The Summer Town

by Michael Lindley

  Dylan Harris sighed deeply, returning his father’s stare. “I know we’re down to not many options.”

  “There are no damn options!” Connor yelled.

  Dylan was startled at the unexpected outburst and sat back in his chair. “Dad, I know. We’ll make this work.”

  Megan Clark woke later than she planned, the sun coming through the small round window in her room on the EmmaLee shining in her eyes. She pushed back the covers and looked over at the alarm clock to see it was already 10:30. Thoughts of the past night’s events with Will Truegood came back to her. She could still feel the kiss on her lips and the suddenness of the whole situation continued to surprise her. After a few moments of awkward silence, she got back in her car and left without even saying goodnight. And then she remembered the scene with Rick. His true nature seemed to be coming out over this Will situation and it wasn’t pleasant. If he had anything to do with this car theft, she knew she would never be able to forgive him.

  There was a knock at her door. “Come in.”

  Sally walked in and came over and sat on her bed. “Good morning, sleepy.”

  “Morning.”

  “Late night?” Sally asked.

  “No, but an interesting one.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you about it. Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s in the shower. He feels badly he’s barely seen you since he got in. He wants to take us to lunch. We thought we might take little Emma down to the Landings and get a big juicy cheeseburger. How does that sound?”

  Megan thought for a moment about Will and Rick and how she was going to deal with the whole mess. I guess it can wait until this afternoon. “Sounds great, let me get presentable.”

  Forty-five minutes later the launch dropped the three of them off at EmmaLee II’s boathouse. The ride down to the South Arm of Lake Charlevoix was exhilarating, but uneventful and the roar of the inboard engine of the little boat made it impossible to talk. They all sat back and enjoyed the wind in their faces and the beauty of another glorious summer day in the North.

  They approached the little waterfront restaurant sitting next to the landing of the Ironton Ferry. The docks were nearly full with boats coming in for lunch. Out on the deck, most of the tables with their bright colored umbrellas were already filled with people. Alex found an empty slip and maneuvered the old Chris Craft into the dock. A mother and eight baby ducks scurried out of the way. Sally and Megan jumped out and secured the lines.

  They were fortunate to get one of the few remaining tables outside on the deck and they all ordered cheeseburgers and fries with iced cold Coke’s. As they waited for the food to arrive, Alex turned to his daughter and asked, “Well stranger, how is your summer going so far?”

  Megan shook her head and smiled. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

  “You’ve only been up here for a few days,” he said.

  “She has a new friend,” Sally said.

  The drinks were served, and the waitress scurried away.

  “Who’s that?” Alex asked.

  Megan looked over at Sally. “You mean Will?”

  Sally nodded, taking a sip from her Coke.

  “Who’s Will?” her father asked.

  “Will Truegood.”

  “Oh sure, how is he?” Alex asked.

  “Not great, he’s been arrested for stealing a car.” Megan said and watched as Alex and Sally both set their glasses down with surprised looks.

  “He didn’t do it, Daddy,” she said. “He’s been set up, I’m sure of it.”

  “Set up?” Sally said. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “What’s going on, kid,” Alex asked.

  “I still can’t believe this, but I think it may be some of my friends.”

  “What!” Sally said.

  “It was Melissa Wainwright’s car and it ended up out at Will’s cabin the other morning. The police were tipped off and they came out and arrested him.”

  “Is he in jail?” Sally asked.

  “No, he’s been released. I’ve been trying to help him.”

  “I’m not sure you need to be getting tangled up in a car theft,” Alex said.

  “I’m not getting tangled up. I’m just trying to help.”

  “What friends are you talking about?” Sally asked.

  Megan hesitated for a moment, regretting she had even opened this line of discussion.

  “Megan?” her father asked.

  “I think it might be Rick,” Megan said.

  “Rick Brandtley?” Sally said quickly.

  “Your boyfriend?” Alex asked.

  Megan nodded and looked away across the narrow channel of the lake. The ferry was about halfway across from the far shore with a full load of four cars and several people with bicycles standing along the rail. She looked back at her father. “I’ve been spending a little time with Will and Rick is pretty upset about it.”

  “So, you think he set Will up with this stolen car?” Sally asked.

  “That’s a pretty serious allegation, Megan,” her father said.

  “I know, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Megan, I’ve known Will and his family for years and I really can’t believe he would do this, but are you sure?” Sally said.

  “He didn’t take that car, Sally.”

  “So, what are you planning to do about all this?” Alex asked.

  “I drove Will home last night and Rick followed us and there was almost a really ugly scene.”

  “Oh honey,” Sally said.

  “I confronted Rick about the car, and he got really angry. He and Will almost got in a fight. It was awful!” Megan could feel tears building again, remembering the events of the evening.

  “You need to be really sure about this, honey,” her father said.

  The baskets of food came and the three of them waited while the waitress laid everything on the table and then left to go refill their drinks.

  “Megan, I’m serious,” her father said. “You can’t implicate innocent people in a crime like this, particularly your friends.”

