The Thirteen (19 page)

“What the hell were you thinking?” her mother said, getting the wet girl out of her soggy shoes and socks, then pulling off her blazer and shaking it. “I paid two hundred dollars for this, and you’re going
swimming
in it? You’re lucky you were holding it up, boy oh boy—”

“I’m sorry,” Rowan said, and she was. “I don’t know what happened. I just wanted to … go swimming.” She burst into confused tears.

Her mother, equally confused, hugged her tightly for a minute, which got them both wet.

By the time Paula had let her go, Old Tex was licking her bare feet in mute apology, as if he were the one who had gotten her in trouble. Her jeans clung wetly to her legs. Foul brown muck from the river clung to her everywhere the water had touched. She smelled faintly of rotting leaves.

Gusto came bursting back through the trees towards them, with Sanderson trailing.

“I got him. He was chasing a cat,” he said. He winked at Rowan. “Going for a swim, huh?”

She shrugged unhappily, embarrassed by her tears, glad Mr. Keyes hadn’t seen them. He patted her on the head and she managed a grin.

He turned to her mother. “Everything okay?”

Paula held out the blazer. “I think so. Except I guess I should take Rowan swimming more often.” Her voice was a little sharp.

“You okay, really?” Sanderson asked Rowan.

“I’m okay.”

“She’s okay,” Sanderson said. He put his hand on Paula’s shoulder. Paula looked up at him and nodded, smiling a little. They said nothing.

Old Tex nudged his head under Rowan’s hand. She looked down at him. His big brown eyes were sad. She patted him gently. S
okay, boy
. She leaned to rest her face against his snout, and he licked her cheek, whining in his throat.
Sorry, so sorry, so

hot hot hot hot

Paula handed Rowan her blazer and picked up the wet socks and sneakers. “Good thing it’s warm enough for you to walk home barefoot.”

“Mom … I’m sorry.” Rowan looked up at Paula with such a pathetic expression that Paula softened. “I don’t why I was going into the water. I was …” She faltered, the reason sounding so foolish now. “I was hot,” she finished.

Paula put a hand on her daughter’s head and stroked her hair as she shook her own head. As always, indecision was creeping up on her. Should she make an issue of things or let it go? Parenting 101. The class she had skipped. “Let’s go,” she said.

The three of them, with the two dogs straggling tiredly, made their way up the steep bank to the park. Rowan carried her blazer in one hand and held Old Tex’s leash in the other. Tex was walking slowly, head down.

Paula’s thoughts strayed to her mother, who was having those tests. She wondered if she should show up at the hospital anyway.

daisy brown-eyed Susan smell them

The idea repelled her, like a nasty odour. Sanderson must have heard her sigh.

“Gusto and I will walk you home,” he said. And then he put his arm around her shoulders and she sank into him, and it felt better than anything had in a long time.

SIXTEEN

A
S THEY HEADED SLOWLY BACK
to her mother’s house, there seemed to be flowers everywhere Paula looked. Front yards were bright with purple, pink, white and blue annuals, and pots overflowed from their perches on front steps and porches. Foliage and bloom spilled out of quaintly overturned kegs, poked out of the earth around bird baths, under trees, beside picket fences.

leave … go

She turned her head away from them—they seemed insistent, not beautiful. Behind her she could hear the
pat pat
of Rowan’s bare feet on the sidewalk. When the house came in view, Sanderson put his hand on her back again, gently, and that tore her mind away from the

go home

colours and faint scent of the flowers. She was grateful. Her head was starting to hurt.

He walked them all the way up the front walk to the door. Gusto too, following Tex onto the porch, where the dogs sat and waited, panting, in the shade. Rowan, her jeans still wet, plopped herself down on the top step.

“You’re not planning to take off just yet, are you?” Sanderson was staring at Paula.

“I don’t know. No. Maybe. But not before Saturday at least. Rowan and I are going to that thing at Marla’s.”

“Aw, Mom!” Rowan protested. “Why do I have to go?”

“Rowan, you’re going to come, and don’t fuss about it. Go inside and get out of your wet things.” She held out the shoes and socks. “Take these with you.”

Rowan grabbed them and pulled open the screen door. The inside door was unlocked, the way it always was in Haven Woods. She tossed her footwear into the hall, then reached down and unhooked Tex from his leash. With a glance at the other dog, Old Tex followed her inside. Gusto flopped to the porch floor with a whine.

Sanderson laughed. “I think Gusto’s in love.”

Paula laughed too, and Sanderson leaned over and kissed her. All thoughts of flowers and Marla went away. She put her hand on his chest and could feel his heartbeat through his shirt. His arms went around her and he pulled her close.

They kissed until they were breathless, but Sanderson didn’t let go of her when they stopped. “Come to dinner tomorrow, before you go to Marla’s, okay?”

She nodded. “Wow, making out on the front porch. What will the neighbours say?” She disentangled herself gently.

