The Secrets of Lake Road (28 page)

“Do you know who Billy is?” Caroline asked him.

“Of course. He’s Chris’s uncle who drowned when Mom and Dad were teenagers.”

Caroline was stunned. Everyone in her family knew who Billy was and what had happened and no one thought to tell her. Why were they keeping it a secret from her? Why didn’t Johnny ever tell her? Then again, she couldn’t expect Johnny to tell her anything. It’s not like he confided in her. She had assumed it was the four-year age difference, a brother/sister thing. But the circumstances had changed, and he knew only half of the story. She knew something he didn’t, and the power tasted good on her tongue.

“Tell him the rest,” Caroline said to her mother. “Go on. Tell him the truth.”

“Tell me what?” His chest rose and fell. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” her mother said. “Caroline is upset with me.”

“What else is new?” Johnny winked at Caroline, teasing her.

She glared at her mother, challenging her to tell him, or she would. When her mother didn’t say anything, the anger burned so hot, she thought she might combust.

“Billy is your real dad. You’re named after him,” she said to Johnny, wanting to hurt him for the constant teasing, hating him and loving him too. But mostly, she wanted to hurt her mother for lying to her. “You’re not my brother,” she spit. “And I hate you!”

Johnny put the jug of lake water down and turned to his mother. “What is she talking about?” he asked, his voice quavering.

“Why would you say such a thing?” Gram asked Caroline, but her words sounded false, and it was then that Caroline knew for sure that Gram had been in on it from the beginning. Somehow Gram’s betrayal was worse than her mother’s lies.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Dee Dee was sitting in the kitchen when Patricia woke and appeared from the back bedroom. She walked into the living room, running her hand over the back of the couch, touching the wicker rocking chair, smoothing out the old throw Dee Dee’s mom had knitted. She stopped in front of the mantel over the fireplace and picked up a wedding photo of Dee Dee’s parents. “What happened to your folks?” she asked.

“Dead,” Dee Dee said, sounding matter-of-fact. Her father’s health had gone downhill fast after Billy’s death. His heart hadn’t been able to take it. Her mother had followed him a few months later. Although a piece of all of them had died with Billy, her parents had taken it a step further and gone with him.

“I’m sorry,” Patricia said, and returned the wedding picture to the mantel. “I would’ve come back had I known. They were so good to me.” She walked into the kitchen and put her hand on Dee Dee’s shoulder. “You were all so good to me.”

To Dee Dee’s surprise, she didn’t push Patricia’s hand away. Instead she let her shoulders relax, finding the intimacy soothing. It had been such a long time since she had allowed someone to touch her in a caring, gentle way. Her ex, Neil, had deserted her only a few months before Chris had been born, and she hadn’t been close to anyone since, other than her son. She couldn’t think when the last time someone had wanted to touch her was, let alone spend time with her.

“You look so much like your brother. Did you know that?” Patricia asked, and sat across from her.

“I know.” She
did
look like her brother. Although where Billy was handsome—broad shoulders, lean, muscular build, strong chin—the attributes weren’t as flattering on a woman. Her masculine features made her look hard, and most men found her height, her strong arms and legs, intimidating.

“I’m sorry,” Patricia said of Billy. “I’m sorry about a lot of things.” Fresh tears left dirt tracks down her cheeks.

“Come on,” she said, and pulled Patricia up and led her to the bathroom. “Take a shower and clean up. We’ll talk when you get out.” She grabbed a clean towel and handed it to her.

Dee Dee waited in the kitchen, listening to the water run. She had already laid out a clean pair of shorts and a white T-shirt and set them on the bathroom sink. She lit a cigarette and thought about popping open a can of beer, but the shower stopped and she didn’t want to drink in front of Patricia. It was stupid, but in some ways, she felt as though she were babysitting her all over again, and a babysitter shouldn’t drink on the job.

Patricia returned to the kitchen wearing the clean clothes that were much too big for her. She rubbed her thin pale arms.

“Sit,” Dee Dee said. “Let me get you something to eat.” She pulled leftover egg salad from the refrigerator. If she had had food that was heavier, fattier, she would’ve made it instead. But she made do with what she had. It was what she did best.

