Green Lake

by S. K. Epperson

  “I'll come and get the kittens as soon as I can,” he said as he got to his feet once more, and it was only then he realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. He quickly looked at her, but she appeared undisturbed by his state of undress. He turned to the box with a jerky movement and felt his wet hair cover his face once more. He tossed it back and saw droplets land on her cheeks. She calmly wiped them away and held out her hands for the box.

  “If you find something else to do with them before I get to it, feel free,” said Eris.

  “Like what? Drowning them in the lake? I thought you had somewhere to take them, like a nearby animal shelter, otherwise I would never have bothered you with this.”

  When he made no immediate reply, she dropped her hands and said, “Well? Do you have somewhere to take them or not?”

  Her apparent exasperation angered him, and he chose not to respond to her. Favoring his injured and still bleeding toe, he turned and went inside the house, closing the door firmly behind him.

  He heard what sounded like an unladylike snort and a muttered utterance of some sort before she turned to carry the box up to the log cabin.

  Like he didn't have enough to worry about without her selfishly dumping kittens on him that had been dumped on her. There was a county animal shelter, but he wouldn't have time to deal with it tomorrow. He had other items on his agenda to worry over, things these people appeared too stupidly cruel to care about. Sherman Tanner was bad enough, but now to have Madeleine Heron looking down her straight white nose at him.

  For the first time since his arrival, Eris considered finding another place to live. Somewhere away from other people, like he had dreamed as a youth. He had chosen the job of conservation officer because of the time spent alone. Most days he spent hours by himself, speaking only to those he stopped for a license or permit check. Summer on the lake was different, and as Dale Russell said, the shit had started early this year.

  Eris looked down as he made it to the bathroom and he cursed loudly when he realized the blood from his toe was dripping on the floor and making large blots on the rug. He had probably left a trail all the way from the front door.

  The thought of a trail yanked his thoughts back to the coming day. He took disinfectant and bandages out of the cabinet and sat down on the toilet lid to doctor the toe, telling himself the pain he was feeling was nothing compared to what a certain mother and father were going through that night. It couldn't be.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ronnie Lyman and his wife Sheila sat on lawn chairs and looked at each other. Ronnie was drinking his last beer, so he took his time sipping out of the can and holding the beer in his mouth before he swallowed. When it was gone, Ronnie tossed the can behind his back and wiped his mouth with the rolled-up sleeve of his work shirt. Sheila got up when she heard a whimper from one of her sleeping girls then she came and sat down again in the lawn chair next to Ronnie.

  “You think she's all right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I'm pretty sure.”

  “I know she's missin' us. You know how she is.”

  “She'll be okay.”

  ‘‘Your mama doesn't always eat right. I hope she remembers to feed her regular.”

  “She'll feed her.”

  “You sure no one saw?”

  “Kelsey and Kendra didn't see, did they?”

  “No. But I feel bad about scarin' ‘em. Don't you?”

  “Better'n havin' 'em blow it for us, ain't it?”

  “I guess. How come no one came out today?”

  “‘Cause the law keeps these things quiet as long as they can, so no nuts'll come out and claim they got her or anything. Somebody'll be out tomorrow, just you wait and see.”

  Sheila sat and thought about that as the cool night air brought goose pimples to her bare arms. She looked at her husband and wondered about asking him to shave, since they were going to be on TV and everything. Ronnie was looking pretty grungy lately, and she was out of shampoo herself. Last night she had used a bar of ivory soap on the girls' hair, but couldn't get Ronnie to wash his thinning, reddish blond mess.

  “Who?” she asked finally. “Who d'you think'll come? Think they'll send the gal from channel twelve?”

  “Maybe. Her or that other guy, the one with the hair that sticks out on both sides.”

  “I don't remember everything you said to say,” said Sheila.

  “You will,” Ronnie told her. “I'll be right there.”

