Selma had felt a shudder go through her. Ruby had felt almost dangerous at that moment. Selma had always hated the powerlessness of her mother. And she’d hated how her father always seemed to get his way with no consequences. Ruby was better, stronger, than them all. Ruby would always win. “I want to be just like you,” Selma had whispered, her voice trembling. Even if she hadn’t really understood, even though it had confused her, she’d known.
Ruby had lifted Selma’s chin with her fingers, her face just inches from Selma’s. “Just by saying that, darling, you already are.” She blew into Selma face, her breath warm. Something came over Selma. She was different now. She could feel it. “Eight charms. That’s all you get. It seems like a lot a first, but you’ll soon see you’ll have to pace yourself. You’re going to be the envy of all women. Any married man who feels a sliver of attraction to you can be yours. You’re going to lead a charmed life.”
Ruby had left four months later. Two weeks after that, Selma had received a package in the mail from her—a bracelet with eight charms.
Selma’s father went back to her mother. She made his life miserable. He continued to cheat. But they realized they were stuck with each other. Selma might as well have become invisible, so focused were they on their hatred for each other.
When Selma turned eighteen, she’d used her first charm to marry an army sergeant who had married a classmate of Selma’s the year before. They were home on leave, and Selma had hated this girl, how she gloated that she was free of this place, how she said that all the other girls were rotting here while she saw the world. Selma had shown her. And that first time she’d watched a charm disappear, knowing she was going to get exactly what she’d wanted, had been wondrous.
At first Selma had been giddy with her power and had married foolishly, just as Ruby had said. Her third husband was stolen from a cocktail waitress who had spilled a drink on her. The later ones had been for more practical reasons.
But with all that Ruby had told her, there had been two things Ruby had failed to share. The first was that the effect of the charms was fleeting. She could get any married man who was attracted to her to leave his wife and marry her, but she couldn’t make him stay. Five years was the upper limit, though there was a rumor among their kind that one of them had managed seventeen years on a single charm. Information was hard to come by. While they instinctively knew one another when they crossed paths, women like her didn’t share their secrets easily.
Selma went to the window in her cabin and watched Kate walk away. Kate threw a look back over her shoulder. Selma knew that look very well. Hundreds of women had given her that look over the years. She wasn’t immune to it.
That was the second thing Ruby had failed to tell her. That those looks would always hurt.
And that, by choosing to be the woman she was, she would never again have female friends.
10
“Lisette and I brought in the rest of the groceries. Can I go down to the lake?” Devin asked her mother, running up the path toward Kate as soon as she came out of Selma’s cabin. That heavy, beautiful-lady scent hung in the air around her. Selma’s cabin was surrounded by it, like a force field. Devin imagined that if she threw rocks at it, they would just ricochet off.
“No,” Kate said, shifting the towels in her arms. “Stick with me for a little while. I don’t think Eby has done any laundry lately. It might be backing up.”
From behind them on the path, someone said, “I’ll watch over her.”
It was Bulahdeen. Devin liked her. She wasn’t much taller than Devin, so Devin had a weird impression of her being a very old little girl. She was wearing dark sunglasses that took up half of her sweet, wrinkled face.
“Please, please, please?” Devin said, jumping up and down.
Kate smiled. “Okay. You two keep an eye on each other. Thanks, Bulahdeen.”
Kate walked into the main house, and Devin turned to Bulahdeen. She held up the root the alligator had given her and said, “To the cypress knees!”
“You want to see the cypress knees? Okay, this way,” Bulahdeen said, directing her to a trail that led around the lake, so close that the water nearly reached the bank in places. Cypress trees leaned over it, draping moss to the water like a curtain.
Devin walked backward in front of Bulahdeen as Bulahdeen peppered her with questions about her school and her family, which Devin didn’t want to talk about, because that was her old life and things were different since leaving Atlanta. Her life had changed so much, had been in a constant state of flux for almost a year. It was like spinning around in circles with your eyes closed. Once you stop, the world still feels like it is going too fast. Then, after a while, you realize nothing is spinning anymore—that everything is perfectly still.
That’s what Lost Lake felt like.
Bulahdeen stopped a lot during the walk—to toss branches out of the pathway or to show Devin a mushroom or a nest. Everything that shone attracted her attention like a magpie. It seemed to take forever to get even halfway around the lake. Devin became anxious to get to the cypress knees, so she ran ahead of Bulahdeen. Bulahdeen called her back in a tone that brooked no defiance. Devin slowed down and matched her pace to Bulahdeen’s, learning it, making sure she remembered it.
Finally, Bulahdeen said, “There they are! The only place on the lake where you can see them.”
Devin looked out over the water. They didn’t look like knees. They didn’t even look like roots. They looked like the ancient spires of Gothic buildings sticking out of the top of the water, like there was a church under the lake and she and Bulahdeen could only see the top of it. They were clustered in a section close to the bank, no more than a foot or so out of the water. She got as close to the edge as possible and looked down. The water moved slightly, and she thought for a moment that she saw a flash of something electric blue at the bottom. But, then again, the water was so murky that it was hard to tell just where the bottom was. She didn’t see any evidence that the alligator had been here, or that whatever it was he might want her to find was hidden anywhere. She even put her hand over her good eye and looked around.
