Every Last Cuckoo (4 page)

Sarah's thoughts were still colliding when a second cry sliced the afternoon air, followed by a loud clamor from Ruckus. Then another cry. It was Lottie screaming, down by the pond.

Sarah raced after Tess. The pond was a hundred yards or so from the house, invisible beyond a thicket of hemlocks and yellow birches. It sat near the bottom of the long meadow,
overlooked by a disused cabin on its near edge and bordered by woods on its far one. Tess ran toward Lottie's screams and Ruckus's yelps. Her feet were bare except for sheer stockings. She had kicked off her low pumps for better speed.

Sarah, running behind Tess, glimpsed the shoes red against the snow. Behind her, she heard David shouting. She saw Charles ahead of her and off to her right, loping toward the pond with the Markses right behind. Some aberrant piece of her mind found this amusing, all these old farts running. Then she rounded the thicket and nearly fell. Fear closed her throat like a handful of sand.

The layer of new ice on the pond was marred by a ragged gash, through which Sylvie, barely visible and struggling heavily in the black water, was pulling Hannah's limp and waterlogged form. The streaming dog, straining in every muscle, had Hannah's head above water, the collar of her jacket in her teeth. She had broken the ice all the way from the shore to a large black hole and now was swimming strenuously back through the channel she had carved with her body. It was hard going. Sylvie's head and neck were wrenched sideways with the weight of her burden. Sarah, still running, kept her eyes on the only spot of color in the scene, the small bit of Hannah's red jacket that was visible above the water and ice. It was moving much too slowly.

Lottie stood at the edge of the pond, bent double, keening. Tess had nearly reached the waterside. Charles was already there, with Peter closing behind him, and Vivi trailing.

Then the dog beached Hannah on firm ground. Charles bent over the small form. He put his mouth to the parted blue lips as Tess caught up with him and collapsed to her knees, as Lottie kept wailing from the frozen grass, as everyone else finally
arrived amid clouds of breath as dense as smoke. Tess bowed her head while Charles breathed into her child. She stroked Hannah's dripping hair, lifting plastered tendrils away from clammy skin. She mouthed prayers no one could hear and held one hand clenched hard against her breast.

Charles alternated mouth-to-mouth with chest compressions. He did this for so long that his rhythm took hold of the onlookers, who anticipated his every switch from Hannah's lips to her narrow chest. Hypnotized by Charles, by terror, they stood like pillars while Tess's silent supplications gave way to a soft, pleading moan.

At last Hannah coughed, and Charles turned her onto her side. Muddy water spilled from her mouth, past the dam of her tiny, bright white teeth. Charles lay her back again. Her blue eyes flew open, shocked and indignant, reflecting sky. She began to cry, a long, loud, angry howling, as Tess gathered her up and sobbed into her sodden, red wool jacket. Sylvie licked Hannah's dangling hand, then lay panting next to Tess, as close as she could get.

Charles took off his barn coat and stooped to take Hannah gently from her mother's arms. Tess rose stiffly to accommodate him. “We need to get her into the house, Tess.” He swaddled Hannah from head to foot in the heavy wool, still warm from his body.

Tess nodded at him, glassy-eyed, as David, in shirtsleeves, took Peter's wordlessly offered down parka and put it over Tess's shoulders. He held her tightly for a second, then turned to Charles. “I'll take Hannah, Dad. I can get her to the house faster.” He took the child from his father's arms and looked into his father's face. “Thank you,” he said. “Jesus, Dad. Thank you.” Then he strode away, nearly running up the hill.

T
HE
EMT
S ARRIVED LESS
than ten minutes after David got Hannah to the house and called 911. Everyone else was already there—everyone but Lottie and Charlotte, who had stayed behind, huddled near the gash in the water. Charles had swiftly examined Hannah, with Tom standing by, but they couldn't assess her condition without a hospital's resources. They were relieved when the two paramedics stripped the child down, wrapped her in a heated blanket, and checked her vital signs. She tracked one paramedic's forefinger with her eyes and told him her name, where she was, how many fingers he held up, and the names of everyone else in the room.

“No obvious symptoms except the hypothermia,” the other paramedic reported. “Core temp's ninety-two, could be worse. They'll run some tests once we get her to the hospital.”

