I said nothing. The whooshing sound was like water slapping, waves threatening to overtake me. I had a coppery, metallic taste in my mouth.

“The people who die in that water can come back,” Shirley said. “When it’s dark, they can come out of the pool, talk to you, walk around, touch you. Leave footprints. They have physical form. I’ve visited with my own mother many times. She said if I wanted, I could come, swim down, stay with her forever. But I had too much holding me to this world.”

“Please,” I said, backing away, closing my eyes, wanting to cover my ears. “No more.”

Listening to her, it hit me that these weren’t just stories Shirley made up to scare me and Lexie. She actually believed all of it. I was sure. The question was, how far did she go to make Lexie believe, too?

“Your sister is down there. You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

I shook my head, the pain sickening.

“Just be careful of her, Jackie. She’s still Lexie, but she’s doing the spring’s bidding now.”

“Enough!” I said, opening my eyes, glaring at her. “You actually expect me to believe that the pool is full of dead people?”

“Lexie believed.”

“And look where it got her,” I said.

“Lexie made one final wish to the pool. The thing she wanted most. Did she tell you? Do you know what she wished for?”

I turned and walked away, pushing my way through the air, which felt thick and heavy. The smells made my stomach flip—boiled vegetables from the dining hall, bleach, floor wax, the sour smell of old people. “I’m done with the stories,” I said over my shoulder.

I hurried away as quickly as I could, nearly knocking over some poor old woman pushing a walker with tennis balls on the front legs. Out in the parking lot, I gulped at the fresh air, willing myself not to throw up. I got into the Mustang, locked the doors, slipped my sister’s keys into the ignition, and slammed the car into reverse. My hands clenched the wheel as I navigated my way out of the parking lot, my left eye closed and watering. Breathe, I told myself. She is just trying to scare you. Scare you like she scared Lexie.

Are you so sure? I could see my sister out of the corner of my eye beside me in the passenger seat.

I turned and she was gone.

chapter thirty-two

June 12, 1936

Sparrow Crest

Brandenburg, Vermont

Last week, I made a terrible mistake.

I took Maggie by train all the way to Boston, where my youngest sister, Constance, recently moved with her husband. Constance has been pestering me for some time about why we never visit her, how terrible it was that she rarely sees Maggie. “Her cousins barely know her!” she says.

And Maggie was so excited for the trip! She wanted to see the city. Go to the public garden and ride the swan boats with her cousins. Eat dinner in a restaurant. We planned to stay for three days. She had never left Brandenburg before. In fact, she rarely leaves Sparrow Crest. Will gives her lessons at home rather than sending her to school. The one-room schoolhouse here is fine, and we tried sending her there at first, but she seemed so tired, so pale, when she was away from home for long. She is excelling in all the subjects Will teaches her—science is her favorite. She plays the piano very well—we have a music teacher, Mrs. Tufts, who comes to give her lessons each Tuesday. Mrs. Tufts says Maggie is her most gifted student and that she should really be taking lessons at a proper music school.

In a strange twist of fate, Maggie has become close friends with Shirley Harding, the child of Benson and Eliza. Shirley lives with her grandparents on the back side of Lord’s Hill. She is a year older than Maggie and the spitting image of her mother. It unsettles me sometimes to see little Shirley playing in the rose garden her mother planted, swimming in the pool. And my Maggie, with her dark hair and eyes, looks so much like her. They could be sisters.

* * *

I packed two bottles of spring water for the trip to Boston. On the way there, Maggie was so excited—she’d never ridden a train before. She talked nonstop about all we would do and see. We went down to the dining car and had sandwiches and tea for lunch. “Isn’t it funny, Mother, that we’re moving so fast, and eating just like we’d eat at home, sitting still in our dining room?”

As soon as we arrived and settled in at my sister’s house, Maggie went off with her cousins, to unpack her things in their room. Constance and I were in the kitchen with cups of tea, listening to the girls all laughing together. Not ten minutes later, Constance’s girls came running into the kitchen. “Something’s wrong with Maggie,” they said.

Constance and I hurried in. Maggie’s breathing had turned wheezy. Her fingertips began to turn blue.

“Whatever is the matter with her?” Constance asked, her face heavy with worry. “Is it asthma? Should we bring her to the hospital?”

“No,” I said. I ran and got one of the bottles of water I’d packed from my suitcase. I had Maggie sip at the water.

“What is that you’re giving her?” Constance asked, frowning.

She drank half a jar and her breathing did not improve. Her face grew paler.

“I need to take her home. Right now.”

We caught the very next train back to Vermont. Maggie lay against me the whole way home, struggling for breath, shivering and frightened, so frightened. I stroked her hair, sang to her, apologized over and over. “We were wrong to leave Sparrow Crest,” I told her. “We should not have traveled so far away.” I gave her sips of water the whole ride back.

We arrived in Brandenburg late that evening. Will picked us up from the station, and we brought Maggie home, put her right in the water. “Isn’t that better, my sweet girl,” I said as I swam beside her, shivering. She is like a fish in the water, my girl. Such a strong swimmer. And the cold does not seem to bother her. She dunked under, took a mouthful of water and swallowed it down. Her breathing eased. The color came back to her fingers and toes. She splashed me, laughing. “Who needs swan boats when we have this,” I told her. “The water in Boston Commons is so dirty, not like our pool. Aren’t we the lucky ones?”

* * *

Today, Maggie asked if she might take the train to White River Junction tomorrow with Shirley and her family to visit relatives. “It would just be for the day,” she said. “We’d be home by bedtime. Please? The train is such fun! Shirley’s aunt and uncle have a farm, and they’ve got baby pigs and a foal that was just born!”