Gravity: A Novel (3 page)

I looked back at the road, but it was too late.
I pumped my foot against the brake pedal in a panic, felt my foot slip from the grip, and heard myself scream in the small confines of the car’s interior. The car slammed against something, forcing its forward velocity to falter. My head connected with the windshield, hard, as pain ricocheted through my skull. And, for just a moment, my world swirled around me—a slow blur of color—until there was nothing but darkness.

Five

I awoke later, my forehead resting on the steering wheel.
Completely disoriented for several seconds, I soon recalled the deer darting out in front of the car. My head was throbbing. I reached up to touch my brow, the source of wetness trickling into my eye. As I pulled my hand away, I discovered thick red blood. Grabbing the folded napkins—which had come with my vanilla latte that morning—from the passenger’s seat, I pressed them against my forehead to stop the bleeding. I stumbled out of the driver’s door and stood on the shoulder of the highway, staring at the large buck now lying motionless in a pool of blood in the middle of the road.

After a quick inspection of the car, I knew that it was drivable but looked pretty beat-up in the morning sun.
The deer had left its mark on the front bumper and also the hood, plus the windshield was cracked. I reached inside the car for my phone that was on the floor under my seat. I felt the need to call someone about the deer but wasn’t sure who that someone might be. I was, roughly, fifteen miles from the cabin. As I stared at the screen of my phone, debating what I should do next, I noticed Ryan’s text—the reason for this whole mess.
You can’t ignore me forever, Gemma. I am so sorry. We need to talk. Please come home or call me. I love you and I’m worried about you. I need to see you. Please just hear me out, let me explain
. Tears stung my eyes, but I wiped them away quickly.

Settling back into the driver’s seat, I fastened my seat
belt securely and slowly pulled the car back onto the desolate highway, as I silently scolded myself for my stupidity. I was suddenly aware of my pounding heart and my trembling hands as I gripped the steering wheel tightly. Clearly I was more shaken from the accident than I had thought.

I took in my surroundings as I neared the Kalispell Bay turnoff, slowing my speed as I veered
to the right, exiting the main highway. Dense forest bordered the road on both sides. I could just barely make out the trailhead that led to the marina by a slight break in the trees. A trail that I had explored countless times as a child. I slowed my fancy sedan and made a right turn onto the narrow dirt road, cursing each pothole which the car sunk into with a loud
thunk
. I was here.

I parked the car on the front lawn, now overgrown with weeds
, and killed the engine. As I stepped out of the car, I inhaled deeply, taking in the overwhelming scent of pine that Seattle could not match. There was a chill in the air even with the sun shining brightly above me, a telltale sign that it was only May and not quite summer yet. The single-level cabin that I remembered so well seemed smaller somehow and desperately in need of a fresh coat of paint. The winters were harsh here, and the wood siding, once the color of red cedar, now looked faded, more like the silvery driftwood that littered the beach. The familiar navy blue curtains were drawn, obscuring the view of the inside through the large single-pane windows.

I found the cabin key on
my key ring where I had placed it just days before and made my way up the three short steps to the porch, which extended the entire length of the cabin’s face. I ran my hand along the wooden railing that framed the porch, my fingers scraping the chipped white paint. The wooden porch swing that my grandfather had built with his own two hands still hung from thick chains on the far side of the porch, where I could sit and view the lake.

The key turned in the lock
, and the door swung open slowly. The cabin smelled musty from years of sitting empty. I could smell mothballs and pine, the signature scent of this old cabin, bringing fresh memories of my grandmother to mind. I took in the small open kitchen, the creamy white cabinets, the red Formica countertops. Continuing on, my gaze trailed across the large round dining table that sat in the middle of the main room, acting as a barrier between the kitchen and the living area.

I scanned
the beautiful knotty pine walls surrounding the entire room until my survey landed on the large river-rock fireplace. As the main focus of the room, it gave the cabin a rustic feel. I took a deep breath, suddenly overwhelmed by the rush of emotions that assaulted me while I remembered the countless moments of my life spent within these walls. So many memories of a simpler time, a simpler life. I longed for those days now, a time before my life became so complicated.

I made my way into the
one and only bathroom, just off the main room, to inspect the cut on my forehead. Rummaging through the cabinets, I found a large Band-Aid and secured it over the slightly oozing flesh.

I studied my reflection in the dust-covered mirror.
I could almost see the girl who I used to be in the same warm caramel-colored eyes that stared back at me. Long blond hair fell around my heart-shaped face in loose waves; full lips framed my perfect white teeth—thanks to the braces that I wore for two years starting in junior high. I once saw myself how others described me. Pretty, beautiful, stunning even. Although now all I could see was the hollowness of my cheeks, the lines that revealed my thirty-six years, the emptiness in my eyes—vacant yet filled with longing. I turned away, unable to face myself any longer.

I walked throughout the cabin and pulled the dusty white sheets from each piece of furniture
—two rounded upholstered chairs; the cream-colored sofa donning navy-and-red-striped throw pillows, completing the nautical theme that my mother had redecorated with years ago; the worn leather bench that rested in front of the fireplace—everything remained just as I had remembered. Rolling the sheets into a contained pile, I set them in the corner and ran my hand along the smooth surface of the river rocks that comprised the fireplace. It was as if time stood still here, while our lives flew by at record speed all around it. This place needed more work than I realized; everything was so outdated. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t change a thing, but that would defeat my purpose for being here.

