Lake of Secrets

by Shay Lee Giertz

  “Sure. Is this like a mystery?”

  I set our plates in the sink and lead him to Gran’s office. “Yeah, I think it might be.”

  As I sit at the computer and wait for it to open my file, Isaac studies my framed photo on the wall. “Great shot of the lake.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You did this?”

  “Yes, during holiday. It had just snowed, and the scene outside looked so picturesque, that I decided to snap it. Gran framed it. I didn’t know she was going to do that.” I push back from the desk. “Here. Take a look at this and tell me what you see.”

  Isaac kneels at the desk beside me and studies the shot for a moment. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be seeing.”

  “I don’t want to help you.” Looking at it tonight only solidifies what I saw, but I want to see if Isaac can observe it too. I’m hoping so. I’m hoping that I’m not turning delusional.

  “It’s like a white light of some kind that’s smudgy in the middle, but the outside of the picture is not. Look, is that an arm? Whoa, that looks like a hand.”

  And the heebie-jeebies are out in full force. So, he does see what I see. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “When did you take this?”

  “When I first arrived, during my hike. Right before I met Ian. The wind kept blowing from behind me, so I turn to check it out and accidentally took the picture.” I’m glad I shared the picture with him. I still don’t want to tell him everything, but having someone who can share some of the mystery is a relief.

  Isaac gives a low laugh. “That’s kind of cool and kind of creepy. It looks like we might have a ghost in these woods after all. Not that it’d surprise me.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “This is the kind of thing that would fascinate Ian.”

  “Really?”

  “He is a genius when it comes to trees and nature, but he also likes history, especially local history and lore.”

  “Like ghost stories?”

  “He knows dozens of ghost stories just in Northern Michigan. I’m telling you, Ian would freak out if he saw this picture, and in a good way.”

  “He’s not afraid of them?”

  “There’s an Indian legend that says ghosts are souls that were taken before their purpose was fulfilled. So, the ‘Great Spirit in the sky’, or whatever they call Him, gives them time to finish that purpose. At least that’s what I’ve heard Ian say.”

  “I’m impressed. Ian’s a smart guy.”

  “What about me? I’m pretty smart, too.” Isaac acts all offended. “Didn’t I fix the Jeep with only a shaky flashlight as my guide?”

  I swat at him. “Hey now. Don’t pick on those of us with shaky hands.”

  Isaac reaches over and tickles my side, making me squeal and jerk my arm. The picture on the screen changes to the one I took of the beetle.

  “What—?”

  “It’s nothing,” I say, pressing the arrow key. Unfortunately, it’s moving in the wrong direction.

  Isaac wrestles me for the keyboard and presses the arrow button, allowing him to flip through dozens of bug pictures.

  And there goes any fleeting romance I may have had with this tall hunk of a guy.

  “Did you take these?”

  I don’t answer. Embarrassment has done something to my tongue.

  He comes to one of a spider. It’s a zoomed-in shot. A ray of sunlight highlights the glistening web, as one leg of the spider is up and ready to move. “This is talented, Ginnie.”

  “They’re only bugs.” I finally find words. “Well, not the spider, but…”

  Isaac has leaned forward to inspect the pictures, his hand right next to mine. If he turns his head, our lips would almost be touching. Yes, I’m thinking about kissing Isaac. A girl’s hormones don’t necessarily shut off just because life throws a ghost and dead body at her. He turns and catches me watching him. He doesn’t look away. This may be the moment. But my nerves take over, and I bite my lip and turn back to the computer.

  Inexperience will do that.

  “I want to be a photographer,” I say because he’s still looking at me. “Since my Dad’s an entomologist, I help him by taking pictures.”

  “So, you enjoy nature, but not so much at night with a broken-down jeep?”

  His voice is low, but I’m not so daft to ignore that he’s baiting me, so I clarify, “I enjoy nature, and Jeeps, and certain guys, but not at night in the middle of a haunted forest.” I glance over at him, and he’s still watching me.

