It was six o’clock and I was ready. Well, as ready as I could be. Sleep had eluded me and I spent the entire night envisioning the day that lay before me. I imagined the entire sequence of events over and over as I lay in bed, trying to steel myself for what I needed to do. I pictured the drive to Lake Anna in Geoff’s reliable Audi, a drive that would seem excruciatingly slow compared to Leo’s joyride yesterday; and the equally slow trip out to the center of the lake as we attempted to find the deepest point. And I imagined, again and again, the process of letting go—of removing the stone from my pocket, of gripping its smooth, icy-hot surface one last time before pitching it into the lake. I did this not as a form of demented torture but in an attempt to desensitize myself. Maybe if I lived through it now in my imagination, the actual event would not be so difficult. At least that’s what I told myself.
I waited until six-thirty before going downstairs for breakfast. Dad was in the kitchen, dressed in black sweats and a faded white t-shirt. He hovered over the coffee maker, spooning grounds into the basket.
He glanced up. “Val. Why on earth are you up this early?” He smiled. “Still on auto-pilot?”
That was as good of an excuse as any. “Yeah, I guess.”
He rummaged in the pantry cupboard and pulled out a box of Pop Tarts, frosted blueberry. He took out a package. “Want one?”
I took it from him and ripped open the foil.
“Mom said you’re going to Lake Anna today.” He poured some cream into a mug, added coffee from the still-brewing pot and took a sip immediately. He sighed. My dad was addicted to coffee.
“Yeah, later this morning.”
He downed his coffee and ate one of the pastries. “I need to grab a shower,” he said. “If I don’t see you before I leave for the office, have fun. Will you be home for dinner?”
I shrugged. I had no idea how long the funeral at sea would take. “Probably.”
Dad nodded. “Alright. Just give your mom or me a call if you won’t be home. I’ve got a meeting and I think Mom signed up for some sessions with Tony.”
“OK.”
He left the kitchen and I threw the foil package in the trash. I wasn’t hungry. Back in my room I turned the TV on but I wasn’t interested in watching music videos or the latest MTV reality show. I flicked it off and powered up my computer. I’d surf around a little bit, try to find something to take my mind off of what waited for me later in the day. I had that strange sense of detachment again, as if the events on the day’s agenda weren’t really happening to me.
Out of habit I checked my email. The message box flashed (1) and I clicked on it. I recognized the email address. Jessica’s. I looked at it with disbelief. Why was she getting in touch with me now, today of all days? I hadn’t heard a single word from her in almost six months. Nothing. I clicked on it.
The message was brief. We’re moving back home. We’ll be there by the end of summer. Jess.
So, she was coming back. There was no greeting, no apologies, no mention of why they were coming. It was an impersonal announcement, nothing more. I debated whether or not to respond. There wasn’t much to respond to, I thought. I hit the reply button and typed a single, two-letter word. OK.
Thoughts about Jessica served as yet another distraction and it was soon close to ten o’clock. Mom stopped in my room. She was leaving to do some grocery shopping.
She adjusted her earrings while she spoke. “I’ll probably stay at the club after my training session since your dad has a dinner meeting.” She paused. “Do you want me to come back home and get you? We could have dinner together…”
I shook my head. “No, that’s alright. I’m not sure when we’ll be getting back.”
“Well, call me if you change your mind. I’ll have my cell.” She left.
The doorbell rang a few minutes later. Geoff stood there, his baseball cap smashed on top of his head, framing those huge ears of his. I wanted to tell him to take it off but I didn’t. Instead, I motioned him inside, eager to slam the door on the blistering heat. It was going to be an unbearable day. Weather included.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded.
Geoff looked at me. “You have the stone?”
Oops. How on earth had I forgotten that, the one item absolutely necessary to complete this mission to end my life as I knew it? “Um…no,” I said. “I’ll get it.”
I ran back upstairs and yanked my dresser drawer open. I reached back and searched for it by feel alone, my hand gravitating instantly to the icy cold it emitted. I closed my hand around it and pulled it out. I unclenched my fist and studied the stone resting in my palm. It glowed brightly, the cross embedded inside clearly visible to my now-trained eye. Part of me couldn’t wait to be rid of the cursed thing. The stone was the physical manifestation of all of my problems, at least in my eyes. It was the reason I had to say goodbye to Noel and I hated it for that. But, I reminded myself, it was also the reason our paths had crossed in the first place. For this alone, I was indebted to it and to my discovery of it. I knew I would both rejoice and mourn its loss.
I put it in my pocket and after a second of hesitation, I picked up the bottle that lay nestled in the drawer, too. I put this in my other pocket and went back downstairs. Geoff stood waiting.
“You have it this time?” he asked.
I showed it to him.
His eyes widened. “Wow. I forgot how amazing that thing is. Look at how bright it is!”
I’d grown accustomed to its appearance but it was still a novelty to him. I held it out to him to hold and this time, there was no hesitation, no apprehension in offering it to him.
He held it for a moment. “It’s freezing!”
“I know.”
Reluctantly, it seemed, he handed it back to me. “It does have a strong pull, doesn’t it?” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Alright, let’s get a move on.”
