“Look,” said Kala, pointing to a dark spot bobbing on the water. “A loon. That’s its lonely song you’re hearing.”
They listened without talking and darkness began to eat up the fading light. Blackflies found them and Kala reluctantly called to Taiku. “Time to head in,” she said to Dawn. “Before we’re nothing but a mass of bug bites.” They jogged up the incline through the trees to the cottage, swatting at flies as they went. “Tomorrow we load up on bug spray before the sun sets,” she promised. “Luckily, I brought a few bottles.”
Kala lay awake long after Dawn and Taiku had settled in the adjoining bedroom. Dawn’s wish to have Gundersund and his dog Minny here was the most emotion she’d showed in months, but her desire to have them with her could simply be that she felt out of place. She’d been closed off since her ordeal in the spring and the death of her father. She hadn’t asked to visit her mother in Joliette pen and had said she was too busy with schoolwork when Kala suggested they go for the day. Kala knew she wasn’t imagining Dawn’s detachment. Even her therapist, Dr. Lyman, was concerned. She’d called Kala in to discuss her inability to break through the wall Dawn had built up around herself. Dr. Lyman said that all the progress they’d made since she first started treating Dawn had fallen away.
Kala had left the bedroom doors and windows open after checking for holes in the mesh screens that would let in the bugs, and a cool cross breeze snapped the white curtains like billowing sails into the room. The chirping crickets and the late-summer air perfumed by fireweed, goldenrod, and clover lulled her into half-sleep. Her mind drowsily relived the day and the people she’d met. She’d instinctively filed away first impressions and the interactions she observed.
These people are not what they appear.
The thought came unbidden and momentarily jolted her from sleep, much like the feeling of falling just before slumber. She’d sensed an undercurrent in the dining room from the moment she and Dawn sat down at their table. The feeling had intensified as the meal wore on. She’d watched the interactions of the people from this small, isolated community and tried to pinpoint her unease without success.
She rolled onto her side and watched the shadows on the wall before her eyes fluttered closed.
But we don’t have to engage, she thought as she let go of the day. Dawn and I are here to reconnect, not make friends. I’m not going to get involved in their business, and I hope they leave us alone. I need this time and distance from Gundersund to figure out what I’m going to do next.
Rachel stared down the dirt road in the gathering darkness looking for her father’s truck. He’d insisted on picking her up, saying that she shouldn’t be roaming around the countryside after dark even though she’d ridden her bike home most nights over the summer, always making it close to town before the sun set. If it was raining, one of the Hydro guys, Ian or Blaine, always offered to drive her and she’d leave her bike at the lodge. “The days are getting shorter,” her dad had said at breakfast. “I’ll come get you when your shift is done.” She’d tried to talk him out of his offer. Was happy now that she hadn’t. She had no desire to make small talk with anybody.
The kitchen had been closed a good hour and the wind had gotten stronger while she waited, chilling her in the thin sweater she’d tucked into her bag that morning. She’d tried calling her dad, but the reception was terrible and she hadn’t gotten a signal … as usual. Martha said she didn’t bother getting Wi-Fi in order to keep the lodge a rustic getaway, but Rachel had heard that the lodge was situated in a dead zone — a valley surrounded by rock cliffs that kept out the signal. She could walk over to Martha and Neal’s cabin to use the landline in Martha’s office but didn’t feel like making the effort. I don’t want to talk to them. I’ll begin walking, she thought. I’m bound to meet Dad on my way.
She started toward town on the narrow, unpaved road that allowed cars to pass with little room to spare. The road abutted onto culverts in places and sloping rock cuts in others. Spruce, balsam, and pine stretched along both sides creating a claustrophobic feeling magnified by the swaying branches and long evening shadows. The lonely road suited her mood. She was glad she could stop working at Pine Hollow in a week when it closed. Her dad had never understood why she chose a summer at the lodge anyway when she could have worked for his outfitting business. He’d be happy to hear that she never intended on going back.
