Lake Season

by Denise Hunter

  He was used to being a disappointment on the football field. He was not used to being a disappointment in the arena of moral failure. This felt immeasurably worse.

  “I’m so sorry, Molly. I never meant to open an old wound, but I can see that I have.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. “My ex-boyfriend—Dominic, the one I told you about. He lied to me about who he was . . . and now I just can’t abide—”

  “You don’t owe me anything. Least of all an explanation.”

  He’d never even dreamed she could be his. Not really. Despite what she said, when she’d overheard the conversation between him and Jordan, she’d jumped to the conclusion that Jordan was Nathaniel Quinn. Not him. That had told him everything he needed to know. Anything he might’ve seen in her eyes the night he held her had only been wishful thinking.

  No, she didn’t want a relationship with Adam now, even knowing who he was. Add his deception to that, and any chance he’d ever had with her—virtually nil—was completely gone.

  “It’s okay, Molly. I understand.”

  She drew in a breath, looking down at where she gripped the countertop, her knuckles blanched. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were so sad it was like a punch to his throat.

  “I owe you an apology too,” she said.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I knew what you were saying when you were speaking in Italian—obviously. And I should’ve told you.”

  “Why didn’t you?” The question was out before he could stop it. Then he held his breath in dread of what she might say. Until her eyes went bright with tears; then he wished he’d kept his big mouth shut.

  “I liked it,” she whispered. “I liked knowing what you really thought. But it wasn’t fair to you. I deceived you, and I regret that.”

  Regret . . .

  He rocked back on his feet. She was trying to make peace with him. Trying to avoid more regret. And after the way he’d hurt her, the least he could do was give her the closure she needed. He’d do anything to take the sadness from her eyes. Anything.

  He stepped up to the counter and carefully placed his hand over hers. He waited until he had her full attention. Until her amber eyes were trained on his.

  He squeezed her hand gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Molly. This is all on me. Every bit of it. All right?”

  Her eyes flooded with tears.

  He tried for a smile, took her in one last time, committing those features to memory. Then he gave her hand a final squeeze and turned to leave.

  thirty-seven

  A week had passed since Adam left the inn, and he hadn’t run into Molly at all. In fact, he’d hung around the lake house so much he was going stir-crazy. He took in the sleek cottage. It was a new contemporary, two stories full of glass panes and lake views. It had clean lines, neutral décor, and a lot of stainless steel. It was beautiful and sleek, much like his flat in the city. But it made him long for old glass doorknobs, squeaky wood floors, and the sweet scent of baking muffins.

  He tried to stay busy. When he wasn’t working on his outline, he looked for Benjamin Schwartz. Giving Molly the closure she needed had become his number one goal.

  He’d taken the long list of living Benjamin Schwartzes that his mother had given him and pared it down to twelve possibilities, and phone calls had already ruled out more than half. The next number had a Tennessee area code.

  Adam pulled out his phone and tapped the numbers. It was dinnertime, a good time to catch people at home.

  The phone rang and rang. He was ready to hang up when a woman answered. “Village Life, Marion speaking, may I help you?”

  “Hi, my name is Adam Bradford, and I’m looking for a Benjamin Schwartz.”

  “One moment, please.”

  The line went silent. Did that mean a Benjamin was there or was she just redirecting his call to an operator? The phone began ringing in his ear. She was only redirecting. Disappointment swamped him. The other numbers had been dead ends. No Benjamin Schwartz at all or the wrong one.

  “Hello?” An older gentleman’s voice sounded on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me if there’s a Benjamin Schwartz living in your community.”

  “This is he.” His voice was gruff and a little loud.

  Adam blinked and raised his voice in case the man was hard of hearing. “Oh, hello. This might sound a little strange, but I’m looking for a Benjamin Schwartz who spent time in Bluebell, North Carolina, during the summer of ’64.”

  There was a long beat of silence, and Adam feared the man had hung up. “Hello? Are you still there, Mr. Schwartz?”

  “What is this regarding exactly?” He sounded cautious.

  Who could blame him? But he hadn’t instantly denied being the man in question, as the others had.

  Adam got to his feet and began pacing the open living room. “It’s a long story, sir. A friend of mine found a lost letter at an inn here—used to be the old post office. We’ve been trying to reach the intended recipient of that letter for a couple months now.”

  “What kind of letter?”

  “A personal letter. They found it behind a wall during renovations. It was where the mail slot used to be. Obviously the letter never made it out of the post office.”

  “What—who was this letter from?”

  “A Lizzie Van Buren.” Adam paused, letting that sink in a moment. “Are you the man we’re looking for, Mr. Schwartz?”

  “Lizzie Van Buren . . .”

  Adam thought he detected a wistful note in the man’s voice, but maybe he was only trying to jog his memory. For all he knew Mr. Schwartz had dementia and couldn’t even remember where he’d spent last Christmas, much less the summer of ’64.

  “Mr. Schwartz, are you still there?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am. You’ve caught me off guard. I haven’t heard that name in years.” Mr. Schwartz’s voice was thick with emotion.

