Mallory took another sip of her drink to cover up the fact that she had no idea what else to say. She had grown unaccustomed to speaking to strangers at all, let alone weeping on their shoulders and confiding in them moments after first meeting. The musty liquid had not improved in flavor, but at least it provided her with something to do.
Kylie edged her way to the front of her seat eagerly as she spoke. “You know, grief gives us a window into the otherness. It’s a devastating moment which forces us into a liminal period. By being so close to someone on the other side, you become suspended between death and life. In stasis.”
Mallory found herself nodding, and Kylie bowed her head briefly before continuing.
“I’m glad you have finally arrived. McNamara is a powerful place. It’s no wonder that you were brought here at this time. You are here to heal.”
“I suppose,” Mallory said, feeling uncomfortable. The sergeant had said something similar about the power of the lake, though she doubted he would echo Kylie’s convictions about grieving. The idea that every citizen of McNamara held their town in such high regard was deeply easeful. If the residents were happy here, it was a good sign she had made the right decision. She wanted to love it the same way as they did. She tried another sip. This time, she couldn’t hide her wince. “Do you have any sugar?”
“Goddess no.” Kylie pinched her face in mock disgust. “We use raw honey. Straight from my bees out back.”
Kylie beamed as she walked back to the counter and grabbed a brown clay pot with a wooden spoon leaning out. Her hair bounced as she moved. When she returned, she blew a curl out of her eyes. Mallory lifted the spoon and let the thick golden liquid pour off the edge into her cup. She took another small sip and found the concoction marginally improved.
“I can’t imagine how traumatic it must have been to have Joel show up on your doorstep like that. What a way to see the town, your new home! After all you’ve been through,” Kylie tutted.
“Joel?”
Kylie smiled. “Sorry, I mean Sergeant Benson. I suppose you met him in a more professional capacity, but I never think about him like that.”
So Kylie had already heard about the drowning. Was there a group chat for the whole town?
“You know him?”
Kylie cocked her head. “Of course I do. He’s my brother.”
“Your brother is the sergeant?”
Kylie nodded solemnly, as if Mallory had noted something significant, then she smiled again. Mallory’s face must have registered her confusion as she tried to work out the difference in their last names. Was Shine Kylie’s married name?
“Don’t worry about keeping it all straight. McNamara isn’t like a big city. You’ll get to know everyone soon enough. In the meantime, however, we need to stock your cupboards. I can’t imagine you were able to bring much of anything in one carload from Vancouver.”
“That would be great.”
Mallory was grateful for the chance to leave her half-finished tea on the table without having to end her conversation with the intriguing woman. Despite Kylie’s enthusiasm, she had experienced nothing to suggest that her body would ever seek out the drink again. She wished she were comfortable enough to ask more questions about the sergeant, but it was difficult to trust that she was presenting herself well these days. Her ability to focus blazed and sputtered like a candle in a drafty room. Besides, Kylie was right. McNamara was home to fewer than four hundred people. Nothing about them could stay a mystery for long. The best thing she could do was put the drowning and the sergeant out of her mind for now. She rose and followed the swishing of Kylie’s clothing out the small gate and back into the store.
Kylie returned to the abandoned cart and began filling it with cans of beans and handfuls of fresh vegetables as she suggested recipes and meal preparation. Occasionally, Mallory sneaked in the essentials she required, congratulating herself on remembering a kettle when they reached the scant housewares department. Pushing the sludge out of her mind to remember what she had packed and what she had left behind took so much of her energy that she was only able to half listen to Kylie’s words as the store owner acted as her personal shopper. Even more distracting was how unfamiliar the brands and products were on the shelves.
Instead of a selection of mint toothpaste, Kylie’s Korner offered a choice of anise, charcoal, and orange-ginger. Rather than coffee, Mallory had to content herself with a suspiciously lumpy bag of chicory. Mallory felt guilty at the thought, but she wondered if she would have to drive back to Turner to fill her cupboards with the conventional items. Kylie stopped mid-aisle and turned backward. Her bright-green eyes flashed like an unexpected change of a traffic light.
“You do know to be careful, right?”
Mallory silently thanked the sergeant for filling her in on part of the local history. It was nice to finally understand a McNamara reference.
“The sergeant told me about the monster.”
She spoke cautiously to avoid any suggestion of doubt. The sergeant had been clear that some people in the town were firm believers, and, judging by the snow globes, she suspected Kylie might be one of them. Kylie’s eyebrows crowded toward each other, causing two vertical lines of disbelief to appear in the center of her forehead. She sighed out in exasperation. It made Mallory feel foolish to have mentioned the legend of Loss Lake.
“No, not the monster. That’s my brother, not me. He’s been scared of monsters since I told him that a killer rat was loose in our house and then hid our guinea pig under his bed.”
“Joel?” He hadn’t seemed worried when they had spoken. In fact, it was hard to imagine the strong-jawed man being fearful of much.
“No, no. My younger brother, Henry.”
In spite of her renewed embarrassment at misunderstanding her new town, Mallory grinned and realized it was the closest she had come to laughing in days. Maybe weeks.
“That’s a relief.”
“Joel was probably just trying to warn you away from the kookier side of this town,” Kylie said with no indication that she too might be included in this category. “This lake has seen its fair share of deaths, but I don’t think it has anything to do with a monster.”
Mallory smiled encouragingly, happy to see that Kylie’s affinity for alternative foods didn’t supersede logical explanations.
“If anything, the fact that the Turner Dam was directly above us on a ley line is more compelling—”
Mallory interrupted her before their connection as healthy skeptics was eroded. “How many deaths have there been?”
Kylie shrugged. “Lots. But this is a big lake. Didn’t Betty tell you about this stuff?”
Mallory shook her head. Dread snaked through her at the idea of the bodies below the water and her worry about whether she had forgotten another important part of the conversation with her real estate agent. She couldn’t recall a single conversation about death during the woman’s high-speed chatter about which gas station in Turner had the cheapest fuel and where to buy winter tires.
“No. I’d love to hear more.”
For the first time, Kylie looked uncomfortable. “Well, the first one people talk about was Alice Halloway back in October 1974, the year the dam broke. She was in her house right below the dam. It was a farmhouse, way far from town and the only one right in the path of the water. The place was north of your house. Mine too, actually. I live on the property beside you.”