Deep Betrayal by [email protected]

Author:[email protected]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-12-21T16:00:00+00:00

20

FATHER’S DAY

T he next day after Mass, Calder and I sat in a sunny park across the street from the Bayfield Police Station. It was quiet here, and I was glad for that. Early- morning sun streamed through the trees. Two coffee cups stood in the grass between us. This morning I’d opted for Calder’s double Espresso in lieu of my usual Caramel Mocha Latte. Calder read to me from my anthology of Victorian poets, trying to distract me from morbid thoughts, but it was tough going considering the material he was working with.

After a few minutes, he turned the page and began to

170 recite from one of my favorites— the one that always made him roll his eyes. This time he used a funny voice, mugging and preening, as he read Tennyson’s “The Merman”:

I would be a merman bold,

I would sit and sing the whole of the day; I would fill the sea- halls with a voice of power; But at night I would roam abroad and play With the mermaids in and out of the rocks, Dressing their hair with the white sea- flower.

I knew what he was doing. But trying to make me laugh wasn’t going to work. Nothing could take my mind off Connor.

Calder had explained to me, months ago, how mermaids hunted. Somehow, the way he explained things, it sounded almost excusable. Now having seen the wasted remains of their hunt, it was impossible to think about. More terrifying than the inescapable memory of Connor’s vacant, milky eyes was the knowledge that he wouldn’t be their last.

Calder slipped into Hopkins’s “Epithalamion” without me noticing he’d turned the page.

. . . there comes a listless stranger: beckoned by the noise He drops towards the river: unseen

Sees the bevy of them, how the boys

With dare and with downdolphinry and bellbright bodies huddling out,

Are earthworld, airworld, waterworld thorough hurled, all by turn and turn about.

. . . . Here he feasts: lovely all is! . . .

171 “Lily? Are you listening?” I looked up without an answer. “Where’s your head at?” Calder asked. “You’re so distant.”

“It’s Father’s Day,” I said. “And Dad’s not— ” But before I could finish my thought, tires squealed around the corner and screeched to a stop punctuated by car doors slamming. Across the street, Gabby and Mr. Pettit hurried from their van toward the station.

“I wonder what that’s about,” I said.

“One guess,” Calder said. “Come on.”

I staggered to my feet, and Calder dragged me across the road. He paused in front of the building, lifting his chin and cocking his head to listen. Then he pulled me around the left side of the building and back toward the third set of windows, which were cracked an inch. Calder crouched below the window and gestured for me to do the same. From inside, Gabby’s voice carried above the others.

“Are you trying to ruin my life, Jack? Y’know, it didn’t used to completely suck being your sister.”

“Quiet, Gabby. Don’t make me regret letting you come,” Mr.

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