They had been sitting on a pile of rocks stacked around a fire pit behind Hawkes’ cabin. Billy was perched on the rock where Jo had painted their initials, J+B, three years earlier when they had been just thirteen years old. They were sixteen now, and Billy had his arm wrapped firmly around her waist. Eddie and Sheila were sharing a joint and whispering to each other. Kevin sat alone, strumming his guitar. He was humming a song, which song Jo couldn’t remember. The flames flickered across his face as though they were dancing in tune. His fingers gently plucked the strings, and his foot tapped the ground with the beat. His singular focus on the guitar, the music, the serenity on his face as he gave himself over to the sound, stirred something deep inside her. There was so much more to him than she ever suspected, this boy who had somehow gotten lost in Billy’s shadow.
She had talked to Sheila about it later when the guys were out on the lake for a late-night swim. They had been sitting on the floating pier, legs dangling over the side.
“Why do you think Kevin doesn’t have a girl?” she asked.
“Oh, he does, but she’s spoken for,” Sheila said.
“What do you mean? Who?”
Sheila looked at her as though she were dense. “Who do you think?”
“I have no idea.”
“You, silly. Don’t you notice the way he looks at you? How he follows you around like a lost puppy? How he hangs on your every word?”
“No,” she said. She didn’t notice, although even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. She did notice the way he looked at her. She’d catch him staring and once, they had locked eyes, and it was as though he was seeing her as she truly was. She was left feeling raw, exposed, seen for the first time as the woman she would become, and it had frightened her.
Her feelings for Kevin that summer ran as deep as her love had been for Billy the last three summers. Her love for both was real. It was just that it was a different kind of love for each. Billy was a childhood love, a familiar love, one that had roots, strong and lasting. But her feelings for Kevin felt more grown-up somehow, more physical, more filled with lust and desire.
* * *
Tonight they continued sitting side by side at the bar for a little more than an hour, not talking, although she was aware, hyperaware, of the close proximity of his body next to hers. It wasn’t until there were voices outside, echoing across the lake that they looked at each other. In an instant they were on their feet, rushing down the stairs and racing toward the beach.
Stimpy and two other men in a small fishing boat were calling that they had found something. Another fishing boat used a spotlight to light up the area not far from the floating pier in the middle of the lake. Underwater recovery had long since gone once darkness fell and it had become too dangerous for the divers to search at night.
“Kevin.” She grabbed his arm.
He covered her hand without a saying a word.
The crowd from the bar gathered on the beach. All eyes were focused on the fishing boats. No one talked. The only sounds were the murmurs of the men on the lake and the splashing of the grappling hooks hitting the water.
“What’s going on?” a woman asked. “Did they find my Sara?” She pushed through the crowd. “Sara.” She stopped at the edge of the water.
No one on the beach approached Sara’s mother to comfort her or show their support. Perhaps they believed if they got too close, the tragedy would somehow feel more real or that it would somehow become contagious. It was as though an invisible force field surrounded the woman, pushing them away. After all, she was a newcomer to the lake and therefore not one of them.
People liked to believe they were immune to tragic accidents. This sort of thing happened to those who weren’t paying attention, who were careless, who didn’t take the signs posted along the fence seriously—SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK.
The fishermen continued tossing grappling hooks and dragging the bottom where the snappers were congregating, feasting. Minutes passed. The waiting was excruciating, more than Jo could bear. She had to warn Sara’s mother, prepare her for what she might see when they brought her little girl to shore. It had to be her because there was no one else.
“I’m going to talk with her,” she said to Kevin, and slowly made her way across the beach to the lone woman standing at the water’s edge.
Kevin called for Jo to come back, but she knew he wouldn’t chase after her. He stopped chasing after her a long time ago.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The ballpark was the place to be after dinner since the Pavilion remained closed. Clusters of kids and their parents organized an impromptu baseball game. Most everyone’s mother came to watch, setting up beach chairs along the first and third baselines. It was, after all, a recreational field for the lake community and not a regulation ballpark where bleachers might have been erected. Families brought their own bats and balls and mitts. The Needlemeyer twins brought the bases.
