Love and Death in Blue Lake

by Cynthia Harrison

Bob put his arms around her waist and moved her below him, considerably slowing the pace she’d set. They looked right into each others’ eyes and Lily liked what she saw reflected there. Reverence, joy, lust. This was going to be okay, she thought as she tumbled into the first orgasm of her life.

  After, he held her with such tenderness that she cried.

  “Oh honey, no, wait, was it—”

  “Shhh. Not bad. Good. So good.”

  He stroked her arm and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay now. You have me.”

  And my gun, Lily thought. Also cameras. Lots of cameras.

  ****

  Tuesday, Courtney was released from the hospital, and her mom asked if she wanted help packing up her childhood bedroom. Courtney had decided it would be therapeutic to clean everything out. Throw it away. Give it away. Put it in her own attic. Courtney hadn’t taken much when she’d moved out the first time, with Eddie. Maybe clothes and makeup and that was it.

  She had a checklist for the movers. The bedroom furniture. Her new house had three big bedrooms, and her mom had just gotten new mattresses. Wouldn’t her mom want this stuff for a guest room herself? No, she would not. It was going to be a sewing room, a place to put photos (real ones, not digital) into albums, a place to quilt. It was going to be a craft space. Huh.

  Edward’s letter was in the back of the closet, under a pile of boxes filled with childhood mementos and keepsakes. She’d pulled out the boxes, intending to go through them one by one, when she found it, the lined school paper yellowed, the handwriting loopy and youthful, unlike Edward’s mature scrawl on the divorce papers he’d handed her that morning, only a week ago, but that felt like years ago. The day she’d lost her baby.

  “Dear Court, I love you honey with all my heart, blood, and bones. There isn’t a piece of me that doesn’t love a piece of you. I’m devastated right now, totally crushed by your words.” What words? She couldn’t remember. “The guys were goofing around, and we were drunk, and you did look damn hot in that dress. I am not going to apologize for that because it’s true. My love for you is about more than your beauty, your soulful eyes, your brain teeming with ideas and schemes and thoughts that I can barely keep up with. My love for you—and I thought yours for me—is primal. It’s at the bottom of everything. It invades my reptile brain and hijacks my neocortex. I’m a caveman when I’m with you. Those ancient genetics take over. You’re mine. I’m yours. When you say we need a break, or we should date other people—” She said that? When? She never wanted anyone but him. She must have been pissed and paying him back. He acted like an ass with his friends sometimes. “I will give up the band. I will sell the car. I will never drink whiskey again. I do not need anyone but you. I prefer it that way.”

  A big slash and his name and then under than more words. “Whoa. Sorry. What just happened was I got thrown back by this giant tsunami of hurt. I was out of it, thinking about life without you. That can’t happen. I won’t let it. We can get past this thing and any other damn thing that comes. We have to because if we don’t our lives will be shit. They will surely be fucked utterly…we need to be together now and always and I stand by those words. I’m bringing this letter to your house and putting it in your hand and if you tear it up after you read it I’ll know it’s true, you really do want to break up. But if something in my words touches you, like the fact that I will never love anyone but you, and I will always love you, so that means I will grow alone into a bitter old man, and you don’t want that for me, now do you honey? I love you more than these words can express. Let me show you while your folks are at church. Come on. Let me into your Courtney places. We will be together always, my love. As I come to you with nothing except my bloody heart in my hands, my sincere apology on my lips, and the endlessly deep love in my eyes, take me in, I want to be lost in you. Your Edward.”

  Tears ran down Courtney’s eyes. She’d cried so much these past few days. Were these new tears for Edward or the baby she’d lost? Some of what Edward had said came true. He never married. He was alone. He wasn’t quite an old man, but soon. Why didn’t he see now that they could change the trajectory of their lives, put it back in place, make the letter true again. She should show it to him. She moved it away so tear stains would not ruin it. The ink was faded enough on that most precious document.

