Chapter 39
Sam sat on the glider, salt-rusted chains creaking as she pushed back and forth with one toe on the weathered wood floor.
Isabel was braiding her hair, and Sam was savoring the closeness when a scratching sound came from under the table beside them.
She nearly jumped. Julie crawled out, glanced at them, then disappeared under the faded tablecloth again.
“I see you,” Sam said.
Julie giggled.
“We get it,” Isabel said to her sister. “You’re so adorable. You’re the most precious. But guess what? Watching people and eavesdropping isn’t nice.”
“I do it, though,” Julie said.
“No fucking kidding.”
“It’s okay, Julie,” Sam said. “Come out and hang with us.”
“I don’t think so,” Isabel said. Sam watched her glare at the rustling tablecloth.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. “You okay?”
“I’ll be honest,” Isabel said. “Having you coddle Julie, when I just want to be supportive and understanding of you, makes my stomach hurt.”
“I love you both; is that okay?” Sam asked.
“Thinking about the time,” Julie said, her voice muffled by the tablecloth.
“What time?” Sam asked.
“Before the dying, before your mother went to heaven.”
“Julie!” Isabel said.
“Yeah. I think about it too,” Sam said.
Julie poked her head out. She actually met Sam’s gaze and nodded.
Eye contact was really rare. Julie’s face, always pale, was scrunched up with worry and looked translucent, almost bluish. She was obviously really upset, giving Sam a serious needle in her heart. Julie’s so-called friends bullied her. They weren’t patient, and they teased her.
Once when Sam and Isabel were at the beach with Julie, they overheard Cammie Alquist bullying her.
You don’t look different, but you ARE different, hahaha, Cammie had said, and Isabel had grabbed Cammie by the back of her neck and said, Different is better than shitty like you.
Seeing Isabel defend Julie had made Sam wish she had a sister—someone who had her back, while Sam had hers, just like her mother and Aunt Kate.
“Bad dream,” Julie said.
“You had one?” Sam asked.
“She has nightmares,” Isabel said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Sam wanted to stay and hear more of what Julie was talking about, but she could tell that Isabel had lost her patience and seemed ready to explode.
“Foley’s?” Sam asked.
“Yeah.”
They took the long way around, the road that looped along the marsh. They were beach girls and walked barefoot, the tar warm and soft beneath their feet.
“What’s bothering Julie?” Sam asked.
“I can’t tell, exactly. She’s very upset about your mother, obviously,” Isabel said, glancing at Sam. “But I think it has more to do with your father.”
“What did he do?”
“Well, he came over to pick up my dad the day they left, and we all talked to him. Julie hears everything, and she knows he’s a suspect.” Again Isabel looked at Sam. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry; I’m aware of it,” Sam said, knowing she sounded stiff. Every time she thought of her father killing her mother, she wanted to die. It wasn’t possible. He wasn’t the greatest dad sometimes, but he would never do that. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands.
“Julie’s just scared. That cop came to talk to me about the dumb book. Why my mother had to mention it to him I have no idea. It was just a thriller my mother picked up at the library book sale. I read it, and then my dad did, and I guess he gave it to your dad.”
“What book?” Sam asked.
“Meat Locker. This restaurant owner kills his business partner and hides the body in a refrigeration unit to slow the decomposition of the body. I mean, there’s more to the story than that, but that’s the part the cop wanted to know about.”
“I don’t remember seeing it around our house,” Sam said. “And you never mentioned it before.”
“Well, I forgot about it,” Isabel said. “Mom’s the one who called the detective to tell him about it.”
“Your mom?” Sam asked, shocked that Mrs. Waterston would get involved, would say anything that might implicate her dad. “How could she do that?”
“Well, she’s worried about you, Sam.”
“I’ve lost my mom, and now she wants to help them take my dad away too?” Sam asked.
“No! She just wants . . . to do what’s right. For everyone. For your mother. And you too, of course. I mean, if your dad did it, it could be dangerous. Sam, don’t be mad!”
Sam started walking faster, and they didn’t talk the rest of the way.
Foley’s was a general store, set in the midst of Hubbard’s Point.
Only locals went, or even knew about it.
It stocked basic food and supplies along with beach toys, and in the back, it had a snack bar with the best lemonade and grilled-cheese sandwiches in the world.
Isabel and Sam sat at one of the old scarred oak tables.
Generations of kids had carved their initials into the wood, and it was not only allowed but encouraged.
“Ha, look,” Isabel said, pointing at her parents’ initials: SB it’s strange,’ but for some reason, it doesn’t suck. I’m just glad my mother was happy.”
“You have to quote my sister?” Isabel asked.
“Come on. You know I love Julie. She’s the only one who tells it straight. Everyone else is so polite and walking on eggshells around me. Not wanting to upset me. I know they talk about it when I’m not there.”
“Are you grouping me in with the polite people?” Isabel asked.
“No,” Sam said. “You’re my best friend. But to be honest, it fucked me up to hear about the book just now, and you talking to the detective. I mean, I know he’s interviewing everyone, but I still hate it.”
“How do you think I felt?” Isabel asked. “Having to talk about how my best friend’s dad might have killed her mom?”
And then, because she just couldn’t take it anymore, Sam ran out of Foley’s and left Isabel sitting there.