Lights Over Cloud Lake

by Nathan Hystad

  “Harry, if you’ve ever cared about me in the least, do this for me. Now!” I shouted, and the other end of the line was silent for a few seconds.

  “I’m on it. I’ll call you when I have something,” Harry said.

  I seized the papers, and Trevor called my name, but I ignored him and stalked to my cabin, feeling the need to escape it. There was no coming back to this place. I tried to think if I’d seen a strange man around the cabins over the last while, someone with the eyes of Peter Martin. I knew those eyes well.

  I drew a blank. Could Dan have been him, playing a ruse with Clare? Was that where she got the drugs from? Teddy Martin? That kind of made sense, but there was no evidence there.

  It didn’t take long for my bags to end up in the trunk of my car, and I sat in the driver’s seat. I glanced at Cabin Nine as I drove away, remembering that I’d offered Clare a ride into town. That could all be part of the setup. Lure me inside the cabin again; this time, Teddy would be there, ready to slit my throat.

  What did he want with me after all this time? How had he tracked me down? There were so many questions floating around my head, but I had none of the answers. I drove, my hands shaking on the steering wheel. I gripped it tighter, trying to stop the movement, to alter my fear and turn it to anger.

  Should I go to the police? I wondered if McCrae would listen to me, or would that paint a bigger target on myself? If Teddy was in town after luring me here, he’d be trying to make a move. He’d only booked me for four nights, but he’d been detained yesterday. I knew that because I’d heard the sheriff mention it.

  I needed to act normal. If he’d tracked me down in New York under my alias, I couldn’t leave and risk further encounters. It was too risky to visit Texas and bring danger to my sister’s family. I had to face this now. I’d go to the Kick-Off, where there were a lot of witnesses, and find Teddy. I was sure I could recognize him if I saw the man. He was likely a burnout, a useless dredge on society, maybe a creep like his father. I suddenly was so certain that he’d been the one to take Carly Miller that night, only to return her, like his dad had done with me.

  Carly needed closure too, and I was going to find that for her. I’d call the police at the right time; they always had a strong presence at the Kick-Off. It was a foolhardy plan, but I felt good about it. As I neared town, my belly grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten much in the last day or so. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stomach any food, but I had to try.

  I drove by the Town Office and remembered finding Clark there, cutting the grass on the morning of the Kick-Off back in the day. There was a pancake breakfast. I had the impulse to stop and pulled over at the market, venturing inside to buy one maple syrup squeeze bottle. After finally letting myself think about that summer, I knew Isabelle was the very same waitress who had sent me on the errand that led me to Clark.

  With the syrup in the passenger seat, I drove to Buddy’s Diner, parked across the street in the overflow, and left the car. I looked around, feeling like someone might be watching my every move. It was unnerving. I honestly couldn’t recall having that sensation since… since Peter Martin. Like father, like son. I was anxious to hear from Harry and checked my phone. Still no text, email, or call from him. I knew Barns liked to lock his door, so Harry was probably struggling to gain access.

  The parking lot was half full, and the street parking was jam-packed full of early risers. It was twice as extravagant as I remembered it as a kid; far more people were here, and now there were tables set up in the empty lot beside the diner. Isabelle was serving pancakes and sausage to the happy line-up of people. A food donation box up front was already swelling with gifts, and a massive old pickle jar sat beside the pancake station, flush with green bills and change settling on the bottom.

  There was a huge sign above it. Buddy’s Diner’s Fiftieth Annual Kick-Off Breakfast. My gaze shifted from face to face, trying to determine if Teddy was among the crowd. So far, I hadn’t seen him. I had the syrup tucked under my arm as I slid into the line behind a young family. The wife had a tiny baby in her arms, a bonnet covering the child’s eyes from the incoming sunlight. It reached a hand out at me, and clenched its fingers.

  What was I even going to do if I saw Teddy? Confront him? Let everyone know who I was? It really didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t the one who’d been in the wrong. I had to protect myself, and knew just where to go to ensure my own safety. I had a feeling the old farmer would be on my side, maybe not even ask any questions.

