The Secrets of Lake Road

“Okay, then we’re in agreement? No lawyers?” He was in a rush. He must’ve had another call coming in or a meeting or a rendezvous.

“I guess.” She didn’t care one way or the other. For her it was never about the money. “Would you like to talk with your daughter?” Please say yes, please show her you care even if you no longer care for me. It was the only reason she had left him the phone number in the first place.

“I can’t,” he said. “I’m in a hurry.”

“It will only take a second. She misses you.”

“I have to go. No lawyers, Patricia. Do you hear me? I mean it.” He hung up.

Sara trotted into the kitchen. “Was that Daddy?”

“Yes,” she said, and kissed the top of Sara’s head. “He wanted me to tell you how much he misses you and how sorry he is he couldn’t talk to you. And”—she touched the tip of Sara’s nose with her finger—“he wants you to have a whole lot of fun while you’re here. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes,” Sara said. “Did you tell him I miss him, too?”

Patricia nodded and watched her daughter skip back into the family room. She could’ve forgiven Kyle for the affair. Maybe. Eventually. But she could never forgive him for being a lousy father.

It was hard to believe that had been five days ago, five days that her daughter was missing. She had thought by returning to the lake, the one place from her childhood she had loved, she could escape her troubles back home—six hours west across the state of Pennsylvania in a small rural town where the gossip about her marriage, her once private life, was sure to have spread. She had thought by returning to the lake, she could finally be happy.

*

Patricia was sitting on the hood of a car with her feet propped on the front bumper in the parking lot outside of the Pavilion. She couldn’t say whose car it was or what the make or model could be, but whoever owned it had parked it lakefront, close to the water’s edge. It was where she had to be. And what difference did it make whose car it was anyway? What could they do to her that hadn’t already been done?

Stars filled the night sky, the threat of another storm having evaporated hours ago. Music poured from the Pavilion’s jukebox, glasses clinked, people talked and laughed. The lake spread out before her like an endless, bottomless, black pit.

She pulled Sara’s cloth doll from the pocket of her jeans and hugged it close to her chest. Sara had slept with the doll, Dolly, since she was born. It was old and torn, and some of the stuffing had fallen out, but it was well loved. She could smell her daughter on the cotton fabric, the way she smelled from sleep, a mixture of sweetness and innocence.

Men’s voices echoed across the lake and drew her attention. She gazed at the lone watercraft and what she believed was a fisherman. She dried her wet eyes with the doll the way Sara used to when she cried.

Dolly had dried a lot of Sara’s tears that came with scraped knees and bumped elbows. She was always getting hurt. She was a fearless child. She had demanded riding her bike without training wheels at five years old. And just three weeks ago, in what felt like another lifetime, she had become fascinated with the neighbor’s skateboard. “Look at me, Mommy,” she had called, racing down the hill before Patricia could stop her. She had been going much too fast, barreling toward the neighbor’s garbage cans.

“Watch out!” Patricia had shouted, and ran down the hill after her. Sara had crashed into the cans before she could reach her. She had scooped her up, inspecting her birdlike arms and skinny legs.

“I’m okay, Mommy,” Sara had said, and swiped away her tears. “I want to try again.”

The memory brought a smile to Patricia’s lips. She imagined it was that same sense of adventure that had led Sara into the water. Maybe it was all the talk about the horse and the lake legend that had sparked Sara’s curiosity. Sara loved horses, especially ponies. But Patricia would never know what led her daughter into the lake alone, and she blamed herself.

*

A light was turned on in one of the lakefront cabins across the way. She hadn’t realized she had been staring, and started counting the cabins closest to the docks. Sure enough, the seventh cabin was Hawkes’, the one with the lighted rooms.