The Broken Lake (8 page)

Which it didn’t. Danny had given Dawn and me details. The police said there had been a few reported break-ins in her neighborhood in the past few months. That was why Ms. Mary had installed the alarm system that alerted the police to the intruder. It was an unfortunate situation, and Ms. Mary would probably still be alive if she hadn’t been downstairs when the intruder broke in.

I had heard all the “if onlys,” so I knew them well. If only Ms. Mary had been upstairs when the alarm sounded, she could’ve locked herself in her room until the police arrived, and maybe the intruder would’ve taken what he wanted and fled without ever knowing she was there. If only it had been five or ten minutes later, Ms. Mary would have already left for work. But since she was downstairs, in the house, the police believed that the intruder panicked and strangled her. It was simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My mom took a deep breath and a sip of her coffee. “It just makes me nervous. It’s been one thing after another. I don’t like it.”

“Me either, but I like it here. I don’t want to move.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I think we need to be more careful, pay attention to what we do. I’m seeing how crazy this world really is.” She took a few more sips of her coffee and then her eyes went wide. “You know, I might get us an alarm too. I’d feel safer.”

I finished my last bite of cereal, put my bowl in the sink, and quickly came up with an alternative. “Maybe. Or we could get a dog.”

She pondered a minute. “A dog? That might not be a bad idea.”

I knew she would probably forget about a dog or an alarm in a few days. This was just her typical whim. At least I hoped. An alarm would put a kink in Wes’ late-night visits. I wasn’t sure how I’d get around that. If she kept pressing the issue, I’d push for a dog for sure.

The following Monday was Ms. Mary’s funeral. It was a small service at a little white church on a hillside overlooking the bay. At 9:00 a.m, I arrived with my mom and Tom, and Wes met us there. The high temperature was expected to be in the mid- to upper-60s, but the morning air felt even cooler. It was chilly enough for Wes that he wore a long black coat over his suit.

Although the atmosphere was somber, I couldn’t help but smile at his handsome appearance. His coat was far enough open to reveal a black suit jacket and pale blue dress shirt, with no tie, peeking out at the center. His hair was back to normal, without the part, and slightly curled at the tips.

“We match,” he noted, as I approached.

I looked down and saw he was right. I had chosen a fitted navy blue quarter-sleeve dress that fell to my calves. The dress had a wide ribbon around the waistline that was the same pale blue as his shirt. Oddly, we looked like we were going to a homecoming dance. I smiled softly, getting that we-belong-together feeling, and reached up to give him a kiss.

We filed into the church and sat near the back. I elected not to go up to the front and look into the open casket. I had no desire whatsoever to see Ms. Mary’s lifeless form. Some people believe the viewing gives them closure. Not me. Remembering what Ms. Mary looked like when she was alive was all the closure I wanted.

The funeral service started out a little bitter, for which I couldn’t blame anyone. I would be angry too if my family member had been brutally murdered. Ms. Mary’s son read a letter, which challenged anyone who was considering taking someone else’s life to look inward and reconsider. He read about how the family missed their mother and grandmother, and could not understand why someone had taken away the best-hearted person they had known.

The pastor preached a eulogy that piggybacked off the idea that this was not for us to understand, and then the momentum and mood quickly picked up when the pastor invited everyone to raise their faces toward heaven, because this was a celebration of a “homegoing,” a homegoing to heaven. By the end of the service, people were almost applauding.

Strangely, I didn’t realize my situation until the interment. The only other funeral I’d attended had been my grandmother’s, and I had managed to block out the actual sadness of it. Maybe if I’d allowed the sorrow to come out then I would’ve accepted that a death had actually occurred.

The small crowd of mourners gathered on the hillside beside the church. The bumpy slope made it difficult to walk in heels, so I clung to Wes the entire time. His hold on me as we walked was comforting, but nothing out of the ordinary.

What was different was the weighted feel of Wes’ arm around me by the end of the service. He usually held on to me with a comforting and secure hold, but this felt different, heavy and limp. It was enough to cause me to look up at him. His face was pained and his head was tilted slightly to the side, as if he was having a hard time holding it up.

