19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Remington James
T wo days of working from sunup to sundown has meant that our progress has been swift. Once I’d painted the black outline of the objects pictured on the mural, Keenan, Pops’ grandson, and two of Ceily’s friends from quilting started to paint in with the colors needed. The finer details I followed behind doing. Their company is helping distract me from thinking about Cal. Charlie spent an hour on the phone last night trying to get to the root of the problem. He wants to know why I’m not responding to Cal. I couldn’t tell him. It would kill him to know what I suspect is true about his best friend.
Instead, I played it off, telling him I’d tried to call back but with the mural I’ve been busy. Also that nerves about leaving have me distracted. He tried to talk me into meeting up with him at the Drive-In on Saturday night, but I made excuses not to. He’ll bring Cal.
Cal Truitt. He’s on my mind constantly, each loving moment, each shared laugh, intimate connection driving a deeper pain into my heart. Deep down, I can’t accept it. I don’t want to.
There’s a battle in my mind between what I know of Cal and what I know about the drownings. Carlotta’s words in the letter make me feel sick… “Please be careful. The person responsible is a pathological liar, psychopath…”
I take a breath, backing up in the alley to look up at the mural, which is a couple days from completion. Keenan pulls me close in a one-armed hug. “You fucking clobbered it, doll. It’s gorgeous. Meemaw came out when you were up on the scaffolding. She was moved to tears. I think she mentioned she's making you cookies.”
“Your meemaw is a menace to society.” I swat at my bestie. “It’s good, huh?” Being proud of myself feels indulgent. I choose instead, to appreciate that Ceily gave me the chance to show how much Lake Hollow means to me. This is the first time I’ve felt like I’ve found a true home, with friends and love. Natalie even said, yesterday, that Lake Hollow is better than she thought it would be. Of course, she went on to ask me what makes soup wet, so it may not have been a deep realization.
The widening gap between Uncle Skip and I doesn’t feel like it can be undone. There are resentments on both sides that could be unfixable. I resent feeling like a burden, being kept in the dark, and having to be his ‘rock’. He resents being stuck with me, my opinions, and decisions.
Him missing me when I’m back in Florida, might change our relationship, or solidify the problems.
Once the tarps are in place and all the equipment is stowed in the back of Hidden Treasures, I start off for The Bends. Since coming to Lake Hollow, I’ve walked the route from downtown to the cabin enough to note little changes; a new flyer on a light pole, a tree cut down in a yard, or the gigantic spotlight Gary Marlow erected pointing towards the Funpark. My big inhale of the breeze past the yard full of lilac trees makes the emotions I hid all day pour through me. Tears spill down my cheeks. I need to talk to someone about this, I just don’t know who to confide in. Obvious choices are Keenan, Wilder, or Grady, but once I say it out loud… tell them about finding the pages, about Cal having that picture in his pocket, there is no going back. The accusation will take on a life of its own.
If I’m wrong, if everyone was wrong, Cal’s life will be destroyed. I’d never do that to someone I disliked, much less one that I’ve come to love.
I still find holes in all the possible reasons he’d have something to do with the drownings. He was only thirteen when they started, no one has ever mentioned a problem with any of the victims, including his sister. Could Carlotta’s suspicion be misplaced? But then what about the freaking picture?
My mind is wrapped up with thoughts of Cal, when I stop short in front of the Marlow's neighbor’s home. On one side is the Funpark property and the other is a beige tri-level home, the yard is spotted with rock gardens filled with decorative shrubs. The sign pushed into their yard near the roadway stops me in my tracks. Sponsored by the sheriff’s office the heading says, ‘Do you have information regarding these investigations?’ Below it are six pictures: Mark Tullery, Mia Kelley, Tera Hersch, Jeremy Eiler, Susanna Ross, and Sara Truitt. I step closer, bending to look at the wording below… if you have any information, contact Detective Julia Hemminger followed by a number.
All those cases are reopened.
Except Katie Gibson?
The flush of heat in my face, the tightness in my chest, and the sudden panic all cause me to freeze in front of the Tullery residence. Hemminger doesn’t have enough… just circumstantial evidence for an arrest. But the Sheriff’s office has a ‘person of interest’. The cases are open again. I know something I’ve tried to deny to myself. What the hell am I doing?
The rest of my walk back to the cabin, I notice the double-sided corrugated plastic yard signs placed by the Sheriff’s office in several more places. Even on the boulevard near the Funpark and the entrance to The Bends. It feels like a desperate last-ditch effort on behalf of the Sheriff’s office.
It’s several more unneeded reminders of all that I’m keeping to myself.
Hugging my knees to my chest, I sit at the end of the dock watching the sunset. Droolius nudges under my arm. “Oh, buddy… go fetch your stick up, go get it. Go on,” I urge him in a high-pitched sing songy voice. The enthusiasm is completely faked for my furry friend.
I turn when I hear someone step onto the dock to see Uncle Skip approaching. “You claim to hate being attacked by the mosquitos, but I find you out here under a cloud of them.”
“I’m complicated.”
He sits next to me, dipping his feet into the water. “Everything all set for Florida?” We haven’t had a talk of any kind for weeks. I suppose he’s feeling the pressure to do it because I’m leaving. “On my way home, I checked the mural out. Impressive. I knew it would be, but you’ve really outdone yourself, Rem.” He grabs my hand giving it a bit of a shake. We’ve never been a family that hugs one another, or, I’m learning, shares emotions in healthy ways.
