While Jo waited for the coffee to percolate, she washed the dishes and wiped the table and countertops. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, why she was even here. But there was something about Patricia she found comforting. Maybe they were just two women who understood about regret and mistakes, two women who shared a similar burden in its own terrible way. She picked up a coffee cup.
Patricia settled into a chair at the kitchen table. She wore the expression of someone tired yet wired. The look in her eyes said she was barely hanging on. She turned to Jo as though she had remembered something important. “Tell me,” she said. “Do you still talk to Billy?”
The question was so startling, the cup dropped from Jo’s hand and shattered on the floor. Thunder cracked and lightening lit up the room.
Patricia looked so innocent. Was she mocking her? Did she want to cause Jo pain? Before Jo could find her voice to respond, there was a loud knock at the front door.
“Hello?” Sheriff Borg called. He stepped inside and removed his sheriff’s hat, his gray hair clipped short and neat.
Patricia sprung from her seat. “You found her?” she asked him.
“No, I’m sorry. Not yet.”
Jo’s heart pounded in her ears. She avoided Sheriff Borg’s eyes and grabbed a tea towel. She dropped to her knees and wiped the floor, at the same time trying to make sense of what Patricia had said. Her hands shook as she picked up the pieces of the broken cup.
“Everything okay?” he asked, and raked his eyes over Jo’s wet clothes, her chest, before scanning the mess on the floor.
“That last crack of thunder,” she mumbled. “The cup slipped from my hands.”
“You should be more careful,” he said.
“I will.”
He turned his hat around in his hands. “Have you given any thought to our conversation the other day? Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asked. “Maybe something you might’ve remembered?”
Jo shook her head, feeling his eyes on her as she continued picking up ceramic shards.
Patricia touched the sheriff’s arm. “What about my girl?”
He turned his attention to her. “No one can be on the lake with the thunder and lightning.” He hesitated as though he were making up his mind whether to continue. “We have another problem,” he finally said. “One of the fishermen was up early before the storm to check the traps and found them empty. There were muddy footprints all over the docks: kids’ footprints. They must’ve fooled with the traps and let the snappers out sometime last night.”
“Why? Who would do such a thing?” Patricia asked.
“Kids pulling a stupid prank would be my guess.”
All the blood rushed to Jo’s head. Caroline, she thought. It would explain the wet clothes, the dirty sneakers in her bedroom. She pinched her eyes closed. Why would Caroline do it? Her daughter knew she wasn’t supposed to touch a fisherman’s traps. Did Caroline even know what they were using the snappers for?
“How do you know the turtles didn’t just get out?” Patricia asked.
“Not possible unless they locked the trap doors behind them.”
He continued. “It’s a darn good thing the rain held off until now, or we never would have seen the footprints.”
Patricia nodded.
“I wanted to stop by to let you know they’ll have to trap more turtles,” he said. “That is, if you still want them to. I can put an end to it if you say so, and we’ll let the recovery team continue as they have been.”
Patricia was quiet. The only sound was the splattering rain on the roof and the occasional clap of thunder. After awhile, without looking at him, she said, “I want them to do whatever it takes. I want my daughter found.”
“Okay.” He put his hat back on and turned toward the door. “I’ll let the men know.”
“Wait,” Patricia said. “I’m coming with you.” She chased after him, leaving Jo all alone on her knees in the kitchen.
* * *
As soon as the sheriff and Patricia were out of sight, Jo rushed back to The Pop-Inn, the pouring rain drenching her for the second time that morning. She pulled open the screen door, letting it slam behind her. Kevin sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He looked like hell.
“Forget your umbrella?” he asked, and smiled, but he must’ve seen something on her face, because he immediately furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t have time to explain. She darted into Caroline’s bedroom. Her daughter wasn’t in bed. She plucked the wet dirty clothes off the floor. She searched the room for the muddy sneakers. They were nowhere to be found.
