Capítulo 11: Strawberry Season (June) Part 3
"...hurts her ... suffer for it," drifted over the back of the booth seat.
"I seriously doubt ... her life ... ruin it."'
"...Hal."
"You're kidding! ... never forget that afternoon! ... she ... drowned .... and Fabian ... I was scared to death ... She ... so much blood ... Fabian ... stronger than we thought."
"We thought for a while he might ... thankfully."
Then the song on the jukebox ended.
"He really doesn't remember what he did?" Lisa's father asked.
"No," Larry said, shaking his head. "He's been having dreams about the gazebo and the lake, but he doesn't know what it means. He needs to remember for himself. He will -- don't mention it and give it time."
"Hey, while we're on the topic of drowning. Please warn your people to stay well clear of the mill races? I know they look like fun, but it really is dangerous. We lost our police chief this past April -- he drowned trying to rescue someone who should have known better and thought it would be fun to ride the races on a raft. You have a lot of college kids among the carnies -- please make sure they play it safe."
The two older men moved off, and Franco smiled. That was interesting. He started to think about the possibilities as he finished his piece of strawberry pie.
Being nice can be a very good way to get yourself in trouble.
"Hi, Franco." Lisa sat down on the bench across a picnic table full of carnival food, which Franco was playing with instead of eating. "What's wrong?" She asked him. "You look upset."
"Hi, Lisa. Oh, I'm just feeling sorry for myself. It will pass."
"What brought that on?"
"My brother. He ... hurts people. It just makes me sad."
"What? Fabian?"
"Please, Lisa. Don't be like all those silly girls in other towns -- and even in this one. Don't let him take advantage of you." Franco reached across the table with a speed that startled her and grabbed her hand. She tried to tactfully pull free, or at least try to avoid having her arm dragged through his french fries.
"He's not going to take advantage of me," she said, giving her hand an experimental tug that made him tighten his grip. It was like having a very sticky python around her wrist.
"He always gets his way. He just takes whatever's offered and has ways of making them offer. Even someone else's wife isn't off-limits to Fabian."
"What are you talking about?" she demanded crossly, still trying to extricate her hand from his grip. He was squeezing her wrist so tightly that her hand was starting to throb.
"I heard about it earlier," Franco told her. "He's having an affair with someone else's wife."
"Who?"
"Oh, someone from the carnival. The woman who runs the shooting gallery. Apparently they've been together for years. All those girls he meets and flirts with. Then he goes back to his ... mistress. He likes the attention from the pretty girls, but prefers easy for the rest, I suppose." He pulled on her hand. He was surprisingly strong and pulled her halfway across the table. She was perilously close to wearing his funnel cake as a brooch. He leaned towards her. "Don't waste your time with him. He's going to hurt you. He's probably in bed with her right now laughing at you. I can walk you home every night. Let me take you out. I would treat you like a queen. You would be the center of my whole world ...."
"Franco. Franco, hold it." Lisa did the only thing she could think of and used her other hand to knock his large soft drink into his lap. It worked; he squealed and left go of her hand. Lisa stood and moved out of reach. A shocked numbness filled her entire body. "I'm not looking for anything like that, Franco," she told him. "I'm sorry. And don't worry about your brother hurting me; I'm not looking for anything like that from him, either."
I just don't trust those brothers. The fat one looks sneaky and the strong man just strikes me as being a little too smooth. -- overheard at the diner
"Fab, can I talk to you?"
"Sure, Franc. What's up?" Fabian put down the kettle bells he was arranging and sat on a trunk. Franco sat on another one and it creaked alarmingly.
"What happened when you were here before?" Franco asked in a hushed voice, leaning toward his brother.
"When I was a kid? I don't remember. Why?" Fabian began to feel uneasy.
"I heard Dad and the Mayor talking. Someone drowned and they were saying you had something to do with it."
"What?"
"The mayor was asking if you remembered what you did. Dad said you didn't but that you dreamed about the gazebo and the lake."
Fabian felt lightheaded and was glad he was sitting down. The rocking of canoes, oars splashing, children laughing. The gazebo looming closer and closer. Shouted warnings. A feeling of cloth on his hands. A large splash. Bubbles; a cloud of red blood and brown hair beneath the surface of the lake.
Franco felt intense satisfaction with his brother's pale face. He stood.
"I hope Lisa doesn't remember it," he said over his shoulder to Fabian as he walked away smiling to himself.
Doesn't she usually work the breakfast and lunch shift?
Tears filled her eyes. She had actually believed someone like Fabian could like her; maybe even fall in love with her. She felt so stupid. So gullible. Of course he was only buttering her up to see what he could get. He probably thought she was so desperate for a date that she'd do anything -- she knew that her romantic life or lack thereof was a subject of gossip everywhere and he'd certainly heard it by now. Poor lonely Lisa. She could see clearly, in her mind's eye, Fabian with that floozy from the shooting gallery. Laughing at her. She covered her face and sobbed as though her heart had broken, which it had.
When she'd cried herself out and managed to calm down, she picked up her telephone.
"Anne? Hi, this is Lisa. Would you mind terribly if I changed my shift?"
"Actually, dear, that would do me a favor. Could you please take lunch and dinner for the next week?"
"Exactly what I had in mind. Thank you, Anne."
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