Red Lily

color.”
    “A wonderful idea.”
    “And here we go,” Stella declared. They walked in together.
    “How did it look before, Hayley?” Roz asked her.
    “Um. The crib was over there.” She gestured with her chin. “Against the wall. The lights were on low. Gaslights, like in that movie with Ingrid Bergman. The one where Charles Boyer tries to drive her crazy. There was a rockingchair over there, and another, straight-backed chair—the one she used—over there. Shelves here,” she pointed, “with toys and books on them. And a . . .”
    Her head snapped back, her eyes rolled up white. As she began to choke, her legs buckled.
    She heard, through the storm surge in her ears, Roz shout to get her out. But she shook her head wildly.
    “Wait, wait. God it burns ! The baby’s screaming, and the maid, the nurse. Don’t let go of me.”
    “We’re taking you out,” Roz said.
    “No, no. Just don’t let go. She’s dying—it’s horrible—and she’s so angry.” Hayley let her head fall onto Roz’s shoulder. “It’s dark. It’s dark where she is. Was. No light, no air, no hope. She lost. They took him again, and now she’s alone. She’ll always be alone. She can’t see, she can’t feel. Everything seems so far away. Very cold, very dark. There are voices, but she can’t hear them, only echoes. It’s so empty. She’s going down, down, so heavy. She can only see the dark. She doesn’t know where she is. She just floats away.”
    She sighed, left her head on Roz’s shoulder. “I can’t help it, even in this room, I feel sorry for her. She was cold and selfish, calculating. A whore, certainly, in the lowest sense of the word. But she’s paid for it, hasn’t she? More than a hundred years of being lost, of watching over other people’s children and never having more than that one mad moment with her own. She’s paid.”
    “Maybe she has. Are you all right?”
    Hayley nodded. “It wasn’t like before, not the way I could feel her pulling at me. I was stronger. I need life more than she does. I think she’s tired. Almost as tired as we are.”
    “That may be, too. But you don’t let your guard down.” Stella looked up where once had hung an armed gaslight chandelier. “Not for a minute.”

    “Let’s go back.” Stella rose, helped Hayley to her feet. “You did what you could. We all have.”
    “It doesn’t seem like enough. It was a brutal death. It wasn’t quick, and she saw the maid run out with the baby. She reached out her arms for him, even when she was strangling.”
    “That’s not a mother’s love, whatever she thought,” Roz said.
    “No, it’s not. It wasn’t. But it was all she had.” Hayley moistened her lips, wished desperately for water. “She cursed him—Reginald. Cursed them all—the Harpers. She . . . she willed herself to stay here. But she’s tired. Part of her, the part that sings lullabies, is so tired and lost.”
    She let out a sigh, then smiled when she saw Harper pacing the landing. “We’ve all got so much more than she did. We’re fine.” She left the other women to go to him. “I guess we didn’t get what we were after, but we’re fine.”
    “What happened?”
    “I saw her die, and I felt her in the dark. Awful. Dark and cold and alone. Lost.” She leaned against him, let him lead her downstairs. “I don’t know what happened to her, what they did with her. She was going down in the dark, in the dark and cold.”
    “Buried?”
    “I don’t know. It was more . . . floating away in the dark, drifting down where she couldn’t see or hear, or find her way out.” Unconsciously, she rubbed a hand over her throat, remembering the sensation of the rope biting in. “Maybe it was a soul thing—you know the opposite of the tunnel of light.”
    “Floating, drifting?” Harper’s eyes went sharp. “How about sinking?”
    “Ah . . . yeah. I guess.”

    “The pond,” he said and looked at her. “We never thought of the pond.”
    “T HIS IS CRAZY .” In the hazy light of dawn, Hayley stood on the bank of the pond. “It could take hours, more. He should have help. We could get other people. Search-and-rescue people.”
    Roz slid an arm over her shoulders. “He wants to do this. He needs to.” She watched while Harper pulled on flippers. “It’s time for us to step back, let them do.”
    The pond looked so dark and deep with the skim of fog rising over its surface. The floating lilies, the spears of cattails and iris