  We moved slowly through the line, and by the time I arrived at the serving station, Isabelle was gone. I set the syrup down. “In case you run out,” I said to the young man flipping pancakes, and he stared at it, unsure of what to do with the bottle. I slipped a twenty out of my purse and pushed it through the opening cut into the pickle-jar lid with a smile. Since I didn’t see the waitress, I took my food, slathered in sticky goodness, and crossed the street, sitting on the exact same bench Clark and I had shared back then.

  I wished he was here now. I wanted to talk to him. To hear his side of the story, since he’d let it slip that he’d followed me to the cabin, even though I’d never known that. To him, I was Eva Heart, not Jess Carver.

  My stomach was hungry, but my brain was telling me not to eat. I tried to find a happy medium, and ate half of the food methodically as I thought about this week. I needed to know how Barns figured into this.

  “It is you,” a voice said, and I looked up quickly to see Isabelle there. “Do you mind if I have a seat?”

  I wanted to deny whatever accusation was coming, to tell her she was mistaken, but I didn’t. I motioned for her to sit on the bench beside me.

  “Just who do you think I am?” I asked.

  “The syrup. You remember me, don’t you?” she asked, and I saw the same woman working her tail off, looking more than twenty years older.

  I nodded. “I didn’t at first, I swear. This place… it’s all coming back to me. Well, most of it,” I said.

  “Why are you really here? A story? What’s with the name, Eva?” she asked.

  “I changed it a long time ago. Do you know how strange it is to have someone in your college class Google you and find out you were abducted by a creep when you were a kid? It was absolutely terrible. Word ran through the entire college within days. I couldn’t go anywhere without someone making a bad joke, or even worse, staring at me with those sad, pity-filled gazes. I’m fine. I don’t even remember that week. I never have,” I said, as much for her as for myself.

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. For all of it.” Isabelle stared at me with the same sad expression I’d mentioned, and she seemed to become aware of it.

  “You didn’t do anything,” I said.

  “But this town… this town did. You weren’t treated fairly. I can’t imagine how you felt. Your father… your grandmother passing away while you were… I’m just sorry,” she said, with convincing empathy.

  “Thank you, Izzy.” I used her nickname, and she smiled.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  I didn’t know why I should tell her anything, but it was nice to finally be myself, even for a few minutes. “It was for a story, but I think I was manipulated into coming,” I whispered.

  Her eyes went wide. “Who would do something like that?”

  There was no harm in telling her. Actually, it was probably smart to make someone else aware of it. “Teddy Martin.”

  She made a tsk sound with her mouth. “You poor girl.”

  I explained everything: the assignment, the cabin being booked under his credit card.

  “You do know Teddy, right?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Don’t see much of him. He went away for some time; busted for possession. I heard he’s back in town, and that he’s cleaned himself up a bit.”

  “What does he look like?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I’d know him to see him, but it’s been at least ten years. People can change a lot in ten years.”


  “You recognized me,” I said plainly.

  “Only with the subtle reminder. How’s that sister of yours?” she asked.

  “Good. Married, kids, living the dream life she always had, I guess,” I told her.

  Isabelle nodded slowly. “You have to leave. You can’t be here if Teddy is after you. Or go to the police.”

  “He’ll be at the Kick-Off. I know it. I have McCrae on speed dial. This is going to end today. If things go as planned, I’ll have enough evidence of his entrapment by this afternoon,” I said, hoping Harry was getting somewhere with Barns’ computer.

  The cook was shouting at Isabelle. The line was huge, and I could understand the frustration on the waitress’ face. “Will you wait here? I want to help,” she said, and I nodded, knowing that I wouldn’t.

  We both stood, and she pulled me in for a hug. Isabelle had tears in her eyes. “Jessica Carver. I can’t believe it’s really you. And you found Carly Miller. What are the chances?”

  “Sometimes the universe works in remarkable ways,” I told her.

