Green Lake

by S. K. Epperson

  “How long are you here with them?”

  “For the week. It's a camping adventure we do every year. I thought I'd have to take them all home early, but my husband agreed to come out and help me with them. What do you say, Madeleine? I'll pay you for a full day.”

  Madeleine looked at Denise's earnest blue eyes and ginger red hair before giving a brief but firm nod. She didn't exactly have pressing business back at the cabin. “What do we do first?”

  “We feed them, apply another dose of sunscreen, and take them on a hike. Later on this afternoon, after lunch, we meet someone from the park who tells them about good camping habits and gives them all stickers then we go on a short boat ride, courtesy of a friend with a pontoon boat. After that it's supper and a sing-along before bedtime.”

  ”A big day,” commented Madeleine.

  “I show them a good time,” said Denise, “and wear my butt out in the bargain. But it's worth it. Just look at those happy faces.”

  Madeleine looked and had to agree.

  “I need to run back to my cabin and leave a note,” she told Denise.

  “I'll be right here,” Denise told her. “Slathering on the sun block.”

  “Be right back,” Madeleine said, and she jogged up the path that led to the cabins. She dashed off a quick note to Jacqueline and Manuel and then hurried back down to the swimming beach. Others had arrived by this time, some throwing distasteful glances and others indulgent as the children squirmed about on the small sandbar. Denise had three more bodies to apply sunscreen to, and she looked tremendously relieved when she saw Madeleine.

  “I had this terrible feeling you weren't coming back. You're either incredibly bored or very naive about kids.”

  “I'm both,” said Madeleine. “Where do we hike?”

  “Not far. We're actually camped near Diamond Bay, but there's no swimming beach. The minibus is up in the parking area. I thought we'd go on a little nature walk then look at the trees and rocks and such. Are you ready?”

  Madeleine was already panting from her first jaunt, but she could do more. She thought she probably shouldn't have sold her exercise bike and treadmill. A few months of inactivity and already she felt completely out of shape.

  She was to feel even more out of shape as the day wore on. After lunch the children were more boisterous than ever, excited about their park visitor, who turned out to be Dale Russell. He said a quiet hello to Madeleine and Denise before turning his attention to the children, who watched in awe as he told them stories about litterbugs and firebugs and gave each one of them an official PARK PROTECTOR sticker when he was finished. Before he left, Dale looked at Madeleine and said, “Thursday?”

  She shrugged a shoulder in reply and he gave her one of his heartwarming smiles. Madeleine only lifted a brow in response.

  “Did he ask you for a date?” Denise asked in surprise.

  “Do you know him?”

  “I know he told the daughter of a friend that COs were discouraged from becoming romantically involved with the locals. I didn't know if that was baloney or what.”

  “He didn't ask for a date,” Madeleine clarified. “He simply asked if I was going to the dance next Thursday.”

  “He's also supposed to be engaged. I was relieved to hear it, since my husband's convinced Dale is gay.”

  “They say the best-looking men usually are,” Madeleine said, and at her tone, Denise looked at her.

  “You sound curiously uninterested.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes.” Denise and Madeleine grinned at her.

  “No. Will you be going to the dance?”

  “No. We leave the day before. You should go. I went last year and had a really good time. Are you with anyone?”

  “Me? No, I'm staying at my sister's cabin for the summer.”

  “All the more reason you should go.” Denise looked at her watch then. “Time for our boat ride. We need to get to the dock.”

  The next half-hour was contained madness as they hurried to strap twelve little bodies into twelve personal flotation devices and hustle them aboard the huge pontoon boat owned by Denise's obviously wealthy friend, introduced to Madeleine only as “Bill.” She and Denise put on their own life jackets and sat squat-legged on the floor of the boat with the children, while the owner's teenage daughter flopped into one of the seats and studied all their faces.

  ”A new assistant, Denise?” she asked, and pointed to Madeleine.

  “Just day help,” Madeleine answered.

