Lake of Secrets

by Shay Lee Giertz

  “Ginnie?” Ian stops talking to Isaac and looks in my direction. “You’re coming with us, right?”

  Isaac stops and glances over, too. He doesn’t repeat the invitation.

  “I’m going to finish the hike,” I say, hoping I can tame my overactive imagination, especially now that I know there are no ghosts or weird supernatural specters.

  “You sure?” Isaac asks. “I can walk you back to wherever you came from.”

  “You’re going to walk her back to London?” Ian laughs.

  “Ha, ha.” Isaac pretends he’s going to wrestle his brother, while Ian runs from his grasp. Isaac pauses long enough to say, “Come with us, you probably shouldn’t be walking this trail alone. You’re not from here and might get lost.”

  That’s all the invitation I need. I jog over to them and pretend not to notice Isaac looking me over.

  Oh please, Lord, don’t let me look like a madwoman.

  Isaac brings his hand up to my hair. My heart beats faster, but instead of pulling me toward him in a rapturous kiss, he pulls a long twig out of my hair.

  Lovely.

  7

  The Fulton family doesn’t live on the lake but on a dirt road beyond the forest. That meant leaving the trail to follow a “shortcut,” which Isaac says he knows by heart.

  In the middle of the wooded terrain, we come to a halt.

  Isaac studies the scene. “I think we went too far east.”

  “This is right,” Ian says. “This is the way.”

  “I’m thinking we went too far east.”

  “No, we didn’t,” Ian insists. “That is a Balsam Poplar tree and there is a Black Ash tree, which I thought was funny because they are both right next to each other in my tree book. Those are the same trees. I am right. Don’t argue.”

  I laugh because Ian is adamant, and actually, his reasoning is sound. “There you have it. Trees that start with a B.”

  Isaac shrugs. “I’m not sold yet, but we’ll see.”

  Ian keeps walking. Isaac falls behind with me. “He’s probably right,” Isaac whispers. “But I don’t tell him because he’ll get a big head.”

  “Good idea,” I agree with mock seriousness. “And you didn’t have a big head when you said that you knew this ‘shortcut’ by heart.”

  “I do,” he says in defense. “I’ve just been a little preoccupied.”

  He glances in my direction, and my insides are ablaze. Maybe this guy likes dirty girls with twigs in their hair.

  “So London, huh?”

  “Born and raised.”

  “You probably get told this a lot, but your accent is sweet. I’ve never met an actual English person before.”

  “I don’t have an accent,” I say in all seriousness. “You do. With your drawn-out words and nasal tones.” I fake an American accent, repeating one of Dad’s favorite lines when he’s homesick. “Boy, what I wouldn’t do for a chili dog and some cheesy nachos and a nice cold beer.” I say the last word, “beeeeeeer,” which has Ian snickering in front of us.

  Isaac shakes his head but grins anyways. “Who would ever say that?”

  “My Dad.”

  “Oh, come on. Can’t he get some dogs and nachos and beer in London?”

  “Yes, but he says it’s not the same. He wants to take me to a Tigers game where I can try a ‘real’ hot dog.”

  “So, your Dad misses America but stays in London anyway? Why not just move back here?”

  “Because of me. My Mum’s over there, and I have friends, plus Dad’s job is there, and it would be hard.”

  Isaac acts like he wants to say something more, but he seems to stop himself.

  “It’s not as if I don’t like America. It’s complicated.”

  “I understand. How long are you staying?”

  “We’re not sure. Gran had a heart attack, so we’re taking it one day at a time.” For some reason, I keep my mouth shut about the whole three-week thing.

  We make it out of the trees and onto the dirt road. “See, told you,” Ian says and crosses the road to a two-storied home surrounded by more trees. “Come on, Ginnie. I want you to meet my parents.”

  “All right,” I agree. “I can’t believe all the space that’s around here. That’s one thing about London that isn’t my favorite thing, and that’s everything is so crammed together.”

  “I’d hate that,” Isaac says as we cross the road. “We live on two acres here, but we have another property in the U.P. which has twenty acres of land. That’s where we do our hunting and fishing.”

