Isabelle beamed at him, and he finally looked at me, nodding slightly before heading out the door.
It was later than I’d thought. I glanced at my watch to see it was almost six. I didn’t know what time the cabin office would be open until, but I suspected it wasn’t very late in this sleepy community. “Isabelle, would you mind making mine to go too?” I asked her.
Minutes later, I was in my car, the bag of food on the passenger floorboard of my car, and a hot coffee filling my steel cup. I drove leisurely past a grocery store, post office, gas station, and laundromat. It was all coming back to me, dripping familiarity as I headed toward the lake and the cabins. I had their address plugged into my nav system, but I found I didn’t even need it as I wound my way through the tiny village and onto the gravel road leading to the lake.
The cabins were on the right, and I pulled up to them, seeing a few other cars parked in front of the various stand-alone units. They were dark wood log cabins with peaked metal roofs. I found myself looking forward to the stay as I got out of the car. It had been so long since I’d been in an idyllic setting like this. The closest I got to nature was strolling the Great Lawn in Central Park once a month, and only if it was warm enough.
Tall birch trees mixed with some aspens, and their leaves rustled in the wind as I glanced up at them, using my hand as a visor. The sun was already beginning its descent into the west, and I glanced to the lake, seeing the murky water reflecting the bright rays. My gaze settled across the water to the shore, where I saw a few cabins. I knew that was where my grandma’s cabin had been, and the hair on the back of my neck rose.
“Hello, can I help you?” a voice asked from behind me.
I turned to see a young man standing on the porch of one of the units, this one marked OFFICE. The closed sign was flipped, and I grimaced.
“Sorry, I’m running late. I’m Eva Heart. I should have a reservation,” I said.
The dirty-blond-haired man nodded, and he ran to the office, his flip-flops slapping the soles of his feet with each step. He returned a moment later with a key; the placard attached to it had the number ten etched into the wood.
“Just down the path, right by the lake at the end. It’s my favorite one,” the guy said. He had an easygoing tone, and I assumed he’d grown up in the area. There was a casual local vibe surrounding him.
“Thank you…” I scanned for a nametag that wasn’t there, and he clued in.
“Trevor. Call the number on the back of the key if you need help with anything. The office is closed, but I live in here for the summer.” He jerked a thumb at the cabin labeled Office.
“That must be an interesting job.” I started for the car when I thought of something. “Hey, Trevor.”
He glanced at me with shaggy blond hair in his eyes. He reminded me of a puppy. “Yes, Miss Heart?”
“You can call me Eva. I’ve heard some rumors about UFOs around here. What do you think about that?” I asked it softly, as if I didn’t have a care in the world one way or another.
His head tilted to the sky as he stepped closer to me, the gravel crunching under his sandals. “You know, I never used to believe in that kind of thing. My uncle swears he’s witnessed lights a few times, unexplainable movements, and he always told us about them when we were kids. I always listened with interest, but as I got older, I laughed his ramblings off.
“He’d sit us around a firepit out back of our house and tell us about the Grays. You know… long fingers, skinny bodies, big black eyes on oversized heads?”
I nodded as sweat dripped down my sides. I was leaning forward, listening to every word closely.
“And by the end of the tale, he’d break out a flashlight and start flickering it, mimicking the patterns he could recall. His breath would smell like cheap beer and cigarettes, and his eyes would turn crazy,” he said.
“Are you implying you believe now?” I asked Trevor.
He nodded, ran a hand through his thick hair, and sighed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“Go on,” I urged him.
“My uncle disappeared when I was twelve. Vanished. One day there, next day gone. Poof.” His fingers stretched out like he was doing a magic trick.
“And you think these Grays had something to do with it?” I asked, wishing I had some water. My tongue was threatening to stick to the roof of my mouth.
“I don’t know… when you say it like that, it sounds so stupid,” he said.