  “But what if they come while you're out lookin'? You gotta go out and look again, Ronnie. Wouldn't seem right if you didn't.”

  “Yeah, you're right. Well, if I ain't there, just remember to say that you never thought times could get much worse for us. Say your husband done got laid off, you lost your house ‘cause we couldn't make payments, and now we lost our little girl.”

  “What about our campin' permit? Should I say somethin' about that? About how our twenty-eight days is up tomorrow, and how we just can't leave until we found our little girl?”

  ‘‘Yeah, you better tell about that. How we been livin' out here and makin' do as long as the park would let us.”

  “Should I say how we come here from doin' the same thing at Toronto Lake? And Cheney Lake before that?”

  ”Nah, better not. It'd make us look bad. We ain't no white trash, we're just tryin' to get by the best we can.”

  “What if—”

  “Sheila, don't start with that again. Ain't no one goin' to find out if you keep your mouth shut. We'll get on TV and tell our story, and maybe somebody'll start a fund for us or somethin'. Next Tuesday or so, maybe Wednesday, Mom'll drop Kayla off at that bait shop up there on the access road, then she'll light out and we'll have our darlin' little baby back. Hell, maybe even more people'll send money once we get her back, you never know. We just gotta make it sound as awful as we can and look like we're hurtin' real bad, make a lot a folks feel sorry for us. Hell, I nearly puked today, cryin' so hard.”

  Sheila's chest lifted with a troubled sigh. “That Indian already feels sorry for us. The game warden? Made me feel so bad I give him an apple.”

  “I saw it. We got any more?”

  “Two.” Sheila was silent a moment, then said, “Ronnie, what if Kayla says somethin'? You know they're gonna wanna talk to her.”

  “Me and Mom worked it all out. She's tellin' Kayla what to say when people talk to her. She'll say a man took her and then let her go.”

  ”A man?”

  “Yeah, you know. A pervert, or somethin’.”

  “What?”

  “Well, who else would take a little girl?”

  “Why didn't you just say a couple took her? A couple who couldn't have babies and wanted a little child of their own?”

  Ronnie looked at her in exasperation. “Why would they bring her back?”

  Sheila tossed her stringy brown hair and raised a hand. “I don't know. Maybe because she still wets the bed and they want one who doesn't.”

  “That's the stupidest goddamned thing I ever heard,” said Ronnie. “Get in the trailer and go to bed before you piss me off. You ain't gonna blow this for me, damn you.”

  “I ain't gonna blow anything, Ronnie. I'm just scared about doin' somethin’ like this. I know you said it ain't really illegal, but it still feels wrong to have all these folks so scared for us.”

  Ronnie gave his wife a shove. “Go on to bed. We ain't gonna talk about this no more. I told you what to do and you'll do it, you hear?”

  “Don't get mad again, Ronnie. I didn't mean anything but that I'm nervous.”

  “I didn't hit you; I just gave you a little push. Now get in there,” Ronnie warned, and from the redness of his eyes, Sheila knew to start moving. She wouldn't mess with him now, not when he was under so much pressure to be something he wasn't.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Madeleine lay in bed that night thinking of the scars she had seen on Eris Renard's chest, back, and shoulders. She had seen skin like his before. Sometime in adolescence R
enard had contracted chicken pox, and the itchy, erupting pustules had scarred the flesh of his face and upper torso. She thought of the pain he must have suffered, the agony of adolescent angst, and felt ashamed for being so hateful to him when he did his best to be polite and civil toward her.

  She was in such a state she didn't know what she was doing. Already she was dying of boredom and anxiety and cursing herself for believing a jobless, rent free summer had been the thing to do. All day she had fought against thinking about Sam, and all day she had failed. Over and over she saw the hole in the wall and the clotted blood that stained the carpet and had to be cut out.

