People of the Lake

by Nick Scorza

  “Everything all right?” I said as we walked out toward the front of the house.

  “Yeah, hey, thanks for coming. I know it was a weird request.”

  “No offense, but everything seems a bit weird in this town.”

  On the front lawn, we could see out over the lake toward the town on the other side. The sun was setting over the mirror-smooth water, leaving a golden trail in the lake as it drew closer to the horizon. There was a path leading down the slope of the front yard to a little dock. Not far from shore, I could see the island with its ruins. Closer now, I could make out what looked like a mound of earth crowned by the single broken column I’d seen before. Something about it made me uneasy. Hector’s human sacrifice stories were a little more believable now that I knew something of the town’s history.

  “I can see how this place might seem strange, but it’s all I know,” Keith said. He glanced once over his shoulder, making sure his father wasn’t there. “I’d love to see New York City. I mean, I don’t know if it’s anything like on TV, but it seems like the kind of place where you can, you know, be yourself.”

  I suddenly had the horrible, sinking feeling that all this time I’d been on some sort of arranged date. Keith hadn’t made it sound that way, but his father had been awfully glad we’d met. I wondered if the deputy I saw outside the café had been watching me for the sheriff’s office, or for Mr. Redmarch. And now Keith couldn’t look me in the eye, just like a boy at a seventh-grade dance—shocking, considering he was the town’s angel-faced heir apparent.

  What’s his problem? I imagined Zoe whispering. He should be grateful you put up with his weirdo family in his weirdo town.

  “Look, you don’t have to talk to me just because your father wants you to.”

  Keith looked like I’d just given him a swift kick in the family jewels.

  “Oh my god, no, I like you, I mean . . . I mean, it’s not like that . . .”

  I didn’t expect him to be this nervous. I laid a hand on his shoulder and he seemed to relax a bit.

  “I’m sorry about all this,” he said. “I knew I’d find a way to make it awkward. Being who I am, I have certain things expected of me, things I have to live up to. My family is very old-fashioned; they expect you to carry on the bloodline. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. It’s just not who I am . . .”

  I wasn’t absolutely sure what he meant, but I had a pretty good idea. It made me feel better about him not seeming very interested in me, and much more sympathetic toward this boy who seemed to have everything. The sun was lower in the sky now. It was starting to slip behind the clouds, lighting them up in pink and orange like paper lanterns, which were mirrored in the lake below.

  “Nice view,” I said.

  X.

  By the time Keith dropped me off at my father’s house, the sun had slipped behind the trees, and I could see the first flicker of fireflies in the darkness of the forest.

  “Be careful at dusk around here,” Keith said.

  I didn’t bother asking him why; I knew he wouldn’t answer. I waved goodbye to him and walked toward the house. I could see the edge of the curtain in the front window was pulled back—I’d been spotted. There would be no getting out of this. I opened the door braced for an argument, but as usual, my father looked more disappointed, even afraid, than angry. I wished in that moment that he’d just yell like Mom.

  “No wonder you drive your mother crazy: everything we ask of you, you do the exact opposite. I don’t think I was demanding too much, just to stay out of the forest and stay away from the Redmarches. You haven’t been in the forest, too, have you?”

  “No, Dad.”

  Guilt twisted up my stomach like a wrung-out cloth. I wanted to take back everything I’d done, but some stubborn part of me still felt justified in doing it. My father was right: he really wasn’t asking a lot, but he’d offered me no explanation, just “don’t do this” like I was a child. What was I supposed to do when Keith and his father showed up acting like perfectly nice people? Not exactly normal but no weirder than anyone else in this town.

  “Dad, I’m sorry, he came by the café saying his father wanted to meet me, that you used to be best friends. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to be rude.”

  “Sometimes being rude is the right thing to do.”

  I felt anger welling up in me, washing away the guilt. One thing I never let go was being talked down to, and both my parents were experts at it.

  “Maybe if you told me why, instead of just forbidding me like a kid with a hot stove, I’d know what to do in situations like this.”

  My father sighed. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking again.

  “All right, as you wish. I’m sure you noticed the Redmarch clan is rich, and they seem to stay that way no matter what happens They own half the valley and they pretty much do as they please. They’ve got connections in the county, and all the way in Albany—their money goes a long way to keep this town isolated.

  “It’s true that Jonathan Redmarch used to be my best friend, but the rest of his family was different. When I was a boy, everyone knew not to leave children alone with his uncle. The parents in town would all warn each other when they saw him hanging around the school, but no one ever called the sheriff. As for Jonathan’s father, he seemed nice enough, but every time I saw his mother, she had a fresh bruise from a different household accident. And where’s Jonathan’s wife now? Some fancy facility in the Hudson Valley, but no one knows what she’s there for—”

  I thought of all the portraits in the foyer of that house. All those beautiful faces now seemed hard and cruel, their spouses next to them were pale and haunted. History in the library had been one thing, but I had no idea it was so recent.