Now that both of my grandparents were gone, my
mother was finally ready to let go of the cabin. But I sensed it was really because my estranged father had passed recently. She knew that no one came up here anymore. At my mother’s suggestion, I had agreed to spend the summer here to update the cabin and prepare it for the competitive lake real estate market. I couldn’t deny the real reason I had decided to come. The need to get away, to take a moment to catch my breath. My conscience was reminding me that I was running away from my life, but I buried my inner voice deep inside and continued from room to room, opening windows and removing sheets from the bedroom furniture, my mother’s words echoing in my mind.
It’ll be good for you. A little peace and quiet never hurt anyone
, and
I need someone to do this for me. It would be too hard to do myself, too hard to change anything
. In reality it hadn’t taken much to convince me.

I unloaded the trunk of the car, carrying in two large suitcases and a box of cleaning supplies that I had brought from home.
I opted to stay in my parents’ room; yet it felt strange to consider using their bedroom. It had been the one room in the cabin that was off-limits when I was a child. But it was the largest of the three bedrooms, offering more comfort with a queen-size bed. I stripped the bedding from the old bed, adorned with a beautiful hand-carved beechwood headboard, and remade it with the clean sheets and a heavy down comforter that I had brought with me.

Working up a slight sweat,
I wrapped my long hair into a tight bun—a style that I had perfected with years of having to appear professional in court—and began to clean the kitchen, wiping away the dust and cleaning the inside of the cabinets. I welcomed the distraction, something to keep my hands busy and my mind clear as the minutes ticked by unnoticed.

***

Finally satisfied, knowing the kitchen was squeaky clean, I rewarded myself with a stroll down to the lake. I walked out onto the long dock that jetted out farther than any other in the bay and sat on the end, letting my bare feet dangle into the glacier-filled lake. The cold took my breath away for a moment until my feet slowly adjusted to the frigid temperature. I had forgotten just how cold the water could be, although, as a child, it had never prevented me from jumping right in. I closed my eyes and focused on the quiet that surrounded me, a low hum from a distant ski boat the only sound in the air. The bright sun warmed my cheeks and the familiar smell of evergreens filled my nostrils as I breathed in the clean, fresh air.

A
s I pictured myself at a young age, standing on a piling of this very dock preparing to jump into the cold dark water several feet below from where I was perched, I could almost hear children’s laughter. Along with my father’s playful voice encouraging me.
Come on, Gemma. Just jump. You can do it!

My younger brother, Jacob, and my best friend, Drew, waiting for their turn.
Come on, Gem. Jump already
, Drew would call out, his patience wearing thin. I was so scared to jump off that piling but wanted desperately to be brave like the boys. I could remember the way I had closed my eyes tight, the way my heart had pounded in my chest, as I stepped away feeling nothing but air beneath my feet. The cold water would instantly assault me, causing my heart to beat harder and faster, while I held my breath and fought for the surface. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.

Memories of Drew drifted through my mind.
We were best friends before we could even talk and had grown up spending our summers at the lake as if we were joined at the hip. His family’s cabin was on the shore, just two docks to the north from where I sat. He came from money, the Monroe Enterprises’ kind of money. His grandfather had started the company decades ago, bringing on Drew’s father after he had graduated college. Mr. Monroe had plans for Andrew and his older brother, William, to follow in his footsteps.

Drew had dreams of being an artist the last time I
had seen him, showing absolutely no interest in working with his father. Mr. Monroe hadn’t been thrilled with this idea. Drew’s mother had died of a brain tumor when he was six, and his father had never remarried that I knew of. My mother had been close with Drew’s mom, Katherine, before she became sick. It was hard on everyone, and I think that my parents always held a special place in their hearts for Andrew and William.

Mr. Monroe had
sent Drew to a boarding school in Connecticut during the school year, once he was the ripe old age of ten. Luckily their father had honored Katherine’s wishes to return to the lake each summer, her favorite little slice of heaven dating back to her own childhood. The lake had become Drew’s oasis, the only home he knew from that point on. My family became Drew’s family from Memorial Day through Labor Day each year, and it had become harder and harder to say good-bye as the years passed.

I turned my palm up in my lap and traced the small tattoo on the inside of my right wrist with my thumb.
The permanent reminder of the girl who I used to be and of the best friend that I used to have. It was the infinity symbol designed by Andrew himself to mark the promise that we had made to each other before either of us knew how easily promises could be broken. I remembered the day we first made that promise like it was yesterday. We had both just turned seven. Our birthdays were in early July, just two days apart. I had found Drew by the creek behind my cabin, quietly crying into his hands. I had sat down next to him and wrapped my arms around my bended knees, contemplating what I should say. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he finally spoke to me.

“You probably think that I’m a big baby, huh?” he
had asked.

“I don’t think that at all,” I
had said matter-of-factly.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course, Drew. That’s what best friends are for.”

“Best friends?”

“Yep, best friends to infinity.”

“What does infinity mean?” he
had asked.

“It means forever and ever.”

“Best friends to infinity,” he had repeated, holding out his hand to me.

“Best friends to infinity,” I
had reassured him, shaking his hand to seal the deal.

When he let go of my hand, he
had looked out at the creek before telling me how much he missed his mommy. I didn’t know how to make him feel better. I couldn’t bring his mommy back. I was only seven after all. I did the next best thing; I handed him my prized pail full of my favorite rocks and let him throw them, one by one, as far as he could into the water rushing by at our feet. When I saw the smile return to his face, I had known, even then, that we could get through anything together.

I turned to take in the largest cabin along the shore, a
two-story monstrosity displaying a wall of windows facing the lake, large decks protruding from both levels holding expensive outdoor furniture for lounging and dining. Yep, that was Monroe Manor, still standing in all its glamour and glory. I wasn’t sure who owned it now, but it looked like someone was occupying it already for the summer.