  Oh Edward. Oh little one. She sat among the detritus of her childhood, bruised and sore and beaten up. Why does youth squander happiness like there is a never-ending supply? Why had she thought she could possibly be happy or even fully alive without Edward? She had not been. She’d had moments. He’d had moments. They added to years of satisfaction perhaps, but nothing so intimate as this letter depicted. She would cherish it always.

  Edward’s way with words, the way he chose unusual ones, always searching for the perfect phrase to add to a song. That was in there. He had talent. He could do something with his life. She felt ashamed. Had she demanded he quit the band? He knew she didn’t like the hot rods and the drinking combination. She worried, she said. She didn’t want his pretty face to get smashed. His long muscular legs to break. His strong arms to snap. But the band. No. That was his life, his passion, and she knew what passion felt like. She supported it.

  The phone rang. Edward. She clicked on without checking Caller ID. Xander. She was so shocked she didn’t say anything.

  “Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I got your text. Have you come to your senses yet? When will you be home?”

  If it blocks, stop. Here’s something she could stop. She had to stop. Now. Forever. “Xander. I bought a house. The baby is gone. I’m sorry.” She really was, more than he could possibly know. At least now she was not lying. She held back a sob, then decided to let it out. He went on as if she were not crying. As if they had not just lost their child.

  “It can be our summer place. The boys would love it. And I want to get to know your family.”

  She made no comment. That was the first she’d heard about him wanting any connection at all to her family.

  “Xander. Go home and patch things up with your wife. It’s been good, so let’s end it on a good note.”

  “It has been good, that’s what I mean.”

  Finally, she got him off the line, convinced him it was over. She’d tried to make them a family, working, cooking, cleaning, easing Ruby into a routine of acceptance of Xander, and sometimes, his sons. Ruby was a good girl and played along, but Courtney realized that that’s all it was. Play. Ruby didn’t care about Xander. And neither did she. She put her hand on her tummy, protective still of the child they’d made. Then she remembered as tears continued to fall.

  She wanted to read the letter from Edward again. It made her forget the baby grief, at least for a few minutes. She read it again. Five times. Over and over like a love-sick teenager. She wondered where Edward was right now. She wondered what these pages would mean to him. To her, they called out across the years. They made her determined to win him back.

  The movers came in and she put the letter in her purse, showing them which boxes to move to her new attic and which to leave on the back porch for the church.

  Then she went to find her family at her new house.

  ****

  Besides the few things she’d bought in Port Huron, the large foyer was beautifully decorated with a mirror and small settee. There were lamps and tables, upon which rested a bowl for keys and mail and family pictures in frames. “It’s all stuff from the attic…of course you’ll want to buy your own things, but this will get you started,” her sister said. Though her mother, father, sister, brother, and Ruby all hovered, nobody mentioned the baby. But the house. If she could focus on the house. The house was glorious.

  She’d had that one talk with Gwennie about color when they’d gone through shelter magazines. Her parents had gotten the house painted and waited for the furniture delivery yesterday, which she had totally forgotten about. Her beloved irritating awesome sister had faithfully reproduced the p
alette of pale moss green and deep rose red, not just on the freshly painted walls, but incorporating shades of the predominant colors into every room on the main floor.

  The east side of the four square were the large foyer and stairway, then through to the kitchen. On the west side, the front parlor and the dining rooms weren’t complete, she was glad of that. But as she walked through trailed by her loved ones, she saw that things were ready enough to live here.

  In the kitchen, her dad and brother sat at the table, one she remembered from her grandmother’s home before she’d retired to Florida. “Honey, I hope this is okay. You can change anything you don’t like.” The appliances Courtney had chosen, whimsical in their retro look but practical in their contemporary energy efficiency, had been yet another gift from her parents, who had done so much already.

  “I’m overwhelmed,” she said, meaning it. Even managing to smile. “Thank you.” The place where her baby should be was raw and bloody. She deserved these stabs of pain. She’d brought them on herself. But Ruby, currently perusing a fully stocked fridge, deserved a whole mother, so she kept her pain in her pocket, like the letter in her purse.