“What kind of tests?” David asked. Tess sat next to Hannah, white and silent, taking it all in.

“They'll do a blood gas to check her oxygen level, check for acidosis.”

“Acidosis?” David interrupted.

Charles answered. “High acid in the blood. Causes confusion, shortness of breath.”

The paramedic chimed in. “She doesn't have those, but they'll test her anyway.”

David nodded, and the man went on. “They'll draw blood, maybe urine. They'll do a chest X-ray, in case she aspirated sand or weeds or anything.”

Charles said, “But so far, you think she's all right.”

“Far as we can tell, but we can't be sure yet. It's probably a good thing the water was cold. Protects the tissues from effects of oxygen
deprivation. Might even trigger a diving reflex—slows the heart, sends the blood to the internal organs and the brain.”

Charles took a breath and blew it out. He looked haggard. Sarah went to stand beside him, her hand on his arm. “If she does have problems . . .” She couldn't go on.

“The docs will look for lung damage. Brain damage, too.”

Tess started.

The paramedic looked over at her and said, “The signs look good. She's alert, lucid. Keep your focus on that. Seventy percent of submersion episodes end in death or brain damage. I think your daughter's going to be in the other thirty percent.”

Tess rode with Hannah in the ambulance. David, Sarah, and Charles followed, bringing dry clothes and a quilt. Tom offered to come, too, but Charles urged him to wait behind and see how Lottie was doing.

Tess brought intermittent reports to the hospital waiting area. Hannah's tests were normal. She hadn't aspirated any pond debris; she had no fluid in her lungs. It was a good thing she'd had a full belly when she went through the ice; that slowed the onset of hypothermia. It was a good thing Sylvie was right there and had her out of the water in only a few minutes. It was a good thing Charles knew CPR.

Hannah would recover completely. The only thing that worried the attending physician was her silence. She'd clammed up after answering the paramedics' questions.

Tess said, “It's her way of dealing with things. She just needs time.”

The doctor wasn't so sure, but he released Hannah after reading the paramedics' account of her clear responses to them. After
four hours of tests and observation, Charles went to warm up his Subaru while Tess signed the necessary papers. No one spoke on the ride home; no one seemed willing to intrude on Hannah's quiet.

By nine o'clock the family was seated in the great room. Vivi and Peter had gone home, reassured about Hannah. Luke was in Sarah's office, where he had fallen asleep and missed the crisis altogether. The rest of them were subdued. Sarah's eyes moved from Hannah to Charles and back again. She was comforted by the sight of Hannah on Tess's lap, wrapped in a quilt, but she worried about Charles's gray, exhausted look.

He was sunk in his wing chair, stretching his legs out before him. His face was in shadow, but his eyes caught the lamplight as he watched his son, who sat with his arm around Tess. David looked over at his father and held his gaze.

Lottie would look at no one. She had come inside with her mother almost twenty minutes behind the others, hair tangled, teeth chattering hard enough to crack. Tom had tried to assure her that Hannah would be fine, that the EMTs had seen no signs of permanent harm, but Lottie wasn't convinced. She had wanted to go to the hospital to see for herself, and she was furious when Charlotte insisted they all stay behind and out of the way.

Hours later, seeing Tess carry Hannah back into the house, Lottie had blurted out, “It was my fault, Tess. I turned my back, I threw a stick for Ruckus. I didn't know Hannah would step onto the ice. There were these little tracks in the snow on the pond. I showed them to Hannah. I didn't know she would follow them. I should have known, Tess. I should have watched her better.”

Tess put Hannah into David's arms. The child watched solemnly as her mother embraced the older girl. “Lottie, honey, I watched you with Hannah all afternoon. You were so careful. It wasn't your fault.”

Sarah could have hugged Tess, for she had overheard Charlotte reprimand her shivering daughter down by the pond. She knew Charlotte would also offer comfort, given time; she knew her judgmental outburst was only the aftermath of terror, but she could not forgive Charlotte for deepening Lottie's misery and shame. Adolescence made Lottie susceptible to the best and worst of her imagination, and the worst was in control tonight. To Lottie, Hannah remained as good as drowned, though she was right there, safe.

