23. Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-three
Remington James
“ O hh, I get it.” I don’t get it.
Ceily pats my arm. “All in the good Lord’s time, my dear. In His time.” Yeah, I’m still lost about her whole spiel, but Keenan has said that she seeks God’s guidance in everything. Well, aside from cooking and baking evidently.
“Can I ask you something about Carlotta?” I sit on the edge of a step stool, apprehensive about making Ceily sad. The loss of her best friend has slowed her down. Her usually cheerful disposition has dimmed a little in the weeks since it happened.
She shuffles with her cane towards the counter next to me where she leans heavily, nodding at me grimly. “Sure. I can’t promise I’ll know the answer.”
“Did she talk to you about Daniel Gibson?”
I’ve come to recognize Ceily’s different facial expressions. When her mouth thins, her lips quirk to the side I know she’s about to say things she finds unpleasant. “Lawdamercy,” she mumbles to herself before continuing, “Lala went through a lot of trials when she was a young ‘un. More than most.”
I drop my head. “Ah.”
“Did Charlie or Mitchell tell you about him? That poor family has just been afflicted with bad luck. Specifically, David. Have you met him? Their father?”
The day of Carlotta’s funeral, I spent three minutes around Bonnie and only saw Charlie’s dad. My feelings about him are tarnished by how detached he seems from his sons and their lives here, while he and his wife jet set around the world. “I haven’t.”
“He and Lala leaned on each other. They always had.” She looks like she’s going to say more but stops herself. A shake to her head punctuates it. “It’s all over now.”
What’s over? Her life… or something more?
“That’s kind of… weird. Isn’t it? To stay so connected to her high school boyfriend’s family?”
The bell dings as the postal carrier comes in with a couple packages and mail for Ceily. She brightens as the two start their daily habit of her trying to foist some baked goods on him, he goes into detail about the weather we’ve got coming. My statement goes unanswered, but it has me thinking.
What kept Lala connected to the Gibson family when Daniel was abusive? Why would Bonnie be okay with Lala and David being close? What made her important to them?
Each layer peeled back in this town, shows another layer underneath. I know a thing or two about deception and the fall out. My grandparents were professional liars, my mom had a funny relationship with the truth, too. But the amount of lies that are piling up around these drownings is overwhelming.
As I’m putting the final touches on the mural this afternoon, I try hard to stay focused. Thoughts of the guys keep making me misty eyed. I’m climbing down from the scaffolding when Ceily rounds the corner with Father Chris. He’s looking like the standard middle-aged dad and not a priest. His cargo shorts, university spirit wear, white socks pulled knee high with sneakers. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“This is remarkable!” he exclaims. “Next summer you should redo the mural we have on the rectory chapel wall. This sums up Lake Hollow so well.” Any talk of future plans here gives me a degree of melancholy. I don’t have a clear picture of what the next month will look like, much less a year from now.
“What’s the current mural of?” Wiping my face with the sleeve of my T-shirt, I narrowly miss elbowing Keenan in the face as he picks up the tarps we have lying on the ground.
“Over the years it’s faded and gotten marked up, but it was a Revelations themed wall. There is mention in Revelations twenty-two about the water of life, which was correlated with the waters of Lake Hollow. Biblically the word ‘water’ is used for salvation and eternal life, which God offers humankind through faith in his Son.”
Is there something about me today where both Ceily and now Father Chris feel the need to preach to me? I can only imagine the comments Wilder would be offering under his breath right now.
“What’s Revelations?” I shouldn’t have asked it, because that launches the priest into a talk about books or chapters of the bible. Keenan and I share a look of exasperation.
Father Chris takes a break from educating me, while Ceily points out some of the details in the mural I’ve completed. The little wink at me conveys that she could see I was over the discussion.
Passing traffic slows with some taking pictures on their phones. One woman passing with her dog, a poodle mix, bursts into tears claiming that the mural highlights the town perfectly. “Don’t let my dog bother you,” she says as he jumps on me repeatedly.
“Oh, I insist. I don’t want to make this awkward, but I’m only standing here right now because of the dog.” She laughs at my reply, but I wasn’t joking. The attention we’re garnering for the completed wall isn’t needed. I only sign my initials to the mural after Ceily asks me again.
“The artist needs to be credited.” She hands me a bottle of black spray paint. “Please.”
Father Chris, the dog walker, and Keenan, all cajole me into it. My ‘RJ’ gets sprayed over part of the mini putt course I painted. Somewhat fitting, since I’ve spent a lot of hours at the Funpark this summer.
“Did the priests that painted your mural have to sign their work, too?”
Father Chris smiles warmly. “They didn’t paint it. I can’t even imagine that. No, that mural was done by a group of students decades ago. It was a student club that did it. Now that you ask, I think they did sign with their club’s name. WPL.”
“Huh? What did you just say? What was the name of the club?” I feel the color drain from my face. What are the odds that the letters ‘WPL’ is in the cabin in The Bends, on a note in the locket and it’s not related?
Just one more freaking layer.
“WPL? It stands for Water Provides Life, it was a student club that formed, golly I don’t remember the year. It was a group of students that started it. In fact, Daniel Gibson… you may have heard about him? He headed the whole thing up.”
I don’t take much in about Ceily and Father Chris’ talk after that about the way the church has changed over the years, as I try to figure out… why would the Poe quote be signed with WPL, why is it scratched into the doorframe at the cabin? Less and less seems coincidental.
I’m not sure anything in Lake Hollow is anymore.