  She was in mourning, for the life that would never be, but also for Edward. Life was like that. Joys and sorrows. Both had to be experienced. Nobody got it all right. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to turn Edward off so completely, but she was too tired to think about it now. He must have a reason, but she was confused and upset and not thinking straight, so what might otherwise be obvious just wasn’t at the moment. Her grief was all mixed up into a heavy ball of pain she had to roll in front of her just to be able to move at all.

  She looked out the back door. No hammock. Someone had taken it down. Likely the blood had ruined it. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to lie in a hammock reading again. She suddenly hated all content smug people with lives that were like well-oiled machines, working away with ease and accord. Then she immediately felt guilty. She had a lovely daughter, a great family. They’d support her emotionally and even financially, although she didn’t think she’d need her folks’ money. It was Ruby she should be thinking of, not herself, not her own pain.

  Ruby closed the fridge, said she’d already seen her room, approved everything. Could she go down to the beach, since it was a short walk and the day was fine, and it was time for her mom to have a pill and a nap?

  Courtney felt utterly and completely exhausted. Her mother caught her in a hug as she swayed, almost faint. “We’re just leaving. Ruby’s right. You need to get your rest. I’m sure the beach is safe. Ruby’s met lots of the kids, and she’ll find someone to hang with, won’t you dear?”

  Courtney chuckled at her mother’s use of slang, but she nodded and let herself be hugged and kissed. Gwennie and her mom stayed behind, helped her undress and get into her new bed. “Just for an hour,” Courtney said, setting the alarm on her phone and putting it next to her bed.

  Chapter Seven

  Lily saw him across the street, pure chance. Through her lens, and not even the most powerful one. Her cousin was here, in Blue Lake. Stalking her. Now maybe Eddie would believe her. Reflex, honed over five years, compelled her to unzip her lens case, put away the equipment, and pull out her 9 mm gun. Tiny enough for her pocket, but accurate and lethal. The rosewood grip gave her a hit of instant relief. The hunter had no idea he was being hunted.

  She tucked her gun and phone into her pockets and tracked him from a discreet corner of Sanchez’s. Dinner time and the popular Mexican place hummed with tourists. She melted right in. He ambled along, not a care in the world. Pretty soon he’d care, by the time she was through. Her plan didn’t include shooting the gun, although Dean, after years of training, had given her the ultimate compliment. He’d trust her to have his back. Not that such a situation would ever happen. But hypothetically. Dean’s words meant everything to her. More than her degree, even. Way more.

  All she wanted to do was point the gun at her cousin and tape his confession. Bob should be here to hold the camera while she held the gun, but things were moving too fast. If she didn’t jump on this opportunity, she might never get the chance again to hear the whole of it. What he did to her at sixteen; what he did to her mom after Christmas. She had the best hollow point bullets money could buy, but she never intended to use them. She just wanted the best of everything. Something about training with Dean made her want to be that way. Prepared.

  Damn. Her cousin had stopped to talk to a young girl. Ruby. Shit! They were laughing, and Ruby pointed to the bike shop on the edge of town. Then they turned and walked there together. No. That fucker had a baby face hiding his murderous heart, and Ruby looked a little older than fourteen. The town had grown so much in the past five years, even Lily couldn’t tell tourists from townies. Ruby and that monster would be perceived as a casual summer hook-up. Nobody would blink.

  Lily quickly threw her equipment into her trunk. Checked pockets. Phone. Gun. Good to go. She cut down the boardwalk and got to the bike shop just in time to see them come out. He grabbed a bike from the rack, and Ruby hopped on the handlebars. Fuck. They wheeled down the deserted bike path. She was well behind them. Even running, she soon lost visual.

  Her mind tried to piece Ruby into the picture. Just a taunt. Because he could. She’d handed him Ruby on a pretty plate. She pulled out her phone, but who to call, what to say? She told Bob she was working, which wasn’t a lie exactly, but would take too long to explain. Eddie didn’t believe her, Courtney didn’t know her, and Dean, the man she trusted like no other, was hours away. Also, nothing had happened. Yet.

