“Think the water’s got too much get-up-and-go, Grandma,” Annie says, even though she thinks no such thing. “Should I let off a little?”
Caroline doesn’t have the know-how and so won’t know what “get-up-and-go” means, and as bad as it is to use the know-how in a way that will make a person feel bad about not having it, Annie figures Caroline brought it on herself. She stole Annie’s vision, but someone is dead up there at the Baine place, and that’s what Mama and Daddy will care about. They won’t trouble themselves with Annie’s visions, and Annie shouldn’t be troubling herself with them either, but she can’t stop thinking about Ryce and that dead frog and every kid who will want to know who she saw down there in that well and was he a boy who will want to kiss her. They’ll not believe her if she tells them Caroline stole her vision.
They’ll not believe Annie if she tells them there was a man—a dark-haired, blue-eyed man—who was meant for Annie. They’ll not believe Caroline saw him first because she always does things first or better or faster. Instead, they’ll say what a pity there is no one for Annie, no face in the bottom of her well. It will be worse than having the boys run from her. They’ll pity her. All of them. But when someone’s dead, no one will care about such things that trouble Annie.
Grandma leans over the pots, waves a hand through the steam, and coughs. The lavender will sting the back of the throat if the water is too hot, so maybe Annie is right after all.
“Sure enough,” Grandma says, giving Annie the soft sort of smile people give when someone has died. Later, Grandma will tell Annie what a good student she is and what a great knack she has for the know-how. Not everyone who has the gift has such a good knack. But Grandma will only say those things when Mama isn’t near enough to hear. “Just a smidgen though,” she says and gives a wink. “Want to keep a lively steam going.”
Lavender makes bees lazy, has a calming effect on them, and that’s why Grandma simmers it in this way. From daybreak to dusk, the bees light upon the bluish-gray blossoms that will soon enough burst into full bloom, and then they float, don’t fly, aimlessly, weightlessly back to their hives. Drunkards, Grandma calls them on those days when she watches the lazy dance from her kitchen window. The lavender soothes them. These are the most peaceful bees you’ll find. That’s what Grandma says, and she must figure the whole family is going to need a good bit of calming before the night is over.
Abraham Pace was the first person Annie and Caroline woke after leaping the rock fence, running through the lavender, and throwing open the kitchen door. Annie shook him by his large shoulder. He snorted, tried to roll away, but finally opened his eyes when Annie said that a dead person was lying by the tomato garden up at the Baine place.
Grandma had put on the coffee while Mama gathered up trousers, boots, and fresh socks for Daddy and Abraham. Daddy stumbled as he balanced on one foot while trying to tug on a boot. Mama yanked it away, loosened the laces, and asked if he would care for coffee before attempting to walk on his own two feet. Daddy took the boot, its laces dangling, pulled it on his foot, and then made out like he was balancing on a narrow plank by stretching his two arms to the side, stepping one foot precisely in front of the other, and moving steady as a sober judge. Mama didn’t have to say it out loud. Daddy was supposed to have followed Annie up that hill, but the whiskey had gotten the better of him.
“We’ll fetch Buell and give the place a look-see,” Daddy said, two boots on his feet, both sets of laces dangling loose. “And you all stay put.” He pushed open the door, but before walking outside, he turned back to Annie.
“You’re sure about this?” he said. “Sure about what you seen?”
Annie nodded. “I’m certain, sir.” She linked her hands, stood with her feet together and her back straight. She was of age now and so should feel differently, should act differently. More like a lady, she supposed, and wouldn’t a lady link her hands and stand with good posture? “Just as certain as can be.”
Daddy and Abraham were heading up to the Baine place, and Hollerans never go near Baines.