Chapter Twenty-Three

chapter twenty-three

June 20, 2019

Lexie called this place ‘the geezer farm,’ ” Ryan told me as we pulled up to Edgewood. It was a single-story building tucked up against the woods, sheathed with dark siding so that it blended into the landscape.

I could imagine her using the term, even when she went to see Shirley.

“I don’t think she meant it in a mean way; she liked it here. She came once a week to visit my grandmother, and got involved in hot games of hearts or Scrabble. The residents all loved her. One day, when the regular music guy didn’t show up, Lexie sat at the piano,” Ryan told me. “She had them singing old rock and roll. When I came in, they were doing ‘Blueberry Hill.’ ”

I pictured Lexie holding forth, banging away at the piano, directing the chorus of seniors singing about finding their thrill. Must have been quite a scene. “Now that, I would love to have seen!”

“I’ve gotta warn you,” Ryan said as he pulled into a parking space and turned off the car. “My gran, she’s got some strange ideas about things. She’s in good shape overall, but she’s nearly ninety and she’s definitely got a little… confusion. Says things that don’t make a whole lot of sense. Loses sense of what time period she’s in, I think. She talks about her mother, who’s been dead for ages, like she’s just seen her. So just… keep in mind that not everything she says is based in reality.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

Ryan and I walked into the building and stopped at the front desk. We signed in, and the receptionist recognized Ryan. “Shirley just finished lunch and is back in her room.”

Ryan led the way down the hall, through a big room with a piano, then turned right, down another hall. We passed a small exercise room, a library, then rooms belonging to the residents, most with two names on the door. At last, we got to room 37—only one name on the door: Shirley Dufrense.

“Is that my favorite grandson?” Shirley called out when Ryan walked through the door.

The room was surprisingly homey. The adjustable hospital bed was covered with a pink-and-purple quilt and bright pillows. Another small quilt hung on the wall above the bed. A set of shelves was full of books and photographs. A little desk where Shirley could write. Beside it, an overstuffed chair upholstered in a floral print.

“It sure is,” he said, moving in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he turned and said to me, “I’m actually her only grandson, so don’t feel you have to bow down in the presence of greatness.”

“Ignore him,” Shirley said. “I’m so happy you came, Jackie. Come sit with me.” She gestured at the upholstered chair, and I came in and took a seat.

“Just look at you,” she said, smiling at me. “Your grandmother would be so proud! I so wish she was here now.”

I nodded. “I do, too.”

But then I imagined the pain she would have felt at losing Lexie. At having her drown in the pool just like poor Rita had—losing a daughter and then a granddaughter in the same terrible way would’ve been unbearable for her.

“You look like her, you know,” she said. “Your grandmother, when she was your age.”

I nodded, though I didn’t see the resemblance other than our dark hair.

“Ryan, dear,” the old woman said. “Why don’t you go see if you can sweet-talk Becky into bringing us some tea and cookies.”

“Becky? I’m not sure I’ll get very far. She’s pretty by-the-book—”

“Then go into the kitchen yourself! Good heavens, boy—be resourceful. Go on now!”

He held up his hands in surrender. He flashed me a look, eyebrows raised: Okay with you? I nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and headed off.

“Mrs. Dufrense,” I began.

“Oh no, dear, please call me Shirley.”

She’d been Mrs. Dufrense to me all my life, so it felt more than a little odd, but I gave it a try. “Shirley…” I began. “I was wondering if you could help me with something. I was hoping you could tell me about the hotel. The one that was where Sparrow Crest is now.”

“Did they send you? The ones from the water.” She studied my face, waiting.

“Um, no. I—”

“Of course, dear. I don’t know much, mind you, but I do have some photographs of it. Pictures my own parents and grandparents took.” She rose, went to the shelves, and pulled a large brown scrapbook from the bottom shelf. She set it down on the table and opened it up to a photograph of the hotel with a large group of people posed in front of it: the men in suits, the women in chambermaid outfits. May 15, 1929, someone had written below the photo. Grand Opening of the Brandenburg Springs Hotel and Resort.

She turned the pages and more photos followed, close-ups of the hotel and grounds. One showed a small stone pool—The Springs written beneath it.

“Wait,” I said, pointing. “Those are our springs? The springs that feed the pool?”

“Yes. It was a much smaller back then. Your great-grandfather had it excavated, made into the huge thing it is today.”

On the page next to it was a photograph of the front of the hotel, showing a fountain surrounded by flowers. And there, at the base, were three peacocks. I blinked, not believing what I was seeing. “There were peacocks?”

“Oh yes, they roamed the grounds. Your grandmother and I, when we were girls, would sometimes see their descendants, out in the woods, gone feral. There had to have been a peahen, if they were breeding. I don’t know how they survived the winters. Someone must have been feeding them, I suppose. And they must have found shelter—someone’s barn, perhaps?”

Lexie’s peacock. Was it possible she’d actually seen a descendant of the hotel peacocks? All those years later?

I was sure she’d made up the story, imagined the peacock to life. But what if it was true—what if there actually had been peacocks in the woods? How many other things my sister told me over the years were actually true? Things I’d brushed off as her wild imagination, as mania, as out-and-out hallucinations?

Shirley turned the page to a photograph showing the charred remains of the hotel, a group of men standing around an old cellar hole that was full of water, all of them with grim faces. “The hotel burned to the ground. The fire moved fast. Fifteen of the guests were killed.” She closed the book.