“Just like a couple of kids.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’d better go.”

Halfway down the walk with Gusto, he turned and said, “And hey, why don’t you let Rowan stay with me while you go to the party? There won’t be anyone there her age and you know she’ll probably be miserable. I’ll make us all pizza and then she and I can watch the tube.”

She smiled at him. “The way to a woman’s heart is through her kid, you know.”

He winked. “I’m a smart guy, Paula.”

She raised her hand in a wave and watched him as he walked away.

Rowan had dropped her wet things on the bathroom floor and was already in dry clothes and back in the living room in front of the television. The TV was on, but Rowan was curled up in a ball on her side, eyes only half open.

“You okay?”

“My stomach hurts.”

Her mother made a sympathetic noise.

“When are we going back to the city?”

“I’m not sure, Rowan. Soon, but not tonight.”

“What about Mr. Keyes?”

“What about Mr. Keyes? What do you mean?”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

She laughed. “No, what makes you think that?”

“But you like him.”

Her face softened. “Yeah, I do. Do you like him?”

“Yup,” Rowan said simply, and closed her eyes. Paula reached over the back of the sofa and ran her hand over her daughter’s pretty hair.

“A nap will help your stomach,” she said. “Do you want me to get some Bromo?”

“No, Mom, I’ll be okay. I’m just really tired,” Rowan said, her eyes still shut.

On her way out of the living room Paula noticed a vase of silk flowers she hadn’t taken note of before. She reached out and felt the petals, and even though she knew they were fake, she bent over and put her face into them, breathing deep.

smell, Mom

–

Paula stood in her mother’s bedroom, picking up clothes and folding them, repacking her bag. They would go back to the city on Saturday, she guessed. A week was a normal visit when someone was in the hospital, and her mother had Izzy, after all, and her other friends.

go … leave

The thought seemed to permeate her whole being. The room felt over-scented, even though there were no flowers in it. It must be the perfumes on her mother’s dressing table, but why hadn’t she noticed the smell before? Or how many flower images her mother had surrounded herself with? The curtains and matching bedspread were a pretty, old-fashioned chintz, with large peonies and roses in pinks and lavenders. Pretty, but overwhelming.

She tried to concentrate on what she had left where, in the room, in the house. She packed everything she wouldn’t need again, setting aside a few things to wash, including the blouse she’d worn to Sanderson’s the night they had the barbecue.

Kissing.

Paula dropped to the bed. The kissing, the worrying about her mother, being back in Haven Woods—her resistance was gone. In a way she’d never allowed herself, she let memories of that terrible day that had started everything overtake her. The day David was killed.

She and Marla had gone to the ball field to watch the boys play. It had been hot, the kind of heat where you can’t walk barefoot on concrete. Everyone was thinking about ice cream and ice-cold Cokes and jumping into the pool.

Let’s change tops
.

They’d given up pretty quickly on watching the game, since the boys hardly acknowledged the girls, preferring to hit ground balls to each other, one after another, so fast it was impossible to catch them all. They scored based on how many you caught. David had been in the field. He’d looked over once after catching a fast one hit by Lonnie, or Pete, she couldn’t remember which, and held it aloft for Paula to see. She’d grinned stupidly, clapping. She had a secret she hadn’t told him yet, and the secret had been keeping her up at night. The secret would turn into Rowan, but on that day she still wasn’t sure. If they got a minute alone that night, though, she would tell him what she suspected, and they would be scared and wait for her period together.

(she wanted to remember)

She’d looked over her shoulder as they were leaving the park and he was watching her go, and they smiled at each other. Maybe he even winked. She wanted to remember it that way, because it was their last private moment.

Let’s change tops
.

It had been Patty who wanted to go to Paula’s and put on different tops. It had been a summer of clothes and boys. Marla and Patty were boy-crazy. The three of them spent hours doing things to each other’s hair, trying on each other’s clothes, putting on makeup. It could take them two hours to get ready to walk to the park and the river. At the time it didn’t seem foolish; it seemed crucial.

So they went to Paula’s and they all tried on her new hoodie and then they traded clothes with each other. The boys caught up with them when they were leaving Paula’s. They ran up behind the girls, trying to scare them. Marla and Patty screamed prettily, jerked around and yelled (prettily) at the boys, the kind of flirting understood only by teenagers. Then they walked six abreast on the road, talking idly of summer things, who had won the game, who the boys were playing next week, the inner tube Pete had found floating in the river. It was a perfectly ordinary day and they were all going to the Rileys because the Rileys were getting a new roof and they could check it out.

They were talking and laughing, everything so normal that Paula even forgot about her secret for awhile, content just to have David walking beside her, his hand occasionally brushing against hers.

Some of the parents were already at the Rileys watching the roof go up, and they would probably hang out there for the rest of the day, having a few drinks, passing the time. Before Paula had left the house that day, her mother said,
we’ll be at the Rileys if you need us, dear
.

