Later, I would be asked many more questions and could answer only a few. It was hard enough right then for me to remember my name or where we had lived.
I did eventually tell the sheriff my mother had abandoned us and that I had no idea where she was. I had an aunt on my mother’s side somewhere in Europe, but I didn’t know where, and I didn’t know her that well. Her husband, my uncle, a rich oilman who I had never met, had died and left her well fixed. My aunt and I had met, and that was about all I could say.
The Candles house wasn’t too far from the lake in a section of town where there were no streetlights, and the houses on the block were lit by porch lights that were swarmed by insects.
Inside their house there were shelves of Reader’s Digest books as well as others; a big fat black Bible was open on a wooden stand. There were knickknacks of all kinds on the shelves in front of the books; ceramic elephants were favored. The air smelled slightly and pleasantly of baked bread. There was a delicate-looking black woman there. She had a sweet face. She said her name was Millie and to call her that. She moved about swiftly, like a bird on the ground.
The house was bright with light and warm from a fire in a stove that had been constructed from a black barrel and a long, wide pipe that ran from stove to ceiling. A door had been cut in the barrel. Hinges had been made for the cutaway and welded to the barrel. The little door was open, and I could see inside. A bright fire was chewing up sticks of split wood.
When I touched something, it seemed not to have substance. When I spoke, the words didn’t seem to be mine, so I preferred not to use them. I felt like a phantom dissolving into the warmth of the house.
“Come, child,” said the woman. “Closer to the fire. Let’s get you warm.”
I moved to a chair by the stove. The beach towel was taken away, and a blanket was put over my shoulders. I was brought a hot cup of cocoa with marshmallows melting in it. The cocoa steamed under my chin and warmed my face. When I sipped it, it filled my insides the way the fire filled that stove, only without the burn.
It was late when the sheriff came by. He seemed smaller to me now than he had before, but perhaps it was because he stood with his hat in his hand, out of his element, beneath an orangish hallway light.
Mr. and Mrs. Candles were standing with him. They spoke in low tones. I caught a word here and there, but mostly it was all a mumble. All I knew was they were talking about me and my situation.
Ronnie was with me in the living room. She said, “You scared being in the lake like that?”
“What do you think?”
“Stupid question.”
“Thing is, I was scared until I saw you swimming down to me. I thought you were some kind of mermaid.”
“I’m a damn good swimmer. You’re not that good. You thrash a lot.”
“You do that kind of thing when you’re drowning.”
“Guess so.”
“I’m glad you were there.”
“Me too.”
I could tell there were other things she wanted to ask me. She had to be curious as to what led my father to drive us through a bridge and into Moon Lake. But she didn’t ask.
Had she asked, I couldn’t have given her an answer. There were moments when I thought my father felt he could drive off the bridge and back into the past and take up life there. It was an idea right along with the one I had about him driving along the bottom of the lake. None of my thoughts and feelings that night were exactly stellar.
Later, I was alone on the couch in the dark beneath warm blankets, and from time to time, I would wake up whimpering, and each time, Millie was there. She stroked my head, said, “Now, now, sweetie. Now, now. You’re safe here. Sheriff says you can stay with us for a while.”
“My daddy tried to drown me,” I said.
“Ah, now, baby. It was just an accident. He lost control.”
I nodded, but I knew better.
Millie stroked my head until I slept. I never knew when she went away. Daylight came. I woke up late, exhausted from trauma, nibbled at some crackers and tomato soup. Both Ronnie and Mr. Candles were gone, her to school, him to work. Millie didn’t press me about anything. I ate and went back to sleep on the couch.
When I awoke again, it was dead dark and there was only the glow of the porch light sliding through a split in the curtains of the window next to the couch. As if sensing it was time that I would awake, Millie was there. She ran her fingers through my hair again. My mother had never done that, not that I recalled. I remembered my mother staring at me from across the room as if she were surprised that she had a child.
“Listen,” said Millie. “I know it’s not something you’ll love to hear, baby boy, but it has to be said. Dudley came by again, while you were sleeping. He said they dragged the lake for your father’s car, and nothing. They can see clearly right to the bottom in some spots, but it’s a little murky there close to the edge because of mud. Car could have slid down there.”
She patted my arm.
“Did your father…hurt you?”
“He tried to drown me. Does that count?”
I thought for a moment she might laugh, but she contained herself. I think she was trying to decide if a laugh was appropriate or not. She settled on clearing her throat.
“He wasn’t in his right mind, baby.”
“I loved him,” I said.
“Of course you did. Thing is, Danny, you are here and you are safe, and if they find the car or if they don’t, the world turns and you have to be ready to turn with it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
“You hungry?”
“No, ma’am. Just feel really tired.”
“That’s okay, honey. You go back to sleep, and if you wake up before we do, there’s bread and meat and cheese in the kitchen. You can make yourself a sandwich.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, you need something else in the night, don’t hesitate to call out, knock on our bedroom door. I can sit here by you until you go to sleep, if you like. Would you like that?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Parents certainly taught you manners, baby. Now, you sleep, dear. Sleep.”
She sat with her hand on my arm, and after a while she hummed softly, sang under her breath from time to time, some old song where only a word now and then came with the humming. The words had something to do with Jesus and an old rugged cross.
Fear and exhaustion, the warm room, the soft touch of that sweet lady’s hand, helped me fall into a deep sleep, and I dreamed of Daddy driving that big-ass Buick along the bottom of the lake, seeking a way up and out and onto the drier world.