(40) Dead Like A River

"Do you like butter with your ginger ale?"

She held the glass pressed against her stomach. "I think we should take a shower," she said in a quiet disinterested voice.

I set the saucer on a chair by the hot sunny window. "I have a better idea. Let's take a ride. Come on. Put that down on the sill. There's something I want to show you, at the lake. Don't argue."

She didn't. Without any sign of enthusiasm she followed me downstairs. I ignored the two widows who were saying something to me as I crossed the front room with my arm around Moira's shoulders. Neither Top nor Neal were anywhere to be seen, and though I wondered about that I was glad to note their absence.

I put the bottles in a saddlebag, then went back inside to fill a plastic sack with ice, saying to Stella "We'll be back in a couple hours; tell Top the guests will be here at nine," then back outside to set the ice on the bottles, buckling the saddlebag.

Moira watched me like a little girl absorbed in the most ordinary activity. "Where are we going?" she asked. I replied: "You'll see." I put the helmet on her head and adjusted the chin strap while she stared at me quizzically. She said: "You're always taking me to places where you shouldn't."

"I don't know where else to take you. Hop on. You'll like this."

First there was the pungent leaf smell of the woods as we rode fast to Cheat Road, then the faint smell of deep water that grew muskier as we approached the causeway that bridged the dark gloaming lake.

Crossing it I slowed a bit and hoped that Moira was content to breathe in the sights and the freshness of the big blue thing and the greens and reds that bordered it. There wasn't much traffic.  A park ranger in a Ford Bronco waved at us as we passed each other.

I got on the 43 and made the long looping turn that put us on the road to the boat harbor. The parking lot was hard white earth. I chose a spot near the walkway to the dock.

Moira was smiling as I led her down to the whitewashed dock and along the finger piers where big ungainly powerboats and sleek sailboats lay snugly in their niches. There was a cool damp breeze off the lake that stirred Moira's hair and made her eyes look sleepy. We stood at the end of the dock. It was one of those spots where you believe you can stand there forever and never get tired.

"Do you believe in mermaids?" I asked her.

"Some people do," she said happily.

"But do you?"

"Sometimes."

"It's only important that you believe in them now, here, in this place."

"Suppose I do, then. Don't mermaids drown sailors?"

"No, those are Sirens who do that. Mermaids rescue swimmers and take them to shore."

"I'm a Siren, then, I must be."

I looked at her to see if she was still smiling. She was, but I put that down to the view and the effects of the breeze.

"No, you're a mermaid," I said. "You were abducted by an evil witch who tried to turn you into a Siren, but she failed."

"She didn't."

"Ultimately she did. You just need to claim your true identity."

She shucked her shoes off, rolled up her pantlegs to her knees, and sat down, dangling her feet in the water. "Ooh! Cold. I know what you're trying to do."

"No you don't."

"I do. And I don't mind. I'm glad you brought me here. To the lake, I mean. I like it that it's so big. So much water. But not too big, not like Lake Superior. That's TOO big. You can't think of it as anything but an ocean. But this is just right, I think. It's not too small, like a pond is, or a little lake that freezes in the winter and can be ice-skated on."

I was rolling a smoke. "Why does it matter how big or small it is?"

She shrugged, splashing the water with a foot. "I don't know."

"Pretend you do."

"Well, okay. It's too small to be a scary ocean that pulls you away from the land until you are lost. And it's too big to be a bathtub where evil witches can hurt you. Alright, can curse you. It's not a secret hidden place where you can drown a kitten and not be seen."

"That was the curse," I said. She looked up at me as if I was a stranger she wasn't sure she could trust. Then she shook her head. "Yeah. Maybe."

She splashed with both feet for a little while. "The only way to end the curse is to kill the evil witch, Mr Hangman, and that's what Top wants to do. He does. I know he does. But he has to protect himself from Neal, the bad man." She looked up at me again. "So there's not much chance he'll be able to get rid of her, is there?"

I said, as confidently as I could, "There are other ways of getting rid of her that don't require mystics and seances."

"Right! Just put an axe through her head. I wish... but I wouldn't do that. Joe wouldn't want..."

"Why are you calling him Joe?"

"I don't know."

"Pretend you do."

"Help me up. I want a smoke."

I got her on her feet and she gathered up her shoes while I lit the roll and held it out to her. "Don't dodge my question."

She blew smoke in my face and laughed. "I hate questions. Well I don't hate ALL of them but some I do. Hadley."

"Hadley what?"

"Hadley hates it that I call him Josie. She thinks I perverted him. She says I pervert people. Have I perverted you, William? Have I? Should I give up trying to find you, and go home to find somebody I know?"

The happy mood was gone.