  “Yes. Stay put. We can figure this out,” she said, and ran off, crossing the street only to receive an angry honk from a bald man in a convertible.

  I waited until she was busy, her attention on the task at hand, and I proceeded to my car, before driving down Main Street toward Chester Brown’s farm.

  __________

  I pulled onto Chester Brown’s driveway and was surprised to see the old farmer emerge from his barn almost intuitively. Turtle plodded along beside him, never more than four feet from his master. I parked near his house and made my way to the door, wondering exactly how to ask for what I’d come for.

  “You again. Thought you’d gone an’ left town. Finish the story?” he asked, hands on hips.

  “Not quite, but I’m close. Are you heading to the lake for the Kick-Off today?” I asked, as if this was nothing more than a casual conversation.

  “Don’t get around much, specially to those things. Not comfortable for me an’ Turtle down there in the crowds any longer,” he said. If he was curious why I stopped by, he didn’t ask. “Besides, they think I’m a bit of a loon after talkin’ ‘bout them Grays to the media.”

  “I believe you,” I told him, and I did. If there was one living person I trusted, it was Chester Brown. If my grandma believed, so would I. Up until this point, I’d been so sure that my subconscious had tricked me. My dad had convinced me that my memories weren’t real, without calling me a liar to my face. He just couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t fess up about what Peter Martin had allegedly done to me.

  Allegedly. I’d allowed myself to think he was guilty for so long. Now, standing here talking with Chester, I wasn’t so sure. Images were trying to break through from behind my mind’s walls, old sturdy barriers, with dusty pictures stacked neatly of that night; that week, ending with my dad’s face as I saw him running to me. Picking me up, his wet tears splashing on my confused cheeks.

  “You do? Well, that’s a good girl. I s’pose you’d done gone and seen the lights too.” He didn’t ask, he stated.

  I nodded, unable to keep lying to myself or others. “I did. I did see the lights.”

  He didn’t mention anything further, just forced a smile. “Careful out there today. Weather’s changin’. Use to feel it in my right knee. Now I feel her everywhere.” He stretched, something skeletal popping inside him.

  I glanced up at the perfectly blue sky, dismissing his concern for inclement weather. “I need to ask a favor,” I said quietly.

  His eyes were rheumy, cataracts looming in the sunlight. “Fer you, anything, dear.”

  No sense in tiptoeing around the request. “I need to borrow a gun.”

  He waved me toward the house. “You wantin’ a rifle or handgun?” Turtle let out a low bark, and nudged my leg as we walked up the porch steps.

  July 13th – 2001

  I pulled the trigger, water spilling from the gun toward the porcelain clown’s mouth. The buzzer sounded, but I was only halfway to full.

  “Want to play again, little miss?” the man behind the game counter asked.

  I shook my head, searching for Zoe in the crowd. Finally, the big party night was upon us, and it was even more grandiose than ever. There was a giant Ferris wheel set up at the base of the parking lot, and I hadn’t gone for a ride yet. I wanted to find Clark first so we could sit together, isolated for a good ten minutes. I thought about what it would be like to halt at the top, waiting for people to be loaded into the cage, the two of us looking out over the lake. Maybe he’d kiss me. My stomach released butterflies at the idea.

  It was busy, still before five o’clock. Once all the locals were off work, it would turn even crazier, and I knew Dad was hoping Grandma would be ready to leave before too long. She was worse by the day, weaker by the hour, but she’d demanded an outing here.

  Zoe was near the water, sitting on a stump while a local artist sketched a caricature of her. Even though it amplified her eyes and nose, she still looked stunning, as if anyone could make my sister look bad.

  “What’s up, Jess? Find anything fun to do here?” she asked. The truth was, I was enjoying myself, but clearly she wasn’t. She likely thought she was too grown up for all of this merriment and games.

  “Kind of bored,” I lied. “I’m going to find Dad and Grandma. Have something to eat. You want anything?”

  She shrugged. “I should be there soon. Grab me a hot dog?”

