When Through Deep Waters Read online

  Alicen walked to the edge of the outside covering, still under the safety of shade. “Jane, it’s time to come in,” she called.

  She glanced down at her watch. 3:35 p.m. It was nearly time to start preparing for the evening’s events. She glanced back at the pool and took a step forward. “Jane, I mean it. You’ve been out here long enough. Let’s go.”

  Only the soothing rustle of trees and trickling pool water. Alicen stepped out onto the hot stone deck that surrounded the pool, using her free hand to shield her eyes. “Jane!”

  A sliver of panic blossomed in her chest. Alicen looked back and forth across the yard, the manicured grass and well-kept flower beds. She spun around and scanned the large, covered sitting area, trying not to let her anxiety get the best of her. “Jane Ann, if you’re hiding from me, you’d better come out now.”

  She moved farther out toward the water’s edge, squinting against the reflecting sun, heart thundering. The water was still, and Alicen tore her eyes across every corner, a frantic sense pressing into her bones. Something caught the edge of her vision, bobbing in the corner where the pool curved up to make a small rock waterfall, hard to see. Something still. Something red.

  Alicen’s breath froze. The world stilled. The glass from her hand crashed to the stone, shattering shards pricking her bare feet. Her lungs exploded her daughter’s name. Then she was running. When she reached the corner, she collapsed to her knees, thrust her long arms into the water, and dragged the small body from its clutches.

  “Jane! Jane!” Alicen could hear her voice but hardly felt the words. She twisted the girl skyward. Jane’s face was pale, her lips slightly blue. “No, no, no! Jane!”

  Alicen laid her daughter out and pressed both hands into her chest. She pulsed the heels of her hands with force over and over as Jane’s body jerked with each compression. “No, no, baby, please.” Hot tears blurred her vision. She swept away the stringy locks from Jane’s face, placed her mouth over her child’s, and exhaled. Rest. Exhale. Back to compressions.

  Nothing.

  “Help!” Alicen screamed, “Help! Oh, Jane, come on.”

  “Mrs. McCaffrey, did you—oh my, oh my gosh,” Serra said, peering through the back door.

  Alicen didn’t have to say anything as Serra disappeared inside to call for help. She couldn’t have formed words anyway. Her body was forgetting how to function. Her mind melded with a pain so sharp her vision dotted in and out. She pressed Jane’s chest hard, the small rib bones cracking from the pressure.

  Alicen opened her mouth to beg her daughter to wake up, to plead with her not to leave her alone, but only cries of agony escaped. She leaned down again, exhaled into Jane’s mouth. Rest. Exhale. Back to compressions, her hands shaking, her tears dotting her daughter’s face.

  Nothing.

  The small body was limp and lifeless. A perfectly crafted baby doll. Her baby. Her dead baby.

  Alicen’s mind snapped and she began to scream at the sky. Her entire body shook with pain, the world around fading into darkness so only the broken image of her sweet girl remained.

  No, no, no, no, her mind wailed against itself. Jane was everything, all she had, her reason for sanity. No, no, no. How was she supposed to function in this life where she’d sold her soul for acceptance and ended up in agony with only Jane to keep her from despair? Oh no, no, baby, no. Jane was her only salvation, her light, her center; she’d be lost without her.

  “I’ll be lost, I’ll be—” Alicen choked out, beside herself.

  Somewhere in the haze soft sirens punctured the air, but Alicen knew it was too late. She could feel Jane’s absence already. As if a part of her own soul had been taken. She pulled the lifeless form into her arms and buried her head into the girl’s neck. The darkness thickened, blocking out everything except the ravaging ache of loss. The ravaging ache that ensured nothing would ever be the same.

  2

  FOUR MONTHS LATER

  Alicen watched through her side passenger window as the large antique home came into full view. It sat back among the overgrown foliage, several yards from the road, a wide gravel driveway stretching to connect the two. It looked nearly identical to how she remembered it. A massive structure with white wood-paneled walls and dark-gray roofing jutting toward the sky at several points. A large wraparound porch with dense white pillars holding up the awning over the front entrance. Thick oak trees stood rooted deeply with time along both sides, covering the mansion in wide lines of shade. The Watson family summer home.