  “I know, Daddy.”

  “If you’re wrong about this…” he said.

  “I know!” Megan said, looking away across the channel as the cars exited the ferry and continued on their way.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  There are many memories we’ve all shared over the years, mostly good and glorious memories, but also some that continue to haunt us and keep us awake at night. Jonathan’s brother, Luke, found no other escape but the fiery inferno of a burning building to kill himself after taking my own sister’s life in a drunken rage. Even year’s later, Jonathan would tell me he’d sit straight up in bed at night and scream, trying to yell at his brother to get out of the old burning boathouse. He told me the image of the roof coming down in flames on his brother’s head was as real and vivid in his mind as the night it happened. We all tried to move on beyond those memories and the losses we shared. Some memories never fade.

  … the summer of 1952.

  Emily McKendry came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her, moving slowly over to the sink. She had been awake for just a short time. Jonathan had left earlier for work and the nurse would be coming to check on her any minute. She knew she couldn’t spend another day in bed even though her partner, Dr. Rose, and Jonathan in particular, had insisted she continue to rest. She looked at the face staring back at her in the mirror. The bruise across her cheek was beginning to fade some. She could still feel the slightly dull ache in the back of her head where she fell after being struck by Harold Slayton. She was still worried about Agnes and Sara going back to the farm. She reminded herself to call Sheriff Potts to check on them.

  After she was dressed, she tried to fix her face and hair up as best she could and then went downstairs and made a quick breakfast of eggs and toast. She knew she didn’t feel up to walking to her office, so she got the keys and drove into town in her car. She drove by her office and
on down to the Sheriff’s Department.

  Sheriff Willy Potts was surprised when he saw her walk into his office. “Dr. McKendry! How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine, Willy.”

  “Forgive me, but you don’t look totally fine, Doc.”

  She touched her bruised face and smiled. “Really, I’ll be okay.”

  “I’m afraid we’re having no luck finding Slayton,” the sheriff said.

  “Willy, I’m so worried about Sara and Agnes being out there at the farm.”

  “I know, we tried to talk them out of it. I had a deputy stay out there for a few hours with them yesterday and of course, the bastard didn’t show up.”

  Emily sat down in one of the chairs by his desk. “Do you think you could run out there quickly with me this morning? I just want to make sure they’re okay.”

  Potts scratched his head and thought about her request for a moment. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. We need to go now, though. I need to be back by eleven.”

  Emily sat in the patrol car next to the sheriff as they approached the road to the Slayton farm. She saw the old house off in the distance through the trees. They turned onto the road and as they slowly bumped along, Emily got a sick feeling in her stomach. They pulled up to the house and she couldn’t see anyone around. The front door had been left open.

  “You wait here a minute,” the sheriff said.

  Emily watched him get out and walk slowly toward the front of house. She got more nervous when she saw him put his hand on his gun. He walked up onto the porch and peered in cautiously. She heard him yell, “Mrs. Slayton?” And then again, “Mrs. Slayton?”

  He disappeared inside the door and Emily sat there in the car, her heart pounding. He was gone for a couple of minutes before he came out and then walked around to the back of the house. When he came back, he waved for her to come out and join him.

  They met near the front porch. “Seems they’re gone, Doc.”

  George Hansen poured the coffee into two cups on his desk. He handed one to his friend, Jonathan McKendry, who sat across his desk from him. “How’s Emily?” George asked.

  “She was better this morning, but she needs another day or so of bed rest.”

  “Good luck holding her down,” George said and laughed.

  “Damn, George, that sonofabitch could have really hurt her badly.”

  “And the sheriff hasn’t been able to find him yet?”

  “No, and Agnes insisted she and her little girl go home yesterday. Emily is sick worrying about them.”

  “I don’t blame her,” George said.

  “George, I’m starting to get a little heat about Sammy,” Jonathan said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “One of my biggest customers came in yesterday, Tom Fitzgibbons. He started threatening me about having Sammy back on the job.”

  “Yeah, I’m not surprised.” George replied. “These damn summer people. I’m getting the same treatment for defending the boy. Can’t seem to convince anyone it’s my damn job! The thing is, this kid’s innocent and half the town wants to lock him away regardless.”

  “Well, frankly I don’t give a shit about Fitzgibbons, or any of his crowd,” Jonathan said. “We can manage.”

  “You don’t want to lose too many of those boat contracts, friend.”

  “Like I said, we can manage,” Jonathan answered. “What’s happening on Sammy’s case?”

  “Well, you know the charges came down and we’ll go to trial here in a couple of weeks.”

  “What can we do to help this kid? No way this should go to trial!” Jonathan said.

  “Yeah, I know. I just don’t know what else we can do at this point, unless one of these kids changes their story, or their memories miraculously come back.”

  “Did I tell you Connor Harris came by our house the other day?”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Said he was checking on Emily after the Slayton thing, but he was really after her to influence you on Sammy’s case.”