  She didn't know why she was thinking about him. The guilt still stung her, and the traumatic memory of finding him dead kept her eyes open on many nights. But more and more she found herself growing angry when she thought about him, angry at him for his weakness and his petulant attitude about his lost job. People lost jobs all the time, and most didn't look at it as a personal judgment of their worth as a human being. Sam had been unable to accept the fact that he was no longer wanted as an employee. The rejection was so completely alien to him that it had injured his entire concept of himself, and left Madeleine struggling to hold together the pieces of his shattered ego, all for the sake of a marriage she had been reluctant to enter into in the first place.

  “Ouch!” She shot up in bed as one of the kittens began kneading her leg with its claws. She plucked him away and rubbed at the flesh of her thigh. The other two kittens were curled up on the bed at her feet. Madeleine placed the clawing kitten with the others and got up to go to the living area and turn on the television. She flipped through channels on the remote for a moment, then put it down and went to look outside. The waxing moon was bright in the cloudless night. She thought she saw movement in the old cemetery and she jumped and squinted, trying to see.

  There it was again. Someone was moving around just beyond the gate.

  Just as Madeleine was about to go for the phone, she recognized the yellow fishing hat atop the skulker's head.

  What on earth was Tanner doing?

  She was tempted to go out and see, but common sense told her it was best to steer clear of weirdos in the moonlight.

  Besides which, Renard had looked exhausted again that evening and would doubtlessly resent being disturbed for so trivial a reason as Tanner.

  Madeleine thought of Renard sitting on the front porch in his briefs, trying to look at his bloody big toe, and had to smile. Renard was on the slender side, and while he was bent over with his wet hair in his face, he had reminded her of a ceremonial dancer, and of the many nearly naked men she had witnessed on numerous occasions while living among various Native-American tribes. It made her feel close to him, and at the same time it irritated her for the other memories he inspired.

  The man who had ridden on her back and whipped her with a stick she would never forget.

  But thinking about him was almost worse than thinking about Sam, so she turned abruptly from the window and looked at the television again.

  Five minutes later she clicked off the TV and went back to bed, stroking each of the kittens before she laid back and closed her eyes.

  The next morning she awakened to the ringing of the telephone, and she hurried out of bed to snatch up the receiver, afraid the caller would hang up before she could reach it.

  “Hello?”

  “I'm at the grocery store,” said a familiar deep voice. “I've got the litter; now what kind of cat food do I buy?”

  “Renard?”

  “I don't have long. I have to get back. What kind do you want?”

  Madeleine started to tell him no thanks. She would get her own cat food if she got any at all. Then she thought of the last can of tuna and the three furry babies who kept her company in the big bed and said, “Anything with tuna in it. They love tuna.”

  “All right. I'll drop it off when I get back.”

  “Thank you,” said Madeleine, but he had already hung up. She made a face at the phone and it rang again almost immediately, causing her to start and stare for half a second. Finally she picked up the receiver, and she was relieved to hear her sister's voice wish her a cheery good morning.

  “Jacqueline,” she said, pleased to hear from her.

  “I tried your cell but it's out of service. How's it going so far?”

  “I haven't paid my phone bill in a while.”

  “You're not scared, are you? To be by yourself?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “That's good. I was worried you might be after hearing about that missing little girl. I heard it on the radio this morning on the way to work.”

  “Really?”

  “Bad news travels. Is our neighbor out looking for her?”

  Madeleine's mouth twisted. “At the moment he's out buying cat food.”

  “He doesn't have a cat.”

  “No, but we do. Three kittens, dumped in our yard courtesy of a noisy rumbling pickup and two good ole boys.”

  “You're kidding.”

  “I'm not. Is it all right? Can I keep them awhile?”

  “Of course. Manny loves cats. Are they cute?”

  “Two feisty tiger-striped and one black.”

  “Company for you,” Jacqueline observed. “Why is Renard out buying food for them?”

  “It's a long story.”

  “He's quite the reserved gentleman, isn't he?”

  “I suppose he is, yes.”