“Trevor, I work for a magazine out of Manhattan. Would you mind coming over to the cabin tomorrow for coffee? I’d love to talk to you about your uncle,” I said, hoping I wasn’t coming on too strong. The second person in town I’d spoken to, and he had a connection to the lights. Was this a coincidence? Hell, I bet if I went back to Buddy’s Diner, Isabelle probably had her own tale about the UFOs.
I might have hit the jackpot here in Cloud Lake. Maybe I’d get to write the book I’d always wanted to after all, and about my childhood summer home, nonetheless.
“I don’t think so, Miss Heart.”
“Eva,” I corrected him, and he stared at me with intensity.
“Eva. There are a lot of people around that will be happy to talk to you, though.”
“Can you give me some leads?” I asked hopefully. He was probably ten years younger than me, but I batted my eyelashes a little, instantly feeling foolish for it.
He gave me a goofy smile and nodded. “I’ll point you in the right direction. Have a good night, Miss… Eva.” And with that, he was off.
I slid into my car and drove onto the gravel road between the cabins. A young family sat around a firepit, roasting wieners, the smell of charred flesh suddenly making me queasy. I glanced at the bag with a burger and fries and considered tossing it.
No, I needed to eat something; that much was clear. I waved at the family, receiving a dubious stare from the mother in return. The kids were oblivious as they prodded their hot dogs deep into the coals, likely covering them in charcoal in the process.
An elderly couple sat on their porch, the woman with her face in a paperback. The man rocked in a chair, sipping a can of Coors Light. The silver bullet. I imagined their lives. They’ve been married for forty years, and even though they don’t say much to each other these days, their bond is strong. They bicker occasionally, but for the most part, they smile at one another as they go for long walks at dawn.
They come to Cloud Lake every year, and have for thirty years, ever since their kids were young. Now they’re all grown up, with kids of their own, their lives too busy to sneak away to the cabins for the summers, so here the old couple is, alone but at peace with it.
I snapped out of it as I saw cabin number ten, right at the end of the keyhole-shaped driveway. I took the roundabout and parked in front of the unit before rolling up the window.
Minutes later, all my stuff was inside, and I surveyed my home for the next few nights. There was a bedroom tucked in the left corner, and a bathroom to the right. Inside the living room was a wood-burning fireplace, but it was too hot to use that now. Behind me sat the compact kitchen, the kind with curtains under the sink instead of cabinets. It was dated, a little run down, but extremely cozy. I didn’t mind it one bit.
Everything was made of cedar and still held the faded patented scent so many years later. I soaked it all in.
I settled my bag into the bedroom and freshened up in the bathroom before forcing myself to eat. I took it outside, behind my cabin, and sat at the picnic table overlooking the lake. It was becoming dark, and I could hear the crackle of nearby cabin dwellers’ outdoor fires, the smell transporting me to that summer. I remembered more of that first day as I stared at the water, juices of the now-cold burger running down my chin.
July 3rd – 2001
“Don’t leave them in there too long, girls,” Grandma said.
She was right. I pulled the metal stick from the firepit and touched the hot dog, checking to see if it was cooked on the inside.
<
br /> Zoe leaned in close and whispered, “Remind you of something?”
I smacked her arm away. “Gross. You’re disgusting.”
“You wish you weren’t thinking the same thing,” she said, giggling. Grandma didn’t seem to notice, or she was good at pretending not to hear our secret discussions.
I looked over at her, amazed at how much older she seemed this summer. We’d visited her at Christmas, and again at Easter, but now I could really see the illness spreading. I loved that woman with an excessive amount of my heart. She was the only female role model I had as a kid, and even though her ideas were a little dated at times, she was my rock.
I couldn’t begin to guess how many times I’d picked up the phone over the last four years to talk to her about nothing and everything. As I stared at her through the flickering flames of our fire, guilt racked me. She was in treatment, and I’d stopped calling every week because I’d become too busy with school, drama club, and friends.
I made a vow to spend as much time with her that summer as I could. From the looks of things, I wasn’t going to get many more chances. “Grandma, I love you.” I said this without thought, and she tore her gaze from her crossword puzzle, eyes rheumy but aware.
