As she leaned over to kiss Dylan on his head, Sheila’s voice cut through the haze.
22
There were two things that Lilly Bellingham’s mom told her that day: Don’t go in the water just after eating; and when you do, don’t go in above your waist.
Lilly wasn’t that good a swimmer, so she understood the second Don’t. But she had trouble with the first. “Why do I have to wait an hour after eating?”
“Because you’ll get cramps.”
“How can I get cramps?”
Lilly was only six, but she was very persistent. And smart. That’s what all her teachers said. But there were times when Peggy was caught off guard. “Because,” Peggy said, and took a swig of her diet Mountain Dew.
“But why
Peggy shot her a hard look. “I don’t like you using swear words, little missy, ya hear?”
“You use it all the time.”
“That’s different. Children aren’t supposed to swear. Period.”
“But
“Well, he shouldn’t. He knows better,” Peggy said, knowing how feeble her response sounded, even to her daughter. “I don’t want no daughter of mine using any of those words, including the
“So how come I can’t go in the water?”
“Because you’ll get cramps. You just ate and your tummy is full, that’s why.”
“Then how come I don’t get cramps on land but will get them in the water? And how come I don’t get cramps in the bathtub after eating?”
“What doctor? Not Dr. Miller. I never heard him say that. Not ever ever.” And she stamped her foot in the sand. “And you know why? Because it doesn’t make any sense. Standing in water can’t give you cramps just like standing in air can’t give you cramps after you eat. Besides, all those other kids just ate and they’re in the water, and I don’t hear any of them hollering about cramps.”
Peggy sighed and glanced at all the kids goofing around in the shallows. Lilly was right: They had all just had lunch at a nearby picnic table and not a one of them was doubled over.
“So how come I can’t?”
“All right, all right! Go in the damn water.”
Lilly’s face lit up.
“But if you get the slightest cramp, don’t come whining to me, ya hear?”
“Mom, you said the
“And not too far,” Peggy shouted. “You hear?”
Lilly waved.
Peggy watched Lilly run in up to her waist then plop down to wet her upper body. For a second she submerged herself then shot up because the water was cold. In her yellow bathing suit she looked like a canary. She had picked it out herself last week in Kmart. They were having a sale on kids’ swimsuits, and it was marked down to $7.99. Lilly loved yellow. Half the T-shirts and other tops in her closet were yellow.
After a few minutes, Lilly wandered toward a group of kids about her age or a couple years older. They were tossing a Frisbee a few yards away. One kid overthrew and Lilly retrieved it. Although she didn’t know the kids, it didn’t take her long to make friends. In a matter of moments, she was tossing it with them, leaping in the air and splashing down to catch it. That was just like her—outgoing and sociable. Miss Chatty-Charm as Uncle Art had dubbed her. “She could sweet-talk the quills off a porcupine,” he’d say. That was just the problem, Peggy thought. She was too friendly.
When she was satisfied that Lilly wasn’t going to go in above her waist, Peggy stretched out on the blanket with her magazine. Every so often she’d look up to see how Lilly was doing and that she was keeping in the shallows.
But the warm sun made her drowsy, and after a while Peggy dozed off.
Several minutes later, she woke with a start. It was nearly three-thirty, and she had to get Lilly to her four- thirty interview with Smart Kids, a summer-school program for gifted children at the local high school. She was one of five selected from her elementary school. The announcement was in the newspaper and even on the Internet.
Peggy sat up. Lilly was standing in the water looking out over the lake. “Lilly,” Peggy called.
But she didn’t turn, too preoccupied with some ducks floating nearby.
“Lilly!”
Still no response. Now she was playing deaf just to drag out the day. But they had to get back.
Peggy got up and headed down to the water. “Hey, young lady!”
But she still did not turn around.
Now Peggy was getting angry. The initial chill of the water shocked her in place. She would never understand how kids could just bound down the sand and plunge into such freezing water. It must have something to do with their metabolism.
She was five feet from her daughter. “Hey, you!” As she said those words, a chill passed through Peggy.
The girl turned. It was not Lilly.
Similar yellow one-piece suit. Same sandy brown hair. Same length. Same body size, though she did seem a little taller, her legs a little longer—but Peggy had dismissed that for not having seen her daughter in a swimsuit since last summer.
“Oh, sorry.”
The girl just shrugged, then waded to shore.
Peggy looked down the beach. No sign of Lilly. No other yellow suit.
She left the water, looking up and down the beach. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the girl in the yellow suit head toward the parking lot. As Peggy spun around trying to spot Lilly, it passed through her mind that the resemblance of the girl to her daughter from the rear was amazing. Before she bolted down the beach, Peggy caught the girl looking over her shoulder at her. For one instant, Peggy felt something pass between them. Something dark and jagged.
The next instant Peggy was jogging down the beach the other way, scanning the people on the blankets and in the water, and shouting out her daughter’s name.
In a matter of seconds she was running, her head snapping from side to side.
“Lilly. LILLY.”
When Peggy ran out of beach, she shot to the lifeguard stand.
She could barely get the words out: “M-my daughter’s missing.”
23
