by Frank Martin
Mark still hadn’t accepted it, though, and moped as he turned back around to the lake. “I thought she said we were all going to have dinner tonight. One last time before they left.”
“One last time?” April scoffed, chuckling. “How about one first time?”
“Hey, guys,” Henry chirped, eager to cheer them up. “Forget about your parents. You’re with Uncle Henry now, which means a summer of fun, okay? Just look at this place. It’s gorgeous, right?”
“Kinda crowded,” April murmured, unimpressed.
“Yeah,” Henry groaned. “The weekends tend to get a little busy. But during the week this place is practically a ghost town. The water is like glass.”
Mark turned around, curious at the expression. “Glass?”
Henry’s face beamed, excited to explain. “Yeah. So flat you can see your own reflection and skim a rock clear to the other side of the lake.”
Mark smiled. At least something could lift his spirits, April thought, but she had other concerns and gestured back towards the house. “Enjoying the bachelor life?”
“Yeah,” Henry replied, turning around to admire his home. “I had the place renovated when I bought it. You like?”
“It’s great but…” April’s voice trailed off, annoyed that she had to spell it out for him. “Where are we going to sleep?”
Henry’s giddy smile returned as he pointed over the porch to the hill below. April leaned over the railing and saw the stone walkway down to the dock branch off to the two-story house next door. The building, which had a similar wood paneling on the outside to Henry’s, was a lot closer to the lake, but the red mulch and landscaping, not to mention the walkway, tied the two properties together as one. That was when it dawned on her. April was looking at a guesthouse.
While she and Mark continued to stare speechless at the place, Henry bent over and slipped his head in between them. “Your own house. Your own kitchen. Your own rooms and bathrooms.”
He stood back up, which drew April and Mark to turn to him as if he had the dumbstruck children tethered to a string.
“Welcome to Lake Oscawana,” he said with a grin, tipping his bucket hat like some kind of fashion-challenged cowboy.
CHAPTER TWO
It had been a few days since April arrived at her uncle’s house and already she was finding the place more bearable than she thought it would be. Her room had internet and a TV, which pretty much meant that she never needed to go outside.
By contrast, it seemed as if Mark was spending more time in the water than on land these past couple days. Henry was right in that everyone who had been at the lake for the weekend went back home during the week, leaving just a boat or two to put around on the water. Mark even found a few local kids to hang out with. They lived a few houses down and owned a massive floating trampoline that Mark had grown obsessed with.
If April didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed her brother was actually enjoying himself. Which kind of made the situation worth it. Sacrificing her own happiness for his was a no brainer. Besides, all things considered, Uncle Henry wasn’t that bad. And there were certainly worst ways to spend a summer, especially when her parents were the ones making the decisions.
At her brother’s constant nagging, April even decided to try out some of this beautiful “nature” he was so adamant about enjoying. A short while after lunch, once the one fishing boat on the water called it quits for the day, April popped in her ear buds and left the guesthouse, walking across the strip of grass at the bottom of the hill with her bare feet. She approached her uncle’s wooden dock, which was made of about a dozen weathered planks that extended fifteen feet into the lake. Walking carefully to avoid the sharp splinters protruding upright, April eventually made it to the dock’s end and sat with her feet over the edge.
April started her time of relaxation by leaning back on her hands and slowly scanning the continuous line of robust treetops that completely encircled the lake. Like top-heavy giants, the trees, branches, trunks, and all, swayed gently side to side in the light breeze. The fluid motion looked like an orchestrated dance that lulled April into a soothing daydream.
After three songs she barely paid attention to, April stopped the music and tossed her ear buds to the side. Mixed with the tree’s rustling leaves and the soft rolling, trickle of water, the wind’s faint whistle was a nice change of tune, maybe even something April could get used to.
Eventually, April lost track of time, content to sit at the dock’s edge for as long as she was able. At some point, April wasn’t sure if it had been hours or minutes, Henry and Mark came down to the water and started tossing a Frisbee along the grass.
They didn’t bother her for the most part, and April learned forward for a different view. Instead of staring up at the trees, she turned her focus to the water below her feet. Without any boats to create a steady stream of rollers, April hoped to see the “glass” Henry had described when they first arrived, but the subtle breeze generated tiny waves that rippled along the surface.
It wasn’t perfect, but April could still make out a distorted outline of her reflection in the water. Her blank face appeared to have a hundred vibrating bumps, and April played with the image even more by dragging the tips of her feet across the water. Although it barely brushed against her toes, the cool lake was a refreshing blast against her skin, which had become hot in the scorching summer sun.
“Be careful dangling your feet in the water,” Henry yelled out from the grass behind her. “You don’t want a little fish thinking you’re a snack.”
The warning took April by surprise and she immediately pulled her feet back, bending them under the dock. The thought of being bitten never even entered her mind. Worried, she looked back over her shoulder at Henry just as he flung the Frisbee to Mark.
“Really?” she asked with concern stressing her voice.
The Frisbee gracefully glided back over to Henry and he quickly snatched it out of the air. “Oh, yeah. Those suckers will nibble at your toes if you let them.”
