I felt the dock creak beneath me, and when I turned, I saw Chet walking toward me across the boards. “Miss Molly!” he cried, dressed to the nines in linen pants and what must have been his finest Italian silk shirt. He had just returned from the resort management offices following some kind of fancy business lunch, I knew. “Why, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” There was a funny little flicker in his eyes that I didn’t much like.
I tried to calm myself but I would not stop shaking. “N-No,” I stammered. “Everything’s okay. I just—the water’s cold,” I concluded lamely.
“Hmmm.” Chet looked me over carefully. I couldn’t tell if he’d bought my excuse or not. “Well,” he said after quite a pause, “you take care of yourself, Miss Molly.” With that, he turned around and strode back to shore.
Still I quivered, hugging my knees against me, at the end of the dock. I told myself that I was acting like a lunatic. I couldn’t possibly have felt someone’s icy-cold hands yanking me beneath the water; I must have run into a bit of a current or something. Perhaps it was entirely my vivid imagination. I tilted my face up to the sunshine and tried to laugh at my own idiocy. The sound came out like a strangled cry.
Mother to Daughter
That evening, Chet took Mom and me out to dinner once again. I noticed, as I plucked absently at the edge of the cloth covering the table in the Italian restaurant, that Mom kept up the majority of her conversation with Chet. Every once in a while, he would murmur “Yes” or “No” or “Hmmm, I see,” or “Aren’t you quaint, love!” in response to what she was saying, but his eyes betrayed him. He was intent on watching me.
As the days passed, I’d been feeling increasingly uneasy around Chet. And despite the creep that I thought he was, I felt very sorry for Mom. It was sad and pathetic to see her fawning all over him, falling into his arms as she did, while he gave her very little in return—excepting those long, passionate kisses I wasn’t supposed to have observed. But after all, Chet’s a man, and from what I know about men, he’s just programmed that way.
After that dinner in particular, I had had it up to here with Chet, and as soon as Mom and I had a moment alone during a nighttime swim in the pool on the bottom deck, I told her so. “I’m really sorry, Mom,” I told her. “I know how much you care about Chet, but I think, that if you have to have a boyfriend, you really deserve someone a lot better, someone who will give you the love and attention that you give Chet.”
As I had feared, Mom took this the wrong way. “Molly Elizabeth Hanover!” she exploded. “I’m ashamed of you! Chet cares about me very much and gives me plenty of attention, if I do say so myself! Just because you don’t want me seeing anyone, just because you’re selfish and don’t want to share your mother with another human being, is no excuse to talk to me like this!”
Her voice broke. “Do you know how long I’ve hoped, wished, prayed, yearned for someone to come along who truly takes an interest in me, and not only in me, but in my daughter as well? Do you, Molly? Do you have any idea how hard it’s been these past sixteen years, raising you as a single mother? It hasn’t been your fault, granted, but I can’t handle it alone, not any longer!” She stopped and rested her hand at the tiled edge of the swimming pool. Her shoulders shook, and she began to sob.
I felt terrible. “Mom….” I trailed helplessly, brushing my wet hand gently over her arm. “You haven’t been all alone. You’ve got Nanny and Gramps. And Bess. And of course me.”
“Oh, Molly!” Mom gathered me against her chest in a fierce hug. “Of course I haven’t been alone, not in that sense, at least. But you must understand, sweetie; I also need the kind of support that only a man can bring to my life—and you know I’m not talking about Gramps.”
“I know,” I said in a tiny, defeated voice.
Mom loosened her grasp on me and kissed my forehead. “I love you, Molly Dolly,” she told me, using my nickname from when I was little. “You’re my number-one top priority. Nobody’s ever going to steal me away from you, no matter what, and don’t you forget it!”
Although Mom’s words warmed and encouraged me, I was exceedingly frustrated by her oblivion to the kind of person I believed Chet to be: not sweet and caring and romantic, as he’d evidently come across in Bermuda, but somewhat aloof…and strange…and sinister.
Invitation
That night I didn’t get much sleep, and when I did sleep, my dreams were haunted by the icy cold fingers and hands—whether real or imagined—that had scared me out of my wits as I’d floated on my back in Secret Lake.
