by Wendy Webb
“We’re alive,” she said. “We have all the power because we’re supposed to be here on earth. She’s not, not anymore. She has someplace else to go. And we can make her go there.”
I nodded. It sounded reasonable. I wanted it to sound reasonable.
“It’s what needs to be done,” she said. “If we don’t do it, who will?”
CHAPTER 23
We made plans to talk with the group during dinner, and Diana went back to her suite to continue working. I was glad that I had confided in her. The fear that gripped me was slowly subsiding, trickling back to wherever it had come from. Diana had taken some of it away with her reasonable thinking, her steady voice. It felt good to have someone to talk to about this who didn’t think I was a lunatic, and it felt even better to have a plan.
I had some work to do—I really needed to wade my way through those applications for next year and make some decisions about who to invite—but I was itching to get back outside and stretch my legs. It felt good to move, to be physical, to be out in the fresh air. I trotted down the stairs, made a side trip to grab a couple of olives, and headed out the door.
It was a beautiful, warm day, and I decided to take the path down to the lakeshore. I scrambled my way down and began to walk along the shoreline, picking up a rock here and there as I went. The lake was like glass. There aren’t too many Lake Superior days when the great spirit, Gitche Gumee, which the ancient Native Americans in the area believed lived in the lake—and many Lake Superior residents still do—is this calm, this peaceful, and I stood for a moment and took it in, the beauty and wonder of the largest freshwater lake in the world, as still as a millpond.
That’s when I noticed a kayak moving around the cliff, back toward me. Richard? I shielded my eyes from the sun to get a better look and, sure enough, I could see his shock of dark hair and a camera dangling from his neck. I watched as he paddled closer to shore, and I wished I was out there with him, kayaking side by side.
As I kept watching, I began to imagine us together, and not kayaking. But I shook that thought out of my head—I had only just met the man. Sure, I was intrigued, but . . . I truly didn’t know what to make of my attraction to both him and Nate at the same time. If given a choice, whom would I choose? Both had good qualities, both had mysterious sides. A delicious thought entered my mind then. Maybe I didn’t have to choose, not now, anyway. Maybe I could let all of this play out naturally. I couldn’t believe my luck. Two great guys on my radar at the same time.
Richard caught sight of me and put a hand up in greeting. I did the same. And that’s when it happened. I watched as Richard’s kayak seemed to heave out of the water and overturn. He was underwater, as quickly as that.
I knew that water was ice cold, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t sure if he could swim, or how accomplished he was at freeing himself from an overturned kayak. I kicked off my shoes, ran into the lake, and swam toward him, pounding through the water with a force I didn’t know I possessed. When I neared the kayak, I submerged myself in that freezing water and helped pull him out of the skirt that held him, using all my might. We surfaced together, him coughing up the water that had gotten into his lungs.
We both got on one side of the kayak and swam to shore, pushing it all the way.
“The skirt wouldn’t release.” He coughed as we dragged ourselves and the kayak up onto the beach. “I was trying to right the damn thing when I was upside down, but that hip action always eludes me. I’ve never been able to do it.”
“What on earth happened?” I said.
He shook his head. “I’ll be damned if I know,” he said. “The lake was like glass. There wasn’t so much as a ripple on the surface. A perfect day to shoot on the water. But that’s one cold lake, I don’t mind telling you.”
“That’s no joke, Richard—this time of year, people can get hypothermia in minutes out there,” I said. “Ice was still on the lake a month ago. And you weren’t wearing a wet suit! My God . . .” My words trailed off as the realization hit me. If it had happened in the middle of the lake, he could have been killed.
“I could say the same for you,” he said as we hiked up the trail toward the house.
He was right. I hadn’t thought a bit about that when I dove into the lake—I just knew I needed to help him.
A very bad feeling rumbled in the pit of my stomach. Was I to blame for this? There was a packet of info in each room about the area, common safety procedures and warnings about dangers like the ice-cold lake this time of year and the forest full of animals. But even so, I should have talked to everyone when they arrived, made sure they knew not to go kayaking without a wet suit, or not to trudge into the forest without letting someone know where they were going. There were real dangers here. My carelessness might have cost Richard his life, had I not been right there to help.
“This is my fault,” I said to him, my teeth beginning to chatter. “I should have made sure to tell you to wear a wet suit.”
“And what’s your excuse?” he said, managing a grin with lips that were turning blue. “I didn’t think they made wet suits out of denim these days.”
