“I don’t have a clue.”

He looked at me, frowning. “Okay,” he said. “You’ve got my number. Call if you need to. I’m five minutes away.”

Back inside, I found Ted and Diane in the kitchen at the table with cups of coffee. Diane was stirring hers a little too hard, the spoon clanking against the mug. My father was dry, in shorts and a T-shirt, staring down into his own murky coffee. The guests had all cleared out. Someone had tidied up, stacking glasses and plates in the sink, dumping all the empty cans and bottles into the recycling bin. The food had been put away. I sat down to join them. My head hurt so bad that my teeth were throbbing. I said as much, and Diane rummaged in her purse. “Try this.”

I eyed the pill skeptically. “What is it?”

“Tylenol with codeine. They’re left over from my last root canal.” She handed me the bottle. “Keep them. Sounds like you need them more than I do.” She yawned, rubbed at her neck. “I’m exhausted. And I’ve had way too much to drink.”

“Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

She flinched. “I haven’t spent a night in this house since I was a teenager.”

“Well it beats driving drunk. Please, Diane. I’ll feel much better if you stay.” I gave a concerning look in my father’s direction. “I can put clean linens on the bed in Lex—in Gram’s old room.”

“All right,” she said at last. “I don’t suppose one night here will kill me.”

I turned to the elephant in the room. “How are you doing, Ted?” I asked, dry swallowing the pill Diane had given me.

“Fine,” he snapped. “I wish to God everyone would stop asking me that.” This was followed by an awkward silence.

“Do you want to tell us how you ended up in the water?” I asked, sounding more like a therapist than I intended.

My father remained silent.

“I think Lily was disappointed that you didn’t need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Maybe I should try falling in the pool next time,” Diane chimed in, giving me a look, trying for levity.

My father said nothing.

Diane’s face grew serious. “I think we should have the damn thing filled in. Nothing good has ever come from that pool.” Her eyes shifted to the kitchen window, the pool beyond. She looked guilty, a little frightened, like she worried it may have heard her.

“Nothing?” I asked. “What about the people who believe the water has healing powers? All day I had people asking me if they’d be able to go on using the pool, claiming it helped with all kinds of maladies. I think I even saw someone filling a jar with magic, healing water.”

I’d gone too far. I hadn’t meant to bring it up. It just popped out. Diane wasn’t the only one who’d had too much to drink today.

Diane glared at me, jaw clenched.

After a moment, she stood and said, “I’ll go change the sheets. I’m going to turn in. I’m exhausted. Good night.” She started out of the kitchen, shooting me a keep an eye on your father look.

“Diane?” I called. “That paper boat you pulled out of the pool. Was there anything written on it?”

Her body stiffened. “I don’t think so,” she said, frowning at me the way she’d always looked at Lexie when she had one of her out-there ideas. “It was just a bit of trash, Jackie.”

We listened to her pad down the hall and up the stairs.

I went to the fridge and got out two beers, putting one down in front of my father—a peace offering.

“I know you think I’m a crazy drunk who doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” my father said. His shoulders were hunched, and he looked defeated, old. It frightened me to think what might have happened if Ryan hadn’t pulled him out of that pool in time.

“That’s not what I think at all,” I said. But deep down, it really was. And it was what I had always thought. The truth was a corkscrew in my heart to acknowledge. “I think—” I said, choosing my words carefully, “that you’ve done the best you could.”

“That’s bullshit therapist talk,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve been a shitty father. But I’ve never lied to you. You or Lexie. Jackie, I swear to you, I know what I saw. Yes, I’d been drinking, but it was no hallucination. It was not my eyes playing tricks on me!”

“Okay,” I said. De-escalate and problem solve. “Let’s take it step-by-step, Ted. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“I’d been talking with Lily. You know her, from the bed-and-breakfast? Sweet woman. She invited me to come outside with her, said she had a little of Vermont’s finest greenery to share.”

“Wait. You’re saying you and Lily got high?” I couldn’t help barking out a laugh. So much for remaining objective.

“No! We didn’t, because when I went outside, I couldn’t find her. She went out to the garden. I went out to the pool. A simple matter of miscommunication.”

I nodded.

“I was looking at the crayon writing around the pool, over by the back corner of the fence. I heard a splash. I thought maybe someone had snuck over and jumped into the pool. I saw ripples, bubbles—”

“The wind?”

He stared at me, his eyes shimmering with the intensity of his story. “I saw a hand reach up! Someone was in the water! Drowning!”

“Could it have been a reflection?”

There’s nothing in that water but what we bring with us.

I closed my eyes, a glimpse of a memory surfacing. Me, out by the pool, alone at night when I was a little kid.

But I wasn’t alone.

There was someone, something, in the water.

I opened my eyes, shaking the memory—if it even was a memory—away.

“I’m positive!” my father said. “I jumped in without thinking about it. I didn’t even take my shoes off. I swam for them as hard and fast as I could. But they went under. Then suddenly I was under, too. Someone was pulling on my leg; the swimmer in distress, I figured. They were disoriented, panicked. I’ve always heard that rescuing a drowning person is incredibly risky, because chances are, they’ll take you down with them.”

I’d heard that, too, at the swimming lessons Gram made Lexie and me take at the lake each summer. One of the older lifeguards told us.