Sweet Water

  I sat down. “Well.”

  “Well,” Alice said.

  “Well!” said Kathy. “And what have you been up to lately?” Everybody looked at me expectantly. “All moved in and everything?”

  “Just about,” I said. “I got a dog.”

  “Well, that’s good. I don’t know how you can stand it out there all by yourself.” She reached for the chips. “I get nervous when Horace is gone overnight on a business trip, and we’ve got neighbors.”

  “She’s an artist,” Alice said. “They like to be alone.”

  “Want a chip?” Kathy offered the basket around.

  “What have you been doing with yourself?” I asked Alice.

  “This and that.” She craned her neck toward the house. “Well, okay—quick, before Mother gets back—Hal and I are in love. Truly. He invited me and Eric to Knoxville for a few days last week, and we just packed up and went. Stayed in a great hotel, room service, the whole bit.” She grinned. “I’m thinking maybe it’s time to move. We’ll see how it goes.”

  Clyde frowned. “Your mother doesn’t know about this?”

  “No, and don’t you say a single word, either,” Alice said. “I’ll tell her when I’m good and ready.”

  “Well, it’s nice to be loved by somebody,” Kathy said diplomatically.

  “Don’t I know it. I have never been treated this way before, not by Chet, not by anybody. I didn’t have any idea how wonderful it could—”

  “What are we all gabbing about out here?” Elaine returned, lugging a chair behind her.

  There was a short, awkward silence.

  “We’re still talking about chairs,” Alice said. “Cassie needs some chairs. Do you have any extra ones in the garage or somewhere?”

  “We maybe could rustle some up. I don’t have enough lawn furniture myself, as you can see. Will you remind me to order more from Penney’s, Alice Marie?”

  “Don’t call me that, Mother.”

  “Touchy, touchy. My Lord, I can’t say a single thing.” Elaine smiled apologetically at the group. “Mother-daughter tiffs. I thought it was just a stage.”

  Alice got up. “I’m going to check on Eric.”

  “I just did. He’s fast asleep,” Elaine said.

  “I think I’ll check on my own child myself, if you don’t mind,” Alice said, and went inside.

  “Well, what will it be tonight? Monopoly or bridge?” Kathy looked around at everyone brightly.

  “It’s been bridge the past four times,” Clyde said.

  “Monopoly, then. Okay with you, Elaine? Cassie?”

  “Fine,” said Elaine shortly.

  “Sure, whatever,” I said.

  Kathy began setting up the board. “You think it’ll be all right with Alice?”

  “Who knows what’s all right with Alice. I don’t. Anybody wants to go in and find out, be my guest.” Elaine waved vaguely toward the sliding glass door.

  “I’ll go,” I said.

  I found Alice at the kitchen table, flipping through a magazine.

  “They sent you in here to get me, huh?”

  “I volunteered.” I sat down. “What are you reading?”

  “Some trash.”

  “How’s Eric?”

  “He’s breathing. As predicted.” She looked at me quizzically. “Is something up with you? You seem a little jumpy.”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “She drives me nuts. What’s your excuse?”

  I reached for the magazine. It was Good Housekeeping. ‘“A Hundred and One Holiday Gift Ideas for You and Your Family,’” I read aloud.

  “Yeah, she saves the old ones. This is a woman who gets ready for Easter at Thanksgiving and goes Christmas shopping in the middle of July.”

  I turned the page. “Twenty-seven kinds of Christmas cookies. Yikes.”

  “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

  “Jews for Jesus? No.”

  “Hmm,” Alice said. “But your mother wasn’t Jewish.”

  “My dad is, though. It’s all he knows, so I was raised that way.” I thought for a moment. “Sort of. By the time I came along he wasn’t much of anything. We lit the menorah. I got presents for eight days. Most of my friends did too, so it wasn’t really a big deal.”

  “You know, I think you’re the first Jewish person I’ve ever met.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “And I have to say it’s been a pleasure,” she said. “But you never answered my question.”

  I shut the magazine and fiddled with the cover, bending and unbending a corner. “What do you know about Bryce Davies?”

  “Bryce Davies?” Her eyes widened. “Who’ve you been talking to?”

  “Nobody, really. I went to my mother’s grave today, and I saw the marker, and I just—I just wondered what the story was.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “So you’ve heard of her.”

  “Did your dad just tell you about this or something?”

  “No. I don’t think he knows.”

  “Have you been talking to May Ford?”

  “May Ford?” I tried to sound surprised.

  “Cassie, I think you should be aware of something,” she said, lowering her voice. “People talk a lot in this town. Rumors are like brush fires. They get started with a little spark, and pretty soon if you’re not watching they get out of control. And they can burn for years. I told you this before. May Ford—”

  “That’s why I’m asking you.”

  She sighed. “What’d she tell you?”

  “Not much.” The corner of the magazine came off in my hand. “She said something about how she died. Drowned or something.”

  Alice leaned back, crossing her arms.

  “And Clyde was there when it happened. I guess they were friends.”

  “What else?”

  “That’s all. That’s all she said.”