Megan sat next to her mother, close to one of the dugouts. Side by side you could see the resemblance between the two. Both wore their blond hair parted straight down the middle. Their skin was pink from the sun. Their eyelids were covered in the same blue eye shadow that made Caroline cringe. Their nails were painted pink. Mr. Roberts’s dark complexion and hairy arms were a sharp contrast in comparison. He stepped forward. “I’ll be the umpire.”
Some of the other fathers took up positions as first- and third-base coaches. Johnny was made captain of one of the teams, and Chris the other. Johnny played baseball for the varsity team in high school back home, although he rarely talked about the game or bragged about how good he was with lake friends. “It isn’t cool,” he said to Caroline once when she asked him why.
In ways it was true what he had said. It wasn’t cool. Home was home, and when they were at the lake for a few weeks every summer, well, the lake was the lake, and you didn’t mix the two. It was as though they were a part of two separate worlds, straddling a bridge between their school and their lake friends, neither of which were meant to be crossed.
She liked to think she was standing on sacred ground at the lake, where the outside world—in her case, school and home—weren’t welcome. Cell phones were shoved in back pockets and forgotten. Video games and the Internet were no longer distractions. “It’s how it should be,” Gram said. “You kids are doing what you’re supposed to be doing—playing outside face-to-face with other kids.”
But Johnny was a good ballplayer, better than good, whether he was home or at the lake. There had been talk of possible scholarships to colleges if he was interested. Caroline didn’t know how he felt about it one way or the other. They didn’t talk about things in their family, even good things, accolades, and achievements. Everything in her family was one big secret.
“Caroline, you’re at third,” Johnny said.
A couple of the older boys protested when Johnny handpicked Caroline to play. “She’s a girl,” they said. “Girls can’t play baseball.”
Johnny looked at her. “You okay with hardball?”
She nodded and adjusted the cap on her head. She was good enough to play baseball with the boys. She knew it, but she was surprised her brother thought so too.
“She can handle it,” Johnny said to the other boys. His faith in her ability overwhelmed her. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad for a brother.
They were short a few players. “I’ll pitch for both teams,” the Needlemeyer’s father said. Mr. Roberts volunteered to be both umpire and catcher. Yes, there was a potential conflict with a play at home plate, but there was a level of trust between the kids and their parents that the game would be played fairly.
There was one boy, Jeff, who Caroline didn’t know. His family had arrived at the lake for the first time that morning. Johnny picked him to be on their team. “Can you play both center and right field?” he asked.
“I can.” Jeff was tall, and his long legs could cover a lot of ground. He looked to be around the same age as Caroline.
Megan
pulled Caroline aside before the start of the game and laid claim on him. “He’s a babe,” she said. Caroline rolled her eyes. Whatever.
At one point, an older boy on Chris’s team smacked a line drive down the third baseline. Caroline got her glove out just in time for the ball to slap her palm in the center of the mitt where she pinched it tightly, the sting tearing through the leather and up her arm. She wanted to throw the mitt to the ground and shake off the pain, jump around, and yell. Instead she tossed the ball to first base like a pro, pretending it didn’t hurt, feeling not only her brother’s but all the boys’ eyes on her, especially Chris’s.
Johnny punched his fist into his mitt. “All right. One out. Two to go,” he said.
Between innings, Caroline sat with Megan and Mrs. Roberts rather than in the dugout with Johnny and the team, although they stopped bellyaching about her presence once they saw what she could do. She was part of them, but she wasn’t one of them. It was the best way she could explain her feelings at the time.
Twice Megan squealed when a foul ball flew her way. She ducked and flapped her hands like a girl, Caroline thought. Maybe Megan did it to get Jeff’s attention. But it was that kind of behavior that gave girls a bad rap when it came to sports. Johnny hit two balls out of the park. Everyone hooted and hollered. He shrugged.