  “Keith’s not like the rest of them.”

  “They never are at first. Jonathan Redmarch was the nicest person I ever met, once. Now—”

  The phone rang with a loud buzz that made both of us jump. My father looked at me, as if I somehow knew who was calling. He picked up the receiver.

  “Hello? Jonathan, hi.”

  My father’s voice stayed friendly, but his face went white.

  “Yes, she mentioned. Yes, it’s been much too long. I’m glad you’re well. Things . . . things are all right with me.” I could see my father trying to keep his voice steady. His free hand was shaking slightly.

  “Well, I’ve got a lot of work lately, so I don’t—what’s that? Well, I’m sure I could find the time. I’ll see you next week, then. Looking forward to it.”

  My father hung up the phone. He looked like he’d just been fired and diagnosed with cancer in the same phone call.

  “We’re having dinner with the Redmarches next week, at the old Clyburn hotel.”

  My father said this as if it were my fault. I guess I gave Jonathan Redmarch an excuse to call. I was about to ask dad what had happened between them, but I could see the silence settling over him like a heavy blanket, and I knew I’d be lucky to hear two more words from him tonight. Without saying a thing, he left the room to start dinner.

  The next morning was quiet at the coffee shop, as usual. I saw the same silhouette in the window while I was getting ready to open, but this time I knew not to go looking for anyone in the street. It was probably just a trick of the light—still, I doubted I’d ever get used to it, or anything else about this eerie little town.

  I was hoping to see Hector again, but he never came in. My only customer all morning was the old man from the bus, who arrived exactly at twelve with his cigarette blazing, ordered his coffee, filled it with enough cream and sugar to give a horse type-2 diabetes, and left with a friendly nod.

  I thought that would be it for customers today, but just as I was getting to the last hour before Ash joined me, Deputy Chief Elaine Cross River walked in. I froze.

  “Hi, Clara. You remember me, right?”

  “Of course, um, what can I help you with? Did you have more questions?”

&n
bsp; A voice in the back of my mind was screaming, She knows you and Hector are looking into things. She knows about the coroner’s report, but Elaine Cross River just shook her head. She actually looked a little annoyed.

  “Can’t I just order some coffee?”

  “Oh, of course, what would you like? I can make you an espresso . . .”

  “Just the regular kind. Black.”

  I poured her coffee. I’d have liked the chance to make her something special, but at least she didn’t load it down with cream or sugar. I expected her to take it to go, but she pulled up one of the stools at the café counter and sat down.

  “Can I ask you something, Clara? Off the record, I mean.”

  “Of course.”

  “What the hell is wrong with this town?”

  She smiled when she said this, but I could tell it was really getting to her. I couldn’t blame her.

  “I wish I knew. My father moved back two years ago and this is my first time visiting. Even he won’t talk to me about the town. Sometimes it feels like he’s closer with the people here than with me, except nobody here seems to like each other that much.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Elaine. “This place has a bad reputation in the home office. Nobody likes to come here. If something’s happened, they know the locals won’t talk. And between you and me, more than the usual share of bad things seem to happen here. You work with that Ash girl, right? I’m positive she knows more than she told us, but I couldn’t get it out of her. And of course the two deputies stationed here are local boys. The town likes it that way.”

  “Bill and Harry?”

  “Yeah. The poker faces. Bill’s nice enough.” She left her opinion of Harry unsaid, but it was easy to guess. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about stuff like this, but it’s nice to see someone else from outside the cone of silence. I’ll tell you what—keep your eyes open while you’re here. If you see anything strange, call me. I don’t think anyone else here will.”

  She gave me a card with her phone number before heading back to work. I wished I could help her more.

  I waved hello to Ash when she showed up for her shift, and she gave me a shy little wave in return. I couldn’t help but wonder what she knew that she wouldn’t tell the sheriff’s office.

  “Slow day today,” I said.

  “No complaints here, as long as her Ladyship can still pay us.”

  We worked in silence until my time was up, but by now it felt normal, like we were working together instead of awkwardly avoiding each other. Then, as I was mopping down the floor, I looked up to see Ash staring at me, working up the nerve to talk.

  “I-I thought he was such a loser,” she finally said, “at first, I mean.”

  “. . . Neil?”

  She nodded.

  “This is a rough place to grow up. It’s . . . there’s a feeling here. Everyone’s always on edge. You learn to keep your defenses up all the time. No one trusts each other. Then there’s this guy—this guy who smiles all the time like it’s all nothing. I thought, what an idiot. Then we worked together every day, and it was like I couldn’t help it. . . . He just made everything a little brighter.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I rested a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch, which was progress.

  “I should have known,” she said. “I should have known something like this would happen. It’s how things work here.”

