eleven

Merry put her creel on the dresser in the guest room where she’d been sleeping. A lace runner draped white and delicate across the top of the dresser to protect the surface of the wood. The mirror hanging on the wall above reflected the room behind her and her own wary eyes.

It was the larger of the two spare bedrooms. But this room, tidy, barely decorated, sterile save for the flowery fragrance of the candle on the bedside table, had been her bedroom growing up. It bore little resemblance to the messy room she remembered: windowsill overflowing with Breyer model horses, corners full of fishing gear and softball equipment, books crammed into the little bookcase, leather crafting tools in a chest on the floor.

Clothes tumbled out of her duffel bag onto the rug by the bed. Merry bent and started to shove them back in, then paused. She moved to the closet door and opened it. Stacks of sweaters neatly encased in plastic marched along the top shelf. Two coats—one a long wool dress coat, the other a thick down jacket—hung next to wool slacks, two blazers, a knit dress, and several thick flannel shirts.

Thinking of pushing the garments aside in order to hang some of her own, she reached out to grab a handful. But instead of sliding the hangers down the rod, Merry found herself stroking the sleeve of the dress. Black and buttery soft, the cashmere offered up a trace of her mother’s scent in response to her touch. She slid the dress off the hanger and buried her face in it, breathing in the aromas of horsehair and cinnamon. Her knees bent until she was sitting on the side of the bed.

Cinnamon.

When she was eight years old, Merry had told her third grade teacher she would bring cookies the next day for the class Christmas party. Mama had promised to make the cookies that evening, but before she could start, a horse went down with colic. She’d spent the whole night in the barn, bundled up in sweaters, fur-lined boots, and Daddy’s big Carhartt coat. With the temperature around zero, Merry and Drew had walked out through the bitter cold to say their goodnights. It was a little warmer in with the horses, musky and sweet.

She remembered coming to breakfast the next morning. Mama told her she hadn’t been able to make the cookies for her class. She understood why, knew a horse’s health was more important than some dumb old cookies. Sparks, the horse, was doing better, and that was what counted. Still, she dreaded telling her teacher that she didn’t have the treats. She’d promised to bring them. Her teacher lived in town and didn’t have horses, so she might not understand.

At school that day she didn’t say anything about the cookies, putting it off as long as possible. Finally, it was time for the party. She began to tell the teacher about Mama and Sparks the night before, when she heard a familiar voice. Mama stood in the doorway of the classroom with a big Tupperware container full of colorful shapes. She’d baked and decorated all morning.

Merry flopped back onto the chenille coverlet, her feet still on the floor. With a sigh she tossed the dress aside. Stared at the ceiling, remembering. Tears blurred her vision, streaked hot and silent across her temples, and soaked into her hair. She welcomed them as another version of the river: washing, soothing, altering the light.

They faded. Stopped. She breathed deep, got up, went into the bathroom. Splashed some cold water on her face. Took some more Tylenol.

She went back into the bedroom and hung the dress, now slightly rumpled and damp, back on the hanger and took it and another armful of Mama’s clothes out of the closet. In Mama’s room she laid them on the bed. As she left, she closed the door behind her.

Back in her old bedroom, the mirror gauged her available courage. Merry looked away, feeling as if she was made of glass and the slightest jostle might shatter her into a thousand pieces.

The rest of the evening stretched out ahead of her, blank and lonely. She thought of the six pack of Moose Drool in the fridge, considered getting good and properly drunk, but figured it was a poor plan so soon after a concussion. Despite her mood, she wasn’t quite ready for suicide.

At least the Blazer was an automatic, she thought, driving toward town.

———

Merry spied Lauri sitting on a stool outside the Dairy Shack and pulled into the parking lot that had been beaten down to hard-packed, dusty earth. Lauri’s elbows rested on the counter, her head bent over a magazine laid open in front of her. She glanced over at the sound of the vehicle, and went back to her reading.