“Where’s Caroline?” she called to Kevin, and tossed the dirty clothes into the sink. There wasn’t time to take them to the Laundromat. She turned on the faucet.
“She took off on her bike a little while ago,” he said. His voice was deep and raspy from a night of drinking and smoking and singing. “I didn’t think she should go out in the storm, but like mother like daughter.” He leaned against the wall outside the bathroom door, sipping coffee. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
She didn’t know where to begin; Patricia asking about Billy, the sheriff, or that Jo suspected Caroline had released the fishermen’s snappers. Instead she said, “Do you know where she went?”
The screen door slammed.
She pushed past him. “Caroline,” she called, but found Gram instead.
Kevin walked up behind her, and she suddenly felt trapped between the two. She pulled on her wet cotton shirt, which stuck to her breasts and constricted her chest, the collar tightening around her neck.
“Is someone in the bathroom?” Gram asked. “I hear water running.”
Kevin shot out of the kitchen to turn off the water so the sink wouldn’t overflow. Jo backed away from Gram. The distance was enough to open her throat and allow the air to return to her lungs. She pulled her damp hair from her face.
“Where’s Caroline?” Gram dropped a bag onto the table.
“That seems to be the million-dollar question,” Kevin said, returning to the kitchen. “What’s in the bag?”
“Sneakers,” Gram said.
“But how…” Jo started to ask, but Gram held her hand up to stop her. Someone must’ve tipped Gram off. Maybe that was why she had been on the phone earlier.
“I don’t know anything for sure,” Gram said.
For once, Jo and Gram were on the same side. She peeked into the bag at a pair of white sneakers. Caroline would have to get them a little dirty so they wouldn’t look so new. “Where are her old ones?” she asked.
“I tossed them,” Gram said.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Kevin asked, and set his coffee mug down in the sink. He folded his arms and looked back and forth between them.
Johnny walked into the kitchen, scratching his head. His dark hair was almost to his shoulders, and the way it swooped to the side was a reflection of Jo’s own hair, albeit a more masculine version yet with a hint of something feminine, too. Jo knew the girls his age thought it made him look sensitive.
“Why is everyone looking at me?” Johnny asked, and yawned.
“Have you seen your sister?” Gram asked.
“Why? What did she do?” He opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a gallon of milk. Then he pulled a box of cereal and large bowl from the cabinet, plucked a spoon from the drawer, and sat at the table.
“She didn’t do anything,” Jo said. At least, she hoped. “But we need to find her.”
“Try her phone,” Johnny said through a mouthful of cereal, milk dripping from his chin.
“I can’t get a signal.” She looked at Kevin. “Will you take Johnny and search the colony? I’ll check to see if she’s at the lake. Gram, you wait here in case she comes home.”
Johnny dropped his spoon. “In the rain?”
“The storm is almost over,” Kevin said and gave Jo a worried glance. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going o
n?”
“Later,” she said. “Just go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Kevin walked beside Johnny. The sun broke through the storm clouds. The rain slowed to a drizzle. There must have been a rainbow somewhere, but the trees in the colony were as big as giants and centuries old, blocking much of the view of the sky except for the occasional glimpses between branches.
Johnny stuffed his hands into his pockets. His hair covered his face. It was hard for Kevin to read his expression, but he could sense the boy’s angst. The silence between them felt strained and uncomfortable. Kevin was sorry for it, knowing he was partly to blame. He had no idea how to cross the invisible divide that kept Johnny separate from him, or even if he wanted to.
“Maybe she’s at the ballpark,” Kevin said, knowing how much Caroline loved to play ball. Why she would be in the park in the rain he couldn’t say. But the kids often hung out in the dugouts for the lack of anything better to do. It’s what he might’ve done at her age.
He continued. “You know you’re a pretty good ballplayer. Good enough to get a baseball scholarship if you wanted to go to college.”
“Really?” Johnny said in his cocky voice. “We’re going to talk about this now?”
