Free The End of Always: A Novel by Randi Davenport

appeared again, they would be dressed like brides, long white veils streaming behind them as they made their way back into the trees.
    My mother said it was very dangerous for a man to watch the beautiful woman. If he saw her, he would be drawn to touch the water where she bathed. If he touched the water where she bathed, he would lose all of his power. If he lost all of his power, the lake would swallow him whole. If the lake swallowed him whole, he would never be heard of again. These were known facts on Rügen. Everyone discussed these things openly.
    Still, a long time ago, several men decided the warnings were silly. These men had grown up on Rügen and should have known better, but they felt they were modern and therefore entertained modern ideas. They believed they could hold these particularities in contempt. So they brought a boat to the lake and left it to float overnight. When they returned in the morning, it was gone. After a long search, they found it tied in the top of a beech tree on the far shore. They knew it was the woman in white who had taken it. And soon after that, one of the men went missing. But only one. The others went back to town and did what men always do. But you never caught them near that lake again.
    When my mother told us this story, she told it in such an intense way it seemed that she had delivered a secret message, something that she wanted us to be sure to remember. But my sisters and I paid little attention. We asked about the dress the beautiful woman wore before she went into the lake. We wondered if her hair was white or golden. Hattie wanted to know if her feet were finned like a fish. And my mother smiled and petted our hair and told us not worry about such simple things. Her voice sounded sugary but I knew she was irritated by our questions.
    I don’t think it would have been possible for us to understand. The lakes of Wisconsin were deep but nothing emerged from them, certainly not magic, and certainly not women who trailed light behind. Our lakes had rocky bottoms, and if you swam to the limit you would find nothing but a barrel or a wagon wheel or some other piece of trash. No men went fishing and disappeared, except for the men who got drunk and fell out of boats. There was no accounting for such behavior, but I suppose they had better drown and hurt only themselves rather than bring their drunkenness back to their wives and sweethearts.
      
    In the morning, I woke early. Snow had fallen overnight and it was too cold to sleep. My quilt had dropped to the floor and I lay bunched and shivering under an icy sheet. I could see my breath in the bedroom air. My father never did have a free hand with the stove wood and I used to dress under the covers on winter mornings. This day was no different and I saw no point in remaining in a cold house. I put a piece of bread in my pocket and set out for work, where at least it would be warm.
    By the time I reached the mill bridge, the horizon radiated pink. To the north, the farmland grew faintly white in the rising light and the river slid away like a great ashen whale. It seemed the world in all of its cold emptiness belonged only to me. This feeling brought me no gladness.
    Just as I came up to James Pulliam’s house, the leading rim of the sun appeared behind the trees and the snow turned blue. Edwin stood in the front yard, his breath curling around his head. He should have had a coat but he was outside in his shirtsleeves. He tossed something to a squirrel waiting on its haunches under a tree, but when I came up, the squirrel cocked its head and stiffened. Edwin looked back over his shoulder and saw me and then came across the yard in swift, pushing strides. I stopped and waited with the fence between us.
    His lips moved and he turned to gesture at the air beside him. “Where are you going?” he said. His voice was low and clear. His forearms were bare and his hands were raw and red in the cold. He leaned toward me and flicked his