Squatting at the north end of Main Street, the Dairy Shack couldn’t really be called a restaurant, not even of the fast food variety. Rather, it was the permanent version of the kind of food booth lining the walkways at county fairs. You could walk up to the window and buy espresso and soft drinks, and ice cream in the summer. Behind a dirty pane of glass, glistening lengths of hot dogs and sausages constantly turned on their heated metal rollers. Their greasy aroma filled the warm evening air.

Outside, where Lauri sat on one of the four stools bolted to the concrete below the counter, customers could enjoy their tasty treat and stare at the brown wood siding. Sliding onto a stool next to her cousin, Merry tried to see the magazine article holding her attention. Lauri checked off boxes, answering multiple-choice questions. The part of the headline Merry could see read, “How You Can Tell If He’s …”

She waited. Minutes passed without either of them saying anything, and Lauri gave a good impression of being immersed in her magazine, except that she’d stopped checking the little boxes. Merry could see a smudge of fingerprint ink still staining the edge of one of her thumbs.

“Lauri.”

A quick sidelong look, then back to the page in front of her.

“Lauri. Look at me.”

She sighed the long dramatic sigh Merry was beginning to associate with her reluctance to deal with anything she found the least unpleasant.

“What?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You don’t know what I want to talk about yet.”

“You want to talk about Clay. Or about me going to jail. Or else my mother sent you.”

“Why would she send me?”

Her eyes cut to Merry again. “To find out who knocked me up.” One shoulder rose and dropped. “She got real upset when I wouldn’t tell her this afternoon.”

“Nobody sent me. I stopped by to see how you’re doing. I know Clay’s death really shook you up, and I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Lauri turned and faced her. “Really? You were worried about me?”

The hope on her cousin’s face arrowed pity through her. “Sure I was. I know you’re upset. In fact, I’m a bit surprised you’re back at work already.”

“Yeah, it sucks. Mom said it would be good for me to come back to work instead of just moping around. What does she expect? I just lost the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.” She shook her head.

“You were going to spend the rest of your life with Clay?” Merry asked, careful to keep her voice mild and nonchallenging.

Lauri nodded.

“So if he was the father, why are you being so secretive about it?”

Her cousin looked away.

“Lauri?”

She shrugged, still avoiding Merry’s gaze.

“Clay was the father, wasn’t he?”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Bitterness dripped from her response.

“I don’t understand.”

“No. You don’t.”

“Well, help me out,” Merry said, wondering if the girl was even capable of straightforward conversation.

“Clay might not have technically been the father, biologically, I mean, but he would have been a great daddy, once we got everything straightened out.”

It was like trying to maneuver in a swamp of conundrum without a map. “What did you have to get straightened out?”

“Barbie, for one thing. If it weren’t for her, he would have given in, slept with me one more time, seen things my way. I’m sure of it. He was an honorable man.” Lauri’s gaze willed her to see things her way.

Merry didn’t see what honor had to do with Lauri and her pregnancy unless Clay was the one responsible for it. Wait a minute. “What do you mean, ‘slept with you one more time’?”

She looked away but not before Merry saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I wanted him to think he was the father. Then he would have married me and taken care of me and I could have moved out of Mom’s house.”

Stunned, Merry stared at her for a long moment. “So who is the, uh, biological father?”

“Why does everyone care so much about that? It was just a one-night thing. What matters is that Clay and I were going to have a family.”

Rubbing her face with both hands, Merry tried to take in what Lauri was saying. Apparently, she got pregnant from a one-night stand and had been trying to convince Clay it was his so he’d marry her and be a father to the child. But he had to sleep with her for that plan to work, and he hadn’t gone for it. It sounded like Clay had been an honorable man.

“So, are you mad at Barbie?” she asked, wondering if Lauri had gone in and slashed the woman’s waterbed like Anna had said.

Lauri clenched her jaw. “She’s such a snot. Just because she’s a nurse and works at the Quikcare doesn’t mean she’s any better than I am. I don’t think she even loved Clay, not like I did. She just wanted to be part of that whole family. She started going around telling people I was stalking her boyfriend, so I made a point of letting her know not to mess with me.”

Merry sighed. “I take it that means you messed with her?”

“Just a little.”

“Good God, why?”

