The Secrets of Lake Road (20 page)

When she had told Gram she couldn’t stand the thought of what those snappers would do to Sara, Gram had more than understood—she had agreed and believed Caroline brave for taking a stand albeit an illegal one.

“Sometimes,” Gram had said, “doing the right thing means you have to break some rules.”

They agreed to keep it between themselves. It would be their secret and theirs alone. Gram wouldn’t tell Caroline’s mother what she had done, and this suited Caroline just fine. Her mother may suspect, but she would never know for sure, if Caroline could help it. Now Caroline and Gram had secrets too.
Take that,
Caroline whispered to herself about her mother.

Gram appeared in the doorway. “I’ve got everything out on the table.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. “I think I’m going to find Megan instead.”

“Well.” Gram pressed her lips together in frustration at having set out food no one was going to eat. “Why don’t the two of you come back here? There’s more than enough sandwiches and you can play board games or cards, do something fun for awhile.”

“I don’t know, but I’ll ask her.” She didn’t want to hurt Gram’s feelings, but she didn’t want to play games. She wondered if she would ever feel like doing anything fun again.

She stepped outside. The air was thick with humidity from the earlier storm. The day was hot. She rubbed the sides of her sneakers into the dirt where the grass would never grow. She kicked a couple of rocks to give the white tops a broken-in look, and hopped on her bicycle.

The seat was still wet from her ride in the rain that morning. She had gotten up and went straight to the lake to discover her plan had worked. The men weren’t on the water searching for two reasons: the storm and the fact that their turtles were gone. They were standing on Stimpy’s porch. She could just make out their cross faces from where she sat on her bike in the parking lot.

When Sheriff Borg emerged from Stimpy’s place, she took off, pushing her bike through the woods, which was no easy task. She wound her way behind the lakefront cabins as quietly as she could. She didn’t stop until she reached Adam’s cabin. She hid her bike behind a tree and tapped on his window much in the same way she had done the night before.

He wasn’t happy to see her.

“I can’t come out,” he said. “My mom is mad. She wanted to know why the floor in my room was covered in mud.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her I got up early to fish, but the storm chased me inside.”

“Good thinking,” Caroline said, and then she added, “Our plan worked.”

“I know,” Adam said. “It’s all anyone’s talking about.”

“Okay”—she put her finger to her lips—“don’t say a word to anyone. No one. And they won’t catch us.”

Of course, this was before she had learned about the muddy footprints they had left behind on the dock. She hadn’t known then that Gram had replaced her sneakers with new ones, or she would’ve suggested Adam do the same. She wondered if she should risk another trip to his cabin to warn him and tell him to get rid of his old sneakers too. But then again, Adam had given his mother a solid explanation for the mud.

She pedaled across the yard, deciding to go to Megan’s like she had told Gram. She entered the dirt road and almost hit a car coming toward her. She braked hard and swerved to the side.

“Careful, now,” the sheriff said through the open window of the patrol car. He pulled up next to her. “Are your parents inside?” he asked.

She tried to swallow. “My grandmother’s home.”

“Good enough,” he said. “Why don’t you park that bike and walk me in?”

She did what she was told and got off her bike. She walked it into the yard on shaky legs. While she struggled with the kickstand, he stepped out of the car and put on his sheriff’s hat.

“Gram,” she called, and stepped through the side door that led to the kitchen. She was hoping to avoid her mother on the screened-in porch. With any luck, her mother had taken off.

The sheriff loomed behind her. He was twice her size and three times her weight. She thought she might cry.

Gram was standing at the kitchen sink washing a plate. When she saw the sheriff behind Caroline, she turned off the faucet and stuck her hand holding the wet towel onto her hip. It soaked the bottom of her shirt and the top of her favorite pants with the elastic waistband.

“What brings you by, Sheriff?” she asked. There was an edge to her voice Caroline heard her use only around people she didn’t care for.

He removed his hat and turned it around in his hands as he spoke. “There’s been some trouble down at the lake, and I was hoping you could tell me what you know about it.”

Caroline stood still.

“Did you find that little girl, yet?” Gram asked.