  Adam’s breath escaped. “It’s you then. You were here at Bluebell Lake.”

  “Best summer of my life. And the worst. Funny how those two things can both be true.”

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have finally located you. My friend will be so excited. We’ve been trying to find you all summer.”

  “Have you opened the letter?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, but we did. It was so old, and we had no idea it would be so personal.”

  “It’s all right. What does—” Mr. Schwartz began, then stopped. “I’m not sure I even want to know what it says. This is all quite a shock. All this time I’d thought—”

  Adam suddenly wondered if the man was aware Lizzie passed away years ago. And he suddenly feared having to be the one to tell him. He didn’t want to deliver upsetting news over the phone. He should’ve thought this through.

  “She’s gone now, you know,” Mr. Schwartz said. “Lizzie.”

  Adam breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, we found that out early in our search. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “A friend of mine reached out after he’d heard. I was sorry to hear it. She was a lively girl, and a delightful young woman. Gone much too soon.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sure my friend would love the chance to speak with you if you’re willing.”

  “She’s from Bluebell, you say?”

  Adam stopped pacing and stared sightlessly out at the lake. His heart was trying to explode from his chest. “Yes, sir. She owns the inn where the letter was found.”

  “Not so far from here then. Maybe she could come visit me. I’m afraid my health doesn’t allow me to travel very far anymore.”

  “I’ll certainly pass along the invitation to her. I hope my call hasn’t upset you, Mr. Schwartz. I’m sure it has dredged up all kinds of memories.”

  “Mostly wonderful ones. I guess this ticker of mine can still handle a shock or two after all.”

  Adam gave Benjamin his phone number and wound up the conversation, telling him Molly would get
in touch with him soon.

  Then he went to find Molly.

  * * *

  Molly swiped the back porch with the stream of water from the garden hose, clearing off the dirt and debris. The storm last night had left leaves and twigs all over the backyard.

  She’d been keeping busy since Adam had checked out. When she wasn’t working she found herself in the kitchen helping Miss Della or outside doing odds and ends.

  Adam hadn’t said anything about hearing from his mother or continuing their search for Benjamin. And his last words to her had seemed pretty final. She assumed he was finished helping with their little project.

  Maybe she should be too. But the letter lying upstairs in her nightstand drawer just wouldn’t leave her alone. She’d done a bit of computer research in her free time, but there were so many hits for “Benjamin Schwartz” that she always ended up dizzy with options and unable to decide where to go next.

  Maybe she’d scrape together enough money to hire a professional investigator as Adam’s mom had suggested.

  “Molly?”

  She jumped a mile, letting loose of the trigger. Water splattered over her bare legs. She palmed her chest, her heart recovering.

  Adam approached from the back door, holding up his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Grace said you were out here.”

  What could he want? Maybe he needed a place to stay for a night or two. She could do this. Be professional. Be hospitable.

  “No problem.” She gave him a polite smile. “What can I do for you, Adam?”

  He took a few steps closer, his eyes clear blue in the evening shade. She’d missed those eyes. Those faded denim eyes. And as he grew nearer she caught a whiff of his familiar scent. He poked his glasses into place. She’d missed that nervous habit too. That shy, unassuming way of his.

  Do not get sucked back in. Do. Not.

  “With the way we left things,” Adam said, “we didn’t really talk about pressing forward with your project. But I’ve continued this week.” His eyes sparkled with excitement as he held up a sticky note. “And I found him, Molly. I found Benjamin.”

  She blinked. Reached out for the note. A phone number was scrawled on the paper. “You found him? Are you sure?”

  “I just spoke with him. I hope you don’t mind that I talked to him, but I had quite a few numbers, and I just kept calling them until . . . I found him.”

  The paper in Molly’s fingers trembled. “What did he say? What did you say? Where does he live? Oh no, does he know about Lizzie? That she’s already gone?”

  His smile was a little sad. “Yes, he already knew. I was worried about that too. He’s living in Knoxville at a retirement home. He was curious about the letter. I think he was also a little afraid to know what it said. Just talking about her seemed to awaken a lot of memories.”

  “I can only imagine.” Molly stared at the number as if it might make more information appear. “I can hardly believe it. I have so many questions for him.”

  “He’s expecting your call. He’d like for you to go see him if possible.”

  “You bet it’s possible. I could go Thursday—though I can barely stand the thought of waiting three more days. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Do you want to go?”

  His mouth opened, then closed. He swallowed. “I—didn’t think you’d want me to. And that’s fine, Molly. I get it.”

  “You should come—if you want to. If you have the time. I know you’re on a deadline though.”

  He scratched his neck. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind having me along?”

  Despite the way he’d deceived her, Adam had put even more time into this than she had. She didn’t feel right excluding him at this point.

  “We should see this through together,” she said.

  He gave her a smile that warmed her from the inside out. “Thank you. I’d like that very much.”

  thirty-eight

  August 17, 1964

  Lizzie couldn’t believe she had to close the store tonight. Benjamin was leaving in just two days, and she wanted to spend every last moment with him. Their future plans were set. He’d go back to Jasper, give his boss notice, and start packing his things. He’d already begun inquiring about jobs near her campus in Ohio.

