Oh, fuck, she messed up. She knows it the same way she knows the animal scratching its way out of her ribcage: she messed all of this up badly enough that she isn't sure she could fix it. She knows how to switch the subject, at least— or she thinks she does.
In reality, her thoughts of covertly and sneakily asking about town history come out a jumbled mess of, "So, do we have any dead chicks around here?"
If he had a drink in his mouth, he might consider spitting out coffee and water all over her. Instead, what she gets is, "Well, there's our Tiff. Always asking odd things. Some things never change."
Because asking how evolution would fit into a Biblical framework is definitely comparable to asking about dead girls in the place where she's from. Tiff doesn't say anything.
"How come you're asking?"
She didn't have an excuse locked and loaded. She stammers, "I— I was just wondering. I don't know. I'm sure I heard about something when I was younger and just need my memory jogged. I hear about it all the time in Lake Wonder."
"You wouldn't have heard about it here. It's not something we would talk about, if it were an issue at all."
He gives her a concerned look— and something pangs in her chest like it did all those times it did when she was a kid and he was asking her about her reasoning on some action she took that he deemed improper. "Why are you asking?"
"I, uh— I was just wondering," she lies. "It's a bit of an issue in Lake Wonder. I was—"
She almost makes the mistake of mentioning how she was on the podcast Sweet Nothings to talk about just that, and about the drowning of Despina Worth (and not of her name twin, though Tiffany Summers certainly came up). That would be a horrible move. Her grandfather for sure wouldn't listen— speaking about demons without reverence invites their participation— but he would ask her to explain, which would be just as bad.
"I was looking into it. For school. And personal reasons. There was— My friend had a friend who drowned right before I, uh— right before I moved, and Tiffany Summers wasn't the only one to go missing or die, because there was Despina Worth, and there was the tunnel massacre, and there was— There was my friend Betty and I? I would say it's very Penelope Scott, but it's not just girls."
"What do you mean by implying your involvement?"
"I didn't imply anything. I said it outright."
"Don't get smart with me."
"I wasn't— I didn't mean—" It's better not to fight him on it. "Sorry. My friends and I got lost in the woods."
Another lie. She has to stick to the official story. She has to insist that she was the one who led Drake, Betty, and Arnold deep into the woods when the town was in the middle of a toxic waste dumping scandal. Another lie. Another lie.
"See? Worldly girls only get in your head and lead you astray." There's a tug at his pole. He lets it buck for a second before he reels it in.
"Betty's far from worldly. Eliza might be closer to what you're talking about, but she, uh... She doesn't talk to me. I yelled at her about happiness. It made things... weird."
"I don't particularly like the sound of these friends you have, Tiffany May."
She doesn't say anything.
He doesn't notice. "Some people aren't ready to hear the truth."
"I don't think that was it. I think she was just angry." And what about Tiff? Isn't she? It isn't as blinding as it was in November, but it's always there. She is exactly the kind of girl her grandfather is warning her to be wary of. "Betty's swell," she stammers, like swell is a word people use in the year of our Lord 2022. "I miss her."
"Is she..." He lets the implication linger.
"No, no— she's just studying abroad. She's supposed to come back in March, but, in the meantime... In the meantime, here we are."
He seems more focused on his pole than on what he's saying. That's fine. Tiff's more focused on what she isn't saying than on the pole. She suspects the reason her line has gone taut is another log, since it isn't moving. It takes her a moment, after trying to reel it in and failing, after deciding to cut the line and start over again— it takes her a moment to realize her grandfather dodged the question entirely. If she were who she used to be— if she were more pious, if she were a better person— she might let the matter drop. She's Tiff Sheridan, though, and the one thing she knows how to do is make a Tiff move. She cuts the line and starts over again.
"So, about my question."
"Which one?"
"When was the last time some girl or young woman died or went missing-presumed-dead around here? And can you tell me anything about her?"
"How come you're asking?"
"Personal thematic interest. Will you indulge me?"
"Indulgence is a sin."
"Not so long as we don't cross the line." She gives him a grin she hopes comes off as more pious and less mischievous. "So perhaps we won't step into the realm of 'over.'"
"You're not going to drop this."
"I'm older now, Peepaw Zacharias. I'm less willing to accept 'sometime later' as an answer."
