A lie, but it will take at least forty-five minutes to stroll around the lake in this heat. She figures that they will have exhausted the topic of AJ’s fatherhood by the time they reach the dam—only yards away from the events of Graduation Night 1980.
It turns out that AJ doesn’t want to talk about fatherhood or IVF or rented wombs. He is full of Australia, practically a travelogue on the topic, and a pedantic one at that. “As we head into summer, Australia is on the cusp of winter . . .” Oh, really, dear brother is that how the Southern Hemisphere works? He speaks of how expensive it is, pontificates on its island-country-continent status, praises its food, its sense of ecological responsibility, its rich cultural life.
“The primary cultural export I remember from Australia is the Wiggles,” Lu says. “Although they were fading by the time the twins were born. The Wiggles and Mel Gibson. And now there’s a new Mad Max movie. Nothing ever changes—until it does. What’s happening with your baby plans?”
“Not much. We thought we had a surrogate, but it didn’t work out. Ridiculous falling-out over the silliest thing. I don’t know. She didn’t like us, that’s the bottom line.”
Oh, so she met Lauranne, then? But Lu holds her tongue.
“I saw Davey Robinson the other day,” she says.
“Where?”
“At his church. I went to see him. Something very weird came up.” She fills AJ in, as briskly and neutrally as possible. Somehow, she knows he will argue with her. And he does.
“Life is full of coincidences, Lu. For all you know, Fred could just be fucking with you.”
“True. But Davey lied to me. He told me that Nita’s pastor shared information about her sick grandchild. She—Nita, Jonnie as she’s known now—doesn’t even have a pastor. I think she tried to shake Davey down last fall, threatened to go public with the story of the events of Thanksgiving 1979, and he did whatever was necessary to keep that from happening. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“It makes sense because you’ve decided to link these facts. Rudy Drysdale killed a woman. That woman lived across the hall from Nita Flood. His intended victim might have been Nita Flood. It might not have been. You’re imposing a pattern on events because that’s what our minds are trained to do. Nita didn’t tell you anything. Davey didn’t tell you anything. Rudy is dead.”
“Davey told me that Rudy had a crush on Nita, in high school.”
“Have you talked to Dad about this, Lu?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. Because he’d tear you apart for this kind of shabby thinking. Heck, it almost sounds as if you’re Rudy’s defense attorney. He did it. He had cause. He didn’t have cause. He was hired. I mean, what is it? Pick one.”
“I think Davey hired Rudy to kill Nita Flood.”
“As you said, they barely knew each other.”
“His church does a brown-bag giveaway. Every Sunday in North Laurel.”
They are nearing the grove of trees where Ben Flood died. Lu wouldn’t be surprised if AJ decided to pick up the pace, but he slows down, takes in his surroundings. “Things are supposed to get smaller as you get older. But the trees get bigger. Our family home is literally bigger. Everything about our family just gets bigger and bigger. I tried to make my life simpler, and it’s more complicated than ever.”
“Have you even been here, since—”
He stares at the trees, gray green in the dusk. “I don’t really remember any of it. I remember the story, but not the actual event. Does that make sense? I had to tell it so many times, it’s like something I read in a book. I hate that Ben Flood died that night. But it wasn’t my fault.”
“I know.” Lu touches his arm, the one he broke, the one that never quite hangs straight, although he says his years of yoga have helped him regain almost all his flexibility.
“Except—I ran after him. I tackled him—or tried to. I barely grazed his calves with my hand before I fell on the rocks and broke my arm. But he turned—he turned his head to look at me. I’m seeing it now, Lu. I don’t want to see it. It took me so long to stop seeing it—”
“Let’s keep walking.”
It seems cruel now to keep talking about Nita and Davey. They walk another ten minutes in silence. They reach the halfway point, the spot from where they can see their own house across the water, full of light.
“Damn, it really is huge,” AJ says.
“Good thing he bought a double lot all those years ago. AJ—did our mother like the house?”
“I thought so. I mean, when you’re eight, you can’t really tell if your parents are happy or sad. But I think she liked it. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. It seems so very much his dream house now, tailored to his tastes.”
“Three massive HVAC units,” AJ says. “That’s quite a carbon footprint you’re leaving.”
“Says the man who just flew to Australia, the man with three rowhouses, disguised to look as if he lives in just one.”
“We try never to use the AC.”
This is true, Lu knows. It’s why they don’t visit her brother June through August.
“Was she sad? Our mother?”
“Lu, she was very ill.”