  Alice plucked a napkin from a holder on the table and tore it into narrow strips. “It was a terrible accident. Can you imagine having to witness something like that?”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s part of—that’s what I didn’t want to drag you into before. She’s never really gotten over it.”

  I nodded. Questions were lining up behind my teeth. I pushed them back.

  “Anyway, I think Bryce Davies’ husband married somebody else pretty soon after and moved away to Virginia or somewhere. There aren’t any Davieses left around here.” She bunched up the shredded napkin and rolled it into a ball between her hands. “It’s probably just as well. The memories and everything.”

  “Um-hm.”

  “So—anything else you want to know?”

  “I don’t think so.” I forced a smile.

  She tossed the ball at me. “Well, we’d better get out there. They’ll be wondering what happened to us. Maybe if I get drunk on margaritas I can sit through a whole game of bridge.”

  “Monopoly. We voted after you left.”

  She groaned. “Monopoly! That’s three hours.”

  “There’s a lot of tequila,” I said. “I checked.”

  “Mother, you’re a bandit,” Alice said, sitting back in her chair. “You win. I’m out.”

  Elaine counted her money, dividing it up into piles of green, blue, yellow, and pink. “Now, Alice M—Alice M, can I call you that, at least?”

  “No.”

  She shrugged. “You’re just a poor loser, is all.”

  “I’m out too,” I said. “Bankrupted by a member of my own family.”

  “Stop that,” said Elaine. “You’ll only encourage her.”

  Kathy looked at her watch. “Goodness! The time has flown! Horace will be wondering where I am.”

  “He knows exactly where you are,” Clyde said. “But it is getting late.”

  “Don’t tell me y’all are leaving right when I’m about to win,” Elaine protested.

  “Those fajitas or whatever you call ‘em were just great,” Kathy
said, collecting glasses and napkins on a tray. “And those brownies.” She patted her stomach. “I spend all week taking off a pound, then I come over here and put it right back on.”

  Elaine looked around in exasperation. “You’ll stay, Mother, won’t you?”

  Clyde shook her head and yawned.

  “Well, holy smokes!” Elaine tossed the money on the board.

  “Elaine, you should’ve gone into real estate,” Kathy said. “Eight hotels. And the best I can do is a couple of railroads and a utility.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Give me a call sometime this week,” Alice said to me. “Let’s go out for lunch.”

  I started sorting red and green plastic houses into Ziploc baggies. “Should we make a time now? How about Saturday?”

  “Um … no. I think I’m going away this weekend. Camping.”

  “Who with, Alice Marie?”

  “Mother—”

  Elaine clamped her hand over her mouth. “Alice! Sorry, I forgot. It just slipped out.”

  “Anyway”—Alice gave me a tense smile—“maybe next week sometime.”

  I got up. “What can I bring inside?”

  “You’re all terrible sports,” Elaine said. “Alice is so bad she won’t even answer my question.”

  “What question?” Alice dumped the melted margarita mix over the side of the deck.

  “I asked you who you’re going camping with. Is that so hard to answer?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Tell me,” Elaine said, turning to Clyde. “How could I have raised a daughter like that?”

  “You spoiled her rotten, what do you expect?” Clyde said. “Kathy, which way are you headed?”

  Kathy folded up the Monopoly board and put it in the box. “Horace is over watching a football scrimmage at East High practice fields, so I thought I might stop by there.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I’d be happy to drop you home if you need a ride,” she added quickly.

  “It’s out of the way.”

  “Don’t be silly. Five minutes.”

  “I should’ve taken the car, but driving at night makes me nervous.”

  “I’ll take you,” I said. “I go right past your street.”

  “Well—”

  “Are you ready to leave?”

  “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble.”

  “It’s an inconvenience,” she murmured.

  “Not at all. Of course, you do know I charge by the mile.”

  Clyde looked at me.

  “I was just teasing,” I said.

  “Don’t even bother,” said Alice. “This family has the sense of humor of a barn door.”

  “Alice Marie!” Elaine said.

  Alice smiled sweetly. “See what I mean?”

  There’s something I want to ask you about.

  It took a while to locate the passenger seat belt, which was buried in the seat. Clyde wouldn’t get in the station wagon until I found it.

  “Just let me take you, Mother,” Elaine said, standing in the street jingling her car keys.

  “We’re all decided now, Elaine,” I said, buckling in.

  There’s something I want to ask …

  I drove slowly through the development with both hands on the wheel. Clyde was clutching the door handle and staring out the side window. She looked small and frail in the big seat. My hands were damp with sweat.

  There’s something …

  We stopped at the curb in front of her house. It was twilight; the trees were silhouetted gray against the sky. A dog yapped, canned laughter from a TV floated across the yard. On the lawn next door a sprinkler moved slowly back and forth, a perfect fan of water.

  “Clyde—”

  “I appreciate you giving me a ride home.” She opened the door.

  “Wait.” I put out my hand. “Wait. Just a second. There’s something I want to ask you about.”

  She sat frozen in the act of getting out.

  I took a deep breath. “I went to the cemetery today to see my mother’s grave.”