I woke up late the next morning, as I had the first morning, and got myself ready and went down to breakfast. Gabbie served me delicious crepes suzette filled with cream cheese and strawberries, as well as a big mug of coffee with French-vanilla cream and a frosty glass of iced water.
Just as I was finishing eating, my cell phone jangled its crazy little ring tone, and I unzipped my purse to retrieve it, my heart fluttering expectantly. Of course, I told myself, it could be just Kathryn, or Madeline, or any number of other friends back in Pinewood, but something told me, as my fingers closed around the phone, that the caller was…Tucker! I trembled with excitement as I watched his name flash on the little caller ID screen.
Pulling myself together, and reminding myself that Tucker and I were nothing more than friends, I flipped my cell open and said, “Hello?”
“Molly!” came Tucker’s warm, friendly, wonderful voice. “How’s it going?”
“Great!” I replied, trying desperately to contain my enthusiasm. “I was really lazy this morning, and I’ve actually just finished breakfast.”
Tucker laughed. “Hey, it’s your vacation,” he said. “You’re allowed to be lazy now and then….Listen, I was wondering if you had any plans for today? Nicky and I are both off work, and we thought we’d take out the speedboat. Do you want to join us?”
“I’d love to!” I cried, a little gushily. “I don’t have anything going on today, as far as I know, so whatever time you guys want to head out is fine with me!”
“Awesome,” replied Tucker, rather genuinely, I noticed. “Well, how about I swing by and pick you up at one o’ clock?”
“Perfect,” I told him. “Thank you so much! I’ll be looking forward to it!”
“No problem,” Tucker returned. “Wear your swimsuit under your clothes, and don’t forget sunblock and a towel. We’ll have the food and drinks and everything else.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you at one!”
As I hung up the phone, Gabbie smiled and winked at me. “Forgive me for prying, Miss Molly,” she said, “but were you, by any chance, making plans with Tucker Anderson?”
“Oh, Gabbie!” I giggled. “It’s nothing! Tucker and Nicky and I are going for a boat ride, is all.”
Gabbie only shook her head and clucked her tongue knowingly. “Just you wait, Miss Vanessa,” she told me. That time, I don’t think she realized for a moment what she’d said.
Boat Ride
Tucker’s speedboat was every bit as wonderful as I’d expected. Streamlined and shiny, it was two hundred horsepower, roomy enough for eight to ten passengers, and, according to Tucker and Nicky, ideal for pulling water-skiers and tubers. They had even tossed a tube and towline aboard, and when I told them I had never been tubing, Nicky laughed and assured me that it was definitely worth trying.
We set off about one-thirty from the Andersons’ lakeside mansion (which was impressive, but a whole lot less pretentious than Chet’s) and picked up speed as we neared the middle of the lake.
I lay stretched out on one of the long, curving vinyl passenger seats, as the wind ruffled my ponytail and the sun brushed my face with natural bronzer. Nicky sat across from me, and Tucker stood at the controls, propelling us forward through the high spray of the choppy water.
“Having fun?” Nicky called to me over the roar of the boat engine.
“This is the life!” I called back, and he laughed.
After a while
, Tucker put on the radio full-blast, and I sat up at the front of the boat, singing along with gusto as we careened through Secret Lake. I made the guys laugh, and it wasn’t long before they joined in my singing. I could tell they thought I was cute!
Finally, Tucker cut the engine and looked over at me. We were now very close to the wild tumble of Indian Falls in the choppiest part of the lake. “Well, Molly,” he asked, “how does a little tubing sound to you?”
I glanced at the tube and towline, heaped on the floor of the speedboat. Then I looked warily out at the waterfall and the foaming churn of the lake just beneath it. It was very noisy, so we had to yell in order to communicate. “Isn’t the water a little rough here for that?” I had to know.
Nicky’s eyes sparkled. “Exactly!” he answered, in Tucker’s stead. “That’s the fun of it. The boat hauls you out at top speed, and added to that, you have the turbulence of Indian Falls. It’s almost impossible to stay on the tube. This is a wild ride, Molly; you don’t want to miss out!”
My eyes widened. “Falling off is a good thing?” He’d sure made it sound that way.
