The lesson is: Don’t even try to sleep late when Pop’s in the house. He will always find a way to get you up.
It is beautiful out here, though. The sun is coming up over the trees, casting shades of purple and grey on the calm lake, which looks slick as glass. I have missed the calm mornings and gentle breezes. In the city, it’s all hustle and bustle of epic proportions. People rush to and fro, horns honk, and people shout, even in the early morning. Here the only shout is the fishing crane as it flies by. Or the duck that happily dunks its head over and over, bobbing like a cork, causing tiny ripples that fan out around it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone standing on the end of the dock. I shade my eyes with my hand, and realize it’s a young boy. Katie’s son, Alex? He has something in his hand and he hauls his arm back and throws it toward the center of the lake. Then he turns and runs back down the dock, back toward their cabin.
Well, that was strange.
I paddle over, just because I’m a nosy bastard, and I see an empty soda bottle floating on the water. I pull it toward me with the tip of my oar, then toss it into the bottom of the boat. I’ll have to give the kid a talk about throwing trash into the lake.
I kick the bottle with my foot, slightly annoyed that the kid just tossed it in like that. It’s like ruining all the perfection, displacing some of the magic of the lake, when you get it dirty.
But then I see a slash of white within the bottle. I pick it up and turn it over, and see the piece of paper within the empty container. I screw off the cap and pull the paper from the bottle.
Dear God,
Please send my dad back so he can help us.
Love,
Alex
Well, shit.
The sense of peace I’d enjoyed a minute ago is now gone.
16
Katie
“Eat your eggs,” I say to Trixie. Getting her to eat anything healthy is like pulling teeth, and pretty much just as painful. She likes peanut butter and jelly and not much else.
“I don’t like eggs.” She props her elbow on the table and rests the side of her face against the flat of her palm. While she blinks down at the food she doesn’t want, Sally slobbers a big puddle of drool right beside her chair. He licks his lips.
“Alex, do you want milk or juice? Gabby?”
“Milk,” says Alex around a mouthful of bacon.
Gabby slaps him gently on the arm. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” She pours out some milk for Alex. “Juice for me, please.”
I turn away to get some juice and turn back to find that Trixie’s plate is now completely empty. “I do like eggs after all,” she chirps. She holds out her palm, and Sally gives her his paw like he’s giving her a high five.
“That dog has to go back to Jake today,” I mutter.
“Why can’t Sally stay?” Trixie asks.
“Because he’s Jake’s dog.” I sound like a whiny brat myself. I was up all night with an unborn kid sitting on my bladder.
“But he likes me,” she says as she feeds him a bite of egg off my plate. I actually got the dog some dog food when I got up early this morning and went to the store, but the dog won’t touch it. And why should he when– A loud knock sounds on the door. Gabby jumps up quick as a flash and gathers the children and the dog, and they go into the bedroom.
My heart thunders in my chest. “Who is it?” I call through the door.
“It’s Jake,” he calls back.
I let out the breath I was holding and force myself to relax. Then I open the door and step to the side so Jake can come in as Gabby brings the kids back into the kitchen. She’s carrying Trixie, who suddenly won’t look up from where her head is pressed beneath Gabby’s chin.
I wish my kids weren’t so fearful. Hell, I wish I wasn’t so fearful.
“Is everything okay?” Jake asks, looking closely at my kids.
“Yes. We’re fine. What’s up?”
Jake fidgets. “I wanted to talk to you really quickly.”
“Okay…” I say slowly. “About anything in particular?”
He jams his hands into his pockets. “Can you take a walk with me?”
I turn off the burners on the stove. “Can you watch the kids for a minute?” I ask Gabby. She waves a hand at me, dismissing me totally. Teenagers.
“What do you need, Jake?” I ask, as I step carefully down the porch steps. He turns and takes my hand as I waddle. “Is your dad all right?”
“He’s as mean as ever.”
Jakes fingers linger in mine well after I’m down the steps, and my heart trips a quick little beat.
17
Katie