Rachel picked up her pace the farther she got from the lodge. Her house on the edge of town was five kilometres away and would take her an hour walking at a good clip. She checked over her shoulder periodically and listened for the sound of a car coming from either direction. The wind that was whistling around the cottages off the lake was muffled inland, making her feel even more cocooned and removed from civilization. Darkness was settling around her like fine silt as she walked, gradually blurring her view of the road ahead. A black, knee-high form darted out of the underbrush and ran across the road three feet ahead of her. She stopped dead and clutched at her heart until she was certain the fox or wolverine or whatever it was would not be returning to attack her. A distraught sob escaped her lips. I’m going crazy, she thought. Where the hell are you, Daddy?
She began humming loudly as she walked to ward off wild animals and to keep herself from losing it, because she’d always had an irrational fear of being alone in the dark. Twice she pulled out her cellphone and tried to call her father, but both times the signal didn’t hold. She was shivering now, the cold having worked its way through the light sweater and short-sleeved T-shirt. She stumbled on a furrow in the packed dirt and rolled over on her ankle, catching herself before she went down on her knee.
Oh no. She straightened and gingerly put weight on the foot. Nothing broken. Relief flooded through her. The pain was bearable and she wouldn’t be sitting by the side of the road until morning. She took a few steps and slowed her pace to keep from falling since the darkness was now almost complete.
She cursed her father as she walked, storing up the angry words she was going to say to him when he finally pulled up. She was no longer the mature woman with a secret lover, but the frightened little girl that she’d thought she’d long outgrown. All she wanted was to be home in bed snuggled up with her pain and her teddy bear and a cup of herbal tea. She shuddered, thinking of how far her belief in herself had fallen in the last few hours. Part of her thought that maybe she deserved what she was getting. She’d gotten involved in things that she now regretted. The universe was making her pay for her sins.
At first, her lover’s nearness in the restaurant made the evening exciting, but she played it cool even as she relived all the intimate ways he’d touched her the night before. She knew he couldn’t acknowledge her and she kept her part of the bargain, pretending not to notice him more than anybody else. Their secret life was a turn-on. She served meals and cleared tables all the while feeling a heat in her chest and between her legs. She chanced to glance his way once and found him watching her. She’d started to smile but bit her bottom lip when she saw his eyes. They were cold. Cold as ice, staring straight at me. An embarrassed blush heated her cheeks and she looked away flustered, blinking back tears that stung her eyes.
He’s been using me, she thought. He never meant for us to last.
She’d wanted to throw down her tray and run from the restaurant. When she turned back he was walking away from her. A shiver rippled up her spine. She hadn’t imagined what she saw in his eyes. His mask had dropped … long enough. If she was honest with herself, she’d sensed something off with him for a while, but she wasn’t ready before now to accept that he was manipulating her. She had still believed in the power of romance novels. She’d been such a fool.
If you could hide your true self from me when we were alone together, what else are you capable of hiding?
She moved to the edge of the road as she heard a car engine growing louder. She thought it was coming from the direction of the resort, but it could as easily be coming from town. The darkness disori
ented her and the revving sound of the engine echoed off the rockface. The headlights were on high and they blinded her as the car rounded the corner in the road. She lifted an arm across her eyes while waving her other arm to get the driver’s attention. The lights swerved and she thought in that split horrifying second that the car was coming toward her. She took two steps to the right, bending at the knees as she prepared to throw herself into the culvert, but the car braked and stopped several metres away, the headlights still pointed at her so that she felt like an actress on stage.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. She grabbed her chest. The driver’s door swung open. Anger replaced her fear. “You scared the crap out of me!” she yelled. She stomped her foot. “What the hell were you thinking?”