  When she heard Ruby scream, she yanked out her phone, pressed record, and shoved it back into her left pocket. A voice recording would have to do. This scenario was the one she had not prepared for, but she could handle it. She pulled her gun out of the specially stitched right pocket and slid off the safety in one smooth motion.

  She walked, slow and steady, in the shadow of the giant pines along the path. Ruby was nowhere. There was no sound. Had that scream been laughter? A silly shriek? They had ridden the bike too far up the trail for Lily to see or hear. She was not taking chances. She held her gun at her side and kept her eyes peeled.

  No Ruby.

  Lily’s palm sweat a little on the rosewood grip of her gun, so she discreetly switched it to her left hand, felt exposed as she swiped her right palm dry on the back of her shorts, and then got the gun back in her right hand, away from public view. Not that there was anyone on the path today. It was perfect beach weather, and though the bluff on the other side of the pines that ran the length of the bike path was too tall for any beach-goers to see her, she could hear them. The water sparkled between the trees, a blue jewel just out of reach.

  She kept her right arm low and relaxed, close against her body. Her trigger finger itched, like it often did when she got the gun in her hand for target practice. She ignored it, inching along the patch of clipped lawn parallel to the bike path, breathing slow and steady.

  In her practice sessions, her finger had always been on the trigger. It was the only way he’d take her seriously. He had to believe she’d shoot him. She had to believe it, too. But not yet. Not yet.

  Ten or twelve yards ahead, the bike. Dumped on its side between two trees. That son of a bitch. He was nowhere. Neither was Ruby.

  Lily turned toward the abandoned bike. Toward the lake. There was another patch of lawn on the beach side of the trees. She followed it. Once she had cover, she raised her gun to shoulder height, gripped it with both hands, and with her shoulders down and relaxed, pointed her gun and sighted a target that was not there. Not yet. But around or under the next tree, or the one after that. Had to be. She kept her finger off the trigger. For now. She drew a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other. Again. Again. Nobody. Not ahead. Not left. Not yet.

  Three pines down, beach side, half under the long stiff branches, she found them. His pants were already down; he had Ruby pinned to the ground with his repulsive body.
One hand held a knife against her neck. Lily eased her finger onto the trigger as he used his free hand to tug off Ruby’s skimpy summer shorts.

  Ruby, eyes widened in terror, saw Lily first. He turned to look, the knife digging into Ruby’s throat. Lily saw blood. Her lower body didn’t move, but her hands ticked the gun a fraction until it pointed right between his eyes.

  “Get off her.”

  Instead, he pressed the knife harder against Ruby’s neck, still looking at her. She glanced at the blood running down Ruby’s neck, made sure the girl was not in the line of fire, and took her shot.

  He dropped and her mind exploded with the gun, strobe flashbacks mixed with the present situation. Her blood. Ruby’s blood. His blood. Ruby yelled one long howl as she scrambled out from under him, wildly pulling on her shorts. Lily allowed the arm holding her gun to drop, then went still. She’d shot to kill. And he looked damn dead, his brains sprayed all over the lawn, the tree, and poor little Ruby.

  Lily carefully put her weapon away, pulled out her phone, dialed 9-1-1. Then she went over and tightly hugged Ruby. Her neck was cut and bleeding, but not profusely. She wasn’t spurting. The knife must have been dull. Both of them shook harder than the trees blowing from the wind coming off the water.

  After several minutes, Lily tried phoning Ruby’s mom, Dr. Fass, but the line rang and rang. Finally she phoned Eddie and told him what had happened. Asked him to call his cop buddy. Asked him to come, too, to take care of Ruby.

  ****

  By the time Eddie arrived, Harlan Tucker, chief of police and Eddie’s good buddy, was at the scene. “We got us a justifiable homicide,” he said, cutting away from the team of official looking folk behind the yellow tape. “Girl here”—Harlan hiked a thumb behind them at Ruby—“says she’s your daughter. She gave me a statement, and I can release her to you if she’s not just a crazy tourist. Got a scrape on her neck; EMT bandaged it up. Says she’ll live.”

  “Ruby?” Eddie called. He was on the wrong side of the tape. He needed to get to her. It felt exactly like she was his daughter.