  “Ignore her,” said Denise under her breath, and then the engine started and no one could hear much of anything for several moments as they pushed away from the dock and headed out onto the lake.

  The children clung to each other and to Denise and Madeleine as they moved over the choppy water. Several of the children's mouths never closed, but simply remained open in drooling pleasure.

  “You never said whether you were going to the dance with Dale Russell or not,” Denise said to her in a loud voice, and before Madeleine could answer, the teenage girl was leaning over Denise, her nostrils flaring.

  “What did you say?”

  Denise leaned back. “I wasn't talking to you.”

  “Did you say Dale Russell asked her to the dance?” She pointed rudely at Madeleine again.

  “What if he did?”

  The girl straightened. “Sonofabitch.”

  “Hey,” said Denise. “Watch your mouth around these kids.”

  The girl sneered. “Don't tell me what to do on my own goddamned boat.”

  Bill heard that one and he barked at his daughter to shut her mouth. She stomped away, and Denise's lip curled as she watched her go.

  Madeleine began to smile, and she started to say, I think you did that on purpose, to Denise, but a sudden, sharp scream from one of the children caused her to jerk her head around and look to see what was wrong. Suddenly every child on the boat was screaming, and then Denise and even Madeleine screamed when she saw the tiny, limp body caught in the ropes trailing along beside the boat. The girl's blonde hair floated like seaweed in the water above the yellow of her sweat-suit. Her upturned face was bloated and discolored, and Madeleine slammed her eyes shut and turned abruptly away before the image of the little girl's staring, milky eyes could stick in her mind the way that reddish black hole in the side of Sam's head had.

  Then she began yanking children back and gathering them to her, trying to cover their heads with her hands and telling them in a shaking but soothing voice not to look, just don't look.

  Bill, his face white, had stopped the pontoon boat and was radioing for help.

  Help in the form of Eris Renard came nearly a half-hour later.

  He was in a boat by himself, and Madeleine saw him give a start to find her there, surrounded by twelve shaken Down's children and a sobbing redhead.

  “Great,” muttered the teenage girl. “It's the ugly one.”

  Eris pulled the boat along the opposite side of the pontoon where the body floated. He climbed onto the pontoon and walked to the opposite edge to look over. Madeleine saw him go very still for a moment then he abruptly turned and jumped back into his own boat to pick up the radio.

  “No hoax,” she heard him say. “She's here.”

  The response was difficult to hear, and Madeleine heard Eris tell whomever he was talking to that a dozen kids were on the pontoon boat. When he turned around again his face was grim, and she clearly heard a voice instruct him to spare the children further trauma and bring in the body himself. The sheriff's department would be waiting on shore.

  Eris took a tarpaulin and laid it on the seat beside him then he guided his boat around the pontoon boat and placed it as close to the body as he dared. Without hesitation he went into the water, and Madeleine watched as he attempted to untangle the body from the pontoon's rope. His face held no expression though his long brown fingers worked frantically. When the body was finally free, Eris held onto one sleeve of the yellow sweat-suit and swam with it
to the side of his boat before motioning to Bill that he could go on.

  As the pontoon pulled away, Madeleine's eyes were glued to Eris's face. She saw him place an arm of the body behind the ladder of the boat to hold it there until he could get on board and get the tarpaulin. She saw him wrap the tarpaulin around the body and slowly lift it over the side of his boat. Then, though they were many yards away by this time, she saw him lean over the side of the boat away from them and hang there for several minutes. Madeleine's heart went out to him as she watched him heave.

  Denise had stopped crying by that time, and she was attempting to calm the children, who were full of frightened questions. After listening to her for several minutes, Bill's teenage daughter shook her head and said, “They've seen enough bodies and dead people on TV by now that I wouldn't be too worried. That pockmarked CO probably scared them worse than the floater.”

  Madeleine stood and extended a stiff arm to put her finger right in the middle of the girl's chest.

  “Please shut up.”