  Lizzie’s parents would take her to St. Anne’s the last weekend of August, and she’d settle into college life. Benjamin would join her as soon as he got a job. She hoped she didn’t have to wait long. She’d become hopelessly addicted to his company.

  They’d grown much closer since they’d confessed their feelings two weeks ago. She could hardly stand to be away from him, and when they were alone together, she could hardly keep her hands off him. The feeling seemed to be mutual.

  One clear night when they’d been stargazing on the quiet banks of Bluebell Lake, Lizzie had given herself completely to him. They hadn’t meant for things to go that far, but once they had it was like trying to leash a tiger. Despite the guilt that plagued them both and despite their best intentions, they’d slipped twice more.

  Ben’s imminent departure—and her father’s obvious disapproval—only made Lizzie more frantic to snatch every last second with him.

  That’s why it had been so frustrating tonight when a summer person had come in at two minutes until nine and browsed every shelf before finally leaving with only a can of Aqua Net.

  She was meeting Benjamin at the movies at nine thirty, and she wanted to go home and shower first. She locked up the store and headed down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

  The sun had set almost an hour ago, and the last remnants of light glowed midnight blue on the horizon. The night was sultry, only a slight breeze blowing in off the lake. Nature sounds abounded: the high-pitched chirping of crickets, the oscillating buzz of cicadas, the quiet rustling of leaves overhead. She drew in a lungful of air, taking in the smells of freshly cut grass and damp earth. She loved Bluebell so much it would be hard to leave. But anticipation of her wonderful future with Ben took the sting out of it.

  The stars were already out, sparkling brightly on a dark canvas. If, after the movie, she and Ben headed to their private spot on the other side of the lake, the sky would provide a well-lit canopy. She shivered in anticipation of his touch and tried to quell the inner voice that told her that would be another mistake. He’d be in Ohio soon enough. And then they’d get married, and she could be with him all the time without this feeling of impending doom hanging over her head.

  She rounded the corner and saw that the lights were still on at her house. She tamped down disappointment. Her parents were often in bed by now, as the store opened bright and early. Though they knew she was still dating Benjamin, they had no idea how serious things had become. She knew they were simply biding their time until his departure, thinking that would be the last of him. A “summer romance,” her mother called it.

  And that was for the best. Just a few more weeks, and she and Ben would be together again, this time forever. She hoped to talk him into eloping when he got to Ohio. Daddy was never going to approve of her marrying Ben, much less agree to walk her down the aisle.

  She didn’t need a big white wedding anyway. She only needed Benjamin.

  As she neared the house, she saw someone leaving by the front door. The shadow moved swiftly down the front porch steps.

  Her heart caught in her throat at the familiar gait. What was Benjamin doing at her house? Had he been confused about their meeting place?

  He’d already reached his friend’s Buick, a hulking silhouette in the waning light.

  She quickened her steps and called down the sidewalk. “Ben!”

  He turned, the streetlight casting a glow over his features. His shoulders were slumped, his face drawn, and the look in his eyes nearly made her blood freeze. Something terrible had happened.

  She cut across the lawn even as dread swept over, engulfing her like a tidal wave. “What—what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

 
; He stuffed his hands in his front pockets and looked at the ground, eerily silent.

  “Why are you here?” Her voice quavered. “We were supposed to meet at the theater.”

  “I know.”

  She shook her head in frustration. Why wasn’t he talking to her? She took in his sloped eyes, always a little sad looking. But tonight, his whole countenance looked completely hopeless.

  She glanced back at the house, dark now beyond the living room sheers. A horrible feeling of dread seeped into every cell of her body. Her father. Her stupid father was going to ruin everything.

  “Talk to me,” she demanded. “What happened? What did he say to you?”

  He gave her a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow, angel. I need—I need some time to think things through.”

  Dread morphed into terror. She grabbed his arm. “No. There’s nothing to think about. What happened in there, Ben? Tell me what he said to you. You’re scaring me.”

  He gave her a long hopeless look. “I just don’t see how this is going to work out, Lizzie.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “That’s ridiculous. We have a plan in place. Of course it’s going to work out. Everything’s all set.”

  His eyes sharpened on hers. “I asked for his blessing. Your father doesn’t approve of me.” The words seemed weighted with a thousand anchors.

  Oh, she wanted to strangle her father! And Ben! “I told you not to talk to him! Why did you do that?”

  “I couldn’t ask you to marry me without his blessing, Lizzie.”

  “Who cares about his blessing? It’s my life, Ben, not his. We’re moving to Ohio, and we’re going to get married. He’ll come around in time. He’ll have to. What choice will he have?”

  Ben palmed the back of his neck. “I’m a janitor, Lizzie. I barely make enough to support myself. You deserve much better than that.”

  Her ire rose, prickling her skin with heat. “Is that what he told you?” She had a few things to say to her father, and they wouldn’t wait.

  She darted toward the house.