Further down the grass, Mark sarcastically threw his hands up in the air, mocking his sister’s apprehension. “Oh no! We can’t have any fish ruining April’s nail polish.”
“Shut up, Mark!” she yelled back at him.
Like his uncle, Mark shot his hand out to steal the Frisbee mid-flight. “Then don’t be such a baby.”
Figuring the best option was to ignore him, April turned her attention back to the water under her feet. Without her toes dipped in to disturb the surface, April’s reflection looked even clearer than before. Though she fixated beyond the distorted image of herself to the lake’s murky depths beneath it.
“Are they big, Uncle Henry?” she asked loudly, still staring into the water.
“There’s some bass out in the middle of the lake,” he said, pausing to grunt while throwing the Frisbee, “but they’re too scared to come around people. The ones you should look out for are tiny. You can probably see schools of them swimming under the dock if you look closely enough.”
April continued to focus past her reflection, zoning in on whatever might’ve been lurking below. A fair amount of seaweed, both chopped up in bits and long stringy strands, floated on by. Other than that, April couldn’t see much. Certainly no small groups of fish circulating under her feet, waiting to be fed.
April was about ready to look away when she noticed a small splotch under the surface in her reflection. Covered in shade, the water was already a fairly dark green to begin with, but the black spot seemed to grow larger across her body, dimming her reflection as some unseen object rose from the bottom of the lake.
Cautiously fascinated, April lifted her feet entirely to sit cross-legged and peer over the edge of the dock. Whatever the object was never seemed to take shape, an amorphous blob that stopped at about the size of a small animal, like a beaver or raccoon. April knew enough to realize it wasn’t a fish. She thought maybe it could’ve been some kind of garbage that dragged across the
lake floor. At least she did…until the object shook and scurried on its own, swimming in a circle around her reflection.
April leaned forward even more, practically lying flat on the dock with her face just a few feet from the surface. Yet still, the mystery creature’s identity eluded her as it swam in a circle, playfully darting back and forth as if it enjoyed having April’s attention.
April smiled, amused by the creature’s almost whimsical behavior, but it suddenly stopped when a faint, far off hum echoed across the water. The creature paused for a brief moment, assessing the audible intrusion to the lake’s serenity, and then quickly dove deeper under the surface, disappearing into the depths of the lake as the sound continued to grow.
Annoyed, April jumped to her feet and scanned the sky for the source of the buzzing, quickly spotting a small plane in the distance. Its wings rocking back and forth, the plane hovered above the trees, expanding in size with each passing second. Eventually, April realized the plane was headed straight for them, descending at an unbelievable speed. Soon, the plane darted downwards just over the tree line, and April caught sight of two hefty pontoons mounted underneath the car-sized cabin. Affixed to the front of it was a single propeller spinning so fast it looked like one blurry circle, but the prop slowed down ever so slightly as the seaplane touched down on the water, bouncing off the surface a single time before coming to a smooth, seamless stop.
“Wow,” Mark muttered, standing beside April.
She hadn’t even noticed he’d walked up next to her, his jaw hanging open in a half awe-struck smile.
“That’s Paul Dutchman,” Henry explained, standing on the other side of April. “He’s got a house over on the south side of the lake.”
“You know him?” Mark asked, his voice eager and excited.
Henry shook his head. “Never met him, but I spoke to a couple of the neighbors who can’t stand the guy. They say he’s obnoxious, always coming to the lake with that thing, making noise and aggravating people.”
“I think it’s cool,” Mark said, watching intently as the plane slowly swiveled to turn around on the water.
The propeller slowed enough to finally make out its shape as it spun, and the plane continued forward across the water, disappearing behind the trees to the far side of the lake.
The loud hum of the engine continued to echo throughout the valley, but Henry ignored it as he turned to head back down the dock. “I’m just worried he’s going to land on a swimmer one day. Crush them right under those big pontoons.”
“That would be awesome,” Mark exclaimed, cheerfully.
Still standing at the edge of the dock, April leaned away from her brother to gawk at him oddly. Henry did as well, who stopped half way down the dock and turned around with his eyebrow peculiarly raised.
Mark smiled awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders to try and cover up his embarrassment. “To, you know, see in a movie or something.”
“Oh. Speaking of movies,” Henry started, gladly changing the subject to a lighter note. “What’s the summertime without hiding away in a big, dark room and watching a blockbuster with an unnecessary amount of CGI action?”
After several days of never leaving the house, the proposition took April by surprise. “There’s a movie theater around here?”
Henry laughed off the question. “Where do you think you are, April? The middle of nowhere?”
“Might as well be,” she replied, proud of her knowingly obnoxious answer.
With both hands firmly placed on his hips in a power pose, Henry leaned forward, eying the girl down with an exaggerated snooty glare. “Does that mean you don’t want all the candy and popcorn you can eat?”
April was torn. On the one hand, Henry had no idea what a teenager wanted. He was treating her like a little kid, trying to bribe her with junk food. Then again, after three days stuck in the guesthouse, watching a movie while stuffing her face with candy and popcorn sounded like an excellent idea.
“Sure,” she said, rolling her eyes and masking her joy. “Whatever, I guess.”
