Don't Tell

“What?”

The big dog stopped in front of us and shook hard, sending river water flying.

“Too late,” Nick replied. “But you won’t have to shower tonight. This is Rocky.”

“Rocky. Hi, big guy,” I said and knelt down. “Wow! What eyes!”

“Careful, he stinks, “ Nick warned.

“All water retrievers do,” I replied, running my hands over his thick coat. It was a rich brown and wavy. “He’s a Chesapeake Bay, isn’t he? His fur looks like it.”

“Mostly — he’s enough Chessie to swim in ice water.”

“You are gorgeous!” I said, gazing into his amber eyes.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Rocky,” Nick told his dog.

“She doesn’t date.”

I glanced up. “Now, a dog,” I said, “that’s something I miss, living at school.”

“Maybe you can get an exchange going with a kennel,” Nick suggested.

“No, no,” I said. “I want a dog of my own to love and pamper.”

Nick grunted. Rocky wagged his tail.

I petted around the dog’s wet ears and scratched under his chin. “Such an intelligent face!”

“Yeah, but he’s a lousy dancer.”

I grinned and stood up.

“Are you headed up to the house?” Nick asked.

“Yes.” As we climbed the hill, Rocky ran ahead of us, then circled back and ran ahead again. We stopped at the porch.

“You know the rules, Rock,” Nick said to his dog. “No stinky animals inside.”

“Are you kidding? Aunt Jule won’t mind.”

“I’m here to see Holly.”

“Oh. Of course.” She had told me he was coming. Why else did I think he was walking me to the house?

“We have yearbook work to do,” Nick explained.

“At this point in the year?”

“The supplement,” he answered.

“Well, Rocky can hang out with me.” I stroked the dog’s head. “Come on, big guy.”

Rocky licked my hand and complied, walking next to me as I headed toward the side of the house.

A shrill whistle split the air. “Rocky!” Nick called, sounding exasperated. “Come here. Come!”

The dog trotted back to him.

“What’s going on? You’re not supposed to go off with anybody who pats you on the head. Where’s your training?”

I looked back at Nick, amused. “Jealous?”

“Not of you,” he replied, then motioned to the dog. “Okay, go with Lauren. Go,” he commanded.

The dog raced toward me and I continued walking. With Rocky trotting beside me, I checked the greenhouse and garden in search of Nora. Though I wanted to question her about what she had done, part of me was relieved that she wasn’t in either place. As strange as Nora was as a child, she had never given me the creeps. She did now. Before, when she answered someone who wasn’t there, I figured it was an imaginary playmate. So what if she had one longer than most kids? But my dead mother, that was a different kind of invisible presence. I didn’t want to think about it.

Passing the garden, I came to the old oak tree with the swing. It was tied the same way as always, with a loop dangling about three feet off the ground.

“What do you think, Rocky? Am I still the champion swinger of the group?”

I grabbed the rope and gave it a hard yank, then put my foot in the loop and pulled myself up with my hands, making sure the rope was as strong as it appeared. Jumping down again, I carried the rope to another tree and climbed to “the platform of death,” as we used to call it — a wide branch on an old cherry.

“Here goes” I slipped my foot in the loop, grabbed the rope, and pushed off.

With the first swoop I remembered why I had loved swinging. It was wonderful! It was flying! It was being Peter Pan! The earth fell away, the sky rushed to meet me. I was free and flying high.

Then the rope jerked. It happened so suddenly it caught me off guard. The rope writhed out of my hands. I grabbed for it frantically, but I couldn’t catch hold and fell backward.

With my foot caught in the loop, I hit the ground upside down, back first. The rope snapped, releasing me from the tree and tumbling on top of me.

I lay on my back stunned, the wind knocked out of me.

Rocky nosed my arm. I sat up slowly and gazed up at the tree, which still had a piece of rope dangling from it. The rope had been in too good shape to be snapped by my weight. I quickly examined it, the part that had fallen on me.

About four feet above the foot loop was a knot. My mouth went dry. I thought of the knot in the lamp wire, the knots in my mother’s scarves and jewelry. I had assumed that someone tied those knots before they were discovered, but I hadn’t seen this one when I grasped the swing’s rope.

I just didn’t notice it, I told myself. Still, an icy fear ran through my veins. I didn’t know how to explain what had just happened. I didn’t know who or what to blame. Then I glanced up to the second floor porch and saw Nora watching me.

six

Before I could call to her, Nora disappeared inside. I coiled up the rope and left it under the tree, then entered the house, slipping past the dining room, where Nick, Holly, and Aunt Jule were talking. When I arrived upstairs, Nora’s bedroom door was closed. I could hear her moving behind it.

I knocked, lightly at first. “Nora? Nora, I want to talk to you.” I knocked harder, but she wouldn’t answer. I thought of opening the door myself or sneaking around to the porch and trying to surprise her, but I didn’t want to do something to Nora that she could do back to me. I gave up. As soon as I got a chance to talk to Aunt Jule alone, I’d tell her that Nora needed help and I’d offer to pay for it.

After changing out of my grass-stained clothes, I took a paperback from the bedroom shelf and joined the others in the dining room. Aunt Jule was working on her embroidery.

Nick and Holly had cleared space on the table and laid out piles of photos. They were going through them, laughing and arguing, as they did years back when playing board games.

I threw some pillows in the corner of the room and curled up to read the battered Agatha Christie the way I used to read Aunt Jule’s Nancy Drews. It was almost like old times.

After a while Rocky was admitted as far as the hallway door. Stretching out next to him, I continued to read. Once, when I looked up, I found Nick staring at Rocky and me, smiling.

Holly glanced up. “Phew!” she exclaimed, waving a folder in front of her nose.

“Shh!” Nick said in a stage whisper. “You’ll embarrass Lauren. Just make sure she showers tonight.”

“I was referring to Rocky.”

Aunt Jule laughed. I saw the same content look on her face as she’d get when we gathered around her as children.

Nora came in twice and stayed no longer than five minutes each time. She would eye me warily, then sit by Nick. He was gentle with her, showing her a handful of pictures and asking which ones she’d choose for the yearbook supplement. Now that I thought about it, she had always sat near him when we played board games and defended his claims against Holly’s.

Nick stayed through dinnertime, not that there was an event called dinner at Aunt Jule’s. We simply helped ourselves to what we wanted, when we wanted it. About ten o’clock Holly walked Nick to his car. I couldn’t help wondering if they were outside kissing. Since tonight wasn’t an official date but a yearbook meeting, I figured his policy conveniently allowed for as many of these nights as he wanted.

“Lauren,” Aunt Jule said when we were alone, “I was hoping we’d have time together tomorrow after Holly leaves for school — to chat and all. But I have a shopkeeper breathing down my neck for overdue work and have to