Anne Brown - Lies Beneath

“Are you sure you should let that guy hang out in your little sister’s room?” Jack asked. His voice held a mixture of concern and distrust.

“C’mon. Don’t be gross. He’s not hanging out. He’s helping us move just like everyone else.”

“Well, I wouldn’t let him near my sister.”

Gabrielle laughed. “He can get near me anytime he wants. I like danger.”

I grinned to myself and placed the last of the Baby Sitter’s Club series on the shelf.

“Calder, can you help me with this?” Sophie asked. “There’s too much tape. I can’t open it.” I got up and took my car key out of my pocket. I sliced through the tape and gestured like a magician’s assistant at the contents—mostly nappy stuffed animals.

“I seriously doubt he’s dangerous,” said Lily. The sound of pulling and cutting tape followed her words.

“Wouldn’t matter,” Jack said. “I could take him.”

“Neither one of us needs your protection, Jack,” said Gabrielle.

“What are you taping on your walls?” Jack asked. I heard the faint rush of air as someone ripped something out of someone else’s hands.

“What do you like better, Calder? Pandas or frogs?” Sophie asked.

“Hmm? What? Oh, frogs, I guess.”

She handed me a green stuffed animal. “You can have that one, then.”

“They’re pictures of famous poets,” Lily said.

“Looks like a bunch of old dead guys,” Jack said.

“Dude, don’t be such a philistine,” Gabrielle said. There was the sound of someone, probably Jack, pounding his chest like a gorilla.

“Besides,” Gabrielle continued, “how is this any weirder than the crap on your walls?”

“That’s art,” Jack said. “And my paintings aren’t crap.”

“Right,” Gabrielle said. “They’re inspired.”

Light footsteps fell in the hallway, and I looked up to see Lily standing outside Sophie’s door. She’d lost the beret, and her hair was messed up. She stole a nervous glance at me. “Everything okay in here?” she asked.

I wondered if maybe Jack Pettit was right. Was I acting too familiar too soon? I always had a hard time gauging normal human behavior. Pace yourself , I told myself. Time to back off .

Hancock called up the stairs to the Pettits. “Gabrielle, Jack, your dad’s ready to go.”

Jack was immediately beside Lily, his eyes doing little to mask his disapproval of me or his disappointment in leaving. His chest inflated with air and his earlier look of confusion returned. This time I was sure I wasn’t imagining it.

I stood up, dropping the frog onto Sophie’s bed. “Well, I guess that’s it,” I said a little louder than necessary. I stepped into the hallway. “Hope to see you all soon.” Some of you more than others , I added mentally, throwing Sophie a parting wave. Lily frowned.

“You’re leaving?” Sophie asked, clutching a matted bear to her chest. “Already?” Her eyes grew round, and her bottom lip projected. “Don’t you want the frog?” She reminded me of a smaller, human version of Pavati.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, retrieving her gift. “Of course I do.”

The Pettits’ van passed me as I walked to my car. So did the rest of the movers, looking weary. One of them massaged his own shoulder before climbing into his vehicle. One guy looked under his truck for his missing sweatshirt.

I drove down the road a half mile and parked at a nearby boat launch before doubling back on foot. I had strict instructions from Maris to learn as much as I could as quickly as I could, so I prepared to study the Hancocks for the rest of the afternoon, to see what they did when they thought no one was watching.

I sat in the pine branches, spying through the newly uncovered windows. Hopefully, I’d learn something of value that would keep Maris off my back for the night. Maybe she’d actually let me sleep.

The late-afternoon sun drew long shadows across the Hancocks’ front yard. It was cold in the trees. And quiet. The Hancocks were settled in. Mrs. Hancock was in the kitchen, unpacking boxes. Through another window, I could see Hancock assembling a bookshelf.

Lily lay belly-down on the living room floor, her knees bent and her feet crossed in the air. She was reading a book but not turning the pages. She seemed to be reading the same lines over and over, mouthing the words as she read them. Memorizing them?

Sophie played nearby. She had her Barbie and Ken dolls in bathing suits, swimming through the green shag carpeting like they were crossing the channel. When her shaggy lake came to the base of the gun cabinet, Ken and Barbie turned into rock climbers and scaled its mahogany doors.

On the other side of the glass panes, the Hancocks lived their lives, oblivious to the danger I posed. Somewhere in my history, in some distant memory, I remembered what it meant to be a family. Or at least something close. It bothered me that I’d have to disrupt this peaceful picture. Doubt gnawed at my gut. Maybe I couldn’t do this. Maybe I didn’t have it in me. But if I couldn’t complete my assignment, Maris would never release me.

I was such a hypocrite. Why was it okay to destroy a family when I knew what it meant to be destroyed? Because this is justice , I reminded myself. And it’s justice deserved .

I squirmed in my hiding spot. Do something, people , I urged. Say something . The silence dragged on. I imagined my first report to Maris: “We have underestimated our enemy. They are lethal. We are in serious danger of the Hancocks boring us to death. Abort, abort, abort.” I was just about to laugh at my own self-entertainment when a clatter of dishes shattered the silence. I jumped and pulled farther back into the branches.

“Carolyn! Are you all right?” Jason Hancock was on his feet. The girls stared at each other for a second before running after him. I climbed higher to get a better view. Carolyn Hancock sat on the kitchen floor, curled into a ball in the center of a debris field. An empty box marked Everyday Dishes lay on the floor beside her.

“I thought this was supposed to be one of my good days,” she whimpered into her knees. Lily knelt beside her mother and helped Hancock pull his wife to her feet.

“It’s okay, Carolyn.”

“How is this okay?” she asked.

“It’s only dishes, Mom.”

“Stupid dishes.” She picked up a plate that had managed to survive and smashed it against the floor. “Stupid house. Stupid body.”

“Carolyn honey … Shhhhh, baby, it’s okay.”

Sophie let out a sob and ran for the stairs. Lily followed, calling after her. Mrs. Hancock cried into her husband’s shoulder. “Don’t ever leave me,” she said, and she laid her head against his chest.

He supported her as they walked to the couch. He grabbed her cane as they passed through the kitchen door.

“As if I could.”

“Jason, what are we doing here?”

“You know what we’re doing here. It’s going to be good for all of us, Carolyn. You’ll see.”

“Restful climate,” she said with disgust. “We could have gone anywhere. Why here? Why now? How is this supposed to make things better?”

Hancock’s gaze drifted to the ceiling. From the upstairs bedroom, Sophie’s wailing cry filled me with shame.

My sisters and I surfaced one at a time, fifty yards from the Hancocks’ shoreline. Behind the house, treetop silhouettes pierced the pink and purple sky. We’d been repeating this scene every summer for over forty years: swimming back and forth in front of the house, watching the windows, hoping for some sign of the family’s return. It felt strangely dreamlike to be seeing light in the long-darkened windows.