Finally, after everyone sat exhausted and still for nearly an hour, Hannah spoke. “Mom, did you know Sylvie can talk?”

Tess shifted Hannah in her lap and looked into her face and said, “Really, Hannah? Did Sylvie say something to you today?”

“Yes.” Hannah sat up straight and looked around the room. “Sylvie!” she called. “Where are you?”

Sylvie was right at Tess's feet. She gave a low, canine groan, then stretched and stood and rested her chin on Tess's lap, next to Hannah.

“
There
you are, Sylvie,” breathed Hannah, lying back against her mother's chest. “I was telling Mom that you can talk.”

“What did Sylvie say, Hannah?” Tess looked down into her daughter's upturned face.

“She said,
Don't be afraid.
That's all. She said that when I was in the water. I was really cold. And I was heavy. But I
wasn't
afraid, because Sylvie was there.” She closed her eyes. “I really love Sylvie, Mom.”

“I know, Hannah. We all really love Sylvie.” Tess stroked the dog's ears, trying not to cry. David pulled her head toward him and kissed her hair.

A
T TEN
D
AVID AND
Tess rose to take the sleeping Hannah upstairs to bed. Tess went to Charles and gazed up into his eyes as he stood to embrace her. “I can't find the words,” she said to him. “I am grateful beyond words.” She rested her head on his chest a moment, then turned to Sarah and put her arms around her. “I hope you'll sleep, Sarah. All's well.” She glanced over Sarah's shoulder at Lottie, who looked down at her hands.

Sylvie followed wherever Hannah went, and Hannah, who woke on the way upstairs, groggily insisted that Sylvie sleep with them all in the same big bed. Tess turned and looked ruefully at Sarah. “All right, sweetheart,” said Sarah. “Sylvie can stay with you.” Inwardly, a different Sarah shuddered at the thought of mud residue on her good linens, but that was the Sarah who had thought all Thanksgivings were the same.

A
T FIVE
, S
ARAH ROSE
in the dark. Charles was still sleeping heavily, so she moved quietly about their room, pulling on sweatpants and a heavy sweater against the predawn chill. She winced when she dropped a shoe, but Charles never stirred. He must have taken something.

Sarah went into the hall. As she headed toward the stairs, Tess emerged from another bedroom, wrapped in a faded pink robe, trying to close the door soundlessly behind her. She started when she saw Sarah, then smiled and caught up with her.

“You too?” she whispered. “I thought I was the only one awake.”

“Didn't you sleep at all?” Sarah whispered back.

“Like a rock at first. But David kept thrashing, and Hannah would have slept inside my skin if she could. Then there was Sylvie,” she added. “Four bodies in one bed.”

Sarah made a face. “Now there's a picture. Would you like something to help you sleep now?” she offered.

Tess shook her head. “No, thanks. Hannah will wake up early. I need to be here.”

“Then let's go brew some coffee,” Sarah yawned. “I'll stoke up the fire.”

They moved silently down the stairs, where Ruckus greeted them by wagging his whole body and whimpering with relief.

“Poor baby,” sighed Sarah. “You miss Sylvie, don't you, boy.” The two dogs normally slept together in a corner of Sarah's office on an old green cushion from a long-ago glider.

Sarah raked the coals in the furnace and threw on several chunks of wood that soon caught fire. She poured water into the top of the coffeemaker but found no filters. She went into the pantry for a fresh package, and there she saw the pies she'd made less than twenty-four hours earlier, one apple and two pumpkin, all untouched.

Tess came up behind her and said, “Ooooh, look at those. You know, the holidays aren't official without leftover pie for breakfast. May I?”

“Of course. I'll join you.”

“Which would you like?”

“A slice of each,” Sarah declared. “How about you?”

“Same.” Tess took plates and mugs down from a cupboard. “Where are the forks again?”

An hour or so later, Lottie came sleepily out of Sarah's office, dragging her feet in an old pair of her grandmother's sheepskin slippers. She wore borrowed flannel pajamas and a cabled woolen throw around her shoulders. Her mass of ash-brown hair was tangled as a brush pile. Tom and Charlotte had wanted her to go home with them, but she had said she was too tired. Sarah thought it more likely that Lottie, like Sylvie, couldn't bear to be far from Hannah.