I stepped back and closed my bedroom door.
Blood couldn't mean all that much. I thought. She shared some with Mommy, but they were as different as the spring and the fall. Yet, what she had said had titillated me in an unexpected way. It frightened me. What if I was more like her than I thought?
The demons that slept in her blood might be sleeping in mine: nudged, they, too, could rise to the surface like bubbles and make themselves snap and pop when I least expected it. Perhaps we had no one more to fear than ourselves. Maybe that's what frightened Uncle Roy.
And Harley. And me.
I rushed myself into sleep like I had rushed into the relief of the lake, seeking to be soothed, seeking to forget.
Grandmother Megan buried secrets in the yard. The rest of us buried them in our hearts. Who was better off?
I woke to the sound of a screaming ambulance siren. My next thought was Aunt Alison has done something else. I heard a great deal of commotion below in our house. For a moment I just sat there listening. Then I rose and went to the windows. The ambulance was making its way toward Uncle Roy's home, but what I saw was Uncle Roy, Daddy. Harley and two of our grounds workers standing in a small circle.
"What's going on?" I asked myself aloud and hurried to get into some clothes and down the stairs. "Mommy? Mrs. Geary?" I called at the foot of the stairway. There was only silence in response. More frightened than ever. I rushed outside and saw Mommy with Mrs. Geary standing beside her. Mommy was holding her hand and they were both looking across the lake. The ambulance had stopped and the paramedics were kneeling beside someone.
"Mommy!" I shouted and ran to them. "What's happening?"
"Oh honey. it's Glenda," she said. Her cheeks were streaked where tears had traveled and were still traveling.
"What? What happened?"
"We're not sure yet. Summer. Uncle Roy called for Daddy and then they called for the ambulance."
"That poor woman." Mrs. Geary muttered.
"Harley," I cried and started toward them.
"Summer. wait!"
"Oh no." I broke into a trot, not feeling my feet touch the around.
As I drew closer. I saw that Harley had turned his back on everyone else and had his head down. Roy stood beside him talking to him. but Harley just kept shaking his head.
"Daddy!" I cried when I stopped running and broke into a fast walk.
The paramedics had Aunt Glenda on the stretcher and were lifting her to carry her to the ambulance, only... they had the sheet over all of her!
"Summer, don't go any farther," Daddy said and enveloped me in his arms and body to keep me from getting any closer.
"What happened to her?" I asked through my flood of tears. "The lake finally claimed a victim," he said in response and turned as the doors of the ambulance were being closed. "How?"
"Some time early in the morning, she rose quietly and went down and out of the house. In her nightgown, she walked into the lake. When Uncle Roy realized she was gone, he went running through the house and then he came out but couldn't find her. He sported her in the lake, face down," Daddy said. Tears weren't coming from his eves. but I knew he was crying inside. His voice cracked. He took deep breaths to keep his sobs contained.
After the paramedics closed the ambulance door, they stopped to talk to Uncle Roy, who listened and nodded. Harley, who had his back to us the whole time, broke away and just start
ed to run toward the woods.
"Harley!" I screamed after him. He seemed to run faster. I broke free of Daddy's arms.
"Let him alone for a while. Summer." Daddy urged.
"No, Daddy," I replied with firmness. "This is the worst time for him to be alone."
I started after Harley. Daddy didn't try to stop me or call me back anymore. I glanced at Uncle Roy. His tears had drawn streaks of salt down his cheeks and his chin. Harley disappeared into the woods, but I continued. When I reached the perimeter. I called for him. He didn't respond. but I continued after him. I could hear branches cracking ahead. I called and called and listened, but all I heard were more branches and sticks being smashed in his path.
The woods grew thicker and darker. When we were younger, Harley and I did come here often, but we never went too far into the forest. There were acres of it in this area of the surrounding terrain. We did have a favorite spot, a collection of large rocks near a stream that sometimes ran heavy and sometimes was practically dried up. We collected some of the more colorful polished stones, which we pretended were very valuable jewels. He seemed to be heading in that direction, so I plodded on. hopefulId catch up with him there.
At first I didn't see him. Then I caught sight of his sneakers and the bottom of his legs behind one of the larger rocks. I walked slowly around it and then stood there looking down at him. He wasn't crying. He was sitting on a rock, staring at the water and fingering a small branch nervously. He didn't look up, but he knew I was there.