“Do you have something else you’d rather talk about?”
Johnny sighed. “No.”
Kevin lit a cigarette. Life would be easier if Johnny went to college and moved away. It was a selfish thought, but one he had often and believed to be true. He wondered if maybe it would give his marriage a fresh start, a new beginning, or as the kids say a “do-over.”
He had rarely been alone with Johnny when he had been a toddler running around the backyard with his baseball bat, let alone the teenager he had become, the man he would be. Kevin had spent a lifetime on the road in his rig. It had been easier to stay away than deal with the tension at home, the guilt he felt whenever he looked at Jo and Johnny, the mother and son who were getting along fine without him. He admitted it was what he wanted. A part of him was afraid of Johnny. Hell, Kevin was just a kid himself when Johnny was born.
“This summer sucks,” Johnny mumbled.
Kevin glanced at him. “They’ll find the little girl and things will go back to normal. You’ll see. Heil will make sure of it.”
“Well, it sure is taking a long time.” Johnny sounded annoyed and maybe he heard it in his own voice because he added, “I don’t mean to sound cruel. I feel real bad about what happened. She was just a kid, you know? But why are they dragging it out? Why can’t they find her?”
“It’s a natural lake. It’s deep.” Kevin pulled in a long drag and exhaled slowly. “The lake community can’t afford to bring in outsiders to help. Or they won’t. It draws too much attention. The recovery team is the only one in the county. And there’s a lot of lake to cover.”
They stopped at the edge of the ballpark.
Johnny raised his arms and clasped his hands behind his head. “I guess.” He stretched, twisting left and right, cracking his spine. “But it all sounds like bullshit to me,” he said.
Kevin smelled something funny coming from Johnny’s hair and skin. It wasn’t cigarette smoke, but it was familiar. When Johnny lowered his arms, Kevin smelled it again a little stronger this time and recognized the scent of marijuana. He shouldn’t be surprised and in fact, he wasn’t. How could he fault the boy when he had smoked the stuff at the same age?
* * *
Eddie had rolled the first joint inside the dugout right there at the ballpark. Kevin had been strumming his guitar. He had taken the guitar with him almost everywhere he went that summer for the sole purpose of gaining Jo’s attention. The others were sprawled on the benches, smoking cigarettes and eventually the poorly rolled joint.
“None for me,” Kevin said when Eddie passed it to him. “It messes with my voice.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Billy asked, zeroing in on Kevin, giving him that undivided attention everyone in the group coveted.
“Maybe it is,” Kevin said, thinking it must be nice to have everyone want your attention. He glanced at Jo. She was staring into the open field. He put the guitar down and took a hit. Billy directed his attention to Eddie, and the two became engrossed in some discussion over what Kevin could no longer remember. Sheila sat in Eddie’s lap and joined the conversation.
At one point Jo had gotten up and walked away. Kevin watched her walk past the pitcher’s mound and onto centerfield, where she lay down. Darkness enveloped her. He could barely make out her shape on the ground.
Maybe it was the weed or the beer, but Kevin felt brave enough to leave the dugout and join her. The others were distracted and no one mentioned his absence. He lay down next to her in the damp grass and stared up at the night sky. The brush of her arm against his forearm sent his pulse racing.
“Have you ever seen so many stars?” she asked in that stoned way of talking. “They’re so far away and I don’t know, otherworldly.”
“Yes, one could say that about space.”
She nudged his arm. “You know what I mean.”
He didn’t know what she meant, nor did he care. She could talk nonsense all night long as long as she talked with him, lay next to him.
But she remained silent after that. Billy and Eddie’s discussion grew more animated, and their voices cut across the field. Occasionally, Sheila joined the debate. But to Kevin the others seemed as far away as the stars from where he lay next to Jo. It was just the two of them in the open field under the shimmering night sky. He could just make out the rise and fall of her chest, the slight part in her lips as she stared into the night.
