Lights Over Cloud Lake

by Nathan Hystad

  “I thought we could spend some time together, Grandma,” I told her, and saw her face light up in a smile. She was skinnier now, and even though she and Dad kept telling us she was going to be fine, I could see the evidence in front of me.

  Grandma was dying, and quickly. The lymphoma was spreading, and the treatment had been started too late. I’d overheard Dad arguing to someone on the phone the other day, and had been obsessing over Grandma’s time ever since. Grandma knew as well but was playing it off for my benefit.

  Dad exited the cabin, Zoe right after him. She was in denial about the whole thing. We’d talked last night, and she said I was worrying too much, that Grandma was a superhero, and nothing but a meteor could take her down. I wanted so badly to believe it, but Zoe was wrong about this one.

  “I have the list, Mom.” My dad leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, and I loved that no matter how old they got, they were always mother and son. It was endearing. I would never have that with my own mother, but I had him, my strong father; the real pillar in my existence.

  “Don’t forget the marshmallows this time,” Grandma scolded.

  “Yeah, Dad, you can’t make s’mores without them. Nothing to stick the graham crackers together with,” I added, getting my own kiss on the head for my troubles. I still let him do that, where Zoe would say gross and push him away. I hoped I never grew up, if that was how I’d react to Dad’s affection.

  “I’ll never live that one down, will I? Jess, anything special? Root beer for floats? Frisbee?” Dad asked, and I had the urge to make a commitment I kept putting off. This summer was already special, and I could feel the walls of it closing in on us, like there was never going to be another year like this one to enjoy each other’s company.

  “Get me a pink ball cap? If you and I are going to go fishing this week, I don’t want to get sunburned,” I said, and giggled at the expression that appeared on his face. In a flash, it was gone, and he played along.

  “Yeah, fishing day. How could I forget? I’ll get you that hat, kid. Okay, Zoe, let’s get out of here. Food run commence!” He started for the Bronco and glanced over to his mom. He ran the rest of the way to the vehicle, where Zoe was already inside. She gave me a demure wave, and they drove away. Once every few weeks, we’d make a longer trip to the neighboring city. Cloud Lake had most things, but it was a lot cheaper to hit the big chain for bulk stuff on occasion.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked Grandma. It was after lunch time, and we were in the quiet part of the mid-week day, where the rain made being outside impossible, and there was nothing to watch on TV except soap operas and game shows.

  Grandma stood up, and I saw the effort it took. “I have something for you, dear. I’ve been wondering when to give it to you, and didn’t want to around your father. Not yet.” She went into the cabin, and I tensed up, wondering what the heck she could possibly have for me that she didn’t want Dad seeing.

  She returned and sat on her chair at the patio table beside me, placing a small rosewood box on the surface. “This was your mother’s. She left it behind.”

  My heart stopped beating, or so it seemed. I eyed the box, afraid to touch it. I didn’t speak… or move.

  “She wasn’t a bad person. Sure, she had issues, and I know there’s no forgiving her for walking out on you and your sister. She and my son were never soul mates. They weren’t meant to intertwine and survive the ages of existence together.” I had never heard Grandma talk quite like this before, and I liked it. “But she shouldn’t have bailed on you two, and for that, I’ll never be able to forgive her.”

  “Why give me this?” I asked.

  Grandma’s hand found mine, squeezing it tenderly. “I’m not going to be around forever, and I’ll be leaving you guys everything I own. I wanted you to know where this came from, and maybe you can have it as a reminder of her. You girls are so strong-willed, beautiful, and precious to me and your father. But part of that comes from her DNA, and I see her every day when I look at your face, you more than Zoe.

  “I know your dad sees it too, and I can’t imagine how hard, yet wonderful that is for him as well,” Grandma added.

  “Grandma, tell me the truth.” I was crying now, unable to stop the tears from flowing like the rain around me. I glanced to the pathway off the porch and watched as dozens of ripples from the rain chased one another in a pool of murky brown water.