  The car pulled in, and a shiver rippled down Alicen’s spine. The engine cut to a stop. Silence engulfed the vehicle. The woman in the driver’s seat cleared her throat softly, drawing Alicen’s attention.

  Louise Watson met Alicen’s glance, her long red hair tucked behind each ear, her face soft, her eyes warm but hesitant. The same way Louise had been looking at Alicen since she’d picked her up from the airport. As if she were afraid that at any moment Alicen might throw herself from the car, lose her grip on reality, cascade into a mess of tears, or snap. Alicen exhaled and dropped her eyes. Her friend wasn’t wrong to worry.

  “We don’t have to go in yet,” Louise said.

  Alicen turned her attention back to the familiar house. “It looks the same.”

  “You think? It’s harder to see from the road since Dave stopped taking care of the grounds.”

  “How long has it been since anyone lived here?”

  “Oh, man,” Louise said, “a decade maybe? Dave kept the place livable until he retired last spring, and my family has come for small visits over the years, but not consistently like we used to. Red Lodge just isn’t what it used to be.”

  The name of the tiny Montana mountain town still made Alicen’s chest warm. There had always been so much about this place she loved. The summers spent browsing through the small, eccentric shops that lined the single main road. The familiar faces and well-known voices of the same people who had been living here their entire lives. And the Watson summer home, a place more home to Alicen than her own had been.

  “When was the last time you were here?” Alicen asked.

  “Two years ago. Peter and Sarah got married and moved to Chicago, so it was just Mom, Dad, and me in Billings. I work a lot, and it gets harder for Dad with all this travel. This place just became part of the past.”

  Billings, Montana, did not spark comforting nostalgia; in fact the thought of her birthplace turned Alicen cold. Billings, located an hour north of Red Lodge, represented a part of Alicen’s past that she’d worked very hard to forget. The only good thing that had come out of that city was Louise. Her oldest friend, connected during their early school years, bonded by their endless adventures, unfazed by the distance and passing of time. Alicen had always hoped they’d end up back in one another’s lives permanently. Just not like this.

  “Be forewarned: I’m not sure exactly what we’re going to find in there,” Louise said. “It’ll be just like old times, huh?”

  Alicen’s nostalgia blurred with the pain that had taken up permanent residence in her mind, and suddenly the car felt three sizes too small. She forced a nod and opened the passenger door. She stepped out, gravel crunching beneath her shoes, the thin mountain air washing over her. There was a chill in the air and too many leaves overhead to let the sun’s warmth through. Alicen shivered and grabbed her carry-on bag out of the backseat.

  Louise popped the trunk and began to unload the rest of their things. Several large suitcases. They were going to be here awhile. Alicen watched Louise and considered helping, but her body was harder to operate these days. It was as if the synapses in her brain that helped her do everyday things had been fractured. Sometimes just remembering to breathe was all she could handle.

  Alicen shook her head and swallowed. She took a step toward Louise as the tall, athletic woman swiftly shut the trunk. She glanced at Alicen for a long moment and smiled. “Help me get them up these steps?”

  Alicen nodded and forced herself to be us
eful. It didn’t take them long to be at the front door and pushing their way inside. Louise had explained on the drive up that she’d made sure the house had all its systems working even though it’d been dormant for a time, so when she flicked the inside wall switch, light cascaded across the entryway.

  “Good—power,” she said.

  Louise carried and dragged several cases across the threshold, and Alicen followed suit. A layer of dust hung in the air and covered everything in sight. Cobwebs wavered with the new life being brought into the house, and Alicen imagined an exterminator would probably be necessary to rid the space of whatever had taken up shelter over the last few months.