  “That sonofabitch!” George said, standing and walking around the desk. “He’s been in my face twice now about this and I’m about ready to smack the bastard!”

  “I can’t believe the judge would take this to trial,” Jonathan repeated in frustration.

  “The court of public opinion is pretty strong on this. I don’t see how the judge could just drop the charges. He’s got to live in this town, too and there’s an election this fall.”

  Jonathan sat shaking his head, looking down into his coffee. “We’ve got to help this boy, George.”

  “I know.”

  “I was thinking about taking him out fishing tonight. Get his mind off all this,” Jonathan said. “You want to come?”

  “Not a bad idea.”

  “We haven’t chased those trout down at Horton Creek since the opener back in April.”

  “Think they’re waiting for us?” George asked, smiling.

  “I think they’re damn lonely,” Jonathan said. “Meet me down at our dock around seven tonight.”

  Jennifer Harris parked the family’s big sedan in the clearing by the beach. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the car. It was late morning and the sand was still cool beneath her feet. She started walking down the narrow foot trail through the woods, the beach grasses slapping at her bare legs, the sand squishing up between her toes. The sound of waves rolling up on the beach could be heard up ahead. Light from the sun overhead broke through the heavy tree cover in dappled patterns along the ground.

  It had been almost a week since that night she had last been out to this beach at Fisherman’s Island and still her heart beat heavily in her chest. The shame and guilt of what had happened then and since continued to haunt her. She asked her mother if she could borrow the car to run a few errands, but she needed to see this place again.

  The path broke out into low mounds of sand dunes going off in all directions. Clusters of cottonwood trees and low scrub brush could be seen across the landscape. She came over a rise and the broad blue expanse of Lake Michigan presented itself before her, big waves crashing up onto the beach from the brisk wind blowing out of the west. The wind felt good in her face and cooled the sweat drops breaking out on her forehead from the walk down from the car.

  She turned left along another trail and soon came to the burned remnants of the big bonfire from that night. Driftwood logs had been pulled around for people to sit near the fire and there was still paper and beer cans left lying in the sand. Jennifer walked over and sat down on one of the logs. The smell of the fire was still there in the ashes and her mind went back to that night; the sounds of kids laughing and telling jokes, some going off into the dunes to make-out, the beer and whiskey bottles being passed around. She closed her eyes and it was dark again and she was back here on that night and she shivered as she thought of the liquor and then the lost moments that were causing pain for so many.

  When she opened her eyes again, the sun’s reflection off the sand was blinding and she held her hand up over her eyes for a moment to let them adjust again. She looked out across the lake, endless waves coming onshore. Sandpipers ran in little clusters along the beach and a few gulls flew overhead looking for dead fish washed up for an easy meal.

  She stood up and looked around at the trails and footprints leading away from the fire. A trail leading off to the south held some recognition for her and she started walking up into the dunes. The sand was loose, and it was hard to walk. More beer bottles littered the trail as she walked on and then she came over a small rise and stopped suddenly, looking down at an area hidden in behind some bushes. She moved slowly down the backside of the dune and over toward the bushes and she saw an empty whiskey bottle thrown up into the scrub brush. Reaching down with her hands behind her, she sat on the side of the dune and looked at the place where she was sure this had all taken place. There were footprints in the sand and a flat area where a blanket or towel had packed the surface smooth. Fragments of images
flashed in her brain and the sounds of the night came back to her again; the wild laughter, playful screams from the other girls when the boys touched them or chased them.

  Jennifer put her head between her knees and closed her eyes and prayed for all the haunting images to come back to her.

  Mary Truegood sat in a pew in the tiny church, her eyes closed and hands folded tightly in prayer. The chapel was empty and quiet and light filtered in through stained glass windows on the southern wall.

  She prayed to the God who had brought her so much comfort over the years during times that had not always been easy. She prayed now for her son and for her God to stand by him and see him through this time.

  She heard someone walk up next to her and sit down. When she looked up, she could see it was the pastor and she closed her eyes again to continue her prayer. She felt his hand on her shoulder and was reassured that she and Sammy were not in this alone.

  Sheriff Willy Potts had promised he would continue to have his men search for Agnes and Sara Slayton. Emily couldn’t stop worrying about the little girl. She pulled into the parking area in front of her husband’s business and went into the office where Tracy greeted her.

  “Dr. McKendry, are you feeling better?”

  “I’m fine, Tracy. I saw Jonathan’s truck out front. Is he around?”

  “He went back out to the shop a few minutes ago.”

  “Thanks,” she said and then walked out the back door into the yard where Jonathan stored new and used boats. She walked through the boats up on cradles and over to the big boathouse and saw Jonathan walking out. He saw her and got an immediate disapproving look across his face.

  “I thought we agreed you needed another day in bed,” he said as he came up to her.

  She put her arms around him and fell into the familiar comfort of his embrace. “Jonathan, I’m so afraid for the Slayton’s.”

  “I know, honey.”

  “I just went out to the farm with Willy to check on them and they’re gone.”