Emma hugged him anyway, and it made him beam. There had been a haunted look about him lately, as if something pressing was on his mind. She knew he would resolve it in that quite, confident way of his. Lucas was a no-nonsense kind of guy, and it occurred to Emma that she would have done well to marry that same type of man. Her second thought was that Brad was similar to Lucas, both being self-made, strong men. Yet too many things had been said, and even though she knew now that Brad had been truthful those many years ago about Ethan and the “other girl”—Amy, as it turned out—hurt lay between them like an uncrossable moat. Too much had been said.
And then there was the problem within herself. Emma was beginning to wonder if she was capable of romantic love at all any more. And if she were, would she recognize it and flee from it, to protect herself—or to protect any man unfortunate enough to love her? Whatever dysfunction she had, it had been there for many years, and it would take the equivalent of TNT to blow down that fortress of protection.
After her parents left for the long trip to the airport, she went down by the lake. She kept her mind occupied by dragging out her easel and sketching in the beginnings of a painting, capturing the rolling hills and the old oaks along the drive that were just beginning to turn color, and then she added the dense pines around the perimeter of Moon Lake.
The lake now appeared smooth as glass—different from Saturday with its busy boating and choppy water. She had almost lost her life that day. The lake was peaceful and quiet now that Fall had closed in, and vacationers had returned to their daily routine. The magic of summer never lingered, and Emma figured that if it could, it would not be so precious. Yet she could recreate it in her painting; she mixed her colors and raised her brush, so that she could capture it for all time.
Thank you God for sparing my life.
By the time the afternoon sun slanted in through the trees, she put away her paints as weariness washed over her. As she turned to go up to the house, she spotted her father’s truck winding its way up the driveway. Lucas slid from behind the wheel with a bag of dog food in his hand. He opened the door to the crew cab, and a white and disheveled dog sprang out. The shaggy dog of unknown breed tumbled toward her and jumped up to plant two muddy paws on her chest.
Can it be? No of course not. That was a long time ago.
The mixed breed dog was the very image of Ethan’s “Mutt” of yesteryear. It was as if he had been cloned from the original. The sight of it made Emma’s heart sing, and she could not help but hug the animal to her.
“Where did you get this big guy, Dad?”
“Found him on the side of the road... down toward town a ways with no collar and no tags...obviously a stray. He looked at me with those sad eyes, and I was a goner. Maybe I can find someone to take him.”
Emma reached for the bag of dog food. “In the meantime, I’ll feed him and then bathe him. Looks like he could use both.”
Lucas grinned ear to ear as he watched the two of them.
“Maybe this old shaggy dog will take your mind off stressful things...speaking of which...I hope you and your mother got along while she was here.”
“I think we were at least civil.”
Lucas nodded thoughtfully and then changed the subject: “I got a call from Tommy Walker, and I don’t know what to make of it. He says he wants to meet me for an early supper at Ruby’s. I’m a little frazzled from fighting Houston traffic, but I wanted to talk to him anyway. There’s something that just doesn't sit right with me...about what happened with the boating incident...among other strange things. Do you have any idea what he has to say? Did Amy tell you anything?”
Emma happily poured a second serving to the newly acquired dog. She petted him for awhile, as she considered the question.
“No Dad. I haven't a clue. Amy and I have little to say to each other now...for obvious reasons. I know in my heart that Josh Walker is Ethan’s son. Even Mother saw the uncanny resemblance. Brad verified that even Tommy had once wondered about the boy’s paternity. I would be suspicious of anything that Tommy or Amy said...nor would I trust their motives in saying it.”
“I want you there, even though I would like to spare you any further hurt. Will you come with me?”
“I don't think so.”
“You know, Emma, I have a feeling that whatever Tommy wants to discuss has something to do with you. I wanted to talk to him anyway. Lots of things have been going on lately, and they started happening around the time you returned. You should be there to hear for yourself, to speak for yourself.”
“If he had wanted me there, he would have included me.”