  “That’s good to know. So if a certain guy with a Jeep wants to ask you out on a proper date, would you be inclined to say yes?”

  “I’d be inclined…definitely.”

  We’re so close I can feel his breath on me. He swallows and gives a half-grin. “How about I pick you up tomorrow evening for a proper date?”

  My cell phone rings, and the moment is gone.

  I want to ignore it, but I remember my promise to Dad. “I have to answer it.”

  “Well, answer it already.” Isaac stands up and heads outside. “I’m going to go sit on the porch.”

  I nod and follow him, taking out my phone. It’s Cassie. “You better be on your way,” I say as a greeting.

  “Ginnie! The best cousin ever. I’m coming soon. I have stupid laundry and chores and whatever else my mother comes up with, but I’ll be there. I wanted to know if you’d like to go in with me and get a gift for Gran. I feel horrible that she’s in the hospital.”

  “That’s a great idea.” I sit beside Isaac who raises his eyebrows in curiosity.

  Who is it? He mouths.

  “It’s my cousin. Cassie.”

  Isaac’s eyes widen, and he motions with his hand to be quiet.

  “Who are you talking to?” Cassie asks.

  “Um…”

  Isaac must have heard the question because he’s adamantly shaking his head.

  “No one. Just myself.”

  “So, do you trust me to get a gift from both of us, or do you want to shop with me when I get up there?”

  “It’s up to you. She’s coming home tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll wait until I’m there. Maybe we could take one of your nice pictures and frame it. You always do such a good job.”

  My heart warms at the compliment. “Just get up here!” We talk for a few more minutes before ending the call. I lean back and scrutinize Isaac. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t want to interrupt the conversation.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “Not really. I think we met when we were little kids. You know what? I’m exhausted. Someone kept me up last night, and I had to get up early.” He smiled at me, but it felt forced. “How about I stop over tomorrow? Or give you a call?”

  “Sure.” I’m stumped as to what happened. He had acted like he wanted to stay, but that was before the phone call. “Is everything all right?”

  “Of course.” But he’s already down the front porch steps and heading toward his jeep. He says over his shoulder, “I didn’t realize how tired I was until after I ate all that food. I’m kind of going into a food coma.”

  I glance at my phone and look back up. I want to ask more questions, but I don’t know which ones to start with.

  He at least pauses at the driver’s door and says, “I had a great time today, Ginnie. And I mean that. See you tomorrow evening.” He waves good-bye before getting into his vehicle and pulling out of the driveway.

  It isn’t until he’s gone that I realize I am very much alone. I go back inside, shut the door, and lock it.

  15

  Right before waking up, I dream of a voice. A girl’s voice. She calls to me. Ginnie…

  I open my eyes to the sunlight on my face, my name still echoing in my ears. I sit up and stretch, remembering my decision to sleep on the couch. I attempted to be an adult, going upstairs after Isaac left. But as I lay down, I noticed the box with the bug in it was open, and the beetle ha
d disappeared.

  Instead, I sleep on the living room couch with blankets wrapped around my entire body and toilet paper stuffed in my ears, not taking any chances. Obviously wrapping myself up in blankets didn’t help. I can’t shake the foreboding. What does this girl want with me? I know it’s her. I’m not a ghost expert, shoot a couple of days ago I would have scoffed at the idea, but for some reason, this girl is trying to make a connection, and I’m the lucky recipient.

  I know what I need to do, but I sigh anyway. I’ve been contemplating the idea since yesterday when I found the body. I had told myself that I would not step foot in a church for the entire summer, but whether I want to admit it or not, priests know a thing or two about this kind of weirdness. I run my fingers through my hair to see if I need to shower first when my fingers touch something hard and insect-like. No way! I jump up and shake my hair, flinging the beetle onto the floor.