“I love you too, Jessica Carver. You too, Zoe,” she said.
“What’d I miss?” Dad asked as he walked from the pier. He was holding two small fish. He’d spend twenty-three hours a day out there if we’d let him.
“We’re about to eat, Brian. Pull up a stump,” Grandma said. She always called the chairs “stumps” if they were around the firepit. I used to think it was silly; now it was endearing.
“Sounds good to me. Let me put these on ice, and we’ll fry them up tomorrow,” Dad said.
“I can’t wait.” Zoe rolled her eyes back in her head and stuck her tongue out, making me laugh. We hated fish, especially the little ones caught in the murky Cloud Lake water, but we didn’t complain. Dad loved it so much, and there were certain things we let him get away with. Socks and sandals wasn’t one of them.
I made my hot dog bun while Grandma broke the news. “I’ve signed you girls up for some activities this summer.”
My stomach sank. “Grandma, we’re too old for that stuff,” I pleaded.
“Maybe Jess can go, but I’m sixteen. I don’t plan on playing skip rope with the girls at camp this year,” Zoe said, without a hint of give in her voice.
“I know that, girls. That’s why I volunteered you two to help out at the Cloud Lake Summer Kick-Off next week,” Grandma said.
I loved the party more than I’d admit. It was so idyllic. Bonfires, motorboats, parasailing, and barbecues. Last year was so much fun, and Zoe even sneaked off with some boy. I caught them holding hands by the docks, but she told me nothing else happened, even though I saw the hickey. She must have thought I was a real rube to believe her lies.
“What are we going to be doing?” Zoe asked, and I noticed my dad watching Grandma as he jammed his hot dog into the flames.
“I don’t know. Volunteer stuff. There’s the kids…”
“You want us to babysit a bunch of snot-nosed kids while the adults all drink too much and get high when they don’t think we’re looking?” Zoe spouted. My mouth formed a small O in surprise. Dad only grinned.
“She’s not wrong, Mom,” he said.
“It’ll be good for you girls, if only for a few hours. Anyway, it’s better than being stuck at home, isn’t it?” Grandma asked.
“Not if I was at the pool with Luke saving me from drowning,” I muttered, but no one seemed to hear me.
The cabin beside Grandma’s was always empty when we came for the summer, but I saw the light flicker on as I ate my dinner.
“Someone next door?” Dad asked.
“Yeah. That’s Peter. He’s finally retired, so he’s going to be out here most of the year now. Or as long as he can sneak out to fish at dawn, he says,” Grandma said.
“I guess I better make friends with him, then,” Dad said.
Something about Grandma’s expression set off warning bells. “You might want to keep your distance, Brian.”
“Why?” Dad asked, a half grin on his face.
Grandma’s serious tone broke, and she laughed. “Because then we’ll never see you. Now come on, who’s up for a game of Scrabble?”
July 11th – 2020
The lights to the cabin beside me flicked on, and I couldn’t help but think of Peter’s cabin next to Grandma’s. I hadn’t realized how repressed my memories of that summer were, but being here was surreal at the moment.
A figure emerged from my neighbor’s cabin, and she waved. “Hi. Guess you just checked in?” the woman asked. She came over to me, and I noticed how much of a freak I must have appeared. I was in the dark, no lantern, no flashlight, resolved to sit at a table with empty food trays in the late evening dimness.
“I arrived here an hour or so ago.” I peeked at my phone and saw I’d been reminiscing internally for nearly two hours. “Maybe longer.”
The girl had an LED lantern with her, and she turned it on, setting it on the table. “Want some company?”
She was around my age, with dark-brown shoulder-length hair, and she looked tired, or nervous. She was right at home in a pair of jeans and a dark sleeveless blouse. I motioned for her to have a seat across from me. “I’m Eva,” I said, without thinking twice about my own name.
“Clare.” She extended her hand, and I shook it, wishing we could have bypassed the formality.
I went into friendly reporter mode. “What brings you here to Cloud Lake, Clare?”