“I don’t care what he wants. I’m including you”
“Okay... I’ll go, but I may not be nice!”
“This is not your mother you’re talking to. Once in a blue moon, 'nice' just doesn't get it any way. I want you to be whatever you need to be at the moment.”
The dog had finished devouring a second bowl of kibble, and Emma began coaxing him up toward the water hose at the side of the house. Lucas went in the house beaming at the sight of the two together.
“You remind me of another dog from long ago.” Emma cooed. The dog wagged his tail and looked up at Emma with adoration. “...and that dog belonged to someone very special. You look enough like Mutt to be Mutt Jr. In fact, I think I’ll call you 'Junior'.”
Lucas and Emma prepared to go into town for an six o'clock supper with Tommy Walker. The now clean and well fed Junior whimpered to ride with them, and, of course, Lucas gave in. They arrived before Tommy. Everyone knew Tommy Walker was always late...notoriously so. As a teenager he was late to church, late for football practice, late for class. It was as if he felt some kind of control over any group of people by showing up when he wanted to. Nothing had changed. Tommy Walker was a screw-up, always had been, always would be.
Ruby had already poured Lucas and Emma two glasses of iced tea while they waited. By the time Tommy arrived, they were more than ready to order. Tommy looked startled when he saw Emma and looked as if he might bolt, but he squared his shoulders and sauntered up and sat down.
Lucas had his nose in the menu. “Let’s order first and talk second. Ruby , how’s the meatloaf today?”
“The same as it was yesterday and the day before and the day before that…”
“Never mind. You can bring me a bowl of vegetable soup.”
“Same here,” said Emma.
Ruby stood with pencil poised over her pad: “And for you, Tommy?”
“I don’t feel well. Nothing for me,” he mumbled.
Ruby leaned over the counter and peered at Tommy’s bloodshot eyes and pasty skin. “You do look a mite peak-ed,” she said.” Looks like you didn’t sleep so good last night.”
“Nevertheless, I’m glad you showed up Tommy,” said Lucas. “I wanted to talk to you too. First of all, one of you on that catamaran had to have seen Emma struggling in the water. Did someone see and simply ignore her?”
“You mean Brad Caldwell? Gee, I just may have been in the cabin. I don’t really know.”
“Are you accusing Brad?”
“Well... I never actually said ...”
“Who else but him...or Amy? I know you aren't referring to her. Why would Brad do a thing like that? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. A man would have to be wall-eyed crazy to pull stunts like that. I know one of the two of you used the key to get into my house and play some pretty dangerous games when my daughter wasn’t looking. What would be his motive?”
Tommy’s voice shook and his words came out in monotone: “Suppose it was him? Maybe it’s him doing things to scare Amy out of town...maybe because he’s afraid she’ll figure out what he did to Ethan. He s trying to act like he is still her friend.”
“You know you’re really something, boy. I don’t know how you ever played football in high school. You come in here making accusations against Brad. Why? After seventeen years. That doesn't make sense to me,” Lucas said.
“We
ll...let me put it this way,” Tommy replied. “What I am saying is that Brad could be behind everything, and he knows something about Ethan's death. Maybe he isn't the great guy you think he is. What if Ethan's death wasn’t really suicide?”
Emma was on her feet. “Tommy you’d better be sure of what you’re saying, or you’ll live to regret it. That I can promise you!”
Lucas placed a firm hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Sit back down, Emma, and hand me your cell phone.” He scanned through her contacts and not seeing who he was looking for, manually dialed the number.
“Brad? Lucas here. Yes...I’m fine. I need you to come to the diner...right away. You’ll find out when you get here. Bye.”
Tommy ordered a beer, chugged it and ordered another.
Within minutes, Brad walked in, looked directly at Emma, and their eyes locked for just a moment. He read everything he needed to know in her face. Tommy had said something that had hurt her. He felt his blood boil but remained outwardly calm. He approached the counter.
