Lost Lake

by Sarah Addison Allen

  The phone started ringing again. Cricket. Kate was so angry and full of grief at that moment that, without thinking, she hauled back and threw the ringing phone into the lake, where it landed somewhere near the ghost ladies with a soft plop.

  She stood there, stunned. She couldn’t believe she just did that.

  She ran her hands through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes. They were going to have to go back to Atlanta. She knew that. That was their home. And she was going to have to face Cricket. But she was not going to be in any commercials. She was not going to support Cricket’s burgeoning political career. Cricket had spent so much time behind the scenes in politics that it had never occurred to Kate that she would ever step in front of the camera, though it made perfect sense. Kate didn’t know why she was so surprised. She had money, looked great on TV, came across as sympathetic but had firm opinions, and she had hair that didn’t move. She had wanted Matt to go into politics, but now that he was gone, Kate figured Cricket had decided she was just going to have to do it herself. Matt had told Kate once that Cricket had made him run for class president and major in political science because she’d been prepping him for something big. He’d said it in an I showed her, didn’t I? kind of way, something that always made Kate think that his life with her was just a way of getting back at his mother.

  But Kate was tired of sacrificing her happiness for someone else’s dreams. She’d done it for her mother when she was a teenager, and she’d done it for Matt. She’d done it all willingly, but never again. For the past year, she’d been scared that she couldn’t actually live her own life, that she was someone who was inherently incapable of it. She was scared of being a bad parent. Scared of being alone. Scared to grieve. Not anymore.

  This, she thought, was where her real life was going to start. She didn’t know where it was going, but it was going to start here, where she used to know herself so well, where no one else’s rules made sense but her own.

  She looked at the water and sighed.

  Apparently, her new life was going to start without a phone.

  7

  The next morning, Devin woke up early. She didn’t know where she was, and she sat up quickly. But then it came to her. The cabin. Lost Lake. Her eyes went slowly around the room. It reminded her of a hut, the kind a banished princess would live in, hiding from a wicked witch. She liked the thought of being banished. That way, she’d never have to go back. The bed was old and white, with a scene from the lake painted on it. The dresser was fat and round and had glass knobs that looked like cloudy diamonds. The wallpaper was peeling, and she got a splinter in her foot from the uneven floorboards last night, but all in all she couldn’t have dreamed of any place better.

  Her dad wouldn’t have liked it here. But her dad wouldn’t have liked moving into Grandma Cricket’s, either. Her dad had only really liked his bike shop, and Devin didn’t like it there. She missed him, but not the way her mom seemed to miss him. She wondered if her mom missed him because she didn’t remember him. Devin remembered him very clearly. She would test herself every once in a while and, yes, she could still recall everything about him, right down to the way he smelled, a sharp combination of soap, summer sweat, and tire rubber. She had a fanny pack that had belonged to him, and inside she kept a photo of him and a Paracord bracelet he used to wear all the time, which she’d sneaked out of her parents’ room the day Grandma Cricket decided to clear all of her dad’s clothes out of the house. She kept it around in case she ever needed it, in case she started forgetting.

  Everything was quiet. Her mom obviously wasn’t up yet. She threw the covers off and walked to the window in her bedroom. She pulled and straightened her Wonder Woman T-shirt and her pajama shorts with the strawberry pattern on them, which had gotten uncomfortably twisted in her sleep. She stopped at the window and looked out, yawning. Bright mist from the lake was threading through the spaces between the cabins and lying low over the lawn in front of the main house.

  A tang of barbecue charcoal was in the air, left over from where they’d cooked on the grills last night, and it made her hungry. She turned to go to the kitchen, to see if food had magically appeared like it had when she’d woken up yesterday. She’d liked those fruit tarts, which she’d never had for breakfast before.

  But something caught her eye outside the window, and she stopped.

  There, walking down the path toward the lawn, was an alligator.

  It was huge and green-black and walked in a slow, swishing motion. Its wide, stiff tail left a trail in the dew. It was the most beautiful thing she thought she’d ever seen. She watched it walk all the way to the lawn, then it stopped. Minutes, hours, days passed. What was it doing?

  It slowly turned its long bumpy head, teeth baring slightly, and looked back at her.

  Follow me.

  She sucked in her breath. It turned and ambled left, toward the lake, then out of sight.

  Devin ran out of her room and into her mother’s. “Mom!”

  Kate’s head was covered with a pillow. “Hmm?”

  “Mom!”

  When her mother didn’t answer, Devin couldn’t wait. She ran out of the bedroom, then out of the cabin, leaving the door wide open. She darted barefoot down the path, exhilarated. She turned when she got to the lawn and ran down to the lake. Her feet pounded on the new boards Wes had laid down as she ran all the way to the end of the dock. Her breathing was heavy, and it sounded loud over the water. She looked around, turning in circles, trying to find it. The lake had no beach; the water simply butted up against the ground, forming a muddy ledge.

  Where was it?

