Chapter Three #2
My only memory of Liz and my other aunt, Kasey, was my grandmother’s funeral, two of a million new faces I’d not seen since.
I eased off my earbuds, expecting further details.
Instead, she said nothing as we zoomed up behind a slow-moving semi hauling chickens, which was trailing feathers.
Finally, I said, “Is that the house you were talking to Dad about?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “It belongs to all of us. Since my parents died.”
Well, at least now we were getting somewhere. “I didn’t know you had a place at the lake.”
“I haven’t been back in years.” She eased over, peering around the bus, but a tractor was coming in the other lane.
“Why did you call it the woods?”
She bit her lip and it occurred to me maybe I was asking too many questions. But she had forced me on this trip. The least she could do was fill me in. “Woods is my family name. And our house is on a part of the lake that’s undeveloped and wild. So it’s always been called that.”
“I thought Finley was the family name,” I said, confused.
“That was my mother’s maiden name.” As the semi finally took a wide turn left, opening up the road ahead, she sped up. “I was a Woods until I married your dad.”
“Right,” I said, moving on. “Whose wedding was she talking about?”
“What?”
I nodded at the phone on the console between us. “She said there was a wedding coming up.”
“Oh.” We were coming up on a blinking red light now. “Her daughter. Your cousin. Anne.”
Her phone rang again. ELIZABETH. This time, I understood why she hesitated. A couple of buzzes later, though, she answered.
“I just don’t get it,” my aunt continued, picking up where she left off. “We’ve been begging you to deal with this for so long. And now you decide to come? Why? Or are you not willing to talk about that, either?”
“Liz,” my mom said, finally managing a full word.
“Oh,” she shot back immediately, “I know. You’re just so busy making money and conquering the world. God forbid you consider where you came from or the people that love you.”
At this, I looked up. I’d heard a lot so far, but love? I shut my computer, then looked at my mom. She was biting her lip. “Look,” she said finally. “This is when I can come. Can you make this work?”
Silence. I wondered if my aunt had hung up, quietly this time. Then: “We’ll talk when you get here.”
“Okay,” my mom said. Tentative, as I’d never heard her.
“Drive safe,” Liz said. Then she did hang up.
We were coming up on a small downtown now, marked by a single stoplight. Drugstore, law office, grocery with a pink pig on top. I wondered what it would be like to live here, everything in a row. As the highway emptied out again, flat and framed by fields, I saw a road sign up ahead: NORTH LAKE 35.
My mom’s phone buzzed again. This time, she picked it up right away.
“Catherine Hope.” Whoever was speaking did so at a reasonable tone, a murmur rather than a shout.
“Yes. I’ll be working remotely for the next week.
I’ll have access to my phone, email, and VizUL.
I’ve left detailed instructions with Marella.
She will set up the meetings with outgoing staff and begin the HR outreach.
” A pause. “No. I’ll still be going to Minneapolis to be there in person for the restructuring. ”
This, at least, was familiar. Corporate speak, comforting like a lullaby.
I yawned as I put my earbuds back in, the voices of my podcast blending with her crisp tone rattling off details beside me.
I meant to just close my eyes for a second, then open up my laptop again.
Instead, I woke up to find us bumping down a narrow dirt road, framed by trees.
I sat up, startled. My mouth was dry, and I felt that post-nap queasiness, even before we hit a big bump! that tossed me sideways in my seat. I looked over at my mom. “Where are we?”
She looked over, so startled by my voice, I wondered how long I’d been asleep. “Almost there.”
Another jolt as we went over a thick root twisting across the road.
Outside my window, a sign tangled in vines said PRIVATE.
The road curved, sharp, the trees and brush falling away, and there was the lake.
Huge, glittering, stretching as far as I could see in either direction as we went through an open gate with another sign, this one old and hand carved: WOODS.
The road became a driveway, leading up to a white house right on the shore.
There was a smaller cabin with matching black shutters across from it.
