Sarah Allen - Lost Lake

Eby kept glancing at her. Kate had said it had been a hard year after her husband died. That in itself wasn’t unusual, not for a Morris woman. But the fact that she was here was significant. It showed some focus, some purpose, which was unusual for a grieving Morris woman. She had the look of someone stepping outside for the first time in a long time.

After they ate, there was silence, save for the thrumming of the nighttime wildlife, a strange sort of chorus that seemed to call from one side of the lake and answer on the other.

Devin held up the piece of candy Selma had given her earlier, and Kate nodded that she could have it now. The rattling of the candy paper caught Selma’s attention. As Devin put the chocolate in her mouth and made a dramatic this-is-so-good face, there might have been a hint of a smile on Selma’s lips, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared.

“This is almost how it used to be, with young people around. I’m going to miss this place,” Bulahdeen said, filling her jelly jar with wine again. She always got a little tipsy at this time of night. Eby sometimes wondered if she came here because she could drink what she wanted and her children couldn’t stop her. “You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to plan a party. For right here. With decorations and liquor and music. Yes! We’ll say good-bye to this place with a party! Next Saturday. That’s a good ending to this story. Not the best, but good enough.” Bulahdeen foraged around in her purse until she found a notepad and pen, and she started writing.

“Will there be dancing at this party?” Selma asked from her table.

“Only if you want to dance with me,” Bulahdeen said.

Selma sighed. “No, thank you.”

A farewell party. Rattled, Eby got up and started collecting their paper plates and cups. Kate immediately stood and helped her. Devin wiped her hands on her dress and went to inspect a frog who was taking advantage of the bugs the twinkle lights were attracting. Selma leaned back as Devin passed her, as if afraid Devin was going to touch her with her chocolate-covered fingers.

“Do you still have that dance floor you and George used to bring out at night?” Bulahdeen asked Eby. “Those huge wooden squares that snapped together?”

“I just saw them in the storeroom when I brought out the string lights,” Eby said. “I’d forgotten they were there.”

“Those were some good times, weren’t they? Dancing on summer nights.” Bulahdeen swayed in her seat to imaginary music. “George even hired a band on the weekends. Remember that? Kate, will you and Devin come?”

Kate walked to the wooden trash can by the grills and put the remnants of dinner inside the plastic bag. “I don’t know if we’ll still be here.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you’d be here for a while,” Bulahdeen said. “To help Eby.”

Kate turned to Eby. “Do you need help?”

“It’s going to be a big move,” Eby said, dumping the rest of the plates and cups in the trash. Too big. Too overwhelming.

“I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.”

Eby hesitated. At this rate, Lisette was going to be no help at all. But, at least with Lisette, Eby had an excuse not to do it. “Are you sure?”

“Devin’s on summer vacation. And all our things are in our new place by now. I’m supposed to start work at my mother-in-law’s real estate office soon, but there’s no fixed date.”

“You’re a real estate agent?” Bulahdeen asked.

“No. My husband and I ran a bike shop.” She paused. “I sold it last year, after he passed away.”

That sobered Bulahdeen a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, if you’re going to stay a while, I could certainly use your help,” Eby said with resignation. A farewell party. Help with moving. It was all falling into place. She didn’t admit to herself until now that she had thought that Kate and Devin showing up was some big sign telling her she shouldn’t sell, that there was another way to save this place. It was silly, of course, because her family had never been a sign of anything good.

Bulahdeen took a celebratory swig of her wine and plopped the glass back on the table. “Good! That will make five people for the party,” she said. “No—six! We’ll have it during the day so Lisette can come.”

Kate looked confused. “Lisette can’t come out at night?”

“Lisette thinks evening meals are bad luck, so she doesn’t like to be around food after sunset. That’s why there’s always been breakfast and lunch served in the main house, but never dinner. George built the grills for guests to cook out at night.” Eby smiled as Kate looked to the main house, where one light was on upstairs, Lisette’s bedroom light. A shadow passed by the window, as if she was watching them. “We must seem very strange to you.”