Tucker grinned at me. “Aw, don’t worry, Molly. Nicky’s talking big, trying to freak you out. There is the chance that you could fall off, of course, but you won’t get hurt if you just let go and let the water take you.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “I’m no chicken.”
Nicky pulled at the towline and hitched it to the end of the boat. “That’s good,” he said devilishly. “This isn’t an experience for the faint of heart.” His voice took on a dramatic shrill, and I rolled my eyes at him.
“You don’t scare me, Nicky Goldberg!” I walked toward him and watched as he tossed the tube over the side of the boat into the wild water. He quickly gathered the towline so that the tube wouldn’t float away from the boat.
Tucker offered me a flotation vest, holding it and helping me put it on over my bikini (my favorite green one again, for this special occasion!). “You don’t want to go tubing without this,” he told me, “especially this close to a waterfall. One, it’s illegal, and two, it’ll take some the impact of the water.”
“Thanks,” I said, adjusting the vest and then snapping it shut down my chest. I glanced up and smiled at Tucker, my flirty smile, and to my surprise, he turned a little pink in the face as he smiled in return.
I grew warm and my heart fluttered wildly. Quickly, I turned to Nicky again, and he gave me his hand and helped me climb over the side of the boat and into the waiting tube. “You got it okay?” he asked, letting go of me.
I nodded, grasping the plastic handles at either side of the tube as I settled inside it with my legs sticking out in front of me. The water bobbed beneath me, agitated by Indian Falls.
“All right,” said Nicky. “Tuck’s gonna drive this baby, and I’m gonna be your spotter. That means I have to sit facing you the whole time you’re tubing, so I can know if you fall off or signal for anything. Here are your signals; you ready? Thumbs-up if you want to speed up, thumbs-down if you want to slow down, palm-up if you want to stop, and slash-throat if you want us to cut the engine.” He demonstrated as he spoke. “Okey-dokey?”
“Sounds good to me. I’m all set!” I tightened my grip on the plastic handles and waited as Nicky gave Tucker the go.
The boat jerked to a start, yanking me along behind. Within seconds, we were traveling so fast that my surroundings were nothing but a blur before my eyes. Water pressed beneath me, pushing and prodding me from my seated position, as the tube skimmed over the wake of the speedboat in the already turbulent water. I held on with all of my strength, and even over the roar of the water and boat engine in my ears, I could hear Nicky yelling to Tucker to “Take ‘er out, man!” And I hadn’t signaled to him for more speed!
“Nickyyy!” I shouted. “Nicky, you creepy little jerk!” But I was laughing in spite of myself, spitting out water and clutching the tube handles for dear life. As we came even nearer to Indian Falls, I felt as though I were white-water rafting on a kickboard; that’s how little control I had against the current and the waves and the pull of the water and the sharp, hard droplets that pelted my face like nuggets of hail. This time, I jerked my thumb downward when I dared to let go for even a moment, giving Nicky the signal to slow down.
Nicky understood and, deciding to have mercy on me, he turned and told Tucker to take it easy. But too late! Before Tucker got the chance to let up, I felt the tube being pulled from beneath me, and splash! I tumbled out into the crazy, foaming water, greeted by a cool shower of spray from Indian Falls.
Nicky turned again to Tucker, and immediately upon slowing, Tucker circled the boat around and headed back toward me.
Grateful for my flotation vest, I panted and gasped and kicked, battling the rough water as I waited to be pulled aboard the boat once more. Suddenly, my heart thudding painfully in my chest, I realized that I was being pulled—downward! The same icy hands that had yanked at my ankles the day before were back, seeming even stronger now, and they were dragging me down, down, down, below the surface of the water, even in spite of my vest!
Terror at Indian Falls
“Tucker!” I screamed. “Nicky! Help me!” My words spluttered on my lips as I was dragged beneath the waves. I kicked and pushed and fought with all that was in me. Someone had me! Someone was yanking me down, trying to drown me! Trying to kill me! Someone with awful, icy hands…someone terrible! This was it! I was completely submerged. I was dying! Fearfully, I glanced below me, but the water was too turbulent for me to see anything. How, in fact, was this horrible person able to remain underwater so long a time? Who was this person, and why did he or she want me dead? And where, oh where, were Tucker and Nicky?