  “Hunting and fishing? There’s a lake right here? And there’s deer and all sorts of animals.”

  “Yeah, but there’s more space in the Upper Peninsula. Besides, most of the land around Pigeon Lake is protected by some Ancient Indian pact or something. The fines are huge if you get caught. Not to mention that weird stuff happens at the lake.”

  “What weird stuff?”

  “I’m not going to freak you out just yet. I just met you. Maybe one day I’ll tell you ghost stories.”

  “Ghosts?” I give a little laugh then steal a glance at the woods. My eyes stop scanning, and I freeze in place.

  Something in the woods moves. Not something. Someone. Someone whose eyes are looking right at me.

  “That’s why Ian is not supposed to go into the woods by himself. You’ve got to be careful. The woods give some people the creeps.” Isaac touches my arm. “Are you coming?”

  I turn around and move past him to the house. I’m not about to admit being spooked.

  “Don’t go scaring her,” a lady says from the porch.

  Isaac laughs. “I didn’t get to tell any of the ghost stories.”

  “My grandparents have lived here for almost forty years, and they’ve never said anything about ghosts.” I still look over my shoulder one more time.

  “Are you going to introduce us to your friend, or are you going to stare at her for the rest of the evening?”

  “I told you,” Ian says. “Her name is Ginnie, and she’s from London. Her Dad is from America. And Isaac has been looking at her the entire way back.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I look away from Isaac embarrassed. “Hello,” I say. A man and woman smile at me from the porch. He’s got a close hair cut like Isaac’s, but both boys resemble their mother in the face. Their height they get from their father. She is short and plump but pleasantly so. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Their mother gives me a greeting, only to turn and give Isaac a stern expression. “By the way, Isaac, go clean that mess you left before you headed out to find Ian. You know I don’t like you fixing your cars on the driveway and not putting the stuff away.”

  I follow Isaac with my gaze and see what might have been a red, rusted-out Jeep now covered with mud.

  “Please stay for dinner,” their mother says. “It’s not often we get guests that both our sons like. Do you need to call your parents?”

  I press my lips together and weigh my options. These people are strangers, but they seem nice. On the other hand, I am filthy and want to develop my pictures. That’s the best part of taking them. “Maybe another time. My Dad is probably back from taking my grandmother to mass.”

  “Rose? Is Rose Paxton your grandmother?”

  I nod slowly, not sure whether he’s happy excited or angry excited. “How’d you know that?”

  “Everyone knows each other in the Pigeon Forest area, especially this side of the lake, and everyone from about a twenty-mile radius knows Rose,” the lady says.

  “Is Sam your Dad?” The man rubs his hands together like he already knows the answer.

  I nod again.

  “Call that rascal, and tell him to get over here. He owes me a rematch on the basketball court. Tell him the message is from Ted Fulton.”

  Isaac stands next to me again. “I’m going to go clean up.”

  “Show Ginnie where the phone is.”

  I follow Isaac in, and Ian follows me. “It’s in the kitchen,” I
an says. “I’ll show her, Isaac. You should shower. You smell like sweat and oil.”

  Isaac shoots his brother an annoyed look. “You don’t have to say everything that comes to your mind, remember? We talked about this before.”

  “Yes, I remember. It was when you brought Bethany over, and your zipper was down, and I told you about it.”

  Isaac stops and shakes his head. “Whatever, Ian.” Isaac takes the stairs two at a time.

  “I am working very hard at the present moment not to say everything that is in my mind,” Ian says and motions for me to follow him. “I think I’ve embarrassed him.”

  “He seems like a good brother. I’m sure he forgives you.”

  Ian hands me the phone but doesn’t make eye contact. “So if I tell you that your face and hands are smudged with dirt, and your hair has leaves in it, will I need you to forgive me, too?”

  I blink in surprise. “I should go home and shower.”

  “We have a shower here.”

  “I’m not comfortable taking a shower here.” I dial Gran’s number, resolved to go back to her house and scrub down. Dad answers on the first ring. “Virginia May Paxton, where in the world have you been?”