She thought it would be more obvious than this.
Her shoulders dropped. She was tired. Fatigue suddenly settled over her like someone encasing her in glass.
The alligator had kept her up most of the night, tossing things up against her window. Tic tic tic. It had driven her crazy. She’d finally turned on her light and gone to the window. When she’d opened it, the humid nighttime had air rushed at her, as thick as soup. The light from the window had spread a fan of light on the ground below, and there he’d been. When he’d seen her, he’d opened his mouth and turned his head, giving her a sideways glance that was almost mischievous.
“Don’t you sleep?” She’d asked him.
He’d made a hissing sound and flung his head around again.
“I can’t come out. I promised my mom.”
He’d walked a few steps away. His strange, scaly feet with toes that ended in long claws had scratched against the dirt.
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about. You’re the one who won’t tell me where the box is. If it’s such a big deal, tell me.”
He’d walked out of the light, frustrated with her.
Devin had closed the window and crawled back into bed. But the moment she’d turned out the light, the tic tic tic had started again. She’d put her pillow over her head, but he hadn’t let up until the lime-colored sunlight broke through the trees, and that’s when Devin had finally dozed off.
“What are you thinking about, baby?” Bulahdeen said from behind her.
“No one believes me about the alligator,” Devin said, turning away from the lake. “And Mom even saw him on the road coming here! I’m not making him up. Do you believe me?”
Bulahdeen smiled. “Sure I do. One person alone can’t do it. I’ve learned that. But two people? That’s a done deal. If two people believe in the same thing, it’s automaticall
y real.”
That made Devin feel better. “He wants me to know things, then he won’t tell me. It’s frustrating.”
“He’s an alligator. And they’re single-minded, those alligators. They don’t focus on much except what’s right in front of them.”
“You’re right,” Devin said. “He needs my help.”
“Where to?” Bulahdeen clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Anything else you want to see?”
“No. We better get back. I think I heard Wes’s van. He said he was coming by to help get things ready for Eby’s party.”
“Now that’s good news! Hot diggity. Let’s go talk to him.”
Bulahdeen scooted off at a fast clip, her arms pumping at her sides like she was power walking.
Devin hesitated, looking out over the cypress knees once more, before running to catch up with Bulahdeen.
She needed to find this box quickly. She had the strangest feeling that they were running out of time.
* * *
As soon as Wes arrived, Bulahdeen charged at him from the trail beside the lake and asked if he would set up the dance floor. Of course he agreed.
He remembered every summer weekend George would bring out the large squares and set them on the lawn and snap them together like a large puzzle. Wes had even helped him a few times. There had been live music on the weekends, and in the evenings Wes and Billy would linger in the woods to listen. Eby would put colorful Chinese lanterns in the trees and launch tiny boats with candles out into the lake. Those nights, more than most, they hadn’t wanted to go home. They’d just wanted to listen to the music and watch the people dance as lights twinkled, and imagine that this really was their home.
With Jack’s assistance, Wes brought out the floor squares from Eby’s storage room, and together they spent the better part of the afternoon putting them together. The damp had gotten to them, warping them in some places.
Wes caught sight of Kate a few times. She was wearing the same shorts and bright green tank top from when he’d seen her earlier at the restaurant, but now sweat was making the ends of her hair turn up in curls. She was obviously helping with housekeeping that day, taking towels and sheets back and forth to the cabins. He’d been so busy watching her that he’d once hammered his thumb with his mallet. Jack had given him an understanding look. Some women just make you forget yourself.
When they were done, Kate walked to the lawn to inspect their handiwork. She put her hands on her hips and nodded. “Very nice,” she said, which made Wes feel ridiculously proud of himself. Seriously, it was pitiful.
“We were going to put the canopy up but noticed that moths had gotten to it,” Wes said, gesturing to the folded canopy on the ground.
“I can mend it tonight,” Kate said. “Would you have time to come back tomorrow to help put it up?”
“Sure,” he said, and the thought of plans with her made tomorrow seem so far away. It had felt that way fifteen years ago too, when he couldn’t wait to see her in the mornings. He hadn’t been able to sleep, knowing that in just hours they could start their day over again. Past and present. The lines were getting muddy. “I’ll repair these grills tomorrow, too, and maybe sand some places on the picnic tables and benches so people won’t get splinters.”
Kate smiled at him, her eyes on his face, going to the scar above his eyebrow where his father had once hit him and Wes had fallen against the woodstove. When they were kids, he’d told Kate he’d gotten the scar rescuing a heron caught in some moss.
Evening began to fall, and Eby came out with hot dogs and hamburgers to grill. When she saw the dance floor, she shook her head. “I can’t believe Bulahdeen talked you into doing that.”
