Burying Water by K. A. Tucker
And hid it.
Who does something like that?
A guilty person, that’s who.
The question is, what is he guilty of?
“Water! How was the movie . . .” Jesse’s voice drifts.
For just a second, time seems to hang still, as my heart pounds with a slow, aching rhythm against my chest, as I stare into those intense dark eyes that drew me in from the first moment I saw them, when he stormed into my hospital room under false pretenses. That was no accident. Jesse was there to see me.
His face pales. He knows that I know. I see it.
“Don’t you mean Alexandria?” Just a whisper, and Jesse flinches from the impact.
He pushes his hands through his hair. “I . . .” He swallows hard as he grapples for words. “I was going to tell you tonight. I swear.”
“Why not five months ago!” Amber screams. “What is wrong with you? How could you do something like this to her? To Mom and Dad!”
Jesse’s eyes ignite with rage as he lashes out at Amber. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, Amber.”
“No?” Tears stream down her cheeks. “Well, how about you enlighten us? I’m sure Dad would love to know that you’ve been lying all this time.”
I hear them but I don’t see them, my gaze glued to Jesse’s face. “Did you do it?”
Four simple words. And only one answer that won’t kill me right here where I stand.
“What?” It takes Jesse a few seconds to figure out what I’m asking, and then his face screws up with horror. “No!” he yells. He takes a step forward and I instinctively take three steps back.
No . . . that’s right. It was my husband who did this to me. I wouldn’t have been married to Jesse without his family knowing. But that leaves . . .
“Oh my God.” I clutch at my stomach as the pieces from my dream click together. “You were the other guy. The one I was protecting.” The father of my baby.
His throat bobs with a hard swallow and I have my answer.
“Can I please see that?” Gabe takes the photocopy of my ID that flitters between my fingers, hanging like a loose thread next to my thigh. He’s strangely calm.
“Dad! He knew her. He’s been lying to us this entire time!” Amber cries out.
“No, he hasn’t.” Meredith suddenly appears, walking around me until she’s at Jesse’s side. Where did she come from so suddenly?
“You knew?” Amber asks the question I can’t, her words a punch to my windpipe.
Meredith’s crystal-clear green eyes settle on me for a long moment. “We’ve known all along.”
“We’ve . . .” Turning to Gabe, I watch him drop his gaze and squeeze his eyes shut. Just like he did that first day in the hospital. I realize now that that wasn’t from the sight of me. That was guilt.
Meredith edges forward, one arm still around her son, her free hand reaching for me. “We did what we thought was best, for your safety and for our son’s.”
All this time. They let me linger in this purgatory, building a new life that would never be real, wondering who out there would want to hurt me so badly.
Wondering what I had done to deserve this.
“Did you know who did this to me?”
Jesse’s eyes never leave my face, but I watch Gabe and Meredith, the exchange between them . . .
They know.
A new hollowness takes over my insides, one borne of betrayal.
“We never thought your memory lapse would last this long,” Meredith calls out, her eyes glossy with tears. “And then you started getting settled in here, and you were doing so well in your new life. We couldn’t figure out how to tell you. And then you and Jesse . . .” Her brow pinches together. “Seeing you together again, and so happy.”
Together again? “What do you . . . You met me before?”
There’s a long pause before she nods.
This can’t be happening. I stumble backward, the urge to vomit overwhelming.
“Water, just wait.”
“It’s not Water,” I choke out. “Water isn’t real. She never was.”
Away. I need to get away.
“Alex!” Jesse shouts, his voice cracking.
I don’t stop. I run toward home—or whatever it is now—not caring about tripping or my leg buckling or anything except surrounding myself within a set of walls. I see Ginny standing halfway between her house and the fence line.
Without thinking, I run to her.
“How much did you hear?” I ask between sobs. I didn’t even know I was crying.
She heaves a shaky sigh. “Enough.” Her arm reaches around my shoulders in a very non-Ginny way; a way that I need right now. “Come on.”
She leads me up her stairs, across her porch.
And in through her front door.
THIRTY-FIVE
Jesse
then
“Don’t be nervous. They’re going to love you.” I give her hand a squeeze as we cut a path up to my parents’ house, the thin layer of snow crunching under our boots. The sheriff’s car sits in its usual spot, my mom’s sedan parked next to it.
Alex and I have kept in close touch through texts these past two weeks, as we finalize plans. When she mentioned that Viktor would be heading to Seattle on business for the weekend, I told her to pack a few bags. And then I called my mother, to make sure that my parents would be home.
I haven’t figured out how I’m going to break the news to them—that they’ll have a tenant on their property beginning next weekend. I guess I’ll let them fall in love with her first. It shouldn’t be hard.
I’m pretty sure it took me only one night.
Of course, the whole “and she’s pregnant with her husband’s baby” topic would complicate things. I’m just going to have to lie and tell them that it’s mine. I’m still not sure if I’m ready to admit to them that she’s married. She made sure to leave her ring in her purse.
