Springs, and eventually to Gray and Lisbon beyond. 'And why did we send Darla and Canty in the wrong direction?'
'I absolutely insisted,' Amanda said. 'I was afraid if they showed up, they'd take me back to my house or your house or even to Greenlawn before I got a chance to visit with Mom and Dad and then spend some time at the home place.' For a moment Lisey had no idea what Manda was talking about—spend time with Mom and Dad? Then she got it. The Debusher family plot was at nearby Sabbatus Vale Cemetery. Both Good Ma and Dandy were buried there, along with Grampy and Granny D and God knew how many others.
She asked, 'But weren't you afraid I'd take you back?'
Amanda eyed her indulgently. 'Why would you take me back? You were the one who took me out.'
'Maybe because you started acting crazy, asking to visit a farm that's been deserted for thirty years or more?'
'Foof!' Amanda waved a dismissive hand. 'I could always wrap you around my finger, Lisey—Canty and Darla both know this.'
'Bullshit you could!'
Amanda only gave her a maddening smile, her complexion a rather weird green in the glow of the dashboard lights, and said nothing. Lisey opened her mouth to renew the argument, then closed it again. She thought the story would work, because it came down to a pair of easily grasped ideas: Amanda had been acting crazy (nothing new there) and Lisey had been humoring her (understandable, given the circumstances). They could work with it. As for the shoebox with the gun in it…and Dooley's bag…
'We're going to stop in Mechanic Falls,' she told Amanda. 'Where the bridge goes over the Androscoggin River. I've got a couple of things to get rid of.'
'Yes you do,' Amanda said. Then she folded her hands in her lap, put her head back against the rest, and closed her eyes.
Lisey turned on the radio, and wasn't a bit surprised to get Ole Hank singing 'Honky Tonkin'.' She sang along, low. She knew every word. This did not surprise her, either. Some things you never forgot. She had come to believe that the very things the practical world dismissed as ephemera—things like songs and moonlight and kisses—were sometimes the things that lasted the longest. They might be foolish, but they defied forgetting. And that was good.
That was good.
Part 3: Lisey's Story
'You are the call and I am the answer,
You are the wish, and I the fulfillment,
You are the night, and I the day.
What else? It is perfect enough.
It is perfectly complete,
You and I,
What more—?
Strange, how we suffer in spite of this!'
XVI. Lisey and The Story Tree
(Scott Has His Say)
1
Once Lisey actually got going on emptying out Scott's study, the job went faster than she ever would have believed. And she never would have believed she'd end up doing it with Darla and Canty as well as Amanda. Canty remained standoffish and suspicious for a time—it felt like a long time to Lisey—but Amanda was completely unfazed. 'It's an act. She'll drop it and come around. Just give her time, Lisey. Sisterhood is powerful.'
Eventually Cantata did come around, although Lisey had a feeling Canty never entirely rid herself of the idea that Amanda had been faking in order to Get Attention, and that she and Lisey had been Up To Something. Probably Something No Good. Darla was puzzled about Amanda's recovery, and the sisters' odd trip to the old farm in Lisbon, but she, at least, never believed Amanda had been faking.
Darla had seen her, after all.
In any case, the four sisters cleaned and emptied the long, rambling suite over the barn during the week after the Fourth of July, hiring a couple of husky high school boys to help with the heavy lifting. The worst of said heavy lifting turned out to be Dumbo's Big Jumbo, which had to be disassembled (the component parts reminded Lisey of the Exploded Man in high school biology class, only you'd have to call this version the Exploded Desk), and then lowered with a rented winch. The high school boys bawled encouragement to each other as the pieces went down. Lisey stood by with her sisters, praying like mad that neither of the boys would lose a finger or thumb in one of the slings or pulleys. Neither did, and by the end of the week, everything in Scott's study had been taken away, marked either for donation or long-term storage while Lisey figured out what the hell to do with it.
Everything, that was, except for the booksnake. That remained, dozing in the long, empty main room—the hot main room, now that the air conditioners had been removed. Even with the skylights open in the daytime and a couple of fans to keep the air circulating, it was hot. And why wouldn't it be? The place was nothing but a glorified barn loft with a literary pedigree.
Then there were those ugly maroon smudges on the carpet—the oyster-white carpet that couldn't be taken up until the booksnake was gone. She'd dismissed the stains as careless slops of Wood Coat varnish when Canty asked about them, but Amanda knew better, and Lisey had an idea that Darla might have a few suspicions, as well. The carpet had to go, but the books had to go first, and Lisey wasn't quite ready to dispose of them. Just why she wasn't sure. Maybe only because they were the last of Scott's things still up here, the very last of him.
So she waited.
2
On the third day of the sisters' cleaning binge, Deputy Boeckman called to tell Lisey that an abandoned PT Cruiser with Delaware plates had been found in a gravel pit on the Stackpole Church Road, about three miles from her house. Would Lisey come down to the Sheriff's Office and take a look? They had it back in the parking lot, the deputy said, where they kept the impounds and a few 'drug-rides' (whatever they were). Lisey went with Amanda. Neither Darla nor Canty was much interested; all they knew was that a kook had been sniffing around, making a pest of himself about Scott's papers. Kooks were nothing new in their sister's life; over the years of Scott's celebrity, any number of them had been drawn to him like moths to a bug-light. The most famous, of course, had been Cole. Neither Lisey nor Amanda had said anything to give Darla and Canty the idea that this one was in Cole's class. Certainly there was no mention of the dead cat in the mailbox, and Lisey had been at some pains to impress discretion on the Sheriff's deputies, as well.
The car in Stall 7 was a PT Cruiser, no more and no less, beige in color, nondescript once you got past the slightly flamboyant
