Wild Swans - Jessica Spotswood Page 0,76

only twelve when it happened. Did she feel the same pressure I do, that Erica does, to live up to her famous mother? Did Granddad contribute to that? By all accounts he was a devoted husband, devastated by her suicide. But he made his career studying her mother’s work. That had to be weird sometimes.

What would have happened if Grandmother had made a different choice? If she, like Erica, had run away from Cecil and Granddad instead of walking into the Bay?

These are big, unanswerable questions. But I stand in the middle of the room, staring at the dark clouds and trying to answer them anyhow.

Then Erica screams.

It’s not a playful shriek or a frustrated shout. This is a terrifying, bone-chilling sound that makes goose bumps rise on my arms.

I dart to the french doors, looking for the source.

“Grace!” Erica screams. She’s standing at the edge of the shore.

There is splashing from out in the water. My sister—my little, strawberry-bubble-gum-chewing, blond-braided sister—is flailing. Choking. Sinking.

I run, kicking off my polka-dot flats.

Her little hand waves in the air. Her head sinks below the water and then pops back up as she kicks and coughs and sputters. She’s not a quitter, not the kind to let herself sink. Thank God. My feet thud down the dock, and then I’m in the water with her, cutting through it till I reach her. I snatch Gracie and kick furiously to keep us afloat. She’s panicking, making it harder for me to keep hold of her.

“You’re okay. Shhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” I tell her, and she calms enough that I can paddle the few feet back to the dock. Erica leans over and I lift Gracie up to her.

Erica’s sobbing, her mascara painting wet, black trails over her cheeks. She drops to her knees, cradling Grace in her arms. “You’re okay, baby,” she says over and over again. Grace is crying too, and she coughs and throws up water while her mama rubs circles on her back. I haul myself out of the water and kneel next to them.

“Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” I ask. Gracie shakes it no.

I reach out and scoop up a sodden soccer ball, which Grace must have been chasing, and heave it back toward the shore.

Erica looks at me. “Thank you. I couldn’t… I—” She starts sobbing again, holding Grace so tightly that she squirms in protest.

“I’m okay, Mama,” she says. “Ivy saved me.”

Isobel comes running down through the yard. “Oh my God. What happened? I was up in my room and I heard you scream and—” She takes in Gracie’s wet dress, the water dripping from her braids. “Is she okay?”

I nod. “She’s fine.”

The air is still sultry but Gracie’s teeth chatter. “We should get her inside and into dry clothes,” Iz suggests. The four of us move together back toward the house, Erica carrying Grace with Iz and me on either side. I pause to grab two towels drying over the porch bannister.

In the kitchen, Erica sets Grace down and Isobel wraps her in one of the towels. Gracie clings to her big sister. “Let’s go start a bubble bath,” Iz says. “I think Luisa got you strawberry bubbles.”

Grace gives her a teary smile. “Will you stay and read me Fancy Nancy?”

Iz nods. “Of course.”

“I’m going to make you some hot chocolate, okay?” Erica says. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

Iz takes Gracie’s hand and leads her upstairs. I wrap the other towel around myself, dripping onto Luisa’s clean kitchen floor. Erica pours milk into a big mug and puts it in the microwave, then reaches for what I assume will be the hot cocoa mix.

Instead she pulls out a bottle of vodka.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Making myself a drink.” Erica doesn’t meet my eyes, just pours a shot of vodka. Her hand shakes, knocking the bottle against the glass with a sharp clink. “You should probably get into some dry clothes too.”

I look at the recycling bin, at the empty wine bottle on top. I pick it up and brandish it at Erica. “Is this why you couldn’t save Grace yourself? Because you were already drunk?”

Erica puts her hands on her hips. “I have been drinking, but I’m not drunk.”

“Right. Nice distinction. She could have drowned!”

“Don’t you think I know that? I froze. I haven’t been in that water since the day my mother walked in and never came back out,” Erica says. “I couldn’t do anything to save Mama, and