. She just seemed… jumpy. Off. But not off the wall, talking a mile a minute. This was a different Lexie.” He paused, looking at me. “A scared Lexie.”

The only time I’d ever seen my sister afraid of anything was the day when Ryan hadn’t come up from underwater. Fear just wasn’t typically part of her emotional repertoire.

“We had this stupid argument,” he said.

“Argument? About what?”

He shook his head, looked away. “Nothing really. Like I said, it was stupid. But she went away in a dramatic huff—you know how she could get—then didn’t come by for days. I should have checked in on her. But I didn’t want to piss her off. When she first got here, she was into having visitors, letting people come and use the pool. Then she closed everything up. Put up all those no-trespassing signs.”

“Do you know what changed?” I asked. “What made her shut herself away?”

“Can’t help you with that one,” he said, looking away. “I have no idea.”

Even though he was a grown man now, I could still read him like I’d been able to when he was a little boy. I knew, without a doubt, that Ryan was lying. I just didn’t know why.

We finished our coffee and said our goodbyes. “It’s really good to see you again, Jax,” he said as he pulled me into a tight hug.

“Same,” I said, feeling myself stiffen, then relax and hug him back just as tightly, comforted by the sense of familiarity. Maybe he wasn’t being totally upfront with me about what had been going on with Lexie, but if I played my cards right, I just might be able to get him to open up and tell me the truth.

“I’ll see you at the service tomorrow. And in the meantime, if you need anything, anything at all, call me day or night.” He wrote his number down on a napkin and handed it to me.

I thanked him and gathered up the beer and package.

He frowned at the long rectangular box tucked under my arm. “What’s in the box?”

“I’m not sure. Something Lexie ordered.”

“Take care of yourself, Jax. If staying up at Sparrow Crest turns out to be too much, call me anytime. I’ve got a spare room, and my door’s always open.”