  The entryway was large and square, capped at the far end by a wide, winding staircase. To the right of the main foyer, the house swept into a front sitting room that led into the dining room and then the kitchen. To the left, a formal living room and study adjoined a large downstairs bedroom and bath. If Alicen remembered right, three more elaborate bedrooms and a library could be found on the second floor, with another shorter set of stairs that took you to a huge attic, which had been the place where Alicen and Louise had spent so much of their time as girls.

  “Do you wanna be upstairs or down here?” Louise asked.

  Alicen, lost in a memory of running around the old oak floors, hardly registered the question and gave Louise a strange look.

  “I had Martha from across town come by and clean two rooms for us, one down here and one upstairs; just didn’t know if you had a preference,” Louise said.

  Alicen shook her head, suddenly incapable of words. Another outcome of being broken.

  A sad flicker crossed Louise’s face, but she did well to shake it off quickly. She smiled. “I’ll take the room down here; it’s smaller.” She paused, biting the inside of her lip to cover up her awkwardness. A bad habit she’d always had. “I’ll take your stuff upstairs for you,” Louise said.

  Alicen shook her head. “No, I can—”

  Louise grabbed Alicen’s largest suitcase and waved her off. “I don’t mind. Why don’t you walk through the main level and flick on some lights, maybe make sure the water’s running?”

  Alicen thought about objecting again. She felt enough like a burden without having to have her stuff carried upstairs for her, but the strength to be stubborn escaped her. She nodded, and Louise hauled the heavy luggage up off the floor and started for the stairs.

  Alicen turned and stepped into the sitting room to her right. She crossed the space, the wood floor creaking under her feet, and switched on both of the tall lamps. Their light drowned out the darkness in the spacious room, and Alicen let her eyes sweep the familiar space. The cream-and-gold couches with matching chairs, the dark wood end tables and etched crown molding, the lace curtains, the classic floral rug. It smelled the way she remembered, like wildflowers and lemon, even after all this time.

  She pictured a smaller version of Louise—always called Lou back then—her short wavy flaming hair framing freckled cheeks, racing along, Alicen trailing behind, Louise’s mother scolding them for running in the sitting room, which was for sitting and being still.

  “We can’t be still, Mom,” Lou would say.

  “Yeah,” Alicen would agree. “We’re being chased!”

  “Oh yeah?” Louise’s mother, Stephanie Watson, would remark. Then she’d lean in with a wink. “Who is it this time?”

  The little girls would exchange a worried, knowing look of mischief, and then Lou would respond, “Pirates.”

  “Pirates? Oh my!”

  “We stole their buried treasure,” Alicen would say, bouncing with excitement.

  “But only because they stole it first,” Lou would explain.

  “Yeah, from the mermaids,” Alicen would add.

  Mermaids.

  Something banged upstairs, jarring Alicen from her memory.

  “I’m all right,” Louise yelled down.

  Alicen barely heard her through the pounding in her head. Her eyes stung with tears, and she blinked them away hard. She shook her head and cleared her throat, washing away the images of her younger self. Walking into the next couple of rooms, she turned on all the lights she could find, killed a lone spider, shook a couple decorative pillows free of dust, and finally stopped in the kitchen.

  The overhead light came to life with ease, yellow warmth casting illumination over the dirtied counters. Check the water, Louise had asked. The counters needed to be washed anyway. Alicen walked into the pantry and flipped the light to look for anything she could use. There wasn’t much—a couple empty boxes on the floor, a couple loose screws, an old lightbulb, and a full bottle of whiskey.

  Her heart slammed against the inside of her chest. One deep breath in and out as her palms moistened. Her mind ran in circles, the taste of what sat inside the unopened bottle forming in the back of her throat, the smell burning inside her nostrils. Another deep breath. She should tear her eyes away from it, but that was proving difficult. Instead she shut them, the memories of her incident rolling back.

  The way the dark thoughts had finally pushed her over the edge, the way the thick liquid had so easily passed between her lips and down her throat like poison. The way the world had blurred. And wavered. And disappeared. And for a moment peace had seemed attainable. A peace that had been shattered when the world had returned.