  The girl backed away in belligerent surprise. “God, what is your problem? Dad, did you see what she did?”

  Bill did, and when they were safely docked again, he came to apologize. “Denise, Miss Heron, I won't make excuses for my daughter, or for what happened out there today, but I will say I'm sorry.”

  Denise nodded to him and touched his shoulder. “Do you think ... I mean where do you . . . how do you think we got her?”

  He rubbed at a temple and said, “The only thing I can figure is that we snagged her right here at the dock just after Shelly took care of the lines. She never does it the way she's supposed to, which is probably how we wound up carrying the body along with us, with the line trailing along with her under the boat. Then, when we slowed down, she had time to bob up from underneath us.”

  “Under the boat?” said Denise, looking sick. “She was underneath the boat the whole time?”

  “I'm sorry,” Bill said again, and he left them alone with the children.

  Supper was a somber affair, with more questions, questions, questions, and much interest and curiosity in the dozens of sheriff s department cruisers now parked around Diamond Bay. As they were ready to begin their evening sing-along, Denise's husband, Tim, arrived. After staying for one or two songs, Madeleine bid everyone goodbye and slipped away, refusing payment for the day or a ride back to her cabin. She had seen Eris's truck parked at the dock, and she figured to ride back with him. It was late, nearing dusk, and he would be going home soon.

  She found the truck and opened the unlocked passenger door to climb inside. There were people milling around on the dock, uniforms of all sorts, deputies, morgue assistants, and people from the coroner. She couldn't see Eris.

  Madeleine settled herself against the seat and looked around the interior of the truck. It was clean, like his house. The dashboard was free of dust and had a freshly washed look to it.

  No wonder he eats over the sink, she thought. He doesn't want to get anything dirty.

  She opened his glove compartment and was stunned to find his wallet inside.

  How careless, Madeleine thought, leaving his wallet inside an unlocked truck at a busy dock.

  But it was an official truck, and Eris had probably been in a hurry to get out on the water, which explained why his wallet was there. He didn't want it to get wet.

  Hating herself for doing it, but eaten with curiosity, Madeleine opened the wallet. Inside she found fifty-nine dollars and a ticket stub from a music theatre presentation of Man of La Mancha. There were no pictures of anyone in his wallet. He had a driver's license, an insurance card, a social security card, a library card, various official-looking permits and things…and that was it. She looked at the driver's license again to find his birth date. After doing some quick figuring in her head, she realized he was going to turn twenty-seven the following Friday.

  She did some more figuring and began to frown. Madeleine was exactly eight years and two months older than him. Sighing, she put his wallet back into the glove compartment and closed it up tight. She leaned back against the seat and allowed her lids to drift shut while she waited.

  In the next moment she jerked awake as the overhead light in the cab came on and Eris stood with his hand on the door, looking in at her.

  “If you're going home, I need a ride,” she said, and after a pause he got in the cab.

  Madeleine buckled in as he turned the ignition. She eyed his profile and found his eyes straying to the glove compartment.

  It's still there, she wanted to tell him, but she didn't. He looked more tired than she had ever seen him, and she wondered what kind of man he was to enjoy working himself to exhaustion day after day.

  ‘‘You're sunburned,” he commented as he drove the truck up and away from the dock.

  She glanced at the pink tops of her thighs and felt the tenderness of her arms. “I don't tan. I never have.”

  They rode quietly along, and on impulse she reached across the seat to gently touch his arm. She felt him flinch, but went on. “You did a good job today, Eris. I want you to know that. I don't know anyone who could have handled the situation as well as you did today.”

  For several moments he was silent. Then he asked, “You saw her?”

  “I did, yes. I won't forget it any time soon.”

  There was silence between them again, until he looked at her suddenly and asked in a rough voice if she had a specialty in anthropology.

  Madeleine looked at him in surprise, and then understood by the swift change of subject that he was trying to guide his thoughts away from the day's events and his part in them.