When Patricia finished eating, she began braiding her hair. She kept her eyes away from Dee Dee’s when she said, “Tell me what happened to Billy.”

Dee Dee rubbed her brow. It had been so long since anyone asked to talk about Billy, years since anyone cared to listen, or at least to her version of the story. She told Patricia what she knew. He had been hanging out with friends under the steps of the Pavilion and later on the beach, apparently drinking. It had been late at night under a full moon. After his friends had gone home, Billy must’ve gone swimming alone. No one had seen him after that night. He was reported missing the next day. Five days later they found his body near the floating pier in the middle of the lake. She didn’t bring up the recent discovery of his missing bones found by the recovery team while they were searching for Patricia’s daughter. The fact that they had found sixteen-year-old bones and not her little girl’s body was far from comforting.

Patricia listened quietly, her brow furrowed. “It doesn’t make sense. He was good in the water. He knew the lake better than anyone.”

Dee Dee snorted. “It never made sense to me, either. Kevin said he was the last one to see Billy. That he had left him alone on the beach, thinking he was going home too. But I think Kevin is covering up for somebody. I think Jo was on the beach with Billy and
she
was the last one to see him alive. I think she has something to do with him drowning.”

Patricia shook her head. “I don’t think Jo would’ve hurt Billy. She loved him.”

“Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. I don’t know and I don’t care. But what I do know is that she’s hiding something. She knows more about that night than she’s saying.”

“Was there an investigation?”

“They ruled it an accidental drowning even though he cracked his skull. And after lying on the bottom of the lake for five days, his body was torn apart by the snappers. They couldn’t find any evidence to prove otherwise.” Until they found the bones from his forearm, but again, it wasn’t the right time to share this information.

Patricia suddenly looked horrified.

Dee Dee realized the insensitivity of her comment, forgetting Patricia’s daughter hadn’t been found, and it was coming up on six days. “Pattie,” she said, and stopped. It was the harsh truth, and she wouldn’t apologize for it. Patricia needed to hear it, not only about Billy, but what to expect if there was anything left of her daughter to find. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell her that, and neither of them spoke for some time.

Patricia was the first to break the silence. “When did he drown?” she asked.

“You don’t know?”

“I only heard about it yesterday.”

“Jesus,” Dee Dee said, thinking after all this time. “July 1997,” she said.

She looked surprised. “But I was here that summer. How could I not have known about it?”

“It happened the same night your parents dragged you out of here. I was babysitting, and they stormed into the cabin, fighting. You left that morning, and I never heard from you again.”

“I remember,” she said. “It was awful. My parents fought so often that summer.” She covered her mouth and appeared to be thinking. After a few moments of silence she said, “And he drowned that same night?”

“Yes,” Dee Dee said.

Patricia disappeared inside her own thoughts once again. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “That’s not right. They weren’t on the beach.”

“What are you talking about?” Dee Dee clasped Patricia’s hand.

Patricia held on tight. “They’re lying.”

She looked into Patricia’s eyes. “What are you saying? Who is lying?”

“They are,” she said. “They weren’t on the beach. They were on the pier.”

“Who was on the pier?”

“I saw them.”

“Who?” Dee Dee asked. “Who did you see?”

“You know how you can see the pier when the moon is bright?” Patricia said.

“Yes.” It was true. You could see the floating pier clearly under the light of a full moon. “Who did you see on the pier that night?”

“Billy. He wasn’t on the beach.”

Dee Dee grabbed Patricia’s arms, wanting to shake her to get the answers out of her quicker. “Was anyone with him?”

Patricia flinched. “You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry,” she said, and patted Patricia’s arms where her hands had been. More gently, she asked, “Was anyone else on the pier with him?”

“Jo.”

“I knew it,” she said. “I knew she was lying.” She stood, knocking the chair over. “That bitch.” She turned toward the counter, not sure what to do with the new information. Jo wasn’t on the beach after all. She was on the pier with Billy, right where his body had been found. “And you’re certain it was Jo?” She had to ask one more time. It’s not like Patricia was of sound state of mind, going through her own personal hell.