“No, I’m afraid we haven’t. Not yet,” he said. “But that’s sort of why I’m here. I got a complaint from some of the fishermen that a couple of kids messed with their traps.”

Before Gram could answer, Caroline’s mother walked into the kitchen. Her face drained of color, and the hollows in her cheeks looked deeper and darker than usual. If Caroline didn’t know any better, she would think her mother was the guilty one.

I did it,
Caroline thought.
Not you
. She didn’t want to get into trouble, but why was everything always about her mother?

Her mother opened her mouth to say something to the sheriff at the same time Gram clutched her chest and leaned against the sink.

“Gram.” Caroline reached for her.

Her mother rushed to Gram’s side. “What is it?” she asked. “Your heart? Is it your heart?”

Gram kept her hand on her chest and slumped to the floor. Caroline’s mother sunk to the floor with her. “Just hold on,” her mother said, and looked at the sheriff. “Call an ambulance.”

The sheriff shot out the door to radio it in.

Caroline knelt on the floor at Gram’s side. “Gram, are you okay? Talk to me.” She touched her shoulder. “Please, tell me you’re okay.”

Gram didn’t speak. She pinched her eyes closed and kept her hand splayed over her heart.

“Don’t crowd her,” her mother said. “Give her air.”

Caroline did as she was told and sat back on her heels, thinking she did this to Gram. She gave her a heart attack. “Please be okay,” she begged.

Gram opened her mouth, trying to talk.

“Shhh,” her mother said. “It’s going to be okay.”

The sheriff returned and announced the ambulance was on its way.

“You did this,” her mother said to him, and glanced at Caroline as though she read her mind, letting her know she wasn’t to blame.

The sheriff stood perfectly still, his face void of emotion. And Caroline hated him for not showing his concern for Gram, the one person Caroline loved more than anyone.

“Why can’t you leave us alone?” her mother asked him, and turned back to Gram. “Hang on,” she said. “Help is on the way. Hang on.” Her eyes were teary.

Caroline’s own tears dripped from her chin. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother cry, and the sight of her tears and Gram on the kitchen floor terrified her.

*   *   *

Caroline heard the sirens long before the ambulance arrived. The sheriff had gone outside to greet them. Two men in uniforms entered the kitchen with a stretcher. The EMT examined Gram, listened to her heart, took her pulse, and asked her basic questions: her name, age, where she was born. He strapped a breathing device around her mouth and nose. “Oxygen,” he said.

Caroline had been standing to the side, watching, shaking, wiping her eyes. The two men put Gram on the stretcher and lifted her.

“I’ll be right back.” Her mother rushed to Gram’s bedroom to grab her purse and insurance card. While her mother was out of the room, Gram reached for Caroline’s hand.

Caroline leaned in close and kissed Gram’s cheek, her skin was thin and dry. “I love you,” she whispered. “Please don’t die.”

“Stand back,” one of the men instructed.

As she stepped away to let them carry Gram out, she saw a familiar twinkle in Gram’s eye. The next thing she knew, Gram winked at her. Caroline looked around to see if anyone had seen what she had seen, if anyone had been paying attention. But the sheriff had left to get the door, and the two men carrying the stretcher were busy watching where they were walking.

Her mother rushed back into the kitchen with Gram’s information.

“I’m ready. Let’s go,” her mother said.

As the shock wore off, Caroline realized Gram was faking it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

For the first time in Patricia’s life, she lied.

She had told Jo and anyone who asked about her husband, Kyle, that he was a workaholic, that it was the reason he had left her alone at the lake even though Sara hadn’t been found. It sounded cruel and it was, but the real reason wasn’t anywhere close to being kind. For Patricia the real reason was much, much worse.

“Where are you?” Kyle asked on Patricia’s first day there, hours before she had taken Sara to the beach, to the lake, hours before Sara had gone missing. Patricia had been unpacking the groceries in the
Sparrow
when the cabin’s old rotary phone rang.

“You leave me this number, but don’t tell me where you’re going. What am I supposed to think?” he said.

“You’re supposed to think I left you.” She had planned the trip to the lake months ago, packing small items at a time, things they would need there but not at home: extra towels, old linens, books, and art supplies. Nothing Kyle would miss.