  “I will,” she promised.

  “Has she ever contacted Dad? Has she ever tried to reach out to us?” I’d wanted to ask Dad that for years but couldn’t bring myself to. Any time I mentioned Mom, he clammed up, became moody, and I hated to do that to him.

  Grandma’s face said it all. “No, dear, she hasn’t.”

  I bawled then, wishing I could see her, if only for an instant. I’d been so young, and I wasn’t able to process it as well as Zoe or even Dad. I tried to picture her face but couldn’t, and it made me cry even more. Grandma was at my side, pulling my face to her chest, and she held me as I sobbed away at the memory of my vacant mother and the childhood that was quickly slipping away from me.

  “You’re going to be okay, Jess, and you know why?” she asked.

  “Why?” I finally broke from her grasp, my face soaked, my cheeks hurting.

  “Because you’re a Carver, and we’re tough. We don’t let life get us down, and we move on,” she said firmly, slapping her palm against the table, making the small box jump.

  “Grandma,” I started, and glanced at the woman beside me. Her hair was dyed red, fashioned into tight curls. She wore what Zoe always called “old lady” glasses, but they suited her, made her look distinguished. She was so much thinner than she used to be, but she was still the same Grandma underneath. I had to know. “Are you going to die?”

  She smiled softly at me. “Honey, we’re all going to die some day.”

  “You know that’s not an answer,” I told her.

  “Then yes, I’m going to die,” she said without sadness.

  “When?”

  “Soon,” she said, and I wanted to cry again but found no tears.

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  She laughed, breaking the mood. “What do you have to be sorry about? You’re here with me now, aren’t you? Spending time with your old granny. Now take the box, and don’t show your dad yet, okay?”

  I grabbed it timidly, as if I feared the ghost of my mother would jump out to haunt me. With trepidation, I tilted the lid open to find a necklace inside. It was the same one she wore in the photo I had on my mirror at home. I knew, because I’d logged a lot of hours staring at that image. Her with long brown hair, curled slightly, and a knowing smile for the camera. I was small, sporting a green blouse, Zoe in a blue one, and Dad had on the brown suit he wore for any special occasion.

  “This was hers,” I said as I pulled it out, feeling the weight of the thin chain in my palm. There was a small golden cross on the end.

  “It was. Go tuck it away, Jess, and what do you say we go for a walk? I could use the movement,” Grandma said. I hadn’t seen her getting around much, and the rain had started to let up.

  “Let’s keep it to a short one, okay?” I asked, and she nodded as she looked at the water. I knew Grandma was scared; that she was only acting tough for my benefit, but she was feeling something I couldn’t comprehend. Her existence on this world was nearing its end, and she couldn’t do anything about it. I ran inside, placed the necklace in the box, and shoved it under my mattress, hoping Zoe wouldn’t snoop under there and find it.

  A minute later, I was on the porch, holding an umbrella and letting Grandma use my arm for leverage as we set off on what might become our last walk to the lake alone.

  July 12th – 2020

  I was eternally grateful for the small air-conditioning unit in cabin number ten. Cloud Lake Cabins was busier now; next week’s traffic finally settled in. I hadn’t been there since early in the morning, and I was exhausted. By the time I’d r
eturned from Chester’s, I’d been a disaster. The past had found me here in Cloud Lake, and I wanted to leave most of it buried in its grave.

  I’d ended up staggering to the small bedroom, and the second I lay down on the bed, I’d fallen fast asleep, the hum of the AC unit lulling me away. When I woke, I was cooled down for the first time in days, and checked my phone. There was a missed call from my sister, and one from the office. Why was Barns calling me on a Sunday?

  What startled me was the time. I’d slept for three hours, and it was now after eight o’clock. My stomach growled a little, and I realized I still hadn’t picked up any supplies from the store. I’d been so preoccupied with the story that I’d been forgetting to do the important things in my daily routine. I hadn’t taken any anxiety medication either, and I decided against it. If I was going to find Mark Fisher’s brother at the bar, I would likely be drinking, and I hated the way it made me feel when I combined the two.