  Alicen spun around, flicked the light off, and shut the pantry door. Her hand still on the handle, she exhaled and let her head fall against the closed door as she forced the nightmares back into their cages.

  She found a single roll of paper towels under the large double sink. She pulled softly on the copper handle and after a second of rumbling, water rushed from the faucet, slightly brown at first. Alicen let it run until it was clear. Then she dampened a handful of towels and began wiping the kitchen’s surfaces. The stone-tiled counters, the front of the refrigerator, the stovetop, the cabinets, trying to keep her mind on the work.

  She could feel her heart racing. Her breath short, her mind buzzing. She closed her eyes and remembered what her doctor had told her. Deep breaths. This is normal. You are in control. Focus on something else. Alicen scrubbed the same surfaces again, harder this time, the water running in the background. The sound echoed inside her ears. Capturing her mind, taking it somewhere she didn’t want to go.

  Alicen spun around and twisted the faucet handle harshly, the water vanishing. The kitchen went silent; only the sounds of her short breaths filled the space. The faucet dripped against the metal sink, and Alicen found her eyes glued to the droplets as another fell. And then another. In rhythm, leaking from the faucet’s head. Deep breaths. This is normal. You are in control. Focus on something else. It was mesmerizing, deliberate, and enough to break her resolve.

  Before she could stop herself, she was there. The sun kissing her skin, the California breeze scurrying up her arms and neck. Warm, perfect. The sun reflecting off the pool, forcing Alicen to shield her eyes, the muffled laughing of a child piercing her sanity. She turned her head and saw her. Skipping through the grass, her tiny figure glistening in the sun, her blonde curls a moppy mess down her back, her little red swimsuit.

  Alicen smiled, tears filling her eyes, as Jane spun around, giggling at the sky. The girl stopped twirling and turned to look directly at Alicen. Alicen’s breath caught in her throat as Jane held her gaze. The girl tilted her head to the right, scrunched her nose, and smiled. She raised her hand over her mouth to catch her giggles before launching back into dancing circles.

  The sight of it broke Alicen’s heart. The sound of it cracked her bones. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. Her bottom lip quivered as she searched for words.

  As if a tremendous idea had dropped into her brain, Jane came to a stop and started rushing toward the pool.

  Terror exploded through Alicen’s mind. And her fear spoke. “No, baby—not the water.”

  The child didn’t register Alicen’s words and continued toward the edge. The clouds tha
t only moments earlier had been white and full twisted to dark grays and rolled in over the backyard. The wind picked up speed and thrashed against Alicen’s frame.

  “Jane, stay away from the water,” Alicen said, taking a step toward her. Loud warning sirens began to echo through the air. The same haunting shrill the ambulance had made. No, Alicen thought. “Jane!”

  Jane didn’t even turn her face toward Alicen as she reached the pool and leaped with all her might.

  “No, Jane!” Alicen cried and tried to rush forward, but the wind was pressing against her too tightly, holding her in place.

  One moment her precious daughter was there, and the next the water was splashing over her head, covering any sight of her.

  “Jane!” Alicen yelled against the storm. Leaves and grass swirled up around her. Thunder crashed overhead as she searched, willing her daughter to resurface.

  “Jane!” But her cries were drowned out as Jane’s body remained under the waves. She won’t be able to breathe there; she’ll drown. The thought materialized from thin air, slicing like knives down her spine.

  “Baby, please come up!” Alicen pushed forward, her feet wobbling under the pressure of the wind, as lightning crossed the sky.

  Alicen.

  “Jane, please, baby. Please!” She fell to her knees and tried to crawl low under the storm, but it seemed to swallow her completely.

  Alicen.

  Sobs shook her shoulders, her words lost, her mind shattered. Sorrow devoured any sense of will she had, and she collapsed against the ground.

  “Alicen?”

  A touch snapped her back to reality, and she turned to see Louise’s worried expression.

  Alicen was back in the Watsons’ kitchen, the storm gone, the pool a figment, Jane dead.