We left the house and I locked the door behind me. It was time.
Chapter 60
The drive down I-95 was easy. Rush hour had ended hours ago and we were traveling away from DC. Geoff lay claim to the middle lane, meticulously obeying the speed limit. Semis barreled past us on either side but if he noticed, he didn’t say anything. The radio played softly and the AC blasted high, an oasis of cool on this blistering day.
Thin white clouds streaked the muted blue sky. Off in the distance, tall white towers of clouds loomed, hinting at the thunderheads they would develop into as the heat built. Geoff pulled off the freeway in Fredericksburg and continued on a maze of county roads until we reached the entrance to the state park. He continued past.
“You missed the entrance.”
“I know. We’re not going there.”
This was news to me. “Why not?”
“I talked to some people last night, made some calls…”
I interrupted him. “But you said you’ve never been here before. How do you know people?”
“If you’d let me finish…” He swallowed his irritation. “Fanchon’s dad has a house down here.”
“Her dad? I didn’t even know she had a dad.” I bit my lip; that was not what I’d intended to say. “I mean, I didn’t know anything about him.”
“She doesn’t see him much. Her parents split when she was little. Five, I think. Anyway, he lives near Culpepper--.”
“I thought you said he had a house here.”
“Can I actually complete a sentence, Val?” he snapped. “He does have a house here but he doesn’t live in it. I guess it’s pretty run-down. But, we can get inside of it if we need to and Hope said there should be a kayak and a rowboat for us to use.”
“Does Fanchon’s dad know we’re coming?”
“Yep. Hope called him last night. He was fine with it.”
“So, if this is her dad’s house, why didn’t Fanchon come?”
Geoff shrugged. “She thought I should go. Just me.”
He turned onto a smaller road and the pavement turned to gravel
. The trees grew thick on either side of the narrow road with brambles and ivy creeping along the shoulder, threatening to swallow the small slice of civilization the road represented. Houses peppered the road, most set back into the forest, just a glint of brick or wood as we drove past. The lake still wasn’t visible.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I asked. “Did Hope give you directions?”
He nodded and tapped his head. “Got ’em in here.”
We drove another hundred yards or so before Geoff turned on to a gravel driveway. It looked like little more than a glorified trail through the forest.
“I don’t see a house.”
He pointed. “Over there, behind the trees. Do you see it?”
I peered through the thick growth of ash and oaks and spied a small wooden house. We pulled closer, out of the wood, and the house came into view, a one-level cabin in the middle of the wilderness. Just beyond, through a line of trees and beyond an expansive back lawn, a hint of blue flashed. Lake Anna.
It was an older house, its gray paint weathered and peeling. The drunken shutters framing the front windows were salmon, an odd color choice and I presumed they, too, had fallen victim to time and sun. Weeds and grass long gone to seed covered the tiny front lawn. Behind the house, the wilderness of wild grass continued, sloping all the way to the house’s lake frontage.
I stepped out of the car and the heat slammed into me. Geoff got out, too. He grabbed his backpack and headed directly to the lake.
I panicked. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t look back at me. “Checking out the boat situation. There’s a house key under the door mat. You can wait inside if you want or come with. Up to you.”
“I’ll go inside,” I said. “Use the bathroom before…” I didn’t finish. Before I embark on the worst adventure of my life, I thought.
A sea of grass and weeds tickled my legs as I fought my way to the front door. I lifted the worn black rubber mat to hunt for the key and a piece of it broke off in my hands. I found the half-rusted key and picked it up, stifling a squeal of surprise as a tiny spider scurried from underneath. The key was warped, from the damp or the heat or lack of use and I struggled for a minute with the lock before succeeding in opening the door.
The smell of damp heat hit me, of musty linens and rotting wood. The house was sparsely furnished, the living room equipped with an outdated avocado green couch and matching chair. The walls were bare, exposing peeling paint. A floral wallpaper print bordered the room and it, too, was peeling, as though someone had started the painstaking process of removing it but had given up long ago.
I found the bathroom. Gossamer cobwebs whispered across my face as I walked through the empty door frame. I flicked the light switch but the room remained dark. I squinted up at the ceiling and saw the culprit, an empty light socket. I went in anyway. The toilet bowl was rusted and cracked, completely drained of water. I sighed and headed back outside.
Geoff was walking toward the house.
“Well?”
“We have a couple options.”
“What are they?” I asked.
“Come and see for yourself. I’ll let you decide.”
I followed him through the trees and out to the back lawn. Lake Anna shimmered in the sun, its blue surface sparkling like a multi-faceted sapphire. There was a floating dock in a sad state of disrepair; several wooden planks were missing and it listed to one side. Like the house, it was another victim of blatant neglect.
Geoff pointed to the dock. “That’s one option.”
A tiny rowboat was tethered to the dock, a wooden boat that didn’t look to be in much better shape than the dock it was tied to.
“What’s the other option?” I asked.
He motioned to the left of the dock. There, half-buried in the grass was a kayak—or was it a canoe?—a small, two-person craft that looked less than substantial.
I swallowed. “Is there anything else?”