She couldn’t make out who was getting out of the car and squinted through the dazzling light that made miniature explosions sparkle in the darkness. She cupped a hand over her eyes but still couldn’t see who was standing next to the open car door. The figure took a running step toward her, picking up speed until it was charging at her like a mad bull. She instinctively cowered backwards a step. “Don’t come any closer!” she yelled, but the black shape covered the distance between them without pause until it loomed over her, blocking out the glare from the car’s headlights. She closed her eyes to clear the blurriness that clouded her vision from the blinding lights and the panicky tears that seeped from under her lids. The whoosh of something swinging through the air startled then terrified her. She ducked and lifted both arms over her head but she was a split second too late. This is insane, she thought. Help me, Daddy! She opened her mouth to scream the words but a loud crack split the silence and the world exploded into a flash of stars and pain as her eyes widened in horror and she crumpled into the blackness. She lay motionless on the dirt road, unaware of the successive blows to her head or the hands rolling her … rolling her … over the edge and down the steep incline into the culvert where she breathed her last on a flattened bed of goldenrod and purple fireweed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Shane was sitting in the chair facing the door when Petra’s key rattled in the lock. He could pretend to be asleep, but he wanted her to know that he’d been waiting up for her. She opened the door and stepped inside. For a moment she was illuminated by the outside light before she turned and silently eased the door shut. He could see her standing motionless in the entranceway while her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. His breath still caught in his chest at the sight of her. Soft blond hair to her shoulders, five foot five and all curves, but slender at the same time. Her eyes, he knew, were large and blue as cornflowers. Thirty-five and he’d been in love with her more than half their lives.
She bent and took off her shoes, setting them on the rack before she walked on stockinged feet to the kitchen. He saw the light from the fridge and her leaning over the door looking inside. She pulled the half-eaten apple pie out and gently closed the fridge. He heard the rattle of a plate and the drawer open as she found a fork, then the scrape of the stool as she settled in at the counter to eat.
He walked as quietly as she had into the kitchen, and she gasped when he turned on the lights. The forkful of pie was halfway to her lips and she set it back onto the plate. She stared at him without speaking.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked.
“I got waylaid.” She smiled as if she’d said something amusing. Then she lifted the fork to her mouth and bit into the pie.
“If by waylaid you mean laid, I’m not impressed with your wordplay. I expected you home hours ago.”
She chewed slowly and swallowed without taking her eyes from his. She ran her tongue slowly across her top lip, then the bottom. “Sorry, I didn’t mean you to think I was having it off with someone.”
Her smile said otherwise, but he decided to let it go. “How was traffic?”
“No more than usual. I just needed some time away from here. I shopped and had supper and went to a movie. I left the Soo later than I planned. I’m sorry if you were worried.”
He tried to detect a false note in her words, but she’d gotten so good at lying … hell, they’d gotten so good at lying to each other … that he had no choice but to accept her story. He was too weary to get into their marriage this late at night. Wasn’t even sure he wanted to go there again because thinking about her with others drove him crazy. But she always came back and he’d learned to live with what he couldn’t change. “I’m going to bed,” he said.
“Then I won’t be far behind.”
A light rain started an hour before dawn. White mist hung suspended over the lake when the sun finally rose above the thick grey cloud cover.
“The weather report says drizzle until early afternoon when the storm moves in,” called Kala from the kitchen. She turned off the radio. “Are you still game to go for a paddle?” She crossed the cold floor to the bedroom in the semi-gloom. Dawn had chosen the bottom bunk and was lying on her side, facing the door, wrapped in a blanket. Taiku was stretched out on the floor next to her on an area rug. His tail thumped against the bed frame.
“I guess.”
“I know it’s not ideal for your first time in a canoe, but we have rain gear and I’ll make a Thermos of hot chocolate.”
“I’ll be fine, Aunt Kala.”
“It’s just that I don’t want to wait.”