My mom greets us at the sliding door into the kitchen, in jeans and a sweater, looking nothing like the esteemed surgeon and every bit like the mom who used to bring Cheez Whiz sandwiches to me on those lazy summer days while I sat perched on the workbench, watching my granddad tinker with his Ford truck.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Alex.” My mom squeezes Alex’s shoulder in greeting, her smile broad and genuine. Besides the odd friend of Amber’s that I dated—and inevitably got bored of—my parents have never met any of my girlfriends. When I told her I was bringing Alex up to meet them, there was a good five seconds of dead silence on the receiver.
“This is Jesse’s father, Gabe,” my mom says, sliding her arm around my dad’s waist.
“The sheriff, right?” Alex says, taking his extended hand.
“Just Gabe around these parts.” He’s smiling. It’s rare to see him smile, period, and damn near impossible when it has anything to do with me.
“It’s too bad Jesse’s sister, Amber, isn’t here to meet you, but she’s working.”
Alex’s eyes flicker to me. “I’m sure I’ll have a chance to meet her sometime soon.”
“Please, sit.” My mom gestures to the table, a platter of nachos and salsa out. One of Mom’s specialties.
Maybe Alex can finally teach that woman how to cook.
“Your parents are so nice.”
I throw an extra-large log into the woodstove. “They really liked you. I could tell.” I could also tell that my mom is dying to interrogate me.
“Are they still going to like me when they find out?”
I glance over my shoulder in time to see Alex’s hand smooth over her abdomen. It still doesn’t feel real, that there’s a human being growing inside her. I try to picture what she’s going to look like lying on the floor in those pillows with a big, round belly.
With Viktor’s kid.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at all. But it should bother me more than it does. “They’ll be fine with you. They probably won’t like me too much for a while
“You know, you and your father are a lot alike. You’re both very quiet, but with this calm, strong presence. You look a lot alike, too. Those eyes . . .” I feel her gaze on my profile. “I’ve always loved your eyes.”
“Are you telling me you have the hots for my dad? Do I have to worry about you alone here for the next two months?” I’m not moving back until March. Alex is worried that both of us disappearing around the same time will look suspicious. I think she’s being overly paranoid, but I’ve agreed to humor her. Gives me more time to find a job around here, too, where mechanic jobs are hard to come by.
I catch the pillow she flings at my head with one hand and toss it back, chuckling. “We’re alike in some ways. Very different in others. You should have heard the fights we had. I was a bad teenager,” I admit. “I made his life hell, but he was hard on me, too.”
“That’s because he loves you so much, not because he doesn’t. I’m sure that, when the time comes that you really need him, you’ll be able to count on him.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.” I really needed him when Dirk and Ian tried to pin Tommy’s stabbing on me, and yet I was the first one that my dad threw into the back of his cop car.
I’m not bringing that story up tonight, though. That’s one for another day.
Alex pulls the plaid wool blanket up around her body. “You’re lucky you have a father like that. It’s better than indifference. Or nonexistence. Maybe if my father was in my life, I wouldn’t have ended up with a man like Viktor.”
“Or maybe your father was a scumbag like Viktor, and you were better off not knowing him,” I interject, though I know that’s not her point.
“Maybe,” she concedes. “Well, I for one am looking forward to getting to know your parents. I like them a lot already. They’re both so calm. I want to surround myself with calm people. Not volatile ones, like Viktor.”
“Here.” I sandwich the melted marshmallow between the chocolate and the graham crackers. “Stop talking about my parents and eat this. Welcome to Western culture.”
I feed her a bite. A tiny, appreciative moan escapes her and, when she licks the melted chocolate off her lip, my heart starts racing. I haven’t so much as touched her leg in weeks.
I’m dying to be with her again.
“Before I forget . . .” She rolls to her left and grabs the strap of her tan messenger bag. “Here’s the money I saved. We should leave this here with my things.” We filled my trunk with bags of clothes and basics she wanted to bring with her—towels, bedding, some things to cook with that she said would only collect dust if left with Viktor.
I test the bag’s weight. It’s heavy. “You want to leave this much money in here?”
She shrugs. “I figured it’s safer here than in Portland.”
I smile. “Yeah. Probably.” This is pretty much the safest place around.
Her bright eyes roam the space. “This little attic has so much potential. I was thinking we could . . .”
I just nod as she goes on about curtains and tables and all the things she wants to do to the small space, watching her lips move.
“The crib can go over in that corner. We’ll have to get rid of that chair, but I want to anyway. It’s a bit old. Jesse? Why are you staring at me like that? Are you listening to me?”
“Not really. You can do whatever the hell you want with this place.”
A playful smile curls her lips. “Oh, good! Because I was thinking that there’s not a lot of space, so we’ll need to convert the garage downstairs into more living—”
I steal a deep kiss. “You can do whatever the hell you want with this place, but the garage is off-limits. God knows I’ll need it with a screaming baby in here,” I correct, and then kiss her again, tasting the chocolate and marshmallow residue.