“Nope. Pick your poison.”
I glanced back and forth between the two. “Which do you think is safer?”
He shrugged. “The kayak looks fine. I checked it out and didn’t see any cracks or holes. It should work OK. But it’s pretty lightweight.”
“What does that mean?”
“Kayaks can tip pretty easily,” he said. “I’ve never had one tip on me but, well, I don’t know. And I didn’t see any life jackets anywhere.”
“OK. What about the boat?”
“I think it looks all right. There’s a little water in the hull, but it looks stagnant. It’s probably leftover from a recent rain or something. And there are two oars.”
“No motor?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Just oars.”
“But it would be safer? I mean, it probably wouldn’t tip, right?”
“A boat that size is pretty hard to tip on a lake.” He looked up at the sky. “There’s not much wind so I doubt we have anything to worry about.”
“Well, then I guess we take the rowboat.”
“OK.” He looked at me. “Are you ready?”
I couldn’t speak the words so I forced myself to nod yes.
He walked on to the dock and untied the boat.
Chapter 61
“Get in,” he said. “And hold on to the dock for me, will you?” The boat began to drift as he loosened the line and I gripped the wooden plank next to me, wincing as a sliver of wood pierced my hand.
He threw the line in and stepped on board. The boat rocked wildly.
“Sit down!” I yelled.
“We’re not gonna tip,” he said in an irritated voice. He grabbed the oars and pushed off the dock with one of them.
Geoff maneuvered the boat through the channel; the house was situated on a tiny cove, about twenty five yards from the main lake, and the water was shallow and choked with grass. Once we were out of the cove, the water didn’t get much deeper and I began to worry. Would we be rowing for hours on the lake, searching blindly for its deepest point? How would we know how deep it was…if it was deep enough? I was already sweltering in the heat and I wasn’t even rowing. I could only imagine how Geoff was suffering.
“Any idea where the water is deepest?”
He stopped and set the oars across his lap. He reached for his backpack and pulled out a water bottle. After taking a long swig, he reached in again and pulled out a small electronic device, something that looked like a GPS unit.
“What’s that?” I asked.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and took another drink. “A depth finder.”
“A what?”
“Depth finder. Fishermen use it to look for fish.” He fiddled with a switch and the screen flashed on. There was a cord with a small sensor attached and he dropped this into the water.
“Why are we looking for fish?”
He rolled his eyes. “We’re not. We’re going to use it to determine the depth of the lake. So we can find the best place to get rid of your little rock.” He picked up the oars and continued rowing.
“Oh.” I didn’t want to talk about that part yet. “I didn’t realize you had one of those. A depth finder, I mean.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t. I picked it up this morning, before I got to your house.”
So he’d borrowed it from someone. “They must be pretty serious about fishing.”
“Who?”
“Whoever you borrowed it from.”
“I didn’t borrow it. I bought it.”
“How much…how much does something like that cost?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
“A hundred bucks or so.”
“And you bought it today? Just for this?”
He looked at me. “Of course. How else were we going to do this? Do it right, I mean.”
Once again, words escaped me. I wondered what compelled him to do this, to dedicate himself so selflessly to this cause. Was it because of me and our friendship or was it because he had even stronger convictions than me? Was he fuel
ed by righting the potential wrongs the stone represented or was he doing this because of his loyalty to me, to help a friend through a challenging and difficult time? I didn’t know and I didn’t want to ask.
He rowed while I sat and watched him. I offered to help but he declined. “It’ll be faster this way,” he said. “I know what I’m doing.” He drained his first water bottle and cracked open a second.
The heat was relentless. I had hoped it would be cooler on the lake but it wasn’t. Instead, the water served as a giant reflector and it felt as though we were floating inside an oven.
Geoff handed me the depth finder. “We want a minimum of fifty feet, I think.”
I read the screen. “We’re at thirty now. Where do you think it gets deeper?”
“I have no idea. Just keep an eye on it and let me know what it says.”
The depth fluctuated wildly. Geoff would row for a minute and the depth would read ten feet. A minute later, the screen flashed forty. And always, miniature fish-shaped images swam by, indicating what lurked in the water below.
“It’s forty-five feet here,” I said.
He grunted. “Fifty. We want at least fifty.”
A few minutes passed. I glanced at the screen again. “Sixty. We’re at sixty.”
He stopped and pulled up the oars. He pulled the sensor in and dropped it off the other side of the boat. “What does it say now?”
“Fifty-five.”
He nodded. “OK. This is probably as good as we’re gonna get.”
I froze.
“Valerie. Are you ready?”
No! I screamed in my head. No, I wasn’t ready. It had been easy to pretend, to forget the real purpose of our torturous cruise on the lake. But now, faced with the immediacy of the situation…I wasn’t ready.
“Just do it,” Geoff commanded. His face was red from exertion, his forehead slick with sweat. “I’m not rowing around this whole goddamn lake while you get yourself ready for this. Drop it now!”
But I held on, my fingers clenching the stone. I willed myself to let it go, to drop it into the water just inches away, but I couldn’t. The lake waited.
Set In Stone Page 28