“Did you call a lawyer?” There was a hint of panic in his voice.

“No,” she said, her own voice cool and even.

“Good,” he said. “Good. We can handle it ourselves. There’s no need to get a third party involved. I know all those bloodsucking lawyers anyway.”

You know them because you’re one of them,
she thought but didn’t say.

He continued without pause. “They will try to drag this out and squeeze all the money they can out of us. They’ll bleed us dry, I tell you.”

“Of course.” He didn’t care she left him. No, this phone call was about making sure one of his colleagues didn’t get a dime of his money. If it wasn’t so pitiful, she might’ve laughed.

“Okay, then we’re in agreement? No lawyers?” He was in a rush. He must’ve had another call coming in or a meeting or a rendezvous.

“I guess.” She didn’t care one way or the other. For her it was never about the money. “Would you like to talk with your daughter?”
Please say yes, please show her you care even if you no longer care for me
. It was the only reason she had left him the phone number in the first place.

“I can’t,” he said. “I’m in a hurry.”

“It will only take a second. She misses you.”

“I have to go. No lawyers, Patricia. Do you hear me? I mean it.” He hung up.

Sara trotted into the kitchen. “Was that Daddy?”

“Yes,” she said, and kissed the top of Sara’s head. “He wanted me to tell you how much he misses you and how sorry he is he couldn’t talk to you. And”—she touched the tip of Sara’s nose with her finger—“he wants you to have a whole lot of fun while you’re here. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes,” Sara said. “Did you tell him I miss him, too?”

Patricia nodded and watched her daughter skip back into the family room. She could’ve forgiven Kyle for the affair. Maybe. Eventually. But she could never forgive him for being a lousy father.

It was hard to believe that had been five days ago, five days that her daughter was missing. She had thought by returning to the lake, the one place from her childhood she had loved, she could escape her troubles back home—six hours west across the state of Pennsylvania in a small rural town where the gossip about her marriage, her once private life, was sure to have spread. She had thought by returning to the lake, she could finally be happy.

*   *   *

Patricia was sitting on the hood of a car with her feet propped on the front bumper in the parking lot outside of the Pavilion. She couldn’t say whose car it was or what the make or model could be, but whoever owned it had parked it lakefront, close to the water’s edge. It was where she had to be. And what difference did it make whose car it was anyway? What could they do to her that hadn’t already been done?

Stars filled the night sky, the threat of another storm having evaporated hours ago. Music poured from the Pavilion’s jukebox, glasses clinked, people talked and laughed. The lake spread out before her like an endless, bottomless, black pit.

She pulled Sara’s cloth doll from the pocket of her jeans and hugged it close to her chest. Sara had slept with the doll, Dolly, since she was born. It was old and torn, and some of the stuffing had fallen out, but it was well loved. She could smell her daughter on the cotton fabric, the way she smelled from sleep, a mixture of sweetness and innocence.

Men’s voices echoed across the lake and drew her attention. She gazed at the lone watercraft and what she believed was a fisherman. She dried her wet eyes with the doll the way Sara used to when she cried.

Dolly had dried a lot of Sara’s tears that came with scraped knees and bumped elbows. She was always getting hurt. She was a fearless child. She had demanded riding her bike without training wheels at five years old. And just three weeks ago, in what felt like another lifetime, she had become fascinated with the neighbor’s skateboard. “Look at me, Mommy,” she had called, racing down the hill before Patricia could stop her. She had been going much too fast, barreling toward the neighbor’s garbage cans.

“Watch out!” Patricia had shouted, and ran down the hill after her. Sara had crashed into the cans before she could reach her. She had scooped her up, inspecting her birdlike arms and skinny legs.

“I’m okay, Mommy,” Sara had said, and swiped away her tears. “I want to try again.”

The memory brought a smile to Patricia’s lips. She imagined it was that same sense of adventure that had led Sara into the water. Maybe it was all the talk about the horse and the lake legend that had sparked Sara’s curiosity. Sara loved horses, especially ponies. But Patricia would never know what led her daughter into the lake alone, and she blamed herself.