  She didn’t move.

  “There was this woman buried beside her—Bryce Davies, I think her name was.” I swallowed hard. “I believe they died right around the same time.”

  I watched her hand as she gripped the door handle, veins and muscle visible under the thin skin.

  “So I was just wondering who she was, if you knew her,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

  “I knew her,” Clyde said.

  “Did you know her pretty well?”

  She looked out her window at the house.

  “She died young,” I said.

  “Not so young.”

  “Forty-eight. That’s pretty young.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “What did she die of?”

  Suddenly her head snapped toward me as if she’d been slapped. “Where is it?”

  “What?”

  “Just tell me.” Her voice was clear and steely. “It’s mine. It wasn’t his to give.”

  I gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play stupid,” she said contemptuously.

  “Look, I really don’t understand.”

  “I know it’s in that house somewhere. I’ll find it, don’t worry.” She gave the door a violent push and got out.

  “Wait—” But she was already hurrying up the walk toward the house. I went after her, catching up just as she got to the door. “Clyde—” I reached for her arm.

  She wheeled around. “Don’t you touch me! Leave me alone!”

  I stepped back, palms up. “I don’t have anything, Clyde. I don’t have anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She was breathing heavily. For a short while we stood together in silence, two shadowy shapes in the waning light.

  “You can look for the answer, but there isn’t one,” she said finally. “Whatever you think you know, you’re better off to forget.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s right. You don’t understand. You can’t. Don’t ask to. It’s none of your business.”

  “It is my business,” I said, emotion rising as I spoke. “I need to know what happened, what happened to my mother, what was going on with you and Amory …. I can see why you want to forget it, I know it was a long time ago. But I can’t even … I don’t even … I don’t know how I can know her, or anything about her, if—”

  “Her dying has nothing to do with her life.”

  “For me it does. It has everything to do with it.”

  “No,” she said. “It has to do with my life. My life.” She pounded a fist on her chest. “And you don’t know anything about it.” She grabbed the doorknob, then paused and turned around, head up. “I’m not going to beg you. I’ll only ask one more time. Where is the box?”

  I was trembling. “What box? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying to you.”

  She clenched her jaw, gave the knob a twist, and slammed the door in my face.

  When I got home there was a message on the machine from Alice.

  “Well, you survived one evening of Chinese water torture. Now you’re officially a Clyde girl, like it or not. Listen, I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, but my brother was here last weekend, hiding out in some motel room. He wouldn’t even tell me where he was staying. Anyway, he said he’d be back this weekend, and I thought you might want to meet him, so maybe we can set something up. Don’t tell anybody. If Mother finds out she’ll have a fit. Oh, and by the way—that stuff about Bryce Davies? I know you wouldn’t, but don’t mention it to Clyde.” There was a pause, and I could hear her breathing. “Actually, I just think it’d be better to leave it alone in general, okay?”

  The second message was from Drew.

  “Cassie, are you there? If you’re screening me I’ll never speak to you again. I just ran into Adam at
a party, and he said there’s some new man in your life. Now tell me the truth—is this for real, or are you just making it up to get Adam off your back? Enquiring minds want to know. Call me.”

  I sat on the floor by the phone and replayed both messages. Then I put on some old pajamas and crawled into bed, but I was wide awake. Hours later I called my father. I dialed the number without thinking, automatically, like an animal finding its way home in the dark.

  “Hi, Dad. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “I’m afraid it’s pretty groggy,” he said. “What time is it?”

  I twisted the cord in my hand. “I don’t know.” I could hear him telling Susan to go back to sleep.

  “It’s two o’clock in the morning. Are you all right? Is something the matter?”

  I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying.

  “Hey, Cass.” His voice was suddenly gentle. “Tell me.”

  I choked back a sob.

  “Are you okay? … Are the ants back? … The dog? The dog’s okay?”

  “Dad,” I said, wiping my nose with my hand. “Dad, did you ever hear of somebody named Bryce Davies?”

  “Bryce Davies?”

  “She—she was a friend of Clyde’s.”

  “Oh, yes. Yes. She drowned, I think, right?”

  “Right. Just before Mom was killed.”

  “Right.” He waited.

  “Well, I just found out.”

  “Found out?”

  “About … you know. That she … drowned.”

  “I see.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. All at once I had an urge to hang up. I wished I hadn’t called. He didn’t know anything, as I’d guessed at the start, and now the prospect of explaining seemed overwhelming.

  “Did somebody tell you all this?” he was saying.

  “Yes. Well, no. I … I saw her gravestone next to Mom’s. Then I asked … I asked Clyde about it.”

  “And she told you?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Hmm.” After a moment he said, “You seem awfully upset about this, Cass.”

  “I … I know. I guess I am. I guess … it was a shock. To find out some whole new thing …”

  “I’m not sure I understand. Is there something I’m missing?”

  “Dad.” I tried to laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m overreacting. It just seemed so weird that somebody else died too.”

  “Right.” He sounded puzzled.

  “I’m being silly. I shouldn’t have called you. Sometimes this old house makes me obsess about things.”