  “Um, out,” I say. “How’d you know it was me?”

  “A father’s intuition,” he says gruffly. “I have been worried sick. No note. No nothing. And then you leave your cell phone!”

  “Sorry. I went for a walk in the woods, that’s all.”

  I could hear Dad breathe into the phone. “The woods are deep, and you’ve never walked them. Probably best not to do so alone.”

  “Gran says there’s a trail around the lake. I followed the trail. And I didn’t get lost.”

  “The trail forks near the creek. It can get confusing.”

  “I didn’t make it to the fork, and are you trying to freak me out?”

  He exhaled slowly. “People have gotten lost in the woods. Please, at least remember your cell phone next time.”

  “Fine.”

  “Do you need me to pick you up? Where are you?”

  “I met some guys in the woods, and I’m at their house.”

  “Are they potheads? You got to be careful because there’re a bunch of potheads in this area.”

  “Dad, there are potheads everywhere. And no, I’m at the Fulton’s house. Ted Fulton told me that you owe him a basketball game.”

  There is a pause before Dad laughs. “Ted Fulton! Tell him anytime, anyplace.”

  “He wants you to stop over for dinner. Gran, too. But can you come to pick me up first? I need a shower.”

  “Perfect,” Dad says. “Aunt Sue called and said she couldn’t come up until later this week, so we have the evening free.”

  “Okay, but I need to get clean.”

  “Do they not have a bathroom?”

  “Yes, but that’s beside the point. I would rather clean up at Gran’s.”

  “I’ll bring you a change of clothes. Tell him to get his basketball ready.”

  Dad hangs up before I can get another word in. No need to tell Mr. Fulton about basketball. I spot him from the window practicing lay-ups outside. Mrs. Fulton has entered the kitchen, so I resist the urge to find Isaac and instead ask if Mrs. Fulton needs any help.

  “Thank you, but I’m all set. Could you ask Mr. Fulton to get the grill started? We’re grilling homemade pizzas tonight. And Ginnie, I overheard you with your Dad. We have a second restroom if you’d like to freshen up.”

  I head back outside. Ian sits on the front porch reading a book so thick he needs both hands to hold it. I stop myself from saying anything; he seems completely drawn into the pages, and I don’t want to interrupt. As I step off the porch, I glance across the road and into the trees. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Mr. Fulton? Your wife asks that you start the grill.”

  “Okay,” Mr. Fulton says. “I’m about as ready as I’m going to get.”

  A red Mustang drives into view and pulls up into the Fulton driveway.

  That was rather quick. I hope he remembered my clothes.

  “Sam Paxton!” Mr. Fulton calls.

  Dad’s out of the car, and the two men meet, shake hands, and embrace. Dad’s laughing. “Ted Fulton! Long time, no see, my friend!”

  I go over to Gran to see if she needs help. “Lord, child, what happened to your hair? And did you go roll in the mud or something?”

  Isaac comes over next to me, all showered and clean, and completely mouth-watering, which only embarrasses me more. “I went hiking through Pigeon Forest.”

  “And what? The dirt was glad to see you, so it kissed you all over the face?”

  Isaac laughs. All right, it is kind of funny. “Sure, Gran. That’s exactly what happened.”

  “Hello, Isaac Fulton.” Gran changes the subject. “I had to get a new young man to mow my lawn because you never seem to be around.”

  “Gran!”

  “I apologize. I’m not hiding, I promise. I’ve been working at the golf resort. And since I start basic training in another two months, my parents seem to have a to-do list that’s ten miles long.”

  Mr. Fulton calls over to us, “Isaac, bring Rose to the porch and get our visitors something to drink. Sam, you can come with me and help me grill up some pizzas.”

  Dad follows Mr. Fulton, and it’s then I realize he hasn’t said two words to me. “Glad you missed me!” I yell out.

  He turns and waves. “Your clothes are in the back.” Then keeps talking to Mr. Fulton.

  “Where is the love?”