“So she couldn’t just blow me off. So she’d have to think about what she was screwing up. So she’d …”

“So she’d get scared?”

“Yeah. So she’d know I was serious.” The tears had vanished.

“How serious were you?”

She squinted at Merry as if trying to read small print. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re under suspicion for Clay’s death. I mean Barbie’s waterbed was slashed and flooded part of her house. I mean you’ve been acting strange, and if you don’t ’fess up to what you have done, there’s a strong possibility the police will assume you did all of it, including killing Clay.”

Lauri’s mouth fell open.

“Well?”

She closed her mouth. Blinked. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

I’m trying to be on your side, you infuriating little ninny. “What were you doing at Clay’s house the night he died?”

Silence.

“Were you going to try to seduce him?”

Lauri clamped her lower lip between her teeth before nodding once.

Merry held her hand up. “Okay, okay. Now tell me something. What time were you there?”

She shrugged.

Merry struggled to keep her irritation from showing. “It’s important.”

“Around midnight, I guess. It had stopped raining.”

“Were you wearing those sandals?” She indicated her cousin’s feet.

“No. A pair of Mom’s boots.”

Merry closed her eyes. They’d match the footprints for sure. “Why didn’t you say that when I asked you before?”

“She gets mad when I borrow her stuff.”

Christ. “Did you see anything? Hear any shots?”

“No. Just fireworks. You know, bottle rockets, some of the bigger stuff. I’m surprised someone didn’t call the cops.”

“Yeah,” Merry said, thinking.

“His name is Denny Teller.”

Lauri’s words startled her out of her reverie. “Who?”

“Denny Teller. The one-night stand guy.”

“Clay’s roommate? He’s the father?”

“I didn’t know he was Clay’s roommate, not then.”

“You didn’t go to his place, to, um …”

“No.”

“Your mom’s house?”

“No.”

“A motel?”

“A van, okay? We did it in the back of his van. Would you like a blow-by-blow?”

“Uh, no. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not any of my business.”

“No, it’s not.” Still, Lauri looked mollified by her apology.

“You know he’s married?”

Lauri sighed. “Yeah, I know.” She watched an eighteen-wheeler rumble by. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to have the baby and be with Clay. I don’t care about Whatshisface anyway. The only reason we got together in the first place was because I was lonely and drank too much beer, and one thing led to another … whatever. None of it matters now.”

“It matters to the baby.”

“No, it doesn’t. Denny told me he wouldn’t pay child support.”

“You can take him to court. Force him to take a blood test to prove he’s the father.”

Lauri didn’t say anything.

“You’d better tell your mom about Denny.”

“Why? It doesn’t make any difference.”

“Because she thinks it was Clay. Because if you don’t, I will. And I think it would be better coming from you.”

Lauri turned on her. “You lied. You said you wouldn’t tell her.”

“I did not. I said she didn’t send me. And she didn’t.”

“Shit.”

“Lauri, if it really doesn’t matter, why not tell her? It would mean a lot to her to know that you trust her.”

“She doesn’t trust me.”

“You keep secrets.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s up to you. Tell her or don’t. But she’s going to find out.”

A car full of teenagers pulled into the parking lot, country pop thumping out of the stereo. Merry stood to leave. She put her hand on her cousin’s shoulder. Lauri stiffened for a moment, then went slack. After a few moments she turned and looked up. She blinked slowly.

“I miss him, you know?”

Merry patted her cousin’s shoulder. “I know.”

“Nothing turns out the way you plan it, does it?”

“Sometimes it’s worse. Sometimes it’s better. Sometimes it’s just different, and you don’t know whether it was better or worse until a lot later.”

Lauri nodded. “Okay.”

Merry was surprised. “Will you be all right?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“I bet you’ll feel better if you talk to your mom.”

Lauri held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay. I’ll tell her tonight.”

Walking back to her vehicle, Merry wondered how much of what Lauri had said was true. Her gut said most of it was. In fact, all along her cousin seemed to be pretty up front when asked direct questions. But what about the things she left out? Then Merry realized Lauri had neatly deflected the question about the waterbed, before she even got a chance to ask it.