Элизабет Чандлер: Don't Tell

Holly grimaced. “Not me. I’m editor in chief of our yearbook. And the prom’s tomorrow, my swim party Tuesday night. I’m too busy to get sentimental.”

“I can help you get ready for the party,” I offered.

“Cleaning, fixing food, whatever. It’ll be fun.”

“I wish you hadn’t come,” Nora said.

I sat back in my seat, surprised, and turned to look at her.

She said nothing more, continuing to arrange the flowers with intense concentration.

“Ignore her,” said Holly.

“She’ll get used to you,” Aunt Jule added.

Used to me? I grew up with Nora.

“We had some hot days in May,” Holly went on, “so the water’s plenty warm for an evening swim party.”

“Don’t go near the water,” warned Nora.

“The whole class is coming,” Holly went on, as if her sister hadn’t spoken.

I heard Nora leave the room.

“I’m borrowing amplifiers from Frank — and torches and strings of light,” Holly added.

“I told you not to,” Aunt Jule remarked.

“And I ignored you,” Holly said, then turned to me. “You remember Frank, from next door?”

I nodded. “Yes, I saw his neph—” I broke off at the sound of a crash in the next room. Aunt Jule and Holly glanced at each other, then the three of us rushed into the river room.

Nora was standing five feet from an end table, gazing down at a broken ceramic lamp. She seemed fascinated by it. I heard Aunt Jule take a deep breath and let it out again.

“Nora!” Holly exclaimed. “That was a good lamp.”

“I didn’t do it,” Nora replied quickly.

“You should watch where you’re going,” Holly persisted.

“But I didn’t do it.” Nora glanced around the room.

“Someone else did.”

I bent down to pick up the pieces of the shattered base.

The lamp’s cord had been pulled from the wall socket and was tied in a knot. When I saw it, the skin on my neck prickled. I thought about the things my mother had found knotted in her room just before she died.

A coincidence, I told myself, then untied the cord.

When I looked up, Nora was watching me, her dark eyes gleaming as if she had just solved a puzzled. “You did it,” she said.

“Of course I didn’t.”

“Then she did.”

“She?” I asked. “Who?”

“Now that you’re here, there’s no stopping her,” Nora whispered.

“I don’t understand.”

Holly dismissed our puzzling conversation with a wave of her hand. “Leave that, Lauren,” she said. “Nora broke it and Nora will clean it up. Come on, let’s take your things upstairs. I’ll help you unpack.”

I glanced uncertainly at Aunt Jule, but she smiled as if everything were fine. “That would be lovely of you, Holly. I’ll handle things down here.”

Holly and I picked up my baggage in the hall and climbed the steps, which rose to the garden side of the house, then turned in the direction of the river side. Arriving in the upper hall, I felt as if I were ten again, breathing in the sweet cedar scent of the closets and the smell of the river.

A door to the upper porch was straight ahead. Aunt Jule’s room was to the right, her bedroom facing the water, her private sitting room facing the garden. The hall to the left of the stairs led to four bedrooms.

“You’re in the same room as always. Is that okay?” Holly asked.

“Sure,” I replied, not so sure.

We passed Holly’s room to the right, facing the water, and Nora’s, which was directly across from her sister’s, looking out on the garden. The next door to the right was mine.

I entered the bedroom and turned away from the doorlength view of the river, focusing on the furniture. The oak chest, dresser, and plain oak bed with a blue-and-white quilt looked just as I had left them. The varnished wood floor had the same braid rug coiled in a circle. A small fireplace, which had been walled up as long as I could remember, still had a collection of old paperbacks on its narrow shelf. We set my suitcases on the bed.

“Thanks, Holly. Thanks for making me welcome, fixing the tea and all.”

“Are you kidding? I’m glad you’re here,” she replied, sitting on a straight-back chair, then quickly standing up again. Its cane seat was worn through. “I’m just sorry the house is such a disaster. You know my mother. Not exactly the queen of mommies and housewives.”

I laughed. “That’s why I loved it here. It always felt so free and easy. But I guess her way of living is not as much fun now, not if you’re the one who has to handle everything.”

Holly tilted her head to one side, as if surprised. “I didn’t think you’d understand that. Not you.”

She had always said I was spoiled. My parents had certainly given me enough to be, and it didn’t help when Aunt Jule would treat me like a little princess. My last visit to Wisteria had been particularly hard on Holly and Nora, with both Aunt Jule and my mother fussing and fighting over me.

Worse, my mother, who could be quite snobby about the children with whom I played, had constantly criticized Nora and Holly.

“I guess you know money is tight around here,” Holly said.

“Mom should sell the place, but she won’t. Frank’s been making good offers. He’s been doing a lot of real estate development, and, of course, he’d love to have property next to his own, but she won’t speak to him. Meanwhile we have old bills to pay — gas and electric, phone, taxes. Our credit cards are maxed.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump on you. Let’s get you unpacked.”

I opened my suitcase. “I can help you out with the bills.”

“Oh, no!” she protested.

“Holly, you know my father — he gives checks, not hugs. I have a large bank account from him, and when I’m eighteen, I inherit all of my mother’s estate. I didn’t earn any of the money. It’s just there — there to be used. How much do you need?”

I could see her trying to decide what to say. “Do you have access to the family account?” I asked. “Do you have a checkbook?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m the one who writes the checks now, when there’s money.”

“So figure out what you need and let me know. I’ll transfer the funds tomorrow when the bank opens. Really, it makes sense,” I argued. “You want to keep your credit good.”

“My mother would kill me if she knew I—”

“So don’t tell her,” I said. “She probably doesn’t even look at your bank statements.”

Holly burst out laughing. “You’ve got that right.” She plopped down on the bed and stretched back against the pillow. It seemed easier to be with her now that we were older.

“Holly, what’s going on with Nora?”

She turned on her side and picked through my open bag the way she used to go through my Barbie carry-case. “I’m really worried,” she said at last. “I’m sure you can tell she’s gotten worse. I guess Mom told you she didn’t finish high school.”

I shook my head no. “Your mother can be very silent about some things.”

“Nora barely made it to her sixteenth birthday. I think the teachers passed her each year because they wanted to get rid of her.”

“But she’s not dumb,” I said.

“No,” Holly replied, “just crazy. Do you remember when you were here how she had started to fear water?”

“Yeah. The last summer I came, she would go out on the dock, but was afraid to dangle her feet over it, afraid to be splashed.”

“Well, she’s totally phobic now — about water, about all kinds of things. She never leaves the property.”

I frowned. “Not at all?”

“No. She needs a psychiatrist — badly — but Mom won’t do anything about it. It seems like Nora is getting weirder every day. It’s scary.” Holly sat up. “I mean, I’m sure she’s not dangerous. She wouldn’t hurt anyone. But she doesn’t reason like a normal person. She gets angry when there’s nothing to be angry at, and she imagines people are after her.”