  “What are you talking about? You’ve been out kissing the dirt all day. How much love does one girl need?” Gran chuckles and follows Isaac to the porch.

  I lean into the back seat and grab the plastic bag Dad threw my stuff in. I say a silent prayer that he remembered to bring my antiperspirant.

  Nope. He brought my dark green shorts and a hot pink hoodie. “It doesn’t even match,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s no wonder I’ve never dated. My Dad’s been sabotaging me for years. First bugs, now mismatched clothes.

  Dinner is anything but ordinary. I was able to clean up and brush my hair. I had no choice but to wear the shorts and hoodie, my hiking outfit had been too dirty. No one said anything when I sat down, so hopefully, I’m the only one off-put by the color scheme.

  Dad and Mr. Fulton talk most of the meal, telling their high school stories.

  “You set off the fire alarm because you didn’t want to take the English exam.”

  “Because you dared me!” Dad exclaims. “And I’m the one that gets busted.”

  “How do I not know about this?” Gran asks.

  “I didn’t tell you,” Dad says. “There’re a lot of things I didn’t tell you.”

  Gran acts surprised.

  “Don’t worry,” Mr. Fulton jokes. “Nothing too illegal.”

  The good thing about the adults carrying on most of the conversation is that I get to sneak peeks at Isaac. Sometimes I feel him sneaking a look at me, but I pretend to be immensely fascinated by the conversation. Still, I’m glad to have found an opportunity to go to the loo before dinner for a chance to freshen up. At least there are no more twigs in my hair. My reverie ends when I hear the word “ghost.”

  “Oh, don’t start this again,” Mrs. Fulton says, pointing a finger at both my dad and Mr. Fulton. “You two and your ghost stories.”

  “I never heard about a ghost story.” Gran is no longer smiling. “When did this happen? What happened? Has it been recently?”

  “Mom, relax.” Dad patted her arm. “It was after high school graduation.”

  “You were going to a friend’s house.”

  “Yes, that friend was me. We decided to spend the night in the woods to see who could brave the night.”

  Dad and Mr. Fulton started laughing simultaneously. They started talking at the same time about dares and who ran the fastest. “I’m telling you, I saw something,” Mr. Fulton says.

  “You chickened out first
. I won.”

  “This is upsetting,” Gran says.

  “It’s fine. It was years ago. Besides, you always told me that all the ghost stories weren’t true.”

  “You still should have told me.” Gran still acted displeased.

  “So, Ginnie,” Mrs. Fulton says, “Have you graduated?”

  It takes a second to realize she’s talking to me. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

  “She’s too busy looking at your boy,” Gran says with a chuckle.

  My face heats up. Now Isaac is watching me. So, is Ian.

  “School? Are you done? Do you go off to college this fall?” Mrs. Fulton graciously ignores Gran.

  “It looks like it.”

  “Virginia has been accepted early into college.”

  “Will you go to school in London?” Mrs. Fulton asks.

  “I haven’t really thought about it.”

  “University of Michigan.” Gran keeps eating her pizza. “Any grandchild of mine goes to the only school whose degree means something.”

  “I haven’t made any decisions.”

  “It’s paid for,” Gran tells the Fultons. She doesn’t even look at me. “I will pay the whole way, but I will only write a check to the Maize and Blue.”

  “I don’t think you can write a check out to the Maize and Blue,” Ian corrects Gran. “You would need to write it to the University of Michigan.”

  I smile at Ian and bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “There are good schools everywhere,” Mrs. Fulton says.

  Gran snorts in derision. “There are only two types of schools. University of Michigan…and everybody else.” She shakes her fork at everyone, especially shaking it at me.

  Isaac looks over and makes a face that I read to mean glad-it’s-you-and-not-me.

  “Well, I guess it’s settled,” Dad says with a laugh. “Virginia, you’re going to be a wolverine.”

  Can I crawl under the table? Or, better yet, can I throw my corn-on-the-cob at my father’s head?

  I don’t know what humiliates me more, the fact that they have already decided my future, or the fact that he calls me Virginia in front of them.