Terry Lynn Thomas - The Drowned Woman

‘Three hundred and fifty acres,’ Zeke said. ‘I wanted to grow grapes for wine and start a vineyard – never mind. Let’s go in.’

The door burst open and a ginger-haired boy, who I guessed to be five or six, came tumbling down the stairs and running towards Zeke.

‘Uncle Zeke, Uncle Zeke!’ The boy launched himself at Zeke, who somehow managed to sweep the child up with one arm, while maintaining hold of his cane.

‘Toby!’ Zeke spun him around, hiding the pain that I was certain the activity caused. He set the boy down and leaned against the car.

‘You must be Sarah,’ Daphne said. She wiped her hands on her trousers and held one out for me to shake. She took my hand in a strong grip and shook it, then saw Zeke taking the bags out of the trunk and went to help him.

‘Give me a hug, brother-in-law,’ she said. She and Zeke hugged, and Daphne air-kissed his cheek. ‘Simon’s at the mill. He asked you to join him as soon as you got here. Why don’t you leave the bags, and I’ll get Sarah situated.’

‘We brought food, too,’ I said.

‘Perfect,’ Daphne said.

‘Uncle Zeke, I’m getting a pony.’ The boy still clambered over Zeke, who was taking our suitcases, my typewriter, and the box of food out of the trunk.

‘And Father?’ Zeke asked.

‘Running errands today,’ Daphne said. An unspoken current passed between my husband and Daphne, words unsaid, but their meaning conveyed nonetheless.

‘Toby, your uncle has a sore leg. He’s also trying to carry things. Please quit climbing all over him.’

‘I can help. Sometimes ponies carry things. I don’t know if they carry suitcases, but my pony will do anything I ask,’ the boy said.

‘That’s marvelous, old boy. I think you’d be great on a pony,’ Zeke said. He climbed the stone steps and set the box of food next to our suitcases on the front porch. When he walked back down the stairs, Daphne noticed the limp.

‘Oh dear,’ Daphne said.

‘I know,’ I answered, speaking just loud enough for her to hear.

The three of us stood for a moment, watching Toby run in circles as he pretended to ride an imaginary pony.

‘I should really go to Simon. You don’t mind if I leave you?’ Zeke asked.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said.

‘I’ll show her around,’ Daphne said.

‘See you soon.’ He kissed my cheek, got in the car, and drove away.

‘Miss.’ The boy came up to me now, as if noticing me for the first time. ‘Do you like ponies? I’m getting one of my own.’

‘He’s not getting one until he can muck out a stall,’ Daphne said. ‘Toby, say hello to Sarah. She’s your aunt.’

Toby skewed up his face, processing this bit of news. In a brilliant flash of understanding, his face broke into a big smile.

‘That’s super.’ He took my hand.

‘Sarah is going to be here awhile, darling. Go find Granna, would you? She is waiting to read to you.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ the boy said. He waved at me and ran off.

‘What a bright child,’ I said.

‘He’s a handful,’ Daphne said. ‘Would you like to go inside and freshen up, or would you like the quick tour?’

‘Should we take the food inside?’

‘Don’t worry. By the time we get back, Mrs Griswold will have all that sorted out.’

‘Tour, please,’ I said to Daphne.

‘Fabulous.’ She hooked her arm in mine. ‘We’ll start with the gardens.’

* * *

‘I try to get out here and tend to these beds myself, but it has been so hot these past few weeks, I’ve only been able to work in the early morning.’

‘How many horses do you have?’ We had strolled among the gardens in front of the house, through a rose garden nestled in the middle of a grove of shade trees, and were now sitting on a bench under the gnarled limbs of a majestic oak tree amid ferns, hydrangea, and other shade-loving plants that I did not recognize.

‘I have four, all told. Seadrift is my favorite. I bought him when he was a two-year old and broke him myself. I give lessons to the local children.’ She stopped as I wiped the sweat which ran down my face. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m just not used to the heat,’ I explained. ‘Zeke and I live near the bay, so it doesn’t get this hot.’

‘Let’s head back,’ Daphne said. ‘We are desperate for rain. One of these days the sky will break open, and we will get a little relief.’

Daphne pointed out the various plants and trees as we walked.

‘It will be cool in the house,’ Daphne said. An elderly woman waited for us in the doorway. She wore a lightweight floral housedress – perfect for this scorching heat – with her silvery-blue hair tucked into a chignon at the nape of her neck. Sparkling eyes smiled out of her plump face.

‘Welcome, Mrs Caen,’ she said.

‘Please, call me Sarah.’

We were in a long entry hall. No rug graced the hardwood floor. The whitewashed walls made the room seem cool. Off to the right, a sweeping staircase led the way to the second storey. A cool breeze tickled my bare skin, as though a fan were blowing on us.

‘Sarah, meet Mrs Griswold. She takes care of us,’ Daphne said.

‘And you look like you’re about to have a heat stroke,’ Mrs Griswold said. ‘If you want to take her up, Daphne, I’ll bring lemonade.’

‘Is there a fan somewhere?’ I asked Daphne, after Mrs Griswold had left us.

‘No, but it feels like it. It’s the design of the house.’ We headed up the stairs, taking our time. Daphne kept her eye on me, as if she was afraid I’d keel over. ‘We have a cupola on the third floor. If we open the windows up there, and open the front and back door, the heat in the house gets sucked up the stairs. That, plus all the big oaks around the house, gives us shade. Simon has begged his father to install an air-conditioning system, but Will Sr won’t hear of it.’

The top of the stairs opened into a sitting area. A picture window overlooked the vast acreage surrounding the house, with a good view of the stables. Four chairs circled a low coffee table, with a sofa positioned under the window. Books and magazines, along with a few picture books and reading primers, were scattered about the room. In the corner, a toy train set waited for Toby.

‘What a charming room,’ I said.

‘Thanks,’ Daphne said.

‘Did you do the decorating?’

‘Yes,’ Daphne said. ‘I must confess I read lots of design books and magazines. If I were a career woman, I would be an interior decorator. I like studying people and creating their surroundings. Your room is this way.’ The hallway had windows along one wall with a narrow staircase in the middle of the landing. ‘That staircase leads to the cupola I was telling you about. The view from up there is stunning, but it is as hot as an oven.’

We stopped before a large door, with a heavy brass handle and a skeleton key – also of brass – in the lock. Daphne unlocked the door, handed the key to me, and led me into a spacious sitting room decorated in earth tones. A well-worn rug covered the wood floors, and the French doors, which stood open now, allowed the summer breeze to flow through the room. More French doors opened into the bedroom, which held a four-poster bed set high off the ground. This room also had access to the covered porch.

‘I recommend closing the doors and curtains that lead to the porch by ten o’clock in the morning. We’ve left them open today to air the room. You don’t realize how precious this cool air is until afternoon, when the heat can be a bit stifling.’ She shut the doors and closed the curtains. ‘This was Zeke’s room,’ Daphne said. ‘I’ve changed it up a bit, painted it, new furniture, curtains and the like.’ A small fireplace with a white marble hearth was set in the middle of the wall. On one side, a work table held my typewriter and office supplies, all unpacked and ready for me to use.