  I used the bathroom and looked around a little more now. The tub and surround were one piece, a cheap plastic contraption with one of those tiny shower heads you always saw at a place like this; minuscule but powerful enough to hose an elephant off with. These cabins had been around long before low-flow and water conservation were a thing.

  The shell-shaped sink reminded me of our old house, and I glanced down to the vanity knobs, which were made to resemble starfish. It was all a little kitschy, but quaint, and I couldn’t deny liking the details I hadn’t noticed until then.

  I moved to the bedroom and stripped out of the clothes I was wearing, kicking them to the floor. What should I wear to the Sticky Pig Pub? I hadn’t brought a lot of recreational clothing; most of what I had in my wardrobe was office clothes: professional attire that was comprised of polyester and muted tones.

  I found a pair of jeggings and threw them on, eyeing the rest of the tops I’d moved into the compact dresser. I pulled out a black tank top, deciding that would be enough on this hot night. I finished it off with my necklace from the nightstand. The familiar gold chain hung around my neck, the weight of the cross calming me as it pressed to my chest.

  I grabbed my curling iron and spent the next five minutes quickly making my bedhead presentable, before dabbing some perfume on and adding an extra layer of deodorant. I knew what small town bars were like, and the fact that I was hitting one on a Sunday didn’t necessarily mean it was going to be any less raucous than any other night.

  When I was confident I appeared like I might actually fit in, instead of sticking out like a sore thumb, I headed for the door, clutching my purse.

  The second I stepped outside, I smelled the fire from next door. I turned to see Clare watching the flames flickering, a half empty bottle of white wine on the table beside her. I blew out a sigh and fought the desire to run past her and go on my merry way. It was something my therapists had helped me with, trying to connect with other humans. It was a process, but one I was steadily gaining traction on.

  “Clare,” I said, heading over to the fire. “Are you all alone? No Dan?” I asked, peering around. The lights in her cabin were off.

  Clare beamed a smile at me, as if she’d recently found her best friend was home from a long trip. “Oh my God. If it isn’t Eva Heart, the big city girl in the flesh,” she said, sounding as sweet as syrup. I instantly knew she was half cut and wondered if I should leave her at home alone instead of inviting her along. Still, it would be good to have a friend to back me up.

  “What are you doing out here all by yourself?” I asked her.

  “Dan had to work, so I thought I may as well have a fire. I knocked on your door, but I guess you were busy,” she said.

  “I was sleeping. Haven’t even had a bite to eat today,” I said. “Was going to hit up the Sticky Pig, since everything else will be closed. You interested in coming along?”

  She smiled at me and drained her wine glass. “I’ve never been one to say no to a girls’ night,” she said. “Can you give me five to get ready?” She was wearing a floral summer dress and looked ready to me. It reminded me of something Zoe would wear.

  “Go for it. I’ll see about putting this out.” I pointed at the fire, which was mostly hot coals at this point.

  Clare went inside, and I found a hose attached to the outside of their cabin. The hose was long enough for me to reach the firepit with a steady stream of water. It hissed as I doused it, and I was careful not to spray myself as I pulled the trigger.

  “What do you think?” Clare asked from the porch, and she spun in the lantern light. She’d pinned her hair up and had replaced the dress with a pair of tight faded jeans and a blouse that showed off all of her assets.

  She was more like Zoe than I’d even thought: a mixture of my teenage sister and a responsible adult. “You look great. I’ll have to bat the men away from you with my purse. Come on,” I said, leading her to my car.

  I headed down the road, exiting the Cloud Lake Cabin premises, and we wound our way through the late evening dusk as we eventually came to the edge of town. The bar was like every small-town bar ever. Four or five Harleys were parked near the entrance, and at least half a dozen trucks: mostly older, beat-up, the kind the drivers used for real work, not just for showing off how shiny they could keep them.

