I heard her call hello and looked up—I’d forgotten anybody was here. This was a good sign, no? “I’m going to look around inside, okay?”
“Liberty Hall,” I said. “I should warn you, it’s going to look a little different.”
“No worries. After seeing Gran in her box?”
I listened to her footsteps going from room to room, then up the stairs. She seemed to stay a long time in what used to be Sophia’s bedroom. Then I heard her go back down to the living room and plink a single note on the piano.
She came out to the porch, sat down in an Adirondack chair, wiped her forehead with her bandanna, then let her head fall back. “This is all kind of an overload.”
“What can I get you?” I said. “Coffee? Drink?”
“I think I have to go.” She brought her head back up. “My partner’s had the kids all day.”
“Ah,” I said. So there went that, not that there’d been any prospect of a that. “How old are your kids?”
“Four and six. We started late. Well, Tonya started late. I’m too old to start late.”
“You don’t look it. I mean, from my distant perspective.”
“Yeah, Gran looked okay too. Check her in a couple of months.” She took a phone out of her shirt pocket and fingered through pictures: two generic little blond girls on a beach somewhere.
“They’re lovely,” I said. “You know, if you ever wanted to bring them up and show them around. And your partner might like to see the place.”
“She’s heard enough at this point. I don’t know, maybe when the kids are older. Right now they’re all about Disney World.”
“I remember that phase,” I said. In fact, when Sophia was six we were bringing her to the Bang on a Can Festival.
“Right?” she said. I had to think for a second to realize this was the new term of agreement. “I’m trying to remember—weren’t you a songwriter or something? I saw your piano. I wish I would’ve learned to play. Can I change my mind about the drink?”
“I was just about to get one for myself,” I said. “Gin and tonic? We’ve got a little summer still to go, yes?”
In the refrigerator, I found a nearly full bottle of tonic—I generally don’t bother with it—and a hard, shrunken lime. I got the Tanqueray out of the freezer, still two-thirds full, took a good pull at it, then quartered the lime and began pouring.
“Easy on the gin, okay?” she called. “No, actually, easy on the tonic.”
When I came out she was going at her phone again. I set her glass on the arm of her chair and took the chair next to her. “If you can master that,” I said, “we can have you playing Scarlatti in six months.”
She pocketed the phone and picked up the glass. “That’s classical, right?”
“See? You’re catching on already.” I raised my glass. “Here’s how.”
“Thanks. Cheers and whatnot.” She took a sip. “God, I used to live out here in the summer. Gran even let me bring my sleeping bag. This is where I saw Sally the first time.”
“That was the—?”
“It was like, she wasn’t there, and then she was.”
“That must’ve scared you.”
“Not really.” She took a long drink. “She was my first crush—how weird is that? She was right, exactly, there.” Jessamyn pointed over to a spot underneath the swallows’ mud nest, now empty till spring. “She had on this little blue dress with yellow—like violets or something. I remember I was playing tic-tac-toe against myself.”
“Did other people see her?”
“Yeah, Tonya doesn’t believe me either.” She took another drink. “Jesus.”
“I can get you more tonic.” I could feel mine taking hold, too—and no wonder. I saw that I only had about that much left.
“No, it’s good,” she said. “This is the first time I’ve relaxed since they called about Gran.”
“Make yourself at home,” I said. “Be right back.” I got up and went into the kitchen, ran water to cover the sound of the freezer opening and took another good pull to hold me until I could decently refill my glass.
When I sat down next to her again, she was looking up at the graveyard. “Poor Gran,” she said. “I guess poor everybody.” She turned to me. “She used to say you were good to her. You and your wife.”
“You were good to her,” I said.
“We had our issues.” She picked up her glass and drank until the lip touched her nose. “Okay, I probably shouldn’t tell you, but she wasn’t just my first crush, okay?” She raised the empty glass as if to toast. “Go, Jess.” She set it down. “So now you’re thinking, how do I get rid of this person.”
“No, it’s good to have you here.”
“Yeah? Then you must be in Shit City,” she said.
“What I was thinking, if a succubus appeared I wouldn’t turn her down. If I’m understanding you correctly.”
“I don’t really know what that is,” she said. “So how come your wife left?”
“Well, you know, different theories,” I said. “I think the ghosts drove her out.”
“I always push too much,” she said.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I always drink too much and make moves on women.” I got to my feet. “Present company excepted. I’m going to go re-up.”
I took one more good pull from the bottle, put ice cubes into the peacock-feather bowl—Deborah had collected pressed glass—and brought it out to the porch, along with the gin and what was left of the tonic. “You mind keeping your lime?” I said. “Had to make a house rule: No using knives after the first cocktail.”
I held the bottle up and she put her hand over her glass. “I think I’m good. I didn’t freak you out, right? With the ghost stories? Actually I get the feeling there’s nobody here anymore.”
I poured gin, sending my ice cubes into a merry dance. “You and me both, my friend.” I drank, then topped off. “That is the truest thing you’ve said all day.”
“I used to drive by here sometimes when I was up visiting Gran,” she said. “One time I saw this little girl on the porch, and she was like, swinging in that hammock you used to have up. Was that your daughter?”
“Jesus, I hope to Christ so. Listen, tell me something. Why didn’t you ever stop in?”
“I didn’t think your wife wanted me to. She didn’t like me very much. When we had lunch that time?”
I heard myself say, “I’d always sort of hoped I’d see you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a big fan of situations.”
“Ah,” I said. “Now this seems to be leading us into a very interesting place.”
She took her phone out, looked at the screen, got her thumbs going again and put it back in her pocket.
“Here’s the thing about situations, okay?” I said. “Having been in situations myself. What was once a situation can turn into—you see what I’m saying. It’s good you and I can finally talk about this.”
“I don’t know what you think we’re talking about,” she said.
“Ah, deniability,” I said. “I used to be the king of that. But I think we owe each other a little more, no? Or am I being too blunt?”
“Okay, well thanks for the drink and everything.” She set her glass on the arm of the chair and got to her feet.
“You can’t possibly go now,” I said. I leaned forward and saw my hand around her wrist.
“What the fuck?” She yanked her arm away. “What kind of an asshole are you?”