They dressed and ate a quick breakfast before carrying the canoe from the truck to the dock. Kala left Taiku indoors rather than have him wet and miserable in the boat, even though he’d liked past excursions on the water. They put life jackets on over their raincoats and launched from the dock, Dawn in the front and Kala steering from the back. Dawn picked up the basic stroke after a quick lesson and they moved into deeper water, keeping the shore in sight through the heavy mist. The sound was muffled as the rain pattered on the lake all around them.
“I feel like we’re alone in a world all our own,” said Dawn. She dipped her paddle and turned to look at Kala. “Am I doing this right?”
“You’re doing beautifully. A natural paddler.”
Kala settled into the rhythm of their strokes, steering the canoe around the bend into a wider expanse of water. The white haze thinned and she could make out sheer cliffs dense with trees. The air smelled of fish and pine. They cut a path through a bay of reeds and water lilies, and Dawn pointed to a turtle lying on a rock protruding from the water near the shore. She rested her oar across the canoe and leaned forward to get a better look.
This is going to work out, thought Kala when Dawn turned to smile at her. The tightness in her chest had been loosening with every stroke. Dawn hasn’t disappeared where I can’t find her.
Martha lay in bed and listened for the slam of the front door to let her know Neal was on his way to deal with breakfast for the guests. Shane would do the cooking and Neal would serve. Her morning to lie in. She rolled over and looked out the window toward the lake. A rainy, grey Sunday. She was glad now that they’d put Shane and Petra in the cabin up the road instead of inviting them to stay in this one. How awkward and cramped that would have been in hindsight. How difficult to carry on. It meant giving up one cabin as a rental, but they could absorb the lost income without much problem.
She got out of bed and sat in a scented bath for half an hour, reading this month’s Architectural Digest magazine, clearing her mind, letting the stress seep from her limbs. She climbed out of the tub when the water cooled and dressed in jeans and a red-and-white checked shirt before throwing a load of laundry into the washer. The kitchen clock read seven forty when she put on a pot of coffee and toasted two pieces of brown bread. She didn’t feel up to facing the lodgers this morning and wasn’t hungry anyway. Instead, she took her coffee to the screened-in veranda where she could watch the mist lift from the lake. This was her favourite time of day, even if today’s weather was dreadful.
She heard the crunch of tires on the gravel in the side yard as she was getting up to refill her coffee mug and opened the back door before he
r visitor had a chance to knock.
Rachel’s father, Owen Eglan, stood with his back to her, but he turned as the door opened. “Martha, I’m looking for Rachel. Has she shown up here this morning? Her bed hasn’t been slept in.” He looked rumpled in a tan corduroy jacket and wrinkled T-shirt. Rachel had inherited her thick red hair from him, although his hairline had receded somewhat. He’d also passed along his tendency to blush at the slightest provocation.
“Rachel went home after her shift ended last night and isn’t expected back until this afternoon. I thought she said that you were picking her up?” She kept her voice light, the judgment unspoken. How could he not have begun the search for her earlier if she hadn’t made it home the night before?
“I know we seem negligent,” he said, appearing to pick up on her tone, “but I had an unexpected trip into the backwoods and left Rachel a voicemail that she’d have to get home on her own.” His voice trailed off. A rosy stain crept into his cheeks.
Martha didn’t insult him with a reminder that Rachel’s cellphone wouldn’t have worked at the lodge. She knew that he knew. Customers liked to get away from technology and this was one of the lodge’s marketing strategies. Owen had stood her up and guilt was written all over his face. “Have you checked with her friends? Maybe she had impromptu plans after work.”
“Isabelle is calling them now. I thought I’d check with you on the off chance.”
“I’m sorry. I really have no idea where she went after work.”
Martha leaned on the door and watched him get into his truck. Owen and Isabelle had never been friendly, but she felt a twinge at what they must be going through. Having a teenage daughter out all night would be a worry for any parent. She ignored the rain and ran across the yard, waving at him to roll down his window. “Rachel is due here at two, so I’ll make sure we get word to you when she arrives.”
Closing Time Page 3