It had been like a lot of afternoons and evenings. The whole day had been like a lot of summer days.

Until David died.

Paula rolled over on the bed, not ready yet. It had been years since she’d thought that day all the way through. There had been a time when she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the sound of the moment that had changed her life. Like a sabre rattling. Then
swoosh—

Haven Woods was thick with memories waiting to be exorcised. She had no idea how to do that.

At the hospital, Audra lay very still on the bed. Tula had picked up the flowers and stuck them in the garbage can by the door, had mopped up the water from the vase, moving so painfully that Audra had felt sorry for her. For a moment or two.

Tula’s arthritis was in full bloom, like the flowers. She’d held her hands up—they’d turned into claws—and screeched at her, “This is your fault!” Even Tula’s walk was laboured, her hard breathing all about pain.

Pain.

Tula had stomped out and down the hall, still muttering how it had been
all your fault
. Now Audra lay nearly paralyzed with panic and grief. She was completely helpless. Her body was betraying her. Her voice was useless. The only thing she could hope for was that, like everything else, this state of being would also begin to fall apart.

Tula had been right about one thing. It
was
her fault.

That day at the Rileys, it was supposed to be her husband, Walter, who died.

Walter had a good job at a company that processed film for photography studios all over the world. He’d started out in the plant, but fairly quickly—he was a smart man with a university education—he’d moved into administration. After Paula was born they needed a bigger house and wanted something outside the city where there were trees and parks, where it was safe and lovely. The suburbs. They found it in Haven Woods.

Audra had first met Izzy in the park, both of them with their little girls. It was late summer, those days just before school starts, when kids and mothers are restless and trying to find new things to do. Audra had noticed Izzy and her children around the neighbourhood—you couldn’t miss seeing the neighbours in a place so tiny—but she hadn’t had an opportunity to say hello until that moment in the park.

Their girls were about the same age, about eight: Izzy’s Marla, a chubby, dark-haired beauty, and her Paula, with her thicker, wilder chestnut hair. Circumstance sometimes dictates who your friends will be, and it was inevitable that they and their daughters would became friends. Marla and Paula were two peas in a pod because of age and circumstance. And so were Izzy and Audra.

Izzy back then had been fun. She was vivacious, said outrageous things and was very sociable. She talked about how lucky they were to live in such a great community. They had everything they wanted. Didn’t they?

It was as if Izzy knew that Audra was keeping a secret. And she did have a secret by then.

When had it started? Walter would come home complaining that his commute from the city was a killer. He would have a drink to unwind. One would turn into two. Two into four. She could see it happening, but it was such an easy thing to ignore. He would fall asleep in front of the TV
—poor thing he works so hard
. He would trip on his way upstairs to bed
—I have to get that carpet nailed down properly
. He would forget things, stay late in the city, arriving home in terrible condition. He slurred over the phone. He missed work. He got drunk at a company function, was the life of the party—then got demoted.

At first she had begged him to stop. Then she refused to go to social events with him. It didn’t matter. By the time Paula was seven he was a full-fledged alcoholic, and there wasn’t one peaceful day in their marriage. Not that they fought. Audra was one to hold it in. She would give him the cold shoulder, turn away from him in bed.

Izzy would say to her on particularly quiet days,
If you could have anything you wanted, anything in the world, what would it be?

She would say a diamond ring, a Dior gown, a Mercedes. She didn’t mean those things; she would say them because they were expected. In fact her needs were simple. A good life for her daughter. A husband who wasn’t a drunk.

One bad, too quiet day she had told Izzy about waking up to find Walter sprawled on the lawn. About the long nights when he didn’t come home and she didn’t know where he was. How he would drink in front of Paula, who was probably too young to understand, but to Audra, who’d grown up with serene, conservative parents, it was tantamount to running naked through the streets. Grown people simply didn’t do that.

She had wept. And Izzy had said again,
What if you could have everything you wanted?
She wanted that.

What was involved in getting everything she wanted took some explaining, some finessing on Izzy’s part. In the end Audra agreed, if not wholeheartedly, then in deed.

a sacrifice is required

He requires flesh

In the dark of night, when the knife slits you near your heart and all around you whisper the voices of another world, there is little room for disagreement. She had nodded yes and entered that world, holding on to Izzy’s promises. In that dark night it had all seemed like a pretend thing. Like becoming blood sisters, a thing she’d done with her best friend under a tree with a sharp pin when she had been a little girl. Blood sisters.

Your husband or your child
Izzy had told her.

In the dark, in a whisper, while blood from her wound soaked into her sweater. She’d hesitated. But ultimately, what does a mother say?

Walter

It was over for Audra, she understood that now. She had only one thing to do before she succumbed to her bloody sins.

The place under her left breast throbbed, as it did whenever
sabbat
was close. The wound did not open or bleed, but it
recalled
. Her mark.