  I ran toward the spot where I’d left Dad. The deep sand tried filling my sandals with each step on the beach, the granules hot in the bright sun. People were still milling around the lake, suntanning, playing frisbee, and people rode by on their big motorboats, blasting music.

  The entire area was vibrating with energy, and I soaked it all in, loving the feeling. But when I found Grandma and Dad, his posture was slumped in defeat, and she was on the brink of tears.

  “What is it?” I asked, grabbing her hand.

  “Nothing, dear. Your father’s worrying too much,” Grandma said. She slipped on her oversized black glasses, the kind with lenses along the sides to keep the sun from entering.

  Dad looked ready to defend himself, but the wind blew from his sails. He resigned himself to sitting down, and he cracked a beer. His first, from the looks of it.

  “I was thinking of eating. Do you guys want something?” I asked, hoping to be helpful.

  They glanced at each other, a silent transfer of thoughts I didn’t understand.

  “Uhm, grab me a burger, please, honey. Mom?” Dad was being so polite. I felt the time ticking away from Grandma, as she didn’t respond. “Get her a water.”

  “I’ll take a burger too. Cheeseburger,” she said, her sights set in my direction.

  “Mom, are you sure…”

  She grabbed my wrist with a firm hold. “Extra pickles,” she added with a smile.

  Before Dad could argue, I ran off, heading for the large commercial grills set up in the center of the beach. Smoke cascaded from the cooking meats, and already there was a small line-up. Dad had slipped me some money earlier, and I pulled out a twenty, ready to pay for dinner when the group of kids from Local Beach came into view. They were sitting on a picnic table – not the benches, but the top, smoking and loudly cracking jokes at people as they casually strode by.

  Clark wasn’t with them, and I turned away, moving into the line, not wanting them to see me. After a minute, I peered over, seeing that the older one was with them. His hair was shaggy, even a little noticeably greasy from this distance. Still no sign of Clark.

  “Next,” a voice said, and a gruff woman smiled as I placed my order. “That’s a lot of food for a little girl.”

  I wanted to tell her I wasn’t a little girl, that I was going to kiss a boy tonight, and we would go steady. Instead, I smiled, accepting the food. There was a table of optional sides, and I threw some baked beans on Dad’s plate and potato salad on Zoe’s, grabbing some salad for my own. I saw the
jar of pickles and added them on Grandma’s bun until they were pouring off the sides.

  By the time I made it over to my family, Zoe was there, showing them the beach artist’s rendition of her, and Grandma was admiring how beautiful her granddaughter was in pencil.

  I took the image in, unable to shake the feeling that this was going to be one of our family’s final meals as a foursome.

  July 16th – 2020

  My phone rang as I drove toward town, and I didn’t recognize the number. I answered it despite my gut telling me to leave it be.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Is this… Eva?” a small voice echoed.

  “It is…” I tried to think of who was on the other line. “Carly?” I asked, finally cluing in.

  “I need… can you… can you come over?” she asked.

  Panic started to well inside me, but the girl’s voice was too calm to be an emergency. “Sure. Are you okay?”

  There was a pause. “I’m not sure. I tried to talk to my parents, but they don’t understand,” she said.

  I had an inkling what it was about. She was remembering. Could this all be real? Could Oscar Neville have been right about me? The more I was in Cloud Lake, the more I felt the truth seeping from the lake and into my blood. If that was the case, Teddy Martin had every right to be upset with me, but the evidence… there was real, legitimate evidence. I gripped my necklace as I drove, making the turn toward Carly’s.

  “Are you there, Eva?” Carly asked. I’d been so caught up in my own thoughts, I’d forgotten we were still connected.

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I was close. Are your parents home?” I asked.

  “My mom is, but she’s having a nap. Meet me in the back yard? We have a swing set,” she said.

  “See you soon.” I hung up, anticipating the conversation with Carly. I also was acutely aware I had a gun in my glove box at that moment. A borrowed weapon from an old farmer, and I doubted it was registered to anyone. Showing up at the abducted girl’s house with a gun in my car was probably a bad life choice, but I didn’t have a lot of time.