  Ugh. Nasty! How long has it been on my head? It starts to scurry away, but I fall on the floor and capture it with my hands. “Ha, ha, sucker, try to escape now.”

  It’s trying to get away, which makes my skin crawl, and I have to resist the urge to act any more girly. This thing needs out of this house.

  Opening the door is a challenge, but my chin is up for the job.

  I place the beetle on the railing of the front porch. Now it doesn’t move. It stays still on the railing.

  “Go away,” I whisper to it. “Leave me alone.”

  At that moment I glance up and see a man at the edge of our driveway. He doesn’t look too much older than me, but he resembles the man from yesterday, which sends a warning message in my brain. He’s watching me talk to the bug. Anger boils up in me. “Get away from here!” I march over to him, which probably isn’t the brightest thing to do since:

  I don’t any shoes on, and I’m still in my shorts and tank combo

  He’s a pretty solid looking guy who would have no trouble knocking me cold in under a second and

  I didn’t bring my cell phone in case of an emergency.

  But thinking of my Gran in the hospital keeps me marching.

  “You better leave before I call the police!”

  His reaction surprises me. He walks forward with both hands held out, as if in surrender. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. “I’m Mitchell Blackstone.” He extends one of his hands.

  “Mr. Blackstone, you have sixty seconds to get off this property before I call the police again.”

  “That’s why I’m here. You’re the one who called the police about the dead girl, right?”

  “Yes, I did, and right after I did that, my grandmother was found unconscious on the floor and was sent to the hospital. So, if you think for one second I’m going to let some jerk onto this property again, you’re messing with the wrong English girl.”

  “I realize you’ve dealt with a lot of inquiries about the body, but I don’t know anything about your grandmother’s hospital visit.”

  Everything halts as I zero in on what he said. “What are you here for?”

  “To see if you’re the girl who found the body. Isaac mentioned something about it yesterday at work. He couldn’t tell me much, so I wanted to talk with you. If it’s the girl the authorities think it is, she would be my mother’s sister.”

  My jaw drops. Now I notice the Treetops Resort polo that the guy is wearing. That’s the same place Isaac works.

  “I found the body. I don’t have a lot of details. Isaac probably knows more than I do.”

  “Are you from here?”

  “No. I live in London. We’re just here, visiting my grandmother.”

  Mitch’s eyebrows furrow as if he’s trying to decide what to say next. After a moment, he shakes his head. “Sorry to have bothered you.” He opens the door to a small pick-up truck with more rust than paint, pauses to look back at me, then gets in the vehicle and drives off.

  Before I can even think about what happened, Dad pulls into Gran’s driveway.

  “Where’s Gran?”

  “She’s not released yet. I’m only here to hop in the shower and change clothes.”

  “Oh.” I go to walk back into the house.

  “What are you doing out on the front lawn?”

  I’m not sure how to answer that. I decide not to tell him about Mitch. The guy seems harmless enough. “I thought I heard something. Being here alone had me hearing things. That’s all.”

  Dad’s not listening. He’s observing the property, shaking his head. “This place is going crazy. There seems to be something happening every few minutes.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  We go inside the house together. Dad sees the blankets and pillows on the couch.

  “So, are you going to explain why every light is on in the house, and why your blankets are on the couch?”

  “It’s a big house, Dad. I found a dead body. It’s all strange. For the record, Gran’s right. None of this would have happened if I had stayed back in London. Just stating the obvious.”

  “It would have happened. Maybe not to you, but it would have happened. And, I’m glad that you’re here. You are experiencing something very scientific. I’m surprised you didn’t sneak over to take pictures before they took it away.”

  I make a disgusted face. “It’s a dead body.”

  “I know. It saddens me, but as a scientist, I want to know the truth. I want to know her story. What happened? What led to her death? Her body holds clues. Just like when I investigate insects and figure out their evolutionary timeline.”

  “Wow,” I say in mock fascination.

  “What?”