“Thanks?” The last thing I need or want right now is a forced conversation with Skip. “Before I forget, Wilder is taking Droolius home with him to Hancock, the Hops are going to Keenan and Ceily’s, and Squiggles is going with Taj.” Leaving my little posse behind is another hurdle, but they’ll be safe with their new caretakers. Plus, it won’t be forever.
“Imagine my shock when I heard you’re flying.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “It wasn’t long ago you refused to get on a plane…” His words drifts off.
Yeah, wonder why. Now, it’s the only option that gives me just a bit more time with my guys. I don’t bother to acknowledge his comment. Especially since we’ve never addressed what happened between Aunt Bo and mom.
“Rem, you know I care about you, don’t you?” There’s a catch in his voice. My head swivels his way, but he keeps staring at the water. “I had a talk with Wilder. He had a few things he wanted me to… consider. It was mentioned that you think I didn’t want you to come live with us.”
Oh, for the love of self-expression…
“And you’re saying now that you did?”
In an indignant tone he replies, “Of course.”
But I remember… “Well, she doesn’t have anyone else, I have to take her, right?”
“Oh, Remi. I was terrified of you.”
What?! That’s rich, I was a twelve-year-old girl. “What did it for you? Was it my Kool aid-stained hair? The alligator I drew up my leg, or I know, must have been the black eye I had from beach driftwood that hit me during a storm. I was pretty scary.” I know I sound like a bitch. Right now, I’m tired of listening to his lame excuses. Looking back, I know I acted with a bravado I didn’t really have, but he was the damn adult. I felt unwanted before I even left with him.
“You might not remember, but you didn’t want to go with me. In fact, you told the CPS worker that I was an unfit carnival clown. That wasn’t what worried or scared me. It was the way you’d stare everyone down. Here was this scrawny kid that came across like a battle-scarred adult. I wasn’t sure how I could help you.”
I didn’t know my uncle then, and he didn’t know me. The sporadic times through the years that I’d seen him were only memorable because I’d hear about his misadventures: the clown go-carts, chainsaw juggling, themed carwashes, one business idea after another that fell apart.
The silence between us is full of unspoken inadequacies. I never knew how to be vulnerable; he didn’t know how to nurture. He finally continues, “I don’t talk about my sister. There isn’t a good way to explain why…”
“You could try,” I say softly. “Did you hate her?”
I don’t turn to look at him when I hear a sniffle. “I wish I could. When your mom was a teenager, she ran away… not once but four times. Each time the police returned her, it got worse for her at home. The last time she was leaving… the time that stuck, I begged to go with her. She told me she’d come back for me. She never did. I didn’t hear from her for almost two years. But I got it. I really did, our parents saw us as money makers not as people.” He wipes his eyes. “I thought I was better than that with you and Natalie, but Wilder has me wondering about that now. Did I pick up bad traits from your grandparents?”
My resolve weakens when I consider the upbringing that my uncle and mom had. The pieces my mom would divulge through the years sounded horrific. Con artist scams they were forced to play a role in, being locked in small rooms with no food and other harsh punishments, when they didn’t perform well enough. There was no love, no affection.
“Don’t be that hard on yourself. Sometimes, I think… I don’t know, I think you’ve been conditioned to manipulate people, like Relia was.” That is the most forward thing I’ve ever uttered to my uncle. It’s the truth behind my feelings towards him that I could never say. I brace myself for his reaction.
“Oh. That hurts.” He puts a hand over his heart, hanging his head. “Your boyfriend said pretty much the same thing… that I manipulate people into doing things. He’s about as opinionated as you are.”
That’s Wilder. Just one of the reasons I’ve fallen for him. “Some of the best people aren’t afraid to voice their opinions even when they know it won’t be popular.”
“Remi, I care about you. I don’t think of you like my niece, but more like my daughter. You know you’re my rock.” I hate that. Can’t he understand that I never wanted the pressure of being his ‘rock’? This ‘care’ he feels doesn’t translate to me.
I focus on Droolius who is back licking my shoulder, huffing in my ear. There were innumerable times before I was legally considered ‘alone’ that I needed a rock. I could’ve used someone steady, protective, and present. Does he understand the irony?
“I want you to give me a chance to prove it. That you can rely on me, too,” he says after a few minutes spent silent, avoiding making eye contact. “I didn’t even know about the drownings or investigations until Wilder stopped me to chat. You need to be careful, Remington.” Hmm, I keep hearing that, but it’s difficult to do when you don’t know which way to watch for the danger.
I’m going to blame my overwrought emotions for the big sloppy hug I give him, toppling him backwards, “Whoa, yeah, okay. I…” He pats me loosely before laughing as he falls backwards. “Does this mean our talk went well?” I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s leaps and bounds further than we’ve gotten in understanding one another. I love my uncle. He and Nat are family, we share the pain of past betrayals and a legacy of one messed up ancestry.
“Your attempt at having a fatherly talk gets a solid passing grade.” Giving a playful smack to his arm, I add, “A talk with Wilder, huh? Did that happen today?”
Skip rolls his eyes. “It’s a long story, but I know now that he’s got no problem telling it like it is.”
The tears filling my eyes aren’t just because I’ll miss him... miss everyone, but because I’m not going to be alone again. I know beyond any doubt now.