The game lasted an hour and a half before it became too dark to see the ball clearly. They called it quits before anyone got hurt. Caroline felt good about her performance. She had stopped every ground ball that had been hit her way. She had thrown the ball to first base with accuracy and speed. But okay, her batting needed improvement.
In the end Chris’s team had won nine to seven. The sun set, and most of the adults fled to their perspective cabins once the mosquitoes arrived. The kids hung around afterward, reliving the highlights, poking fun at the mishaps, and extending the fun for a few minutes more.
Johnny patted Caroline’s shoulder. “Good game, Caroline.” She felt an enormous amount of gratitude, and she’d never admit it out loud to anyone, but she really did love her brother.
* * *
The Needlemeyer twins collected the bases. The remaining bats and mitts were plucked from the ground. Gram had been right. A baseball game was just what they had needed. They had all but forgotten about the scene at the lake and the drowning girl. At least until Adam walked onto the field. He was out of breath. His hand covered his skinny chest. They gathered around him—Caroline, Johnny, Chris, Megan, the Needlemeyer twins, even the Chitney girls. Jeff, the newcomer, lingered on the perimeter.
“I think they found her,” Adam said.
For a moment no one moved. No one uttered a word.
Megan’s eyebrows shot up. She looked at Jeff. Perhaps she saw this as an opportunity to talk with him. She stepped away, cornering him really, and filled him in on the events from the last few days.
Caroline twisted a string on her mitt, struggling with indecision to stay at the ballpark or head down to the lake. She supposed it was like a fire or car accident where it was impossible to keep away, to not want to go and look. And still she stayed rooted to her spot among the others.
“We might as well go down and see what’s going on,” one of the Chitney girls said, and tugged on Johnny’s arm.
Johnny and Chris and the two girls headed in the direction of the woods to the path that led straight to the parking lot and beach. Megan stood next to Jeff, obviously waiting to see what he would do.
Caroline hesitated a moment or two before chasing after Johnny, trying to catch up. “Wait for me,” she called, yet knowing he wouldn’t. It was dark and darker still under the hundred-year-old trees. She ran blindly, using the mitt on her left hand as a shield against the small branches whipping in front of her face. Cougar barked. She cursed herself for not having a treat to toss to him. Once, she looked over her shoulder, wondering if Megan or Adam or the new boy, Jeff, had followed, but she didn’t hear anyone behind her. She imagined they decided to take the Lake Road. She’d beat them there.
She reached the parking lot and slowed to a walk. A large spotlight lit up two boats in the middle of the lake. Men’s voices, deep and muffled, carried across the water. Crickets buzzed. She made her way through the smattering of vehicles and reached the dock where both Chris and Johnny and the girls stood. Her heart raced from the running, the excitement, the fear.
Johnny glanced at her but turned his eyes back to the water, his arm secured around one of the girl’s waists. The other sister latched onto Chris. Caroline stood on the opposite side of him, her arm brushing up against his. He smelled like dirt and sweat and sweetness all at once, making her legs weak.
A crowd formed on the beach. She thought she saw her father. He was taller than most of the other men. Yes, she was sure it was him. His right shoulder sagged whenever he stood for long periods of time. And like everybody else, he stared at the scene on the lake.
She spied her mother at the water’s edge, far from the crowd. Her mother’s long wavy hair blew in the breeze. Another woman stood next to her. She believed the woman to be Sara’s mother. She couldn’t be sure. She wondered where Sara’s father might be.
Megan, Adam, the twins, and Jeff walked into the parking lot. They headed in Caroline’s direction. Caroline took a small step away from Chris before Megan and the others reached the dock and joined them. The last thing she wanted was for Megan to suspect she liked him.
“Did I miss anything?” Megan asked.
Caroline shook her head.