  “My father is such a nerd.”

  He grabs me, puts me in a headlock, and rubs my hair with his knuckles.

  “Stop!” I squeal. “You’re not a nerd! You’re not a nerd!”

  Dad lets me go and wipes his hands against each other as if the mission is accomplished. “Don’t mess with an entomologist. Now I need you to clean the house while I take a shower, then I’ll head back to the hospital to get Gran. Can you do that?”

  By the time Dad has showered and changed, my blankets and pillow have been put away, and the kitchen has been cleaned. When he leaves, I find myself going through Gran’s cabinets in her office. I tell myself I’m dusting, but it’s not as if the cabinets open on their own or the file folders open miraculously. There are several photo books. One with pictures of Aunt Sue as a child, and one with pictures of Dad. From birthday parties to Christmas holiday to swimming at the lake, there are pictures to document everything.

  I go to shut the bottom file cabinet but see something resting beneath the files. I push the file folders aside and see it is an old Bible with rosary beads on top. Leaving it where it is, I run and grab my camera. I take a few pictures before taking it out of its resting place. The rosary beads seem to be made out of ivory, the cross turning in the light. I make a mental note to ask Gran about it when she gets back. I let the rosary dangle while I focus on a good angle.

  When I open the Bible to set the rosary inside, a newspaper clipping is nestled between the first pages. I pick it up gingerly. It’s a small clipping, no bigger than a single half-column. It’s old and faded, but what I see takes the breath from me.

  It’s from forty years earlier about a missing fifteen-year-old girl. Barbara Blackstone. The same last name as that guy who visited this morning. But that’s not what stole my breath away. It is the school picture they put in the newspaper. The girl has long, black hair with overgrown bangs, a small smile, and sad eyes. And she looks familiar. She looks just like the girl I saw in the woods.

  ***

  Talking to Gran is out of the question. When she arrives from the hospital, she will need to stay as stress-free as possible. If I ask her a bunch of questions, that will not help her. But I’ve got to talk to someone.

  I pause before texting Isaac. He left in such a hurry last night, and I haven’t heard from him all morning. Then again, it isn’t as if we are t
ogether. We are friends. And friends can text each other. Before losing my nerve, I text him, Mitch Blackstone stopped by this morning. He said he knows you.

  I see Isaac is texting back, and I sigh in relief. He told me. Said he scared you. I should have told you about him.

  It’s good. I text back. Have him call me. ‘K?

  Minutes later my cell phone vibrates. “Hello? Mitch Blackstone? This is Ginnie Paxton.”

  “Hello,” he says. “I’m sorry about what happened today. Isaac filled me in a little about what happened yesterday with your grandmother. I feel like an idiot for just showing up this morning.”

  “Don’t worry about it. That’s why I’m calling. Can you find some time to come over here and talk?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am. I need to talk to someone about it, and since you came to me first, I’ll take it as a sign.”

  “Signs are good,” he agrees. “I’ll see what I can do. Since I just got here, maybe I can leave for a few minutes before my first round begins.”

  “Do you work on the golf carts like Isaac?”

  “No, I’m a golf instructor. I have a pee-wee session in about an hour, but my schedule’s pretty flexible before that.”

  After I hang up, I run upstairs to get dressed. Once in the shower, I scrub my head with shampoo in case that nasty beetle peed or pooed on my scalp. A girl can never be too careful.

  Halfway through brushing my hair, there’s a knock at the door. I’m only in my panties and bra, so I throw on a t-shirt and shorts before heading downstairs.

  I open the door to find Mitch on the other side of it. Now that I’m not so angry I can truly check out his features. The first thing I notice is his eyes. Something very familiar about them. I think of Barbara Blackstone and assume that’s the connection. “Hi,” I greet him and step outside. Since I’m home alone, it’s probably not a good idea to invite a strange man inside. Not that I’m any more protected outside, but it at least seems like safer ground.