Anne Brown - Lies Beneath

“Thanks so much,” Hancock said. “I’m Jason Hancock. This is my wife, Carolyn.”

Hancock reached out to shake my hand, but fortunately I’d already picked up a box. I didn’t think I could handle any physical contact. I was pushed to my limit as it was.

“Calder White,” I said.

“Good to meet you, Calder,” Mrs. Hancock said. “It’s so nice of you to help. God knows we need it.” And then she laughed, her voice light and lilting. I would have liked to shake her hand.

“Have you met our daughters?” Hancock asked. “Lily’s our oldest.” He waved toward the porch and Lily raised a tentative hand. “And Sophie just ran inside. This is my parents’ old place.”

I nodded and forced a smile.

“I guess I didn’t realize it was so run-down.” He put his hand on his wife’s shoulder and gave it an apologetic squeeze. “Carolyn’s right. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

I barely heard anything he said. My mind was speeding forward, trying to ignore Mrs. Hancock’s sympathetic tug on my heart and strategizing my best options for getting her husband onto the dock. But if I took Hancock down alone, without letting my sisters have their own share in his end, I’d pay for it. Still, it would only take a second to grab him … I needed to get my mind on something else. Maris wanted to drag this out.

“Do you fish?” I asked. What the hell? I groaned mentally; I was already slipping. It was no good being so close. I couldn’t think straight. The air stretched into a thin trickle of oxygen. Was my tongue always so thick?

Jason Hancock chuckled. “Nope. Not at all.”

I walked quickly toward the house and Hancock followed. He kicked at a pile of shingles, and they shattered like shale. When we passed Lily on the porch, I stole a sideways glance at her. The girl named Gabrielle rocked back and forth on her heels, clearly amused by something.

“But of course, we do have a lot of fishing and hunting gear here at the house,” Hancock continued. We stepped through the doorway, and he gestured to an impressive-looking gun cabinet by the fireplace. “This was all my dad’s stuff. I’m more of a book guy. I’ll be teaching at Northland starting fall semester.”

I put my box down on the dining table and looked around: to the left, a small living room with green shag carpeting, knotty pine paneling, and a stone fireplace; to the right, a tiny kitchen featuring cracked linoleum and peeling wallpaper with images of sheaths of wheat. There appeared to be a bedroom beyond the living room. A narrow wooden staircase, open on one side, rose like a ladder out of the middle of the house.

At the foot of the stairs, a few black-and-white photographs hung crookedly on the wall. I walked over, fixated on one face. I took the photograph off the nail and wiped away a thick layer of dust.

“My parents,” Jason Hancock said, clearing his throat. “They lived here when they were first married. I was just a baby.”

“Tom Hancock.”

“Right,” he said, surprised. “Did your grandparents know him?”

Before I could answer, the floorboards creaked and we both looked toward the door. Lily was there along with the other girl, who fidgeted with her shorts. Lily pushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. My eyes followed the long, pale line of her neck, now exposed.

“Hi,” she said, and then she bit her bottom lip. “I’m Lily Hancock.” The other girl jabbed Lily, hard, in the ribs. “Right. And this is Gabrielle Pettit.”

“Gabrielle’s dad is a carpenter and handyman. He’s going to help me fix the roof,” Hancock explained as he swiped a small tube of lip balm across his chapped lips. Then he headed back to the van.

“Mrs. Boyd sent me up with muffins,” I said. “Thought I’d stay and see if you needed any help.”

“My brother’s out back,” said the Pettit girl. “He’s helping, too.”

“So, you live around here?” asked Lily.

“Yeah, sure, just over there.” I gestured vaguely and hoped she’d be satisfied with the ambiguous suggestion. Sophie Hancock came in behind Lily and smiled shyly at me. “So … I guess I’ll go grab a couple more boxes, then?” No one said no, so I trotted out the door.

“God be praised,” the Pettit girl whispered, giggling.

I passed off a laugh as a cough and stopped to help a group of men wrestling with a mattress. The girls moved back onto the porch, and I could feel their eyes on my back.

“Do you think I should go talk to him?” Gabrielle asked. “We could double.”

“Double what?” Lily asked.

“You and my brother. Me and him.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Besides, we’re supposed to be helping my dad, not playing matchmaker.”

“Your dad’s got plenty of help.”

When I finally reached the moving van, a guy emerged from the back, balancing an impressive tower of cardboard boxes. Judging by his resemblance to Gabrielle, I guessed him to be her brother. His muscles flexed under the weight he carried.

“Quit showing off, Jack,” Gabrielle called. “You don’t want to break anything.”

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he yelled back. I picked up a few boxes of my own and followed Jack Pettit to the house. As he passed through the doorway, I thought I saw him wink at Lily, but it might have been my imagination.

He set his boxes down on the orange kitchen counter, knocking a huge tub of Vaseline onto the floor. I set my load down on the table and returned the Vaseline to its place.

“Hey, thanks,” Jack said. “Didn’t see it there.”

“No problem,” I said.

“Are you one of the Hancocks?” he asked.

“Hardly.” I almost laughed.

“I’m going to be working with my dad,” Jack said. “We’re going to turn this hellhole back into a dump.” He rolled his eyes. “Should make for a fascinating summer.”

I looked past his shoulder to Lily and Gabrielle, who were helping Mrs. Hancock stock a linen closet. Gabrielle caught me looking. She tapped Lily on the shoulder and dragged her toward me and Jack.

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” Jack and I headed back for more boxes, reaching the front door simultaneously, with Lily and Gabrielle right behind. As Jack and I did the “after you; no, after you” dance in the doorway, our chests bumped. Jack sucked in a surprised lungful of air. His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened. He snapped his head around to look at Lily, then at me, then back at Lily. Sadness tugged at the corners of his eyes before a darkness clouded his face. He inhaled again, holding his breath.

“Okay there, buddy?” I asked, all the while thinking, He knows. How could he know? But then I had to laugh at myself. I guess paranoia was a fallout symptom of my abstinence. I’d stretched this little experiment out so far, I was now in uncharted waters. I wondered what would go next.

All the boxes were moved into their appropriate rooms. I carried the last of Sophie’s things upstairs to her bedroom, which faced the lake. Judging by the pale blue walls, I assumed it had been Jason Hancock’s nursery years ago. There was a lingering fragrance in the walls that was strangely familiar. I struggled to place it but eventually had to give up the effort. I tore open a box and started placing Sophie’s books on her bookshelf.

Downstairs, several men were moving the bigger pieces of furniture into the living room. From the next upstairs bedroom, I could hear the Pettit brother and sister talking with Lily. It was hard to tune everyone out and focus on Sophie, particularly because the Pettits were talking about me.