I turned back to see what had him so entranced. Ms. Mary’s children had stepped up, one at a time, to toss a flower into the grave. When I looked back at Wes, I saw him blink slowly, releasing one small tear.

I watched it roll all the way down his cheek without him flinching or attempting to wipe it away. By the time it dripped onto his jacket, I realized that Wes was not just crying for Ms. Mary. A brick pulled my heart to the ground as I turned back to the grave.

In slow motion, the next flower left the hands of Ms. Mary’s loved one and disappeared into the deep hole where her body would lie forever. I was very sure at that moment that this hole resembled the ones where Amelia and Lenny lay. A hole similar to where Wes may have dropped a flower for Lenny. A hole that Wes would surely never want to see again. And, unfortunately, one that I wasn’t so sure I could avoid.

I wrapped both arms around Wes’ waist, and tears escaped my eyes as I squeezed them shut. Wes pulled me to him in the firm hold that I remembered well and kissed me on the top of my head.

I refused to open my eyes but instead pressed my face against his side, absorbing him and every ounce of hope I held on to and feared losing. In reality, we are such little beings, insignificant to the greater powers of the universe, and suddenly I felt like I had no right to defy fate. No right to think I could beat the odds to remain in that moment, forever, with the one I loved.

I shook off all doubt, wanting to believe that a different future was meant for me. I willed it, even wished it. But an aggressive, overwhelmingly sad aura consumed me as I held on to him even tighter. And then, behind me, the last flower was tossed. I could almost hear it land six feet below the hand that had let it go.

T
he strange thing about what happened at the funeral was that neither Wes nor I talked about it afterward. Even though we both knew my uncertain future was hovering over us like a low, dark cloud, there was no need to discuss it.

We tried to keep ourselves busy. I’d never eaten so much ice cream or seen so many movies in the two weeks following Ms. Mary’s death. We were constantly doing something until it turned into such a routine that we had to change up, or both of us would burst. It was his idea to expand our horizons. We had just finished eating takeout one evening at his house when he suggested it.

“Let’s do something different,” he said.

I was stuffing our trash back into the bags. “Like what?”

“Like get away.”

Tropical island? Was this it?
I was beyond thrilled. “You mean, like, go away. For real?”

“No, not
go
away.
Get
away. I want to take you somewhere. Not too far. Just somewhere different.”

“I’d love to.” I curled up next to him on the couch, practically bouncing up and down on the cushions.

“Where would you like to go?”

“I don’t care. Anywhere. You pick.”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, I’ve picked where we’ve gone since the day we met. It should be somewhere you want to go. Pick a place.”

“I’d love to see Kerry again, but that’s too far and too cold. Hmm.” I thought about it for a minute. “Fishing.” The weather had warmed up nicely by then, so it sounded perfect, but he laughed.

“Fishing? Sophie, be for real.”

“I am. We can’t really go to a tropical island. It’s too hot, and I don’t snorkel.”

“You don’t fish either.”

“Well, that’s because no one takes me. My dad and I used to fish all the time, until he left. I haven’t been since I was little. And it’s different.”

Still unsure, but seemingly content, he answered, “Okay. Fishing it is.”

“Yay!” I gave him a kiss, and he shook his head. “What?” I asked.

“I had no idea you were so outdoorsy.”

“See, you don’t know everything about me after all.”

The truth was, he did. I wasn’t all that outdoorsy, but I remember enjoying fishing. The only reason I was such an indoor girl now, was because I preferred to be holed up in the house after all the new places my mom moved us. Heck, for all I knew, I might have an outdoor girl waiting to burst out of me.

He planned to pick me up at 8:00 Saturday morning, so I had to request off work, which I was hesitant to do since coverage would be thin. It turned out to be no problem. Mr. Healey had already hired someone new. Dawn said it was one of Danny’s new friends and he was scheduled to come in and train on Saturday anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal that I wouldn’t be there.