She started down the dock to approach her uncle when Mark blew right past both of them in a dead sprint. “Don’t mind her, Uncle Henry. She only pretends to be a bitch.”
That little brat was too smart for his own good, April thought to herself while watching him run full speed up the hill and into their uncle’s house.
CHAPTER THREE
After nearly twenty minutes of driving through a winding tunnel of trees, the road poured out onto a main drag filled with cars and life. New York City it was not, but the street was about as close to civilization as April was going to get.
Along the road were a sporadic series of car dealerships and fast food franchises. Henry drove a good deal past that to pull into a rather large shopping center that had a supermarket, clothing store, and, sure enough, a movie theater.
April couldn’t remember the last time she actually sat in a theater and watched a movie. Most in the city were either too small and only showed foreign films or too many blocks away for her to care. This place was massive. It had enough screens to play a dozen titles at once, most of which April hadn’t even heard of.
True to his word, Henry chose a summer blockbuster with just the right blend of action and comedy for April to turn off her brain and enjoy the show. He even bought her and Mark a bucket of popcorn each to go along with the candy of their choice. April picked Twizzlers. Mark wanted M&M’s. Of course, he ate too many before the previews were over, got sick, and April ended up finishing both bags.
After the movie, when a faint layer of fading sunlight still clung to the sky, Henry walked his niece and nephew over to a standalone building in the middle of the parking lot. It wasn’t until they got halfway there that April realized it was one of those hokey family restaurants with too many road signs and celebrity photos on the walls. She wasn’t surprised, either, figuring this was the place Henry scrounged together his corny collection of patches for his trademark bucket hat.
Before they walked through the door, April was hit with a massive wave of chatter and catchy pop music. It was even louder inside, where a crowd of soon-to-be diners sat patiently around the lobby. As they approached the hostess, April noticed that every table on the dining floor was full. Luckily, there was only a ten minute wait, and Mark was adamant about holding the pager, which he unashamedly held against his groin as it went off.
Twenty minutes later and April had completely thrown aside her assumptions about the evening. She had never really experienced what she considered the boring, normal parts of being a family; it was hard for her to imagine enjoying them. Yet there was something about devouring a basket of boneless Buffalo wings in a crowded tacky restaurant while reminiscing over a movie that made April feel at ease.
Mark lauded the blockbuster’s action while Henry praised the unnecessary yet completely gratuitous death scenes. The three of them then shared their favorite funny moments, hysterically laughing over the casual chitchat of the tables around them.
So lost in the conversation that April barely heard the stranger’s voice that interrupted it. “Now that sounds like some healthy laughter.”
A middle-aged man in a finely pressed collared shirt approached the table.
“Sheriff Thompson,” Henry addressed him, pleasantly surprised.
With a haircut so clean it looked like it was measured with a ruler, the Sheriff held up his hand, dismissing Henry’s formal greeting with a smile. “Please, Mr. Hawkins. Just Brian is fine when I’m off duty.”
“Only if you call me Henry,” April’s uncle insisted.
The two men agreed with a nod.
April had plenty of encounters with cops before but never a sheriff. She wasn’t even sure if New York City had one. The word instantly brought to her mind images of cowboys chasing after bank robbers on horseback and towns that clearly weren’t big enough for the both of them. Yet it also reminded her of the first time she stepped out onto her uncle’s porch and saw the she
riff’s boat vigilantly navigating the crowded waters.
“Were you on the lake the other day?” she asked.
“Oscawana?” the Sheriff clarified before nodding. “Yeah. I was.”
Mark smiled widely, revealing the chewed up mess of chicken and blue cheese swirling around in his mouth. “Sheriff of the lake. Sounds like a cool job.”
The Sheriff smiled softly, meant as a polite response to the boy’s enthusiasm. “I'm only really out there on the weekends and holidays.”
“Ever arrest anybody?” Mark asked, his enthusiasm not having dimmed a bit.
Sheriff Thompson shook his head. “Not out on the water.”
“What about any high speed chases?” Mark followed up, eagerly.
The Sheriff twisted his lips, confused by the question. “On land?”
Still excited, Mark swallowed his food as quickly as his throat would allow. “No. With your boat.”
Sheriff Thompson rocked back on his heels while laughing, clearly amused by the boy’s opinion of him. “I don’t know what you think my job is, but it’s pretty boring, to be honest. I really just make sure people aren’t speeding too close to shore and kids are wearing their life jackets. Usually just being out there so people can see me is enough to make sure they follow the rules.”
“Speaking of following the rules,” Henry chimed in, changing the subject. “What about Paul Dutchman? He landed his plane on the water again today.”
Nodding his head, Sheriff Thompson grimaced regretfully. “Yeah. I know. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Looking up at the Sheriff standing on the other side of the table from him, Henry leaned back in his seat with a disappointed pout. “Really? People come up here to get away from the noise of the city and that good-for-nothing show-off is just allowed to mess it all up for everyone? The lake’s not even that big.”
Sheriff Thompson shrugged while continuing to nod with a grimace. “Big enough for him to land and that’s really all that matters. He owns property on the water and there’s no law that stops him from landing his plane on it. People complain all the time but it’s out of my hands.”