  She pushed her tangled hair out of her face, and that’s when she realized she’d been in such a hurry that she hadn’t put on her glasses. She used to wear an eye patch, back when she was little. She’d loved it. As she grew older, she got to wear it less and less as her lazy eye improved, until finally the doctor said she didn’t need it anymore. He was wrong. Sometimes she still put it on when her mother wasn’t looking. She was convinced she saw things better with her lazy eye, better than other people. If she put her hand over her good eye, she could find the back of an earring lost in the rug. She could find where Grandma Cricket hid her secret stash of M&M’s in her office, and the T-shirt that had belonged to her dad that her mom still kept hidden.

  She put her hand over her right eye and slowly looked around. It only took moments, and there it was. The alligator had swum out to the middle of the lake, and all that could be seen was the top of its head and its tiny black pebble eyes. It was so still, the water didn’t even move.

  “Hi,” she said, going to her knees.

  It immediately submerged itself.

  “No!” she called. “I won’t hurt you!”

  She wanted to scream in frustration. She didn’t know what to do, short of jumping in, which she knew she shouldn’t do. She wiggled on her stomach to the edge of the dock, then she put her fingers in the lake. She moved them back and forth, waving a greeting in the water. She smiled when she felt its rough skin glide under her fingers, like a cat arching to be petted.

  The alligator’s eyes appeared above the water again, several feet away.

  It said something to her, and she blinked in surprise.

  “What box?” she said. “I don’t see a box.”

  The alligator disappeared under the water, resurfacing even closer to the dock.

  The Alligator Box, it said.

  It disappeared again. Minutes passed and Devin finally sat up. Her head felt swimmy from dangling it over the dock. Suddenly there was a tremendous splash and the alligator seemed to jump right out of the water. Midair, its body arched as if in a spasm, flinging its head in the direction of the dock. Devin heard a small clacking sound as she was sprayed with water. The alligator fell back into the lake with a great splash.

  Devin looked down and saw that it had tossed her what looked to be a wet knobby root the size of a large ice cream cone. She picked it up. She’d rather have had a
tooth, like the one her mom found and gave to Wes, but she’d take what she could get. After all, how many people got gifts from alligators?

  “Devin!” her mother called. Devin turned. Uh-oh. She knew that tone of voice.

  “I’m here,” Devin called back. “I’m fine.”

  Kate slid on the wet grass as she crossed the lawn. Her short dark hair was sticking up in spikes from sleep. It made her look like an elf. Devin remembered when her mother cut it. It took a long time to get used to it, waking up in the mornings and not recognizing her. First her father died, then her mother changed her appearance so drastically. Then Grandma Cricket came into their lives, and Devin had to go to a new school, and they had to sell their house and move in with Grandma Cricket. It was strange, when she thought about it. Her dad was at peace, but no one else was. For almost a year, her mom had floated around, not really present, not happy, not anything. Devin had hated it.

  But now, Devin could see her start to change. It was hard to trust at first, but her mom was happier here. Devin was happier here. And what a strange set of circumstances it was that brought them to this place. It almost scared her, how much could have gone wrong. What if they hadn’t seen the alligator on the road? What if Devin hadn’t found the postcard? She’d been playing in that trunk of clothes almost all her life, and she’d never noticed that corner of paper, tucked almost completely into the lining.

  They were meant to be here.

  “What are you doing out here so early?” Kate asked when she reached Devin. She knelt in front of her. “How did you get so wet? And look at you—you’re barefoot.”

  Devin leaned forward and said softly into her mother’s ear, “I saw the alligator.”

  Kate smiled and ran her hands up and down Devin’s arms, as if to warm her. “Sweetheart, there aren’t alligators here.”

  “Yes, there are!” Devin insisted. She held out the root as proof. “It gave me this. I’m not sure what it means yet.”

  “I see. That was nice of him.” Kate met Devin’s eyes. “Okay, make me a real Devin Promise. You will not leave the cabin alone like this again.” Devin Promises were what Devin and her mother had agreed were the most serious promises to make. You made them, you kept them.

  Devin sighed. “I promise. But I tried to get you up first.”

  Kate stood and took Devin’s hand. “I know you did. The trick is to wait for me. Then we both go.”

  “Okay,” Devin said, looking over her shoulder as they walked away.

  The alligator watched her go, then dipped under the water and vanished.

  * * *

  That afternoon, Eby was gazing at the ceiling in cabin number 9. There was a water stain here that looked like a bicycle wheel. It had been here for years, growing progressively larger. It had appeared the year George died. Back then it had looked like a tiny black beetle, and she used to come to this cabin and stare at it, sometimes swearing it would move, that it would run around the ceiling and spell out words like hope and love and real. But then she would blink and the words would go away. The stain was in the corner of the room, and its moisture had caused the coral wallpaper to peel away from the top. She’d always meant to fix that tiny leak, but then she’d thought, What if the ceiling wanted to tell me something else? So she’d left it.