My mom pulled right up in front, cutting the engine.
The water was so close, lined with trees trailing long strings of Spanish moss.
In the distance, a few little white-sailed boats spun in the sun.
“Hello?” a voice said. “You lost?”
My mom jumped, then spun in her seat just as I did the same.
A stout, muscular Black boy with bronze skin, about my age, was now standing behind the car.
His hair was buzzed on the sides with a little curl on top, and he wore knee-length shorts, a fitted gray T-shirt, and high-tops. He peered in at us.
“If you’re looking for the Tides, it’s another two miles down the road,” he said. There was a toolbox at his feet. “Big sign. You can’t miss it.”
My mom opened her door, taking an audible breath before she got out and took off her sunglasses. “Clark,” she said. “It’s me.”
It was suddenly very quiet. Enough so that I could hear people out on the lake, distantly.
The boy came from around the bumper, slowly. “Cat?” he said.
There was that name again. Who was she here?
Just then, another noise: gravel crunching.
I looked in the side mirror to see a red minivan pulling up behind us.
There was one of those plastic signs stuck to the side: BLACKWOOD REALTY.
A moment later, a short, heavyset woman wearing cropped khakis and a crisp white shirt got out.
Her hair was cut in a bob, streaked with chunky blond highlights.
My aunt Liz. Despite the years, I recognized her at once. “Well. Look who it is.”
My mom could more than take care of herself. But Liz’s tone as she said this—not exactly welcoming—made me feel a surge of protectiveness. I opened my door, getting out.
A gasp. It was Liz, who now had a hand to her mouth, staring at me. “Is that Finley?” She whirled to look at my mom. “Now you bring her? Really?”
“One thing at a time,” my mom told her. “Please.”
I heard an engine then, turning my head to see an old blue truck puttering through the gate. Clark looked at Liz. “She knew about this?”
“She does now.” Liz wiped her brow, then started up the stairs of the house. The porch was wide, facing the water, a wooden door etched with glass in its center. “Let’s at least go inside and stop shouting at each other in the yard.”
Just then, I felt something buzz by my head. Instinctively, I flinched, but it was already gone, a blur in my side vision. A bug? If so, it was big.
The truck parked behind the minivan, the engine rattling to a stop. A woman with curly hair in a topknot got out. She had on cutoffs and an oversized blue golf shirt, yellow galoshes on her feet. She looked at Clark. “Came for the toolbox.”
“Already on it,” he replied. He bent down, picking it up, and started over to the truck. As she opened the tailgate, he said, “Is it still leaking?”
“Slower, but yeah.” She pushed her hair back, finally looking over at us. This was Kasey, I realized. Despite my limited knowledge of the family, I did remember there were about four years between her and Liz. “Cat? Is that you?”
“Surprise,” Liz said from the porch, where she now had the door open.
“Hi, Kase,” my mom said. “You remember Finley.”
She looked at me, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Long time,” she said. “You’re all grown-up.”
“Right?” Liz called over her shoulder as she went inside. “Oh God. It’s a million degrees in here.”
A moment later, she was opening windows, a ceiling fan on the porch slowly beginning to turn. Kasey looked at my mom. “You’re here to sell?”
My mom took a beat. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”
Instead of replying, Kasey turned to Clark. “Take the truck back and deal with the leak. I’ll be over in a bit to close up.”
Clark looked at my mom again before saying, “Fine.”
“Oh God,” Liz’s voice came from a nearby open window. “Who left bananas here?”
I heard another buzz, passing overhead. I looked up to see it was a bird, moving so fast, it blurred. Kasey was now climbing the steps, her galoshes clomping. I watched her go inside, before I turned back to my mom.
I’m not sure what I was expecting from her.
Maybe an explanation of some details, finally, about why we were here.
Or a moment of reassurance, that something was familiar among all this newness.
Instead, she just started up the stairs, walking into this strange house like it was home. All I could do was follow.