She glanced over at the lake. It was beautiful right now. Calm, unmoving, like a sheet of pristine ice. It reflected hundreds of stars, the crescent moon hanging on the near side of the water.
I cleared my throat, and she snapped out of her reverie. “I’m here with my husband. He’s a developer, and his company’s looking at building a resort here.”
“Here? At Cloud Lake?” I was shocked at the notion of choosing this place to build any sort of resort. Sure, it was quiet and peaceful, but not a great location for mass tourism.
“We’re hitting another three lakes in Maine this summer. Dan is in charge of researching all the costs and sites. He gets a feel for the people, the town council, the local law enforcement. He really does his homework.” Clare smiled, but it felt forced.
“And you hang out for the ride?” I asked.
She nodded. “It can be a little boring. We were trying to…” I saw her hand roam to her belly subconsciously, before she noticed it. Her palm slapped the top of the table and stayed there. “Anyway, it’s nice to have a neighbor here. You staying long, Eva?”
“Don’t think so. I’m here for a story.”
Her eyes lit up. “You’re a writer?”
“Journalist, but yeah, I’m a writer too,” I said. It always surprised me how interesting people’s reactions were when they learned I was a writer. Anyone could do it if they put their minds to it, so I never really understood why it was so fascinating.
“That’s great. I used to think I had a book in me,” Clare said.
I’d also heard this response nearly every time someone asked me what I did for a living.
“What would you write about?” I prodded.
“I don’t know. Maybe a romance. Girl gets swept off her feet. Happily ever after.” Her words had a hint of sadness behind them. “Do you want a glass of wine?” she asked, and I found that I did. “I have a fire prepped. Why don’t you come next door, and we’ll sit outside there for a while?”
“Where’s Dan?” I asked after her husband.
“He’s out. Probably at the local bar getting a feeling for the locals’ take on a resort. He says he likes to pump the idea of a boost to the town’s commerce by talking to the workers and small business owners. And if they’re anywhere in Cloud Lake on a Saturday night, it’s the Sticky Pig Pub. Or so he claims,” Clare said, and I saw something there: deep-seated regret, or
pain. I didn’t have to guess at her story; she was telling it to me with her eyes.
I wanted to remind her she could leave. Go home without him and find someone who would bring her out on a Saturday night. Find someone who loved and appreciated her, and gave her the chance to thrive at life, but I kept my trap zipped and nodded. “I’d love a glass of wine, Clare.”
She brightened at this, and I made a quick stop inside my cabin to throw away the remnants of dinner and grab my cell phone. I’d missed a call from my dad, and I didn’t have the energy to hear the voicemail. I had a suspicion that Zoe had broken the news to him, and the last thing I needed at that moment was to hear my dad’s accusing voice. It hurt more than ever now, as I started to remember that summer again.
My dad was so different, so carefree and loving, but not in a claustrophobic way. That all changed for the next five years, until I finally broke free and went to college. Even then, it had been constant texts, phone calls, and impromptu visits.
I left my phone on the table and headed over to Clare’s, where the fire in the pit was starting to roar. This woman knew how to make a good fire. If there was one skill Zoe and I had learned from our time at Cloud Lake, it was how to make a good fire. Two, if you counted how to pee in a lake with poise.
She already had two glasses of red wine poured, and liberal ones at that. I didn’t even ask what kind it was. I didn’t drink often, and one was close enough to the other for my tastes.
“I was so rude, taking over the conversation. What are you here for? What kind of story?” Clare asked with interest.
I didn’t know how much to say; definitely not anything about my own fascination with the topic. “Have you heard the rumors about UFOs and aliens in the area?”
Clare shook her head. “No. Are you kidding me?” Her gaze darted around the darkness beyond the flickering flames.
“I’m not saying it’s real, but there have been enough sightings that my boss sent me here to do a piece on it. ‘Cloud Lake: Hot Spot or Hoax?’ That’s only a working title.” I laughed, and she lifted her glass to clink to mine.
Lights Over Cloud Lake Page 4
