There’s a beautiful view of the lake and little shops down the main road off the porch. I notice how easily I can breathe here. How quiet it is. The lack of humidity.
“We should go over the rules,” my mother says. She can’t help herself. Orderliness is how she functions. Me too, but sometimes I wish we didn’t have to be so structured, but when we’re not things tend to go astray.
“I’m not worried about rules, Star,” my grandmother replies. She’s bustling around the kitchen pulling out containers of food. Despite her smallness there’s no doubt of her self-sufficiency. “She’ll do her school work, help me with the lodge and maybe enjoy a bit of nature.”
“I don’t want you hiking alone,” Mom says, casting a wary eye.
“Star, you traveled all over this place when you were a kid. Kayaking on the lake, climbing over in the park. There’s countless things to do out here and from looks of her skin, I think the girl could use a little sun and fresh air.”
I glance down at my pale arm and tug down my sleeve.
“Things were different back then. Safer.”
Leelee rolls her eyes and I fight back a laugh. “Honey, back then we had the Hell’s Angels passing through here once a month. Two girls that joined the Manson family stayed down at the campground for a few months, and don’t forget about Bert’s marijuana field back off the highway.”
“Mom.” My mother looks horrified. I’m enjoying every moment, thinking maybe she’ll change her mind and pack us up to go back home.
“I’m just saying, things are calmer now than ever before. Half the people coming through just want to fish and get away from the internet.”
I blink. “What do you mean, get away from the internet?”
She glances at my phone, securely attached to my hand. Not to call anyone or text. It’s just there for security. My only lifeline to the outside world. “Service is spotty up here, even with the wifi. The only reliable machines are the computers in the businesses and the one hookup I have for your school work. We mostly use the landline.”
My mother looks amused by this—relieved.
Nervous energy rolls through me, but there’s part of me that’s okay with it. I know I need a change in my life and sitting behind a device isn’t going to make it happen.
Mom yawns and it’s contagious, forcing me to cover my mouth a moment later. “I’m sure you’re tired,” Leelee says. “Go to bed when you feel like it, I won’t be offended.”
Exhaustion washes over me and I go over and give her a hug. My mother too, trying not to think about how at this time tomorrow she’ll be gone and I’ll be without her for the first time in my life.
It’s past midnight back home, but on the way to my room I see the sunset streaking across the sky. I’m too tired to be afraid, but tomorrow may be a different story.
4
The next morning I’m wide awake at four a.m. It makes sense because my body is all screwed up and I went to bed at nine. I tossed for another hour, studying my mother’s old room by moonlight. It’s small. Square with yellow, faded, flowered wallpaper. The bed is a double and the dresser is painted white with gray accents. A mirror hangs over it and a few photographs are tucked along the edges.
At five, feeling cooped up and claustrophobic, there’s a speck of sunrise peeking through my window and I get out of bed, dress, and sneak out of the quiet house.
Outside it’s chilly and I tug up the zipper on my hoodie. The view from the porch isn’t great and it looks like if I head down the path from the house, past the cottages and the wildflowers that seem to grow in every available spot, I could get a better view over the lake. But the thought makes my skin prickle. Wandering around alone isn’t something I’m used to doing. Even the one night I did sneak out, Sara was waiting for me at the edge of the yard.
The urge to see the sunrise is strong, so I walk down the steps across the small, fenced-in yard. Orange and pink spreads through the sky, calling to me to watch. I look around and see a split in the fence that separates LeeLee’s house from the building next door. It’s two stories and I can see the top floor and the roof. The windows are dark.
If I can get to the top of the fence I think I can get a good view, but the wooden slats are tall, at least six feet. In the gray morning light, I scan the area and find a metal trashcan next to the house. Quietly, I lift it and carry it over to the fence, flipping it upside down. Getting on the top isn’t as easy as I’d hoped and I grunt and grapple with the smooth fence boards to gain leverage. I find a spot to wedge my fingers and finally hoist myself on top, my feet banging against the metal.
The hassle is worth it, though, when I rise up for the view over the fence. The sky is streaked with orange and pink and a fiery red ball glows as it appears over the mountains. I feel a sense of freedom in the moment. No one knows I’m out here, watching this magical moment. Not my mom. Not Leelee. Not anyone.
At least that’s what I think, but I hear a scrape from the other side of the fence. I look over, seeing nothing but a shadowy, empty yard. Then a shift of movement catches my eye from the second floor and I see the outline of a figure sitting on the overhang, looking out at the same sunrise. Watching the same thing.
It’s a strange moment, and I can’t see his face and I’m sure he doesn’t know I’m here, but it’s nice to share it with someone that doesn’t know me or my past or anything else.
Even though his features are vague I get a sense of the length and size of the person’s body. Big. Male. Our eyes connect before he turns and scrambles off the roof, heading back through an open window.
With a last glance over the lake I hop down, feeling something strange in my chest. It’s a tiny crack, a feeling that’s unfamiliar. It’s scary because I don’t know who I shared that moment with, but that’s eclipsed by something greater.
Knowing I wasn’t alone.
“First order of business,” Leelee says when I arrive downstairs an hour later, “is that I’ll open the office and you’ll go get the coffee.”