Page 83 of Drawing Home
“Put me down!” she yelled.
“You’re going to wake up the whole house,” he said. It was true; she imagined Bea dressed in some absurdly lavish nightgown running out to reprimand them.
“Come on, this isn’t funny,” she said as he held her over the deep end.
“Then why are you smiling?”
She didn’t want to admit it, but she did feel the pull of the water, the sudden urge to let go for once. “Fine, maybe it’s a little funny.”
With that, Kyle dropped her into the water and jumped in after her.
The water was, as promised, the perfect temperature. It was cooler than the night air but not jarring. As she surfaced, she felt her heart pounding, her muscles contracting. She reached for the ledge and wiped water from her eyes. “Are you happy now?” she said.
“Are you?” he asked.
She glanced up and saw that he was being literal. Then she looked up higher, to the stars in the clear night sky. She slipped back under the water and glided to the shallow end. Her entire body groaned with unfamiliar effort, and it felt good. Kyle swam over to her.
“Race you back.”
“You’ll lose!”
He took off and she followed, kicking furiously.
Yes,she thought, pushing through the water in the moonlight.For the moment, I’m happy.
All day and into the evening, Bea burned with the news that Penny had Henry’s drawings at her house. She tried to forget about it, tried to tell herself she could work on changing Penny’s mind about sharing them with her. But alone in her bedroom, she knew she wouldn’t sleep. The numbered sketches from the art gallery were set out on the dresser, and she itched to fill in the blanks with the others he had left behind.
She thought of Angus and then hesitated only a minute before calling him. “Sorry to bother you at this hour, but there’s something I need to discuss.”
He said it wasn’t a bother and gave her his address. Mount Misery Drive? Who on earth would name a street that?
Without Kyle in her employ, she was forced to drive herself the twenty minutes to the dilapidated two-story house. It had worn wood siding and a mulch-covered driveway—not even paved. Above the front door, a blue wooden whale hung from small hooks, the only source of color in a rather barren tableau.
Angus appeared behind the screen door before she rang the bell.
“I heard the car,” he said by way of greeting. He held open the door and she stepped inside. “Is everything okay at the house?” he asked, concerned.
“I didn’t mean to alarm you. There’s no problem at all. It’s more that I have an opportunity for you.”
She walked into the living room and took in the worn couch and the local newspapers scattered on the scuffed wooden chest alongside it. And yet the small, rather dull room was accented with vases filled with remarkably vibrant yellow roses. They drew Bea deeper into the space, and she noticed an array of photos in handmade frames on the fireplace mantel. Some of the frames were made out of seashells; one had been constructed out of Popsicle sticks. Most of the photos were of Penny, but several featured a surprisingly familiar face—the man in Henry’s drawings.
The bartender.
Bea picked up the frame and stared at the picture.
“Angus,” she said slowly. “Why does Emma have a photo of the old American Hotel bartender?”
“That’s Tom Kirkland. Emma’s father.”
Bea looked up sharply.What?Was that what this was all about? The damn bartender he’d befriended all those decades ago?
Her impulse was to ask if the man was still in town, to try to talk to him. But then she recalled that the bartender had died suddenly many years ago. Thinking about it now, she could remember the phone call from a bereft Henry.
Bea placed the photo back on the mantel, trying to think. So what had happened? Henry made a friend, lost him shortly thereafter, and then, decades later, met his granddaughter and decided to leave her his entire estate? She refused to accept that. It couldn’t be! No, this was just a red herring. She had come for the drawings, and she would not be sidetracked.
At least she knew she had come to the right place. There were answers to be found in this house.
“As you know, I’ve been scouring the town for any drawings Henry did in the year leading up to his death. Today I learned that Penny has some here in this house. I need to see them.”