“Yes, I’m sure. I was by the lake catching lightning bugs. You remember. You gave me a jar and punched holes in the lid.”

“Yes.” Dee Dee nodded. She remembered. Patricia should’ve been asleep, but it was such a clear beautiful night, she had let her stay up way past her bedtime playing outside, catching bugs. And it was almost dawn by the time Patricia’s parents had burst into the cabin to collect her.

“Kevin was there too,” Patricia said.

Dee Dee whipped around. “What did you say?”

“Kevin. He was there too.”

“That can’t be. He said he was on the beach.”

“No, he was on the pier with them.”

She bent close to Patricia’s face, searching her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, I’m positive.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Caroline ran from the kitchen and into her room. She slammed her door and threw herself onto the bed. She pulled the quilt Gram had made over her head. She hadn’t meant what she said to Johnny. She didn’t hate him. It was just the opposite. She loved him and wanted him to continue being her brother. She wanted to take back her words. He was as much a victim of their mother’s lies as Caroline was.

Johnny’s voice bellowed from the kitchen. Caroline threw the covers off to listen. “Is it true?” he asked.

Her mother must’ve nodded because the next thing he said was, “Jesus Christ. And you didn’t think to tell me until now?”

She pulled the quilt over her head again. So it was true. She hadn’t realized a small part of her was still hoping she was wrong. Knowing the truth didn’t make her feel any better. It made her feel worse.

Her bedroom door creaked open.

“Go away,” she said, not even knowing who it was. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

The door closed and someone sat on the edge of her bed. She smelled coffee and talcum powder, the two smells she identified with Gram.

“Caroline,” Gram said. “I know you’re hurting. It’s a lot to take in.”

“You think?” she shot back.

“Your mother should’ve told both you and Johnny a long time ago.”

“Yes, she should have.” She pulled the quilt down, uncovering her head, but she couldn’t look at Gram. Instead she looked over Gram’s shoulder at a spot on the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“It wasn’t my place.”

“But I thought you didn’t like Mom. How could you let her lie to me?”

“You think I don’t like your mother?”

“Well, yeah. You two are always fighting. You’re never nice to each other.”

“Oh, Caroline. I love your mother. I may not like the choices she’s made, but I love her.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

Gram sighed. “A mother-daughter relationship is a complicated thing. We each have our own way of doing things, our own ideas of how things should be, and sometimes we don’t agree on what that thing is. We clash. We may fight. But we love each other anyway. It’s just how it is between your mother and me.” She touched Caroline’s cheek. “It doesn’t mean it has to be that way with you and your mom. You can make it be the way you want.”

“Tell that to her.” She wiped her eyes, refusing to let the tears fall.

“I think you should tell her. Talk to her.”

Caroline picked at a thread that had started to come loose from one of the stitches on the quilt. She was too angry to talk to her mother. She didn’t even want to look at her.

“I don’t hate Johnny,” she said instead. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I know you don’t. I’m sure he knows it, too.” Gram paused as though she was considering whether to say anything more. Then she asked, “How did you find out?”

“It’s not rocket science. I did the math.” She stared at the ceiling. “Plus, I found out Billy’s full name. William
J
. And then I saw a couple pictures of Billy. And then there’s Chris. In ways, Johnny looks like them, their family. I didn’t know for sure. I was only guessing, but it seems I guessed right.”

Gram pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Does Dad know?” she asked, already knowing the answer, but finding she needed confirmation so she wouldn’t question herself later about who knew what and who had lied.

“Yes,” Gram said. “He knows.”

Caroline rolled over and put her back to Gram. She wished she could start over and return to the first day of summer, when her family had made sense in their screwed-up way. She wanted to go back to that day on the beach when Sara had drowned so that she could pull her off the pier rather than what she did, which was to leave her alone. Sara’s death was the catalyst that pushed her into asking questions about drownings, about Billy and her mother. Now that she knew the truth, she didn’t know what to do with it, with all the anger she felt inside.