"And so nobody will escape the watchful eye of the righteous heir apparent." He sighs it like a line from a hymn or a rehearsed piece of scripture. The Lord is his Shepherd; he shall not want. The watchful eye of the righteous heir apparent. The issue is, Tiff has never heard that one before. She tucks it away for later like those pieces of Fort Reverence that she still has to reckon with.
"I suppose... There was a girl back when I was a young man, when I dyed my hair blond and wasn't the man I was today. It's been so long, though— I couldn't remember if I tried."
It's a lie. It's a lie and she knows it's a lie, in the same way she knows the edges of this pond and the woods a few feet beyond its shore. She isn't sure why. She isn't sure if she can call him out on it, no matter how much she wants to. It's all she can do not to frown.
Peepaw Zacharias nods to her hand. "What's that on your finger?"
She looks down at her hand. Shoot. On her middle finger— she has neglected to remove her white ring. It's a force of habit, given that she doesn't lose it in a couch cushion or some pocket; it's a part of her routine after brushing her teeth and before spitting mouthwash into the sink. And now she's getting asked about it, because she was an idiot and didn't leave it on the bathroom counter at home, thousands of miles away. Dammit.
It isn't like she can explain what it actually is. That would be to admit that she isn't straight— which is something she will never do here. It probably wouldn't be as bad as if she were coming out as a lesbian, but it still wouldn't be good. She doesn't want to find out what her Peepaw thinks about people like her, and she probably doesn't need to.
"It's nothing," she stammers, wishing she had taken it off. "It's just a ring."
"A ring, huh?"
"Yeah, just a ring with no particular meaning." She winces.
He nods as if he understands. He doesn't. "I am always prepared to welcome a good Christian man to the family. Has he thought about converting to God's one true church?"
Shit. How the hell does he think she's engaged? The ring isn't even on the right finger for that. It's white metal. How the hell could he mistake it for—
"No, I'm— I'm not—"
Peepaw Zacharias winks. "Think of me as your peepaw, not your bishop. I won't tell anyone."
He already thinks she's engaged and he has that in his head. He'll just think she's lying if she tries to convince him otherwise, and that will definitely sour things (it'll ruin the moment of peace they have going, and she doesn't want to do that), so why shouldn't she? There isn't much of a choice here.
Her brain freezes and the lie tumbles out before she can stop it. "He's— He's pretty content with his faith."
"We'll get him yet," Peepaw jokes. (It isn't a joke and they both know it.) "He'll see. What's the lucky young man's name?"
"Uh—" Still in panic mode, she wracks her brain for a name that isn't her own. "Mikey."
"Ah, another Michael to enter the fold. Does he make a living with his hands in the way the Lord intended?"
"Yes, sir. Mikey's a— a mechanic. With h-his own garage."
There's a chuckle from behind her. Drew is back now. Like Tiff, he knows full well that she has just accidentally made a Christian version of Mikey Sullivan— who is the girlfriend of Kay Clark, Tiff's coworker at the morgue. She has messed this up so badly.
Peepaw pats her on the shoulder on his way up from the ground, only slightly using her as a way to push himself up as his knees creak over the dock doing the same. "I can't wait to meet him." Standing, he turns to Drew. "Did you find the outhouse okay, Andrew?"
"Sure did. Thanks for telling me where it was."
"Well, I'm about to go find it, myself." He cracks a grin, pats Drew on the shoulder, mutters something about how glad he is to have him in the family, and walks off down the path, leaving the two of them alone.
Drew sort of looms over her. "Hey, Tiff? What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm fishing?"
"You know what I'm talking about. Don't act coy."
"I— I don't know! I panicked!"
"Don't panic and pretend you're engaged to your coworker's girlfriend when we all know you're never going to be engaged to someone by choice—"
"Peepaw doesn't know that! He got this idea in his head, and I can't contradict him, and he can't know I don't want to ever get married! He's the one who assumed and who pushed me into saying that, yeah, sure, I'm engaged, because he isn't going to believe me if I say anything to the contrary. Now that I panic-lied about it, he can't know it isn't the truth or he's going to—" She cuts herself off before she can say he might do something they'll all regret later, in the way he used to. Nobody needs to know that. "It won't be good."