  This cabin also had a truly magnificent sleigh bed, antique and handcrafted. The camp was scattered with antiques from Eby and George’s halcyon days, hidden like secret treasure among the cheaper stuff. The vanity next to the yard-sale dresser was one George had bought on their honeymoon, an antique with inlay, the mirror slightly smoky, as if it would magically show you the most beautiful version of yourself if you asked. But she’d never asked. Her sister Marilee had been the beautiful one in their family. Even so, George, who had risen to the top of Atlanta’s eligible bachelors when he’d unexpectedly inherited his estranged grandfather’s money, had chosen Eby over her. Oh, Marilee had tried to win him. But she would have had to overcome a lifetime of teasing him in school about his red hair and bad teeth. Eby had always been kind to him, in love with him most of her life because he drew the most beautiful things with pencil and paper during classes. He was a dreamer, like her. And he’d wanted to marry her when he’d inherited his money, much to everyone’s surprise. He could have had his pick of beautiful belles. He could have had Marilee, before she’d fallen in love with Talbert, the gas station attendant. But he’d loved only Eby.

  You didn’t need a mirror to tell you that you were beautiful when you had proof like that.

  There was a knock on the door, then she heard Kate call, “Eby?”

  Startled, Eby sat up on the dusty bed. She thought she could come here in secret. She thought Kate would be like everyone else and fall under the siesta spell that summer afternoons at Lost Lake were famous for casting.

  After an initial panic, she decided not to bother getting off the bed. She’d been caught. There was no use trying to hide it. “I’m in here,” Eby said.

  Kate walked in. She was wearing cutoff shorts and a quirky gray T-shirt printed with a giant bicycle that looked like it was parked on top of a tiny old-fashioned circus. The two large Ferris wheels from the circus below magically rose up and morphed into the bicycle wheels. PHERIS WHEELS, ATLANTA, GEORGIA was written underneath it.

  Eby found herself studying Kate. She had a face that people liked to look at, just to figure it out. Pretty, yes, but not symmetrical, her eyes a little too wide, her nose a little too long. She was thin, but a thin that could only go so small, stopped by good muscle and big bones. All the women in their family had sturdy frames. They weren’t made to break, but most of them did anyway, blown down by that perfect storm called love.

  “I saw that the number nine key was missing off the key wall, so I figured you were here,” Kate said. “I was just wondering about the inventory you said you wanted to do. I want to help all I can before we leave.”

  “Thank you,” Eby said. She patted the dusty bed, and Kate crawled up and sat beside her.

  “What are you doing in here?” Kate asked as she looked around the room.

  “Thinking, mostly.”

  “About what?”

  “Lots of things. Today I was thinking about George. When we first bought the camp, we spent a year doing repairs. Then, when we were ready to open, George drove far and wide in every direction, leaving brochures anyplace a store owner would let him. The brochures had a photo of us on the front. Our first guests were unconventional—free spirits and hippies. We seemed to attract oddballs, and we didn’t know why. Don’t get me wrong. We loved it. But I’ll never forget the first summer Bulahdeen and her husband arrived. She said they chose Lost Lake because of the brochure. She said that she took one look at the photo of me and George and thought, I’m a misfit like them, so maybe I could be happy there, too.”

  That made Kate laugh. “She was right. Misfits need a place to get away, too. All that trying to fit in is exhausting.”

  Eby looked over at her great-niece. Her smile changed her entire face, widening her lips and crinkling her eyes. What was she doing here, hiding out with a bunch of old people? She should be moving on, living her life the way it was meant to be lived. She’d gotten through the hard part. Happiness now was inevitable, if she just let it happen. “You said you were in the middle of moving. Aren’t you in a hurry to go back to your new place?” Eby asked.

  Kate’s smile faded. “It’s complicated.”

  Eby waited.

  Kate folded her legs in front of her and picked at the strings of her cutoffs. “I was paralyzed, living in the house I’d shared with Matt. So my mother-in-law helped me sell it. I actually made a lot of money. But, instead of finding another house to live in, like any normal person would, I decided to move in with my mother-in-law. I let her take over, and it wasn’t the right decision. I realize that now. I need to clear the air.” She took a deep breath and turned to Eby. “So, yes, I have to go back. But, no, I’m not in a hurry. I’m here for you. I
can stay all summer, if you need me to. I don’t think Devin would object.”

  Eby smiled. “You can stay as long as you like.”

  “Devin said she saw an alligator this morning. I found her on the dock, damp with lake water, holding an ugly root she said the alligator gave her. If he’s giving her gifts now, I’m never going to get her to leave.”

  Eby wedged a pillow behind her and sat back. “You used to give your mother fits here at the lake, too. Disappearing all day, coming back smelling of lake water, bugs in your clothes. Sometimes you and Wes would have a frog with you. A couple of times you even captured scorpions in a jar. Your mother used to make you sleep with a shower cap full of baby powder on your hair to get the lake smell out.”

  Kate laughed. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  Eby hesitated before asking her next question. She was better off not knowing, because there was nothing she could do. But leaving Kate’s mother when she was a little girl was one of the hardest things Eby had ever done. “How was Quinn? I mean, was her life good?”

  “She was happy when my dad was alive,” Kate said. “After he was gone, she hated to be alone. When I was in high school, I stayed home most nights so she wouldn’t get so anxious. She was pretty much my best friend back then. Then I met Matt in college, and we moved in with her when I got pregnant. She liked having Devin around. I think that was the happiest she’d been since Dad died.”