  ”Uh-oh,” said Jacqueline. “I don't like the sound of that. What's happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You're sure? You get along all right?”

  “The man is always gone, Jacqueline.”

  “Have you seen the other one yet?”

  “The other one?”

  “The other conservation officer. The handsome one.”

  “No, I haven't,” admitted Madeleine. “But I haven't been out much. Just to the post office.”

  “Well, go down to Vista Bay and sit yourself down by the swimming beach. Sooner or later he'll cruise by and you'll get a look at him.”

  “Jacqueline,” Madeleine began in a hesitant voice. “I'm not really interested in looking at anyone right now, if you know what I mean.”

  “I'm sorry,” Jacqueline said quickly. “I didn't realize. I was just gabbing.”

  “I know. Don't apologize. It's just too soon for me to think in those terms.”

  “I know it is, Mad. I won't say any more. Have you thought of anything for me to bring this weekend?”

  ”A gross of paperbacks,” said Madeleine, only half joking.

  “Can do,” Jacqueline said, and then she had to go. “See you Friday night.”

  ” ‘Bye,” said Madeleine, sorry the conversation was over.

  She showered and washed her hair, brushed her teeth and dressed in a white blouse and shorts, and was slipping into her sandals when she saw Eris Renard come to the door with a sack in his hands.

  “Good morning,” she said, and opened the screen door.

  He nodded and handed her the sack. Inside was litter and a dozen tall cans of cat food. Madeleine blinked and looked at him. “You want me to keep the kittens, I guess.”

  “They were on sale,” said Renard, and he turned away from her to step off the porch.

  “How's the toe this morning?” asked Madeleine, determined to be cordial.

  “Sore,” he said, and kept walking.

  “Thanks for the cat food,” she said, and he tipped his hat without looking at her.

  Madeleine muttered something under her breath about his surliness and allowed the screen door to slam shut.

  Eris Renard didn't notice. He climbed in his truck and took off down the road again, his eyes straight ahead.

  Gone to join the search again, Madeleine told herself, and for a moment she imagined the terror a young child might feel, or the child's mother, under such circumstances. The sense was too much like the horror she had found with Sam, and Madeleine forced her
thoughts elsewhere.

  The kittens gobbled up half a can of cat food from a paper plate, and when they were finished, Madeleine put them outside in the yard in hopes they would relieve themselves outdoors rather than in the shoebox, which was already beginning to stink. She needed to find a better litter box, she decided as she herded the kittens into the grass.

  Sherman Tanner was walking by with his dog at the time, and Madeleine saw the small canine leap and nearly strangle himself at the end of his leash to get at the tiny kittens. Tanner, his lip curled, picked up his little dog and went on his way.

  Madeleine made a face at his retreating figure and thought once more about his moonlight trip to the cemetery. She really should have told Renard, but she had the feeling he was now lumping her in with all the other residents in Briar's Cove and labeling her a nuisance right along with Sherman Tanner.

  Curious to see if the man was going back to the cemetery, Madeleine looked up to the road again. She saw no sign of Tanner. The next moment she was up and walking in that direction, thinking a little investigating was in order.

  The cemetery was indeed old, and most of the stones were unreadable. Many looked as if there had never been any writing on them at all, and Madeleine wondered suddenly if she was standing in some sort of potter's field, where the sinners, misfits, and outcasts were buried. She walked slowly across the grassy plots, looking for signs of recently overturned earth. She couldn't imagine what else the Earthworm would be doing in a graveyard at night.

  A trip around the entire cemetery turned up no evidence of digging, and Madeleine puckered her brow as she scoured the surrounding area. It was nothing but a cemetery full of very old bones and lots of weathered stones.

  “But what a strange place to find a cemetery,” she said aloud as she looked in the direction of the lake. From what she understood, the lake had been constructed sometime in the mid to late forties. Most every readable stone was much older, so all of the people buried in the ground beneath her had probably lived, farmed and died on land now covered by the waters of the lake.