“No.” Kate shook her head. “It’s what I remember most about this place.”

The unmistakable sound of tires crunching over gravel was heard in the distance, and everyone turned. A pair of headlights soon flashed through the woods. Kate looked around for Devin, a slight panic in her voice as she called for her. Devin, who had lost interest in the frog, was jumping from one pool of umbrella light to the other across the lawn. She ran back to her mother. That was curious, Eby thought. Who did they think it was?

A dark blue Toyota appeared and circled around them, coming to a stop in front of the main house. A lean man in his sixties got out. He smiled and lifted his hand in a shy wave.

“That makes seven!” Bulahdeen said happily, writing his name down.

“If he’ll be at the party, I might come,” Selma said.

Bulahdeen made a tsking sound, not looking up from her list. “You know he’s not here for you.”

“It doesn’t mean I can’t dance with him.”

“Who is that?” Kate asked.

“That’s Jack Humphry,” Eby told her. “He stays here every summer. He’s been in love with Lisette for years. He knows this is his last chance with her. Look at that expression on his face. That is the look of a man who has finally woken up.”

“I know that feeling,” Kate said.

Eby wanted to say so much to her. She wanted to say that waking up is the most important part of grieving, that so many women in their family failed to do it, and she was proud of Kate for fighting her way back. But Eby didn’t say anything. She could fix a lot of things, but family wasn’t one of them. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to come to terms with. It was the very reason she’d left Atlanta. She squeezed Kate’s arm, then pulled the bag out of the trash can and walked to the main house to greet Jack.

Because it was high time Lisette woke up, too.

In the inky stillness of the next morning, Lisette woke up and dressed quietly in the silks her elderly mother still sent her from Paris—cool slippery things that made her feel like she was covering herself with fresh air. For a while, after she left Paris, Lisette threw away her mother’s packages on principle. Lisette was not the same vain pretty girl her mother had once known. But then Lisette started making an exception for the lingerie. It was not vain if no one but herself saw her wear them. She then put on a blue dress and a freshly laundered apron that smelled like the lemongrass soap Eby used for the camp’s sheets and towels, the only soap that could take out the damp mustiness that wanted to cling to everything in this place.

She moved soundlessly downstairs to start breakfast, first cracking open the door to Eby’s bedroom slightly to make sure she was still breathing. She had done this every morning since George died. Eby did not know. Eby did not like it when Lisette worried too much. Their relationship had always been disproportionate that way. It was only Eby, capable and confident, who was allowed to worry about Lisette, moody and delicate.

Lisette turned on the lights in her kitchen and began to work. Everything was quiet, too quiet. But she had forced herself over the years to become accustomed to morning, even though it was evening she used to truly love for its energy and restlessness. That, at least, she would acknowledge she got from her father. His restaurant had stayed open late, one of the latest in Paris, and it had attracted people of poetic and turbulent minds.

The ghost of Luc sat quietly in the chair in the corner, near the blue refrigerator, as he did every morning, looking as he did the last time she saw him over dinner when they were both sixteen, his good white shirt stained yellow from nervous sweat under his arms, his young face eagerly watching her every move. He was caught in the moment before she had handed him the note over dinner, the one that broke his heart, a note like countless others she had written before. She had not understood what it was like to be rejected, as she had never been rejected herself. She had been shocked to hear of his suicide the next day. What was she, a monster? No one should have the power to hurt another that fully, that completely. She deserved to die in the same way, because changing was out of the question.

Eby had saved her with her goodness. That was why Lisette had decided to follow Eby wherever she went, finally settling here at Lost Lake. Eby made her a better person. Lisette had no idea what she would do without Eby. It frightened her so much that she could not think of it. She could not see her life anywhere but here. She would never go back to Paris. What did Eby think would happen? That Lisette would see her mother and suddenly want to live with her again?

No. Never.

But without Eby, without this camp, all Lisette had left was Luc, and she did not want to accept that he was not enough, that he was sixteen and a ghost, neither of which knew much about living.