“Go ahead Tommy,” said Lucas. “Tell him what you said.”
“I think I need to get home to Amy and the kids,” Tommy mumbled. “I may have gotten it all wrong. Forget what I said.”
“Listen, Brad, he’s trying to blame you for everything that has happened since I came back,” said Emma. “He insinuates that you want to run me out of town and that you know something about Ethan's death...that you're afraid I will recall what actually happened.”
Brad’s eyes blazed, and as Tommy turned to look at him, he was jolted off the stool by a punch to the nose. Before Tommy knew what hit him, he was on the floor, and Brad was dragging him back to his feet as blood dripped down his face. Brad shoved him all the way to the wall. “You coward. Now say it to my face...coward!”
“No...no...no..Brad! Don't hit him again. Let it go!” Emma wrapped her arms around Brad from behind, but she was no match for his strength. Brad hesitated and then pulled back. “You should understand, Emma!”
“I do understand...but this isn't you. You don't do this sort of thing!”
“Maybe once in a lifetime its called for. I’m a man! Don’t you see what I am ? I’m not your puppet...not just your shoulder to cry on, like the old days...or is that something else you’ve blocked from your mind? Have you forgotten exactly who I once was to you? Can you not see what I now am?”
His words stung like a slap to the face. To make things even more embarrassing, it seemed to Emma that every customer in the diner was watching. A slight gasp rose from the tables, and Emma turned to leave.
“ Emma...wait...”Brad shouted.
“Go on. Go after her Brad,” Lucas said. “ For God’s sake don't let her drive off in my truck without me. You know how she gets. I’ll take care of this pathetic excuse for a man. Looks like you broke his nose.”
When there was no reply, Lucas looked around and realized he was talking to air. Brad was already at the door, right on Emma’s heels. A rattled Ruby stood staring at the blood splatter on the floor, while customers shouted for the waitress to bring their bills.
“Ruby, can you help me here?” Lucas asked. “Grab some ice and a towel, will you?”
Emma was already outside, sprinting toward the truck to barricade herself in, and right behind her was Brad:
“Turn around! Look at me!” he said.
“And if I turn around, who and what am I supposed to see? Can you tell me that?”
“You’ll see the one who really loves you...the one who would never hurt anyone you loved... and most of all...would never hurt you! Here stands the one you should have been with all along.”
Her hand was on the handle of the truck door, but he grabbed her before she got it open. In one swift movement, he pulled her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers—right there on the sidewalk in front of Ruby’s Diner, below the bright blue skies of October . From the open window of the truck, the mutt of a dog barked and wagged his tail, as if bestowing his blessing.
Just then Tommy rushed from the diner toward his car, and before he made it to the curb, Junior sailed through the open window and latched onto Tommy’s pant leg, growling and shaking it back and forth. Tommy let out a squeal of surprise and kicked the dog loose. Just as Lucas walked out, Tommy turned to him and shook a finger in his face. “I’ve had enough of you people...and your attack dog. Keep that animal away from me.”
Junior sat down and looked up at Emma with an angelic puppy dog expression.
“Nice dog,” said Brad.
11: Georgia
Georgia Abernathy lived in the same house Mr. Abernathy had bought for her when they married. The simple frame cottage sat on a quiet street where nothing much happened—as was to her liking. Since her son Ethan’s death at seventeen, Georgia had become less involved with the social crowd in Cobblers Cove, and because of it she had been labeled a “recluse”, an “eccentric”. Some whispered that she was not exactly “all there”. At first the labels stung, but over the years she had accepted them as a blessing in disguise. At least no one bothered her, and everyone kept their distance. If she died alone in her house, then so be it. She preferred it to wasting away in one of those “homes” where strangers try to take the place of a real family—a blessing she no longer enjoyed.