A woman approached their little group on the dock. It wasn’t until she was close that Caroline recognized her as Chris’s mother. Caroline knew who she was but never had any reason to talk with her. Besides, there was something unapproachable about her that made Caroline shy away. It had something to do with the expression on her face, hard and edgy, but sad, too.
The sheriff’s vehicle drove into the lot followed by one of his deputies. They got out of their cars and gestured toward the lake. Someone on the beach shouted, “They got something! They’re bringing it up!”
Caroline’s breathing came in short spurts. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling: fear, curiosity, dread, or some combination of all three. Dried sweat clung to her skin. Goosebumps broke out across her arms and legs. She held her mitt close to her chest as the grappling hooks emerged from the water.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jo crossed her arms against the cool breeze coming off the water. The wet sand stuck to her feet and flip-flops. The mosquitoes buzzed around her ears. Now that she was standing next to Sara’s mother, she didn’t know what to say. So rather than say anything, she stood in silent support. Somehow it was enough.
When the grappling hooks submerged a second time, the scene on the lake became quiet.
“He had to go to work,” Sara’s mother, Patricia, said of her husband. “I know how that sounds. Just horrible. Doesn’t it?” She shook her head. “Just dreadful.”
Jo didn’t respond, but it did sound awful. What kind of man left his wife at a time like this, knowing his little girl had drowned, that her body was still out there?
Patricia continued. “He’s always working. Seventy, eighty hours a week. He doesn’t understand what a monster he’s being. He doesn’t. He didn’t even know his little girl. He didn’t know how she painted with watercolors for hours. Or how her face lit up whenever she heard the words ice cream. Or how, when she wrapped her arms around your neck and hugged you tight, you felt like the luckiest person in the world.”
Jo reached for Patricia’s hand and held it. Neither one allowed their gaze to stray from the lake. A few seconds passed in silence.
“It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. It was supposed to be the best vacation Sara and I had ever had. It was supposed to be fun for the two of us. But I turned my back on her. I never should’ve turned my back. It was that damn umbrella. That stupid, broken umbrella. I wasn’t paying attention,” she said. “I should’ve been paying attention. It happened so qu
ickly.”
Jo nodded but was unable to speak, to offer comforting words. What could she say? What could anyone say? She understood better than anyone about guilt. Regret. If she could go back in time, she’d fix things with Billy. She’d say she was sorry. She had never meant to hurt him.
But you couldn’t go back no matter how many times you replayed in your mind the event that brought you to this point, the things you should’ve, could’ve, and would’ve done rather than what you did do. Jo knew that Patricia would rewind those minutes of that day over and over for the rest of her life, how Sara was by her side and then suddenly she wasn’t.
There was a flurry of activity on one of the boats. She turned toward Patricia. For a second there was something familiar about her as though Jo had seen her before, and the shadow of a distant memory flitted across her mind.
“Listen to me,” Jo said. Her words came out in a rush. “It’s not going to be easy to see her. She’s not going to look like she did. The snappers.” She paused. “She’s been in the lake for a long time.” Jo couldn’t continue. The words caught in her throat.
Patricia nodded. But Jo was sure Patricia didn’t understand what she was trying to say. It wasn’t that Sara’s body would be pale and bloated and lifeless. It was that she was going to look so much worse than Patricia could ever imagine.
* * *
The boat veered toward the shore. Patricia took off running toward the pier on the other side of the beach where it was headed. Jo followed at a much slower pace. None of the other onlookers moved. She noticed Kevin in the back of the crowd. She felt his eyes on her, following her every step, but he kept his distance. He was good at keeping his distance when it mattered most.
The sheriff and his deputy strode to the pier, where Patricia was waiting for the fishermen. Jo stood several feet behind them. When the boat docked, one of the men shook his head. “We’re sorry.”
“No!” Patricia cried out. She lunged toward the boat. The deputy grabbed her arms and held her back.
The Secrets of Lake Road: A Novel Page 9