"He's going to what, Tiff?" It isn't much of a question. It's more of a threat against someone who isn't even here.
"Don't worry about it."
Disgust crosses Drew's face, twisting it like dough. He takes an angry seat about a foot away from her on the dock.
Guilt pangs in her chest. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean to ruin this for you, I'm sorry—"
"This wasn't you." His voice is quiet, but firm. "This wasn't you. This was a man I barely know hurting my little s— cousin. In whatever way he used to."
Tiff doesn't say anything. She just watches her feet over the water below, just watches her line on the idyllic water, just watches for ripples.
He sighs and looks up to the trees over their heads, at branches waving in a humid breeze. "I thought all of this would go differently. I guess I thought it was the— natural and warranted— over-exaggeration of what you and Mom have been through. I thought maybe they were decent people outside of that. I was talking to Aunt Ruth yesterday. She asked me to help out with a boys' youth group activity with her, and she just... Tiff, I shouldn't say this, but your mom sucks so badly. Those kids... Half of them were plum-pleased to be there and playing 'Bible dodgeball,' but the rest of them looked absolutely miserable. It was like they hated being where they were and were trying to hide it."
She keeps her eyes on the line in front of her. A leaf bobs on the surface, ringed by ripples. There's a bug off in the distance, taking advantage of surface tension's few gifts. "I used to be plum-pleased."
"I think you used to be miserable, Tiffy."
"No, I— I was happy," she insists, and she knows it's the truth. "Things were horrible and people hated me for no reason, but... I was happy. All of it had a purpose. It made it easier to bear."
"It shouldn't have been a cross."
"What else could it have been?"
Sighing, Drew reaches across the dock, grabs his sweating water bottle, and takes a swig. There's a look on his face like he genuinely wishes it were something stronger. "I think we should leave soon."
"We don't have to."
"I would prefer to."
Tiff doesn't know what to say to that, so she doesn't say anything. She just kind of moves her rod (a bad idea, given that she's in the middle of fishing). Near panicking, she stammers, "We're going to need an excuse, for when he comes back."
"For what? Tiff, we're adults. We can just leave."
"I guess so, but he's going to have questions, and—"
"You're worrying about this way too much. Listen— We'll wrap up here, take Peepaw back to his house, and go out."
"It's his truck—"
"Right, and we have Mom's car, remember? It's how we got here. We can just go if we want to."
Footsteps sound behind them up the path; a twig breaks under a shoe.
She only jumps in her voice. Words come out of her mouth before she has the opportunity to really think about them. "And that's why I carry a second Bible to the university! Just in case!"
Perfect. It's a flawless cover. She's so fucking smooth.
Disappointed (she timed it well), Peepaw Zacharias sighs. "You're going to the university, Tiffany May?"
"Didn't Meemaw Hilda tell you? It's— it's just for now!" she titters nervously, barely looking at him over her shoulder. "I need something to do, right? To— To occupy my time."
Drew looks like he wants to say something— maybe that she has plenty to do without it— but doesn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he just says, "Hey, Peepaw, we've got to head out. Mom has something to show us, and she says it'll take a while."
He frowns, but nods. "Alright. Will you two be coming by for dinner?"
"Probably not— I'm sorry. I would stick around if I could, but we've got to go look at that thing, and Mom needs the car afterward..."
Peepaw Zacharias holds up a hand. "I understand, Andrew. If the two of you really have to go, then I'll see you soon."
"Of course." Drew smiles sweetly, playing his part perfectly. A long-lost son returning home— who wouldn't expect him to be dedicated to his family? To be kind and loyal to a fault?
Please. Peepaw Zacharias doesn't know how much hair Drew leaves in the drain or how he's always watching The Big Bang Theory on DVD in the living room and calls Tiff "Sheldon" when he feels like being a little shit.
But, then— Peepaw Zacharias also wasn't there when Drew came home for winter break after she moved to town and he volunteered to sleep on the couch instead of in his room. He wasn't there when Drew unearthed those old chemistry and microscopy sets, salvaged what was worth saving, and handed them to her. He doesn't know Drew. Not in the way Tiff has learned to.
And so he is none the wiser when Drew bold-faced lies to him and gestures for Tiff to follow him to the car.