“It was my pleasure,” Wes said, realizing he hadn’t actually left the dance floor yet, like he was somehow holding court over it. “I loved watching the guests dance when I was a kid. Maybe I’ll dance on it myself this time. I always wanted to.”
“I like to dance,” Devin said. She’d been sitting with Bulahdeen all afternoon, knocking the cypress knee she held against the table absently as she stared at the water. She was restless, the way Kate used to get restless when it rained, like something was holding her back.
Wes held out his hand to her. “Then join me.”
Devin ran onto the dance floor, and they did some robot-style moves that made Kate laugh.
Selma was sitting at one of the picnic tables, watching them with detachment. “My second husband was a dance instructor. Did I ever tell you that?” she said to no one. She suddenly stood and took Jack by the hand. “Dance with me.”
“I don’t know how to dance, Selma,” Jack said, panicking.
“And they do?” she asked, gesturing to Wes and Devin.
“Hey,” Wes said, in mock offense.
Selma dragged Jack onto the floor and began to execute some complicated move that involved Jack putting his leg between hers and spinning her around.
Jack promptly fell and twisted his ankle.
Selma just stood there and looked at him, then she sighed at the injustice of it all and went to sit back down while everyone gathered around Jack.
“I’ll get some ice,” Eby said, rushing to the house. She returned with not only ice but Lisette. Lisette didn’t have on shoes, and her toenails were painted a surprising color of orange. Her dark dress was buttoned wrong, as if she’d hastily dressed, and through the missed buttonholes, some bright yellow lingerie could be seen. Her hair was pushed back with a headband, wet in some places, like she’d just washed her face. Everyone suddenly stood still. It was as if she was a wild animal who had lost her way and they didn’t want to startle her. Lisette never came out to the lawn at night.
They had gotten Jack’s shoe off by this time. Lisette took the ice pack from Eby and set it on Jack’s foot. She looked up at him worriedly, darting her head back frequently to look at the grills where the hot dogs and burgers were now sizzling.
“It’s okay,” Jack said. “It’s not broken. You go inside. I’ll be fine.”
Lisette looked relieved. She hurried back into the house as if the smoke from the grill were chasing her, as if she might just get sick from it.
The group helped Jack to his cabin, and they ended up having dinner in there with him. Even Selma joined them. She never exactly apologized, but she had gotten up and refilled Jack’s drink once, which everyone figured was as good as it got with Selma and contrition.
Later, color high from laughter, they all said good night to each other, and Wes helped Eby and Kate take the dishes and trash back to the main house. Eby went upstairs, and Kate and Wes walked back outside. The umbrella lights were now off, and Devin was trying to catch fireflies in the dark.
They stood side by side and watched her. Wes could feel Kate’s arm graze his. When he was twelve, this was what he had lived for, a brief touch from her—their legs as they sat on the dock, their hands as they both reached for something at the same time. He’d known she hadn’t felt the same way, not until that very last moment, just before she left. It had been floating around the lake for years now, that longing they’d left behind. But it too had grown. There was a different tenor to it now, something grittier, more lusty and heavy. He couldn’t deny that he had stared at her legs as she’d walked around today, studying the way they moved. She was small breasted, and after careful consideration, he was fairly certain that she didn’t wear a bra. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, what she tasted like with Bulahdeen’s wine on her lips. Things would never be as simple as they had been. And yet … here they were, barely touching, and he found himself thinking that he would be perfectly happy to stay here all night like this, with just the feel of her arm against his.
“Well, good night, Wes,” Kate finally said, her voice slightly breathy. “See you tomorrow.”
He nodded.
Kate called to Devin. “The alligator says good night, too, Wes!” Devin said as they walked away.
When Wes got into his van, he sat t
here for a moment.
This had been the best summer night he’d had in a long time, and it left him afraid that it was happening all over again, that he was going to fall in love and wish for a life he couldn’t make happen, because that life could only ever exist here for a single moment, with Kate.
Maybe it was for the best that Eby was selling, that he was getting rid of his own land. You can’t spend your whole life unhappy, just waiting for a moment of something perfect. Wes had already made his life into something good.
This was just a place.
And Kate was just a girl he’d once known.
He needed to let them both go.
* * *
Lisette loved the flavors of old, simple recipes, ones made so often that their edges were worn down and they tasted soft and sure of themselves. They made her think of her grand-mère, who had lost her husband and two of her sons in the war. She had cried every day for a year, walking the same stretch of road from her home to the train station, waiting for them to come back. Her tears fell as black stones to the ground, and to this day those stones lodged themselves in car tires and let all the air out slowly in a wail. People called it Sorrow Road. Lisette had very few memories of her grand-mère and her house in the country. She remembered the bread she had baked there in a sooty black stove. And she remembered her grand-mère once holding out her spotted, papery fingers and telling Lisette that old hands made the best food. “Old hands can hold memories of good things,” she had said.
That made Lisette look at her hands as she stood there at Jack’s door that next morning, holding a tray of food.
She had old hands now. Sometimes it came as such a surprise. Interacting with Luc could make her believe she was so much younger sometimes.