With Hannah again on her back, Mary kept a respectful distance from their guest as she followed him back to the motel. And when they arrived at the Water’s Edge, Mary watched him set his rod and tackle box down outside his door, then head inside his room. Pushing open the glass door to the office, she set Hannah down and scooted her inside. “Mrs. Pool,” she said, her body still outside the office, her head leaning in, “can you watch Hannah for one more sec? I’ve just got to go to the bathroom.”
Mary walked around the back of the building to the rear of room 108, not hiding the sound of her footsteps, her hands sunk easily into her pockets. Passing the window, she listened to make sure the water was running. She knew it would be; the man would want to get the sand off of his legs. Mary then slipped back around to the front of the building, pulled another key chain off of her wrist, and carefully opened the door. Only her eyes moved as she scanned the room. The man’s shorts had been dropped on the floor in front of the television. From the bathroom came his mumblings and the spatter of the shower. Mary moved no faster than she needed to. She picked up the shorts and coaxed a wallet from their pocket. Quickly counting four twenty-dollar bills, she took two of them. Then she returned the wallet to its place and was out of room 108 just as quickly as she had come, the water in the bathroom turning off just as the door clicked shut.
Sliding the forty dollars into the pocket of her cutoffs, she walked back to the office and stepped inside as Mrs. Pool picked up the ringing phone.
“Water’s Edge Motel,” said Mrs. Pool, her voice gentle and agreeable as always.
There was a stretch of silence while Mrs. Pool listened. Hannah sat on the floor, playing with a naked Barbie doll.
“No, this is Alice Pool,” she said, the concern already spreading on her face. “I’m a friend of the family.”
Then Mrs. Pool’s trembling hand shot up to cover her mouth. “Oh, my Lord,” she said, her eyes finding Mary’s, the soft skin underneath her chin quivering. “Where is she?” And at that moment, as Mrs. Pool looked at her, Mary knew what had happened, if not how. Mary knew right down to her bones.
Four
1981
The television babbled away in the background, but Mary still heard the click when Mrs. Pool put the handset back into its cradle. Her hand hovered there while the other covered her mouth, her fingertips jailing her words. Mrs. Pool then took a breath, her shoulder slumping with her exhalation, as if something vital had been drawn from her lungs.
“Alice,” said Mary. It was the first time Mary had ever called her by her first name.
Mrs. Pool turned to Mary, her eyes like chasms. “Mary,” she said. “Your mother.”
Hannah was now looking up from her Barbie, her hands still holding it upright, keeping it standing.
Mary felt her body leaden. “What happened?”
Mrs. Pool’s face rounded. “There was an accident,” she said.
IT WAS MRS. POOL WHO DROVE to the hospital. She shook and prayed in the front seat, honking the horn at a car that was slow to react at a green light, then jumping at the sound of it. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you. Over and over, she made the sign of the cross. Mary sat in the back with Hannah, stroking her hair as Hannah laid her head in her lap. Mary just stared straight ahead and breathed in and out, forcing herself to remain still.
Hannah looked up at her. “What was the accident?”
Mary’s hand stilled on Hannah’s head. “It was a car accident,” she said, her words not sliding easily from her throat.
Hannah’s eyes went to the near distance, then she looked at Mary once again. “Did Mom get hurt?”
Mary stared at her sister’s face, at the eyes that looked up at her as if she were a deity, then she nodded. “Yeah, Bunny. She did.”
Diane was dead by the time they arrived, having sustained massive internal injuries when her car slammed into a telephone pole on Route 73. The doctor addressed Mrs. Pool when communicating Diane’s passing, speaking in hushed, quiet words. Mary stood with her back to them, looking out of the window at the parking lot with Hannah gripping her leg. The sky was flat blue and faded, making everything outside look as though it were already of the past. And Mary remembered sitting with her mother and Mrs. Pool as they watched the royal wedding in the office of the Water’s Edge not so long ago. Diane had gasped when she first saw Diana, her dress filling that horse-flanked carriage. You kind of look like her, Mom, Mary had said.
Hannah cried and rubbed her face against Mary’s thigh, not fully understanding what had happened, what any of this meant. Not understanding the way Mary did. “It’s gonna be okay, Bunny,” Mary whispered. “You’ve got me. You’ve got Mary.”
The police investigation would determine that Diane Chase had fallen asleep at the wheel. Witnesses would describe the Ford Fiesta drifting off the road in a smooth arc until it hit the pole head-on. The casino had been slow so she had left work early that day. She had told a coworker that she was going to go home to take a nap.
When Mary, Hannah, and Mrs. Pool returned to the Water’s Edge that night, Mary lay down with Hannah in their room and told her a story in which the two princesses encountered a magical pool in the forest, the water from which could turn a person to stone with one sip. Princess Mary had just filled a vial with the water when there was a knock on the door.
“It’s Alice,” said Mrs. Pool. “And Stan.”
It was with great effort that Mary hoisted her sister onto her hip and opened the door for their neighbors. Mr. Pool held his baseball cap to his chest. Mrs. Pool carried a bucket of fried chicken.
“I’m so sorry, Mary,” said Mr. Pool. His eyes were water-blue and earnest, and his skin was brick brown. His bowlegs made him an inch or so shorter than he might otherwise have been.
Mary nodded.
“We thought maybe you girls should eat something,” said Mrs. Pool, nodding toward Hannah.
Mary looked at her sister. Am I hungry? Hannah seemed to ask. Do I need to eat?
“Yeah, Bunny,” Mary answered, her words coming out slowly, as if there were just a few drops of them left. “You should eat something.” And Mary followed the Pools to the office, where they sat on the couch with a bucket of fried chicken and a bag of biscuits on the coffee table. The Pools looked nervously at the girls. Mary picked up a drumstick so that Hannah would, but Hannah just watched until Mary took a bite. Mary swallowed without chewing, feeling the meat slide slowly down her throat. Hannah followed suit, her eyes not leaving Mary.
They sat there in silence until the drumsticks were done. Until Mary finally looked at the Pools. “I should get Hannah to bed,” she said.
Mr. Pool rose quickly, extending a hand to Mrs. Pool as she strained to rise. “Course,” he said, his hat again at his chest.
Mrs. Pool looked at Mary, her eyes warm and wet. “I’ll be back first thing.”
Mary watched the Pools walk across the parking lot to their home, Mr. Pool’s hand on Mrs. Pool’s back, their heads hung low. I just don’t know what they’re going to do, Stan, Alice would be saying. She would be crying freely now, her sobs soft and feeble things. I just don’t know what those poor girls are going to do.
From beside her, Mary heard Hannah’s small voice. “Are you sad?”
Mary’s hand found the curve at the back of Hannah’s head. “I am, Bunny.”