  “Native-American languages,” she answered. “And some music.”

  Eris turned full face to look at her, his surprise apparent by the action.

  Are you Lakota?” she asked.

  “Fox,” he said, turning back to the road again.

  “Minnesota? Canada?”

  “The white people who adopted me said I was born here in Kansas.”

  That explained why his wallet held no pictures, she told herself. Partially, anyway.

  “Where are they now?” she asked. “Do they live around here?”

  “I haven't seen them in years,” he said. “When I left, they were in New Mexico.”

  “My parents live in Santa Fe,” said Madeleine.

  She expected him to say something else, like what part of New Mexico his adoptive parents were in, or why he hadn't seen them in so long, but he said nothing further, only stared out the windshield and drove. When they reached the log cabin she saw Manuel's Jeep Cherokee in the drive and lights burning in the windows.

  Eris stopped the truck in the road and waited for her to get out. Madeleine unbuckled herself and said, “Thanks for the ride.”

  He nodded. She hesitated, looking at him. He looked back at her, still and silent.

  “Would you like to come in and have a beer?” she asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Eris . . .”

  “Tell Mr. and Mrs. Ortiz I said hello.”

  She was dismissed. Madeleine got out and slammed the door behind her. She marched across the lawn and up the steps without once looking over her shoulder. She heard his truck pass on toward his cabin.

  That's what she got for being concerned about him, for trying to be nice again. He didn't know what nice was. Madeleine herself was going to be having more than one drink that night. She had no more of the sleeping pills her doctor had given her, and she knew she was going to need something to help her blot out the memory of that floating blonde hair and sodden yellow sweat suit. If Eris Renard didn't need something to help him, or someone to talk to, then he was made of unfeeling stone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Eris held up the bottle of Jack Daniel's and swallowed three times before he put it down again. He rarely drank, but it was an effective painkiller.

  Madeleine Heron had no idea how much he had wanted to take her up on all the sympathy her eye
s offered. When she touched him on the arm he wanted to stop the truck in the middle of the road and wrap himself around her, crush her to him, so he could know the feel of a warm, breathing, living being in his arms, instead of the memory of a cold and dead one.

  He took another long drink and put the lid back on the bottle. He had contacted the Lyman’s, as promised, and was forced to listen to Ronnie Lyman call him a liar, over and over. “She ain't dead, you hear? I'm tellin' you my little girl ain't dead. She can't be.”

  Eris had to tell him it was in fact his daughter. He had taken her out of the water himself and requested that Ronnie come and identify her. Ronnie said that by God he would, and the lying goddamned bastard would see it was not his little girl.

  When Ronnie arrived and saw Eris was telling the truth, that his little girl had drowned, he fell into a dead faint on the ground and cracked open his head, requiring twelve stitches to sew it back up again. Reporters descended upon the scene then, and questions were fired nonstop at park officials, only a few meriting an answer. When Eris was asked by someone whether he still considered the park safe, he nearly lost his temper.

  The girl was three, he wanted to shout. You don't leave a three-year-old girl in the dark by a dam.

  His superior had stepped up in time to save Eris and keep his face off TV.

  Eris walked away to help Dale Russell keep the numerous nosy boaters and curious onlookers out of the way. Russell had been away from his radio when the call came for someone to go out on the water and check out the pontoon boat. Eris had been forced to drive twenty fast miles to get back to the reservoir and get in a boat.

  He closed his eyes and unscrewed the lid on the bottle again as he thought of his first glimpse of her.

  Bad.

  Don't think about it, he immediately told himself. Think about anything else. Think about Madeleine, and the way she's starting to look at you.

  Truth be told, he didn't know what to think about that. She acted as if she were actually interested in him, and after learning what he had that evening, he began to wonder if maybe he wasn't some new and different kind of case study for her. Her interests lay in Native Americans, and he was as native and as American as they came, so maybe she was actually following her educational leanings when she tried to talk to him.