The Rattled Bones(44)

“You earned your scholarship. No one is going to take that away.”

“But the other stuff?? Paying the bills. Keeping the boat and the house.”

She puts up her hand. “We’ve got enough to keep the boat and the house in good repair. We’re not the richest folks, but we’ll be all right.”

“What does ‘all right’ mean?”

“It means ya need to remember that your scholarship is merit based, Rilla. The University of Rhode Island is offering to pay your tuition because they want you. Have ya ever known anyone in our family to steer off course once they set their mind to its particular coordinates?”

My mother. She steered way off course. “No, I haven’t.”

“Ya got a mind that’s smarter than any I’ve come across yet. It seems to me ya already know the right thing to do.” Her future is so tied to the choice I make. She’ll have to survive more loss if I go.

“But how can it be that simple?”

“Nothing simple about it, Rilla. Ya leaving for Rhode Island will change everything.” She stares at me with determination. “But we can handle change. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“You’ll be okay, like, we can afford the house? Hattie’s mom can’t keep the lights on most months.”

Gram nods. “Well, Hattie’s circumstances are . . . well, they are what they are. Our concerns are different.”

“You can keep the lights on if I’m not fishing?”

She tsks. “I can read by candlelight if it means the first person in our family going to college.”

“Gram.”

She waves me away. “Ya know what I’m saying, Rilla. I won’t be around forever, and I’m not leaving this earth until I see ya with your next diploma. Ya hear me?” She shifts in her seat, leans forward. “My grandfather built this house before mortgages ever existed. I’ve got enough to pay my share of taxes to the government and keep the water flowing. I find I don’t need much more than that. Your scholarship will cover your books and you’ll have to earn your spending money same as always.”

“I’ll haul in the summers when I come home. Work during school breaks, even in the winter.”

Gram sets down her mug, crossing her hands over her middle. “Seems like you’ve got it all worked out.”

I don’t have anything worked out. “Far from it.”

“What is all this doubt ya have? Why are ya bringing this up now?”

“I miss him, Gram. I miss Dad. I know you do too, and I hate thinking of you here all alone.”

“Being alone doesn’t make a person lonely. You’ll still be with me. No amount of distance can change that.”

Gram’s words make me think of my mother, gone for more than a decade. And me being too selfish to let Gram keep my mother with us by telling stories of when things were good. “Do you miss her? My mother?”

Gram gives me a startled look. “Every single day.”

“Do you . . . talk to her?”

“She writes every now and then. I think it’s hard for her, knowing that she’s stayed away.” Gram searches my eyes. “Can I ask why you’re asking?”

So many reasons I never expected. “I was out on the island today, with Sam. I found a piece of pottery, the kind that washes up on our shore all the time.” I pull in a deep breath, let it out. “It reminded me of her. The way she’d talk about the Water People. That’s what she called them, right? The voices she heard.”

Gram nods. “Yes.”

“Did she ever tell you what the voices said?”

“No.” Gram lowers her head. “I just know they were enough to drive her away.”

“Did you ever hear the voices?”

Gram looks to me. “No, Rilla. That was a particular struggle only your mother had to deal with.”

“Does she still hear them?”

“I think things are better for her now.”

“Better now that she’s not here?”

“Yes. Hard as that is, yes.”

It’s a hard thing to hear.

“Was it . . . ?” I search for the words. “Did she always talk of them? The Water People?”

Gram leans back, her whole body shifting into memory. “No. She was a happy child, Rilla. I never had an ounce of worry beyond normal child-rearing concerns.”

“So then . . . when did she start to hear voices?”

Gram’s finger worries at her thumbnail. “Are ya sure ya want to know this, Rilla?”

“I’m sure.”

Gram takes a deep breath, lets it out slow. “I started noticing her losing track of time, walking along the water when she was pregnant with ya. I’d heard her talking to the waves.”

Pregnant with me? “What did she say?”

Gram shakes her head. “Different things. Nothing special. But it was her tone that always struck me. How she sounded like she was trying to soothe someone. At first I thought she was talking to ya while ya were growing inside her.”

“Was she?”

“Maybe sometimes. But other times I’d listen to her and I knew I was only hearing half of the conversation. She talked like there was someone answering her. I could only hear silence, but your mother was hearing something else. I was real worried about her in those days. Your dad and I watched her near ’round the clock.”