“That’s so awful.”

“Your grandmother didn’t like to talk about it much. That place, the springs, they carry a horrible history.” She nodded somberly. “When I was a girl, I wasn’t allowed to go to the springs, to Sparrow Crest. My family tried to keep me away from your grandmother and her family. They said your grandmother and her family didn’t belong there. But I couldn’t stay away. I snuck over again and again.”

She was quiet a minute, looking down at the closed album. “Sometimes, we’d find things from the hotel. We made a game of it. Seeing who could collect the most treasures. We found old bottles, silverware, bricks, pieces of plates from the dining room. We had a secret little house we built back in the woods, along the stream. It was made from woven saplings and bits of bark. We made it into a museum to house our collection.”

“Lexie and I found things, too!” I said. “A doorknob, a faucet handle, a silver fork, pieces of old tile. We showed them to Gram. She told us not to play in the woods. She never wanted to talk about the hotel.”

“Your grandmother had her reasons. She was trying to protect you. She knew how much you and your sister loved the house and the pool—she didn’t want to taint it with any of the horrible history behind the place.”

She stood up, went back over to the shelf, and picked up a small wooden box with intricate flower carvings on the outside. She sat back down and opened it up. “I still have some of the treasures we found.” She pulled out the edge of a dinner plate. Then, a silver spoon that matched the pattern of the fork Lexie and I had found. She held each object like it was something sacred.

“This was always my favorite,” she said, holding up a delicate, teardrop-shaped piece of cut crystal. “From one of the chandeliers, I believe.” She handed it to me, and I held it up, watched the way it caught the light coming in through the window.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“I used to imagine what the chandelier might have looked like hanging up. How the owners of the hotel, the Hardings, must have stood below it, greeting guests, thinking all their dreams had come true. They had no idea then what was to come. The ruin. The loss.”

I handed back the cut-crystal teardrop.

“We don’t know the terrible things that are coming our way,” she said as she looked down at the cut crystal, her eyes teary. “We just see the shiny surface, our own beautiful selves reflected in it. Not the monster lurking beneath.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Du—Shirley. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Lexie understood. About the water. She didn’t at first, but she learned. She was a clever girl, your sister. Have you seen her yet?”

My mouth went dry. I looked at her, unsure of what to say. “I—”

“Tea is served,” announced Ryan as he came through the door carrying a tray with three teacups, cream and sugar, and a plate of cookies. I jumped up, rushed over to help him set it up on the table, relieved to have somewhere to look other than at Shirley.

---

After our tea, Ryan suggested we go play Scrabble in the day room. Shirley introduced me to some of the other residents, who all had stories to tell about my sister. One of them even asked if I could play the piano and sing like Lexie had. I shook my head. He frowned in obvious disappointment. Another man told me what a fantastic card player she’d been. “No one could beat her at hearts,” he said. Then he leaned in, whispered, “Though between you and I, I suspect she may have cheated.”

I laughed. “Sounds like my sister,” I said.

Ryan and I stayed at Edgewood until dinnertime, walked Shirley down to the dining room. Then Ryan drove us out to a little snack bar on Meadow Road across the street from the beach at the lake. We ate fried clams and crinkle-cut french fries at a picnic table, just like we had when we were kids.

After we’d eaten, we walked around the lake, thinking the six-mile loop would do us good after the fried food. We talked about our memories, of Lexie and the adventures we all had. The rafting trips, the swimming competitions. He reminded me of a “submarine” she’d made from a plastic barrel, and I remembered how fast it had sunk once she got herself inside it.

Ryan laughed and shook his head. “It’s a wonder she didn’t drown.” Then he immediately realized what he’d said. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

We were quiet for a few minutes.

“You had kind of a crush on her, didn’t you? Back when we were kids?”

“A crush? Not exactly. It wasn’t like that. It was just… well, you know how she was, even back then. I just wanted to be around her. Didn’t we all? Didn’t we all long for that little buzz being around Lexie could bring?”

I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

We were quiet a minute, looking out at the lake. The sun was setting, the reflection hitting the water and making it look like it was on fire. We were a little over halfway along our loop around the lake.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

“Sure. Anything.”

“Has Diane said anything to you about my mom? About the divorce? My mom’s just so weird and secretive lately, and I—”

“No,” I said. “Sorry. She hasn’t told me anything.” I picked up a rock and threw it into the water, watching the splash and ripples, but my mind leaped to Diane and Terri kissing by the pool. I sure as hell wasn’t about to mention that to Ryan.

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for more. Could he tell I was holding something back?

“Your grandmother freaked me out a little today,” I said, changing the subject so he’d quit looking at me like that.

“Let me guess, about the pool?”

“Actually—”

“Did she tell you what Lexie thought?”

“What Lexie thought?”

“Lexie believed there was something going on with the pool. Something with the water.”

“What kind of something?”

He didn’t answer.

“Ryan, last night, I went out to the pool and I thought—well, I dropped—”

He looked at me questioningly.

“It’s not important. It’s silly, really. I just got spooked is all.”

“Maybe there’s good reason to be spooked,” he said. He leaned down and rubbed at his ankle, the one that had been scratched all those years ago.

“What do you mean?”

“Forget it,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired, and my brain is fried.” He smiled apologetically. “How about we get back to the car before it’s too dark to see out here? Then I’ll take you back to Sparrow Crest.”