  As I parked, Clare leaned toward me, her breath a little sour. “Thanks for inviting me. I try to be supportive, but Dan’s never around, and it gets… old.”

  “Glad to have you along,” I told her, and meant it.

  The second I opened the car door, I heard the muted country music seeping through any cracks around the doorway and windows. I was sure the song had been popular when I was about ten. Clare was humming along, and a few seconds later, we were at the door. I pushed it open and almost turned around to leave, the sudden idea of being in a loud, cramped space threatening to overwhelm my senses.

  Clare patted me on the arm and continued walking, not noticing the horror on my face, and I swallowed hard, wishing now that I’d taken my pill at the cabin. I took a step, and then another, the dread slipping away enough for me to breathe again.

  There were two pool tables on our left, some men and women standing around them, playing a lazy game or two. The bar was straight ahead, and Clare was already there, pressing beside a man on a stool, trying to get the bartender’s attention. It didn’t take long.

  I relaxed a little as I spotted other young women inside, and could pick out which were locals and which were tourists with little effort. The locals all presented a sullen disposition, like they had a slight distaste for the people visiting their little town. It was a hard balance, living in a place like this. The money all came in the summer months, and the locals had to fend for themselves the rest of the year.

  I approached Clare, and she turned to me. “This is Tyson.” She nodded to the man she was standing beside.

  “A pleasure, I’m sure,” I told the local man. He was wearing a vest with a construction company logo on it, and he grinned at me. He was at least ten years older than us.

  “Tyson’s buying our first round. Isn’t that nice of him,” Clare said, and I was seeing this new strange side to her.

  “Thank you, Tyson,” I said as politely as I could. The bartender was waiting for my order. I glanced at the beer options and chose the same one Chester had offered me earlier.

  “Do you have a food menu?” I asked the nondescript man behind the bar, and he slid a laminated list of finger-food options across the bar.

  We took our drinks, Clare thanked our benefactor, and we found a seat in a booth to the right of the bar. I chose a spot that had no one beside it, and I took the seat that allowed me to view the entire floor from it. I always did.

  I glanced at Tyson and pictured him with a wife and three screaming kids at home. He’d tell his wife he had to work late, and he’d come here, buying drinks for attractive tourists, playing the odds that one day, one of them would finally thank him with sex. I usually stretched the truth in my internal game, but this one
felt as close to the truth as any of them.

  “What did Dan say he was doing tonight?” I asked her, feeling like whatever the answer would be was a lie.

  “He had a meeting with a local lawyer from the county about zoning or something,” she said.

  “Sunday night at nine?” I pressed. I didn’t really know this woman but could tell she was in a caustic relationship.

  She shrugged. “He left at four, said he’d need a few hours. I don’t ask questions anymore.”

  I left it at that, not wanting to delve into the deep dark recesses of Clare and Dan’s rocky marriage. I had other things on my mind, and at the top of the list was Mark Fisher. A waitress saw me flagging her down, and I ordered some chicken wings. Clare added some mozza sticks to the order.

  I pulled out my tablet from my purse and checked my entries. I crossed out some items and added a note.

  Talk to the local Sheriff’s department

  Locate Chester Brown’s address and interview him

  Locate Mark Fisher’s brother

  Talk to Summer Kick-Off committee council member

  Locate Carly Miller family, friends, and/or parents

  Go to the feed store and talk to Henry about the Tourist UFO watch group

  Find out of Clark still lives in Cloud Lake

  Find out any details about Chester’s cousin Carol. How many people have gone missing here?

  I tapped the third line and looked around the room. If I was going by John’s description of the guy, he was thirty years old, wore a denim vest, and had shaggy hair. There were several men who could have fallen under that description, so there was only one way to tell. I had to ask someone or come up to them directly.

  “I see someone’s on the prowl for a man,” Clare said. She was in a far different mood than the first time we’d hung out, and I had to say I preferred the sad, reserved Clare more than this one.

  “Hardly. I’m actually looking for someone. It’s for my story,” I explained.