  We were quiet for a moment then. I had dealt with more grief than most people my age, but now that I had the opportunity, I couldn’t think of anything to say that would actually make it better. Things here were bad in a way I barely understood, and I didn’t see how I could comfort someone who’d lived with it all her life. Especially when I barely had things together myself.

  “I saw you get in the car with Keith Redmarch yesterday,” she said. “You need to be careful.”

  “Why?” I said. “My father said the same thing.”

  “Not him, I mean, his family. They—” She looked around her in a panic. Everyone in this town seemed to do that when they were about to say something true. “They’re in charge. This is their town, in more than just the name. I’m just getting used to you here, I’d hate to . . . just don’t try to change things here.”

  “Is that what Neil tried to do?”

  She nodded. She didn’t say much more after that.

  “When he broke up with me, he said he’d done something wrong. He wouldn’t tell me what. He seemed afraid. I heard his friend Danny teasing him about some new girlfriend, so I just figured he dumped me for her. When I saw you at the party, I—well, I thought it was you. Now I don’t know what to think.”

  Things were quiet for a week. I served the same regulars at the café, only now I looked forward to Ash showing up in the afternoon. We actually talked now, not about anything that shed light on the town or its secrets, but it was still good to have someone to chat with. She asked me to tell her about living in New York, and she seemed to know more about the city than I did. I guess she read a lot about it online.

  “I thought about moving there,” she said. “Maybe trying to sing in a band or something.”

  I asked her to sing something, and she refused for days, finally crooning along with a pop song on the radio and rolling her eyes the whole time. Her voice was great, though, a sultry alto. I never would have guessed.

  If anything, my father withdrew even further into himself. We barely talked. I knew he was dreading dinner with the Redmarches. I wished he would tell me why. I met up with Hector a few more times at the library, but we didn’t manage to find anything new.

  Then, on the day we were supposed to have dinner with Keith and his father, Ash stopped me as I was about to leave work.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I want to apologize for the way I acted when we met. It was out of line.”

  “It’s okay. You lost someone. I know what that’s like.”

  “No, I shouldn’t have blamed you. This town makes you afraid of anything new or out of place, and I hate it. I don’t want that to be my life anymore. Friends?”

  She stretched her arms out toward me. The whole thing was so unexpected, it took me a minute to realize she was trying to give me a hug. It was an awkward embrace on both our parts, but it felt really good to clear the air with Ash. I liked to think I didn’t care what other people thought of me, but of course I did.

  “Listen,” I said. “I don’t know if you want to be involved in this, but—”

  “You’re trying to find out what happened to Neil,” she said. “What really happened. I know you found something. I know it seems like no one talks in this town, but there are rumors. I heard you were working with Hector. I-I guess you won’t stop trying to change things, just like Neil.”

  “I can show you what we found, if you like,” I said.

  I expected her to say no, to push me away. I’d done exactly what she told me not to do. Instead, she nodded. She looked spooked, like she couldn’t believe she was doing this, but when I looked her in the eye, I was surprised at the resolve I found there.

  I took out my phone and found the police report in my email. Ash turned even paler than normal as she read, one hand clamped over her mouth to stifle a gasp.

  “I knew it. He’d never just get drunk and drown, and he’d never pick a fight with anyone. He was the nicest guy . . .” She was quiet for a moment, trembling slightly. “I want to help you. I-I know I’m going to regret this, but I can’t just let it go.”

  I nodded.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” Ash said. “I think I can find someone who might know what happened that night.”

  My father was pacing nervously around the house when I got home. He’d probably been that way all day. I took a quick shower to wash off a day at the café while he puttered around the living room. I hadn’t really packed any dressy clothes, but I had a skirt and a nice top that were probably good enough. When I walked out, my father was wearing slacks and a rumpled dress shirt. I had to h
elp him fix the collar.

  “Thanks,” he said, “stupid thing . . .”

  “I’m sorry I got us into this, Dad.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I owe Jonathan a visit. It’s been too long.”

  He smiled, but his eyes were still panicked. It was unnerving to see my father so afraid, especially when I didn’t understand why. I liked to tell myself I didn’t need other people to be strong for me, but right then, I wished my father was confident like fathers are supposed to be. Or that he’d at least tell me why he was so afraid.

  We don’t know what he’s been through, I imagined Zoe whispering, we have to be patient.

  She was right, but if he didn’t tell me what was going on, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand it.

  The Redmarches hadn’t arrived yet when we came to the Clyburn. There were a few other people eating dinner, but the big dining room was mostly empty. The host almost pounced on us when we walked in, even before my father mentioned we were meeting the Redmarches. I was amazed someone in this town actually looked glad to see us. In fact, the whole restaurant had an out-of-place feel. The staff was all young and eager to do their jobs, and the décor was surprisingly modern in a town that felt so stuck in the past. Yet under it all was a faint odor, like old wood when damp and mildew have set in. No amount of candles and new white tablecloths could erase what lay beneath. And just like that book of ghost stories had said, I couldn’t see a mirror anywhere.