The gravel crunched under her feet as she started down the path. When she was a little girl on a sled, the gentle lawn had been scary-steep. Especially on the trek uphill.
“What do you think, Dad?” she said out loud. “Is it time to sell?”
Her father, God rest his soul, did not reply.
She’d reached the cabins, almost as ancient as the lodge. No doubt they needed repairs and updates, too—she hadn’t gotten more than a glimpse into the cabin on the end two nights ago when she’d arrived and found Janine holed up inside.
Two nights.
If they sold, it would have to be “as is.” It would take too much time and too much money to bring everything up to snuff. But they couldn’t begin to think about putting the place on the market until the roof and balcony were fixed. That meant soffits and gutters and who knew what else. She hadn’t come out here to spend hours with contractors and insurance adjusters. Log homes were great until they weren’t.
Thank God Janine had taken refuge here. Thank God one of the cabins had a broken lock. If she hadn’t … Sarah didn’t want to think about what would have happened. About what her friend might have done in her despair. Although it would have been better had she gone straight to the sheriff. Called for help, reported what she’d seen and heard, given no one any reason to doubt her.
Not that she blame
d Janine, not when her friend had told the truth all those years ago and gotten the clear message that she’d be better off if she kept quiet. And Sarah had been part of the problem.
She had put that day out of her mind on purpose, determined to be grateful that despite everything, Jeremy had survived. Determined to be grateful for the life they had made together. But since coming back to the lodge, she’d thought of little else.
Past the turn in the path, past the last cabin, a fence ran along the property line. Cedar rail, the wood bright and fragrant. When had that gone up?
She dropped down to the edge of the lake and sank onto the grass, the water lapping rhythmically at the shore. Holly didn’t know everything. It wasn’t just the dream. They’d said, she and Jeremy, that they ought to get back to the lodge, keep an eye on Lucas, but they hadn’t meant it, too intent on each other. Sarah hadn’t known then, didn’t know now, if the old sheriff had truly believed Janine would be better off keeping quiet, or if he believed no harm, no foul, because Janine had fought Lucas off. He’d torn her clothes and forced his fingers inside her but she’d kept him from the rest. The sheriff hadn’t said “boys will be boys.” He hadn’t said “now, honey, you don’t want to ruin a man’s reputation when you got no proof, do you?”
But when Sarah replayed his words in her mind, that’s how it sounded.
The setting sun cast a soft, golden glow on the lake. She could hear the sheriff as clearly as if he were standing here right now. Could hear him telling Janine to think about it carefully. Take some time. Sleep on it—as if she’d be able to sleep. If she still wanted to press charges tomorrow, then come to his office and give a formal statement. Fill out a report. She’d have to see a doctor. She’d have to be prepared.
They’d known what that meant. The denials. The accusations that she’d led him on, then changed her mind. The local talk.
It was all inevitable.
Sarah closed her eyes. Do you really want to have to go over it again and again? the sheriff had asked. Think about it. You’ll have to testify. To relive every moment, and though he hadn’t said it, to be disbelieved.
In her mind, she heard shouts and laughter coming from the lake, from people who didn’t have a clue about the tragedy unfolding. She heard distant boat motors, the dying moose up on the road. She heard the warning in the sheriff’s words. Had he been a husband? A father? Had he known what he was asking? He’d been a sheriff a long time; surely he had known.
And she heard herself agreeing. Not right then; she’d been in shock. But later, in a quiet corner of the lodge, Sarah had wondered out loud if the sheriff didn’t have a point. They were going to have to testify against Lucas for killing Michael and critically injuring Jeremy, and that would be hard enough. Better to focus on making sure he was punished, swiftly and severely.
How could she have been so naive? Janine had decided to keep quiet. The crash had been ruled an accident and Lucas was never charged. Even a slap on the wrist would have been more than he’d gotten for ending Michael’s life and seriously changing Jeremy’s. Thank God for the strength that had pulled Jeremy through. She’d known Janine wasn’t that strong. Wasn’t that strong now.
Now they were grown women.
Now she was a mother who worried about her daughter’s safety.
Now she’d be outraged by the suggestion that a woman keep quiet. Wouldn’t she? God, she hoped so. Had anything really changed in twenty-five years, after #MeToo and all the revelations about all the ways powerful men silenced powerless women?
That, all that. That’s why she felt guilty. That’s what Holly didn’t know.
She paused. Was that a light, shining in the woods? She closed her eyes and opened them. Nothing.
Was she losing it, going a bit crazy, seeing things that weren’t there? Finding pennies and seeing strange lights and thinking it meant something?
But Holly had seen the pennies too. George Hoyt—and there was nothing woo-woo about that man—had seen a car and lights on the lodge road and it hadn’t been Janine. Who, then? A looky-loo, a lost driver, someone turning around?
The phone in her pocket buzzed, startling her, the signal so intermittent down here. She took it out and swiped and pushed. A text from Abby. What, what was wrong? Love you, Mom! the message said. The bars on her screen were bouncing up and down like her heart rate, but she had enough reception to reply. Love you more!
Under a wild juniper, crickets were beginning to peep. She tipped her head back, gazing up at the sky through a gap between the lodgepoles. Her dad used to make a game of dragging the three of them outside before bed to see who could find the first star. Connor was so much younger, he only won if Dad spotted a star before the girls did and pointed it out to him. She and Jeremy had played the same game with Noah and Abby.
She used to know the names of all the constellations, but now …