Georgia had come to welcome solitude. Mr. Abernathy had gone downhill after Ethan’s death, and one night he simply went to sleep and didn't wake up. So she was alone. If anyone knocked on her door, it was a door-to-door salesman. If her phone rang, it was a wrong number. She seldom ventured out of her house or bothered to notice overgrown shrubs and flowerbeds. A boy from the neighborhood came and mowed the lawn when the grass got too high, so the neighbors would not complain: “Don't you think it's disgraceful how Georgia Abernathy has let things go?” they would say.
So it came to be that, little by little, all normal activity had come to an end, except for Sunday church services and supper at the diner. She didn't go to Ruby’s by choice. She simply could no longer prepare her own meals. She hated the place with the dust laden deer heads on the walls and cheap checkered table cloths. Moreover, it was close quarters which gave Georgia the occasional panic attack.
The thing was she had almost burned down her home three times by leaving grease on the burner and forgetting that she was cooking. She had become unraveled and had been warned by the fire marshal to either stop cooking for herself or someone would “place her somewhere". She knew what that meant, and so she had no choice but to eat at the diner, like it or not.
She had been there for supper yesterday, hidden away in the corner booth where she always sat. She had heard the fight between the men she still referred to as the Walker boy and Caldwell boy. She had heard enough of the conversation to know what it was about. Her broken mind could only form disconnected thoughts about it, but she felt rather than knew, that there was something very wrong with Tommy Walker. She had lived the last seventeen years on pure instinct, because her reasoning ability had become shaky—sometimes sharp and quick and then sometimes confused. Yet she possessed an almost primitive animal intuition, and she sensed danger and deception when present in others.
She understood what she heard at Ruby’s, even though it had taken her almost a full day to sort it out. Tommy Walker was insinuating that her son’s death was not suicide and that Brad Caldwell was hiding the truth. She pictured the two boys as they were in grade school playing in the back yard with Ethan. The “three musketeers” they had called themselves. Brad had been a good kid from a respected ranching family:quiet and well mannered, a good student. Tommy Walker had been a loudmouth trouble maker who had been born to wealth. The other boys tolerated him because he always turned on the charm when it was to his advantage.
Georgia was no fan of the Walkers. She had been turned away, years ago, when she had tried to see Jacob Walker, their oldest. She was certain he was Ethan’s son and her only grandchild. She knew it by the time the boy was five. After seeing him, she had gone home from chur
ch that Sunday and had dusted off the family photo album and turned to the early pictures of Ethan. Her breath caught when she had seen the resemblance.
Then she had taken the picture and shown it to Amy and told her she knew, and if she knew others had guessed as well. Couldn't she just see her grandson from time to time quietly, discreetly? The boy was all that was left of her bloodline.
Amy had gone into a rage, told her to leave, and accused her of being insane. Amy and Tommy had their perfect life, and she would not have it destroyed. Amy feared Georgia would present the boy with truth of his paternity, yet Georgia had tried to reassure her that she would not betray her trust. But untrustworthy people are incapable of trusting others. And so it was.
As years went by, Georgia had walked past the school playground just to get a glimpse of Jacob and watched him from her church pew as he entered his Sunday school class. She had watched that secret grandchild grow up but had been forbidden from speaking to him beyond “hello”. And every time she saw him, it had broken another little piece of her heart.
She had grown even more bitter. Now after overhearing the heated argument and seeing the subsequent fight at Ruby’s Diner (and who could have missed it) the glimmer of a thought began to glow: was it possible that Ethan had not taken his life after all? If so, she had blamed the wrong person all these years. She had blamed Emma, when even her husband had tried to convince her that young people break-up all the time, but few take their lives over it. It had been said that Mr. Abernathy had never believed that Ethan had drowned himself. Yet there had been no marks on the boy and a short investigation had turned up nothing. The sheriff doubted it was accidental Ethan was in shallow water at the bank, was an expert swimmer, was young and healthy, and no drugs had been found in his system. The fact that he had made the comment that he wished he were dead and had written as much in a journal, seemed to be the deciding factor. The local sheriff's department was nothing near Scotland Yard.
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