“Do you ever dream about the future, Kev?” she asked. “About what you want to do with your life?”
“Sure, I guess. I mean, doesn’t everybody?”
“I suppose.” She turned to look at him. “What do you dream about?”
“I dream about this,” he said. A shadow covered her face, and he couldn’t see her eyes. “About lying next to you under the stars.”
She swatted his arm. “Seriously, what do you dream about?”
“I am being serious,” he said, and under the cover of dark, he found the courage to add, “I dream about you.”
“Stop screwing around,” she said, her tone suddenly sober. “I want something more than just this place. I want to travel and see the world. I want to be of the world, not just in it. I want to dance under the stars on faraway beaches. I want to taste exotic cuisine. I want … I want…” She broke off. “I want something more out of life. I want to be free.” She wrapped her pinky finger around his.
His heart soared.
Billy’s voice boomed from somewhere close behind them. “Hey, you two lovebirds,” he said in an innocent, teasing way, as though the two couldn’t possibly be anything more than friends.
Kevin’s stomach suddenly burned with anger and something close to rage. Why was it so impossible for Billy to imagine Jo might actually want to be with him?
Jo unraveled her finger from Kevin’s and reached for Billy. He pulled her up and into his arms, kissing her face and neck, his hands roaming up and down her body, gripping her in a tight embrace.
Kevin slowly got to his feet and made his way back to the dugout. He grabbed his guitar. Eddie and Sheila had moved to the far corner of the bench to be alone. Kevin looked back across the field. He could no longer separate Billy’s body from Jo’s.
He felt sick. He made it as far as the dirt road that led into the colony, dropped to his knees, and vomited.
He didn’t fully grasp what Jo meant when she said she wanted to be free. Did she mean free of Billy? And if that were true, could he give her what she wanted? Would she even let him try? But she had held his hand, or his finger, as they gazed at the stars. She had reached out to him. What else could it have meant? He vowed he would do whatever it would take to make her happy. Just give me a chance, Jo, he whispered to himself. I promise to do what I have to, to never let you go.
* * *
“Hey.” Johnny waved his hand in front of Kevin’s face. “She’s not in the dugouts,” he said. “Maybe we should try the Pavilion. Why is Mom looking for her anyway? I mean, what’s the big deal?”
Kevin pulled on the cigarette, shaking off the memory. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll find out.”
They walked the Lake Road rather than taking the old path through the woods. The rain had finally stopped, but the path would be slippery and wet. The air was thick with humidity. Kevin’s skin felt sticky, the booze from last night seeping from his pores.
When they reached the Pavilion and lake, Sheriff Borg’s vehicle was in the parking lot along with several other cars. A crowd of teenagers gathered around a customized sports car. Kevin recognized Chris, Dee Dee’s son, leaning in the driver’s-side window, talking to whomever sat behind the wheel. A couple of teenage girls posed near the car, trying to look sophisticated, maybe even sexy. Kevin was embarrassed to catch himself looking at one of the girl’s large breasts. She waved. He pointed to his chest as if to say, Me? Then he looked behind him and had to laugh at himself when Johnny waved back. She had to be Johnny’s girl.
“So, uh,” Johnny said. He couldn’t meet Kevin’s eyes. “I’m going to go. Tell Mom, if I see Caroline, I’ll let her know she’s looking for her.” He started to walk away with a familiar swagger that made Kevin feel as though someone had kicked him in the gut.
“Johnny,” he called.
Johnny turned, tossing the long hair out of his eyes.
“Do you love her?” Kevin asked, but only loud enough for Johnny to hear.
The personal question took them both by surprise. Johnny looked at his feet and then over his shoulder at his friends. He turned back toward Kevin. “Not really,” he said.
“That’s good,” Kevin said, and crushed the cigarette he had been smoking underneath his sneaker. “You’re better off.”
The Secrets of Lake Road: A Novel Page 14