She breaks away and bites her bottom lip with worry. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because you don’t have to. You can still back out.”
I glare at her. “Back out?” She just doesn’t get it. I’m not ready to say it out loud yet, but there’s no doubt about it. The fact that I can’t wait for next weekend, and I know that the next two months will be the longest of my life, proves it.
I’m in love with Alex.
“I just . . . I know what it’s like to feel trapped. It’s utterly suffocating. I don’t ever want you to feel like that.”
In all honesty, I’ve been terrified these past two weeks. It has nothing to do with worrying that I don’t want this. I’m terrified that I can’t be what she needs me to be.
But I’ll never admit that to her. She needs me to be strong, and I want to be strong for her.
As strong as she is.
“Is it just my hormones or is it boiling in here?” she suddenly exclaims, unzipping her sweatshirt and peeling it off to reveal a plain, long-sleeved shirt underneath. She may not be showing yet, but her boobs are getting bigger. If Viktor stopped to really look at his wife over the past few weeks, he would have noticed.
“No, it’s boiling. I built the fire nice and hot. And opened all the vents.”
“God, why?” She kicks off the blanket with a scowl of confusion.
I shrug. “Best way to get a girl to strip.”
She stops to stare at me, probably to figure out if I’m being honest. And then she falls back into the pillows, laughing. That deep, infectious sound that makes me dive into her mouth.
She doesn’t hesitate, tangling her tongue with mine to give me another sweet taste of chocolate.
I can’t wait anymore, sliding her shirt up and over her head.
“Gentle. They’re sore.”
I have her bra off in a matter of seconds. I’m just about to show her how gentle I can be with my mouth when a knock sounds on the door at the bottom of the stairs, followed by my mom’s holler of “Hello?”
I roll onto my back with a groan. “Stay right here.”
My mom’s waiting in the garage, her arms loaded with one of the winter duvets. “I don’t want you and Alex to get cold overnight.”
I stifle my smirk. “Thanks, Mom.”
Her eager eyes flicker up the stairs. “Where’d you meet her?”
Should I be honest? “On the side of the road. I fixed her tire and she kissed me.”
My mom starts chuckling. I’m not sure if she believes me. “I really like her.” She pauses. “You’re serious about this one, aren’t you?”
I nod. “Yeah, Mom. She’s it.”
This is the start of the rest of my life.
The trance in the background tells me that Boone is at The Cellar.
“Have you talked to Alex lately?”
I hesitate. “No.” Boone doesn’t know we’re talking. He sure as hell doesn’t know about the pregnancy or my plans to pick her up tomorrow night and take her to Sisters for good.
“Are you lying?” There’s an edge to his tone that I don’t like.
“No. Why?” I snap.
I hear his rushed breathing, like he’s walking fast. Suddenly, the music is gone and I can hear him clearly, though he’s talking low. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck is going on. Viktor was supposed to be here tonight to meet up with some guy, but he told Rust that he had to deal with a problem at home and it was going to take all night. Apparently this was an important meeting. It’s not like Viktor to miss this kind of stuff.”
My heart has just gone from normal to spastic in a span of two seconds.
“And then Albert was talking—”
“Who the fuck is Albert?”
“The big blond guy who’s always with Viktor. Anyway, Albert just got a phone call from Viktor. He was talking in Russian and you know my Russian’s not great, but it sounded like he was trying to calm Viktor down. And then he started giving him directions to this old logging trail he knows about, in the interior, off Highway Twenty. He was saying it’s a far drive but it’
I’m ready to throw up the late-night pizza pocket I just inhaled. “Did he say where this logging trail was?”
“He did, but it was hard to follow along. Something about some burned-out woods and a totem pole?”
I know exactly where that is.
I’m in my car in under thirty seconds, racing for Black Butte, hitting redial over and over on my phone. But it just goes to her voice mail.
THIRTY-SIX
Water
now
I stare at the swirl of steam that rises from the cup of tea next to me, with no intention of drinking it. “You didn’t know?”
Ginny settles herself into her creaky rocking chair with a sigh. “No, Water. I had absolutely no clue.” It’s the tenth time she’s said those exact words. Because it’s the tenth time I’ve asked. She stretches her quilt over her lap and picks up her needle. “Do you think I would have had any part in it, had I known? Do you know me to be a liar?”
“No,” I whisper, hugging my knees to my chest as my eyes roll over the cramped den inside Ginny’s house. If I had to guess, I’d say that the myriad of pictures, the figurines on the shelves, the western-print curtains—everything in this room—have remained exactly where Ginny’s parents first placed them.
But I also know Gabe to be a hard-nosed, black-and-white, follow-the-law-to-the-letter kind of man. The kind of man who threw his own son in jail. And Meredith . . .
“Why would they do this?”
Ginny’s needle stops weaving through the fabric. “What exactly did Meredith say, again?”
“That they were protecting me. And Jesse.”
Ginny’s head shakes. “That damn boy. He just can’t keep himself out of trouble.”
A fist pounds against the door, making me jolt.