Just as I had given up all hope of ever again seeing the daylight, I felt myself being tugged urgently above the waves. Someone was fighting for me; someone was playing tug-of-war with my captor. I was yanked, back and forth, back and forth, until suddenly, abruptly, I was wrenched free and pulled aboard the speedboat, gasping and coughing, spitting water and heaving deep breaths, freezing-cold, shaking and shuddering, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Molly! Molly! Are you all right?” Tucker’s voice, concerned and intent, met my ears.
I fluttered open my eyes to find myself clutched in his arms, as I had daydreamed about, pressed tightly against his sun-warmed pullover shirt. “Tucker…” I managed, my voice trembling. “I’m okay. Y-You saved me.”
“My hero, my hero!” mimicked Nicky, good-natured as always through his relief. “Don’t go giving him all the credit, Molly! I helped, too, you know. It was crazy hard work, almost like something was purposely dragging you under. What was going on?”
Tucker sat down on the long vinyl seat where I’d sprawled earlier, and I flopped tiredly against his warm shirt as he smoothed wet, tangled ponytail flyways out of my face—just a comforting gesture, I told myself wearily. It didn’t mean anything more….
“That’s the thing,” I said breathlessly, addressing Nicky’s question. “Something was purposely dragging me under—I should say, someone. I felt hands grabbing at my feet, at my ankles—icy, icy hands! Someone was trying to drown me! And I think whoever it was tried to drown me yesterday, too! I was swimming near Chet’s dock, and I felt these horrible icy fingers, and then the hands; they got me by the ankles….” To my great chagrin, my voice warbled off in a pathetic little wail.
Nicky dropped the boat anchor into the water with a loud, bubbling plop; then he looked at Tucker, and I watched them exchange glances. At first, I thought they were going to laugh, tell me I was crazy, that no one could have been out there, and try to reassure me. But instead, a troubled expression flickered across Nicky’s face, and he sat down opposite Tucker and me, propping his forearms on his knees. The boat bobbed steadily in the foaming water, and for a long moment none of us said anything.
Then Nicky asked carefully, “Molly, have you, um, noticed anything at all…different since you’ve been staying at Chet’
s house?”
I hesitated several seconds, then nodded, unsure as to what he could possibly be leading up to.
“Like what?” Nicky prompted.
“Goldberg—” Tucker began, but Nicky shook his head.
“Chill out, man,” he said. “I think it’s important to talk to her about this.”
My head was spinning. I sat up, making a futile attempt to smooth my messy hair and self-consciously mopping up runny little streams of eye makeup that pooled on my cheekbones. “Talk to me about what?” I demanded.
Nicky sighed patiently. “Could you just answer my question, Molly?”
Tucker handed me a towel, and I took it gratefully and wrapped it around my shoulders as I began talking. “Well,” I said, “I don’t know quite where to begin, actually; I’ve noticed a lot of strange things about Chet and his house. For one, Chet seems…” I paused. “Oh, I can’t think how to put this—it’s really weird—but Chet seems kind of…fascinated by me. He watches me all the time, even at the expense of paying attention to my mom. And then there’s the bedroom I’m staying in; it’s absolutely gorgeous, all decorated in green, with chrome furniture and an awesome private bathroom with a Jacuzzi and everything, but it’s strange. It’s almost like…it was decorated for a teenager, which is fine with me, of course, but Chet’s never had any kids, and I don’t see why he’d have a bedroom like that in his house.”
Nicky’s jaw dropped. “Is that what Chet tells you and your mom? That he’s never had any kids? Wh—”
“Nick,” Tucker cut him off, “let her finish.”
My heart thudding with a sudden strange dread mingled with expectation, I continued woodenly. “And Gabbie, the housekeeper, she’s slipped a couple times and called me…Miss Vanessa.” My voice fell to a hushed whisper as two puzzle pieces fitted themselves together in my brain.
Nicky’s eyes were trained intently on me. “Chet Hollingsworth was lying to you,” he said flatly, bluntly, spitting Chet’s name as though it were poison. “He did too have a kid—a daughter named Vanessa.”
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