I waited in the living room for him to pull up and when I heard a car, I snuck out without saying good-bye to my mother. She knew I was going fishing and it brought back memories of my dad that she’d rather not visit, so she didn’t ask too many questions.

I opened the front door then almost shut it again, because a very intimidating vehicle was sitting where Wes’ car should’ve been. Just as I was about to step back into the house, Wes got out.
Huh?

I closed the door behind me and walked toward him. “What’s this?”

“We can’t go camping in a Maserati.”

“Who said anything about camping?”

“Well, not overnight camping, but we are going to a campground. It’s where the best part of the lake is, and I can’t go four-wheeling to it in a sports car.”

“So what is this?”

He had taken my bag by then and tossed it into the back. “It’s my new car.”

“New? You bought it? Where’s the other one?”

“It’s at home.”

“But why buy this? We could’ve taken my Jeep.”

Opening the door for me now, he said, “I thought about that. Then realized I’d rather have this. It’s safer, and I have other ways to seek a thrill now. Don’t need a sports car.”

I smiled at his sly grin in suggesting new thrills. I was all for that. “Does that mean you want to work on your clarity?”

He shut the door without responding.

“That was rude.” I accused, as he slid into his side.

He leaned over and kissed me on the lips. “Sorry.”

I pouted. “So what is this anyway?” All I knew was that it was another black, shiny vehicle with black leather seats and large tires.

“Range Rover.”

It was nice. I liked his taste, that was for sure. He knew how to look good, but classy, without blazin’ in someone’s face about it. We drove toward town and I wondered where we were headed. It turned out he needed to stop at the sporting goods store.

“I don’t fish,” he said. “So we need to buy equipment and supplies. You’ll have to show me which ones.”

“What? I can’t remember.” This was going to be the blind leading the blind.

He wasn’t concerned. “We’ll ask someone, then.”

And we did. Within twenty minutes, we had all the fishing supplies we needed. After seeing them, I remembered the basics enough to have a shot at actually catching something.

We were about to check out when Wes asked if I had packed a swimsuit.
What the heck would I need that for?
The thought sounded so appropriate that I said it out loud.

“To swim, Sophie. What do you think?”

“Swim in what?” I asked, still not getting it.

“In the lake.” He had a look on his face like he wanted to say “Hello?” after the comment.

“You don’t swim in a lake.”

“Sure, I do. I’ll swim anywhere there’s water.”

Oh, geez.
“Wes, I’ve fished in a lake, but never swam in one.”

“Well, we’re supposed to be doing something different, right?” He put his hands on my shoulders and lowered his gaze to mine, holding back a smile. “Besides, you said you were outdoorsy.”

I let out a low grumble. He might have been able to woo me with those dark brown eyes before, but not anymore. Okay, who was I kidding?
Fine.

I looked at the sales associate. “Where’s your swimsuit section?”

Who was I to care about dirty, slimy lake water. I was with Wes, and we were going to have fun. And since that was the only way to make the most of what time we had, that’s what I was going to do—swim in the lake.
Gross.

Two hours later, we arrived at a wooded park area. A Fishing Docks Ahead sign blatantly beamed at us as we entered the parking lot. Wes’ GPS system told him to make a right onto a paved, narrow lane. Instead of following the pavement, Wes turned again onto a dirt road. The GPS lady didn’t like that. In a calm, stern voice, she told Wes to turn around in point three miles.

“You’re making her mad.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine.” He reached over and turned her off.

“Where are you going anyway?”

“There’s a more private water entry this way.”

I noticed faint tire tracks, so I knew we weren’t the only people to upset their GPS lady. “How do you know what’s up here?”

He looked at me as our bodies bounced around in our seats as we made progress over the rough terrain. “Research,” he said.

“Research.”

Turning his attention toward navigating our narrow, rocky path, he casually continued. “Yeah, I looked around for some good fishing places and this one had an aerial map, so I was able to see they had an off-road section.”

“Uh-huh. I see.”

After a few more minutes of bobbing up and down and left and right, we rolled to a stop just short of an embankment. I was impressed.