“I saw you go over,” I said. “I had to help if I could.”
He grabbed my hand. “I thank you for that, Norrie Harper,” he said.
I shook my head. “It was nothing.”
“No,” he said. “You plunged into icy-cold water and helped me out of that skirt. I was having real trouble. Had you not been there . . .”
I smiled, warmed by his appreciation. “But your camera’s on the bottom of the lake. I’m so sorry that happened.”
“And it’s not your fault,” he said. “Not in any way. I was just clumsy. I must’ve leaned too far over. Although . . .” He fell silent and shook his head.
“Although what?”
“I’ve been kayaking for a very long time, in every kind of weather, on bodies of water with rapids and tides and huge waves, not to mention crocodiles,” he said. “I won’t say I’m an expert but . . . okay, yes. I’m an expert.”
We shared a chuckle.
“But today—you saw it—this lake was like glass,” he went on. “There’s not a whisper of wind out there, not so much as a ripple on the surface. I can hardly believe I went over. It almost felt like”—he turned his head to look back out toward the water—“like something big came at me from underneath.”
A cold wave passed through me.
“Once, I was kayaking in Puget Sound and a solitary gray whale came up to the surface underneath me,” he said. “I didn’t go over that time, I got out of the way, but I could feel this huge presence under the kayak. It was sort of like that, in a way. But it couldn’t have been, could it? There are no whales in Lake Superior.”
“No,” I said. “There’s nothing like that. No sea life. We’ve got big fish. Beavers and otters, too, but nothing that could possibly capsize a kayak.”
“No Loch Ness monster?” He grinned.
“Well, you never know about that.” I smiled back at him and raised my eyebrows. “Lake Superior is deep and old and mysterious. Lots of myths exist about it being a living thing, the lake itself. You may well have encountered the great spirit of Gitche Gumee out there today. I know some locals who would swear you did.”
“If I did, he didn’t like me much,” he said, rubbing his neck.
“Or he just wanted your camera,” I said, wincing again when I said the words. “Do you have another?”
“Oh, I come prepared, Norrie Harper,” he said, giving me a wink.
I noticed him shiver and felt the cold running through me as well. “You should go back to your suite and take a hot shower. I’m going to do the same. Just leave your wet clothes in the bathroom—I’ll send somebody up later to deal with them.”
I watched him go and wondered what, exactly, had just happened.
After a long, hot shower, I settled in to read some application letters, but I didn’t see any of the other fellows for the rest of the afternoon. Even He
nry, who had been positioned in the gardens, was nowhere to be found. That was good, I thought to myself. All was calm. At least for the moment. Even so, I felt like I had been on high alert for most of the day. Doom, it seemed to me, was floating in the air. I tried to read, but my ears were perked, listening for a cry, a moan, or worse, a scream. The expression waiting for the other shoe to drop went through my mind over and over as I scanned the house and grounds from my chaise. It was quiet, but something was coming. I could feel it.
Now, it was nearing dinnertime. I stood in front of the mirror, giving my hair one last brush, rehearsing what I was going to say to the group. No matter the words I put together, they all sounded ridiculous. But Diana and I had come up with a plan, and I intended to at least try to go through with it. I set my brush down on the vanity with an air of finality. “Okay,” I said to my reflection, “let’s do this.”
I marched downstairs to find Richard had beaten me to the drawing room. He stood at the sideboard, pouring himself a glass of Scotch. When I entered the room, he turned and smiled.
“After what happened today, I was a little anxious for a snort,” he admitted, the particular twinkle back in his dark eyes.
“I will second that,” I said, reaching for the Chardonnay bottle that was perched in the ice bucket.
“I notice Harriet has put the gin out for Miss Particular,” he said out of the side of his mouth, his voice low. “But you just know she’s not going to want it tonight, now that it’s there. She’ll ask for something else.”
I grinned at him. “It sounds like you’ve got experience with her type.”
“Seven long years of it, yes,” he said, taking a sip of his Scotch. “Once, if you looked up daft in the dictionary, you’d find my picture there. Thankfully, in Webster’s new edition, that’s been changed for more than a decade now.” He raised his glass.
So, Richard had been married before. Or at least, coupled. That twang of jealousy sizzled through me again. But why? Who was this man to me?
“You seem to have warmed up after your dip in the lake earlier,” I said, smiling at him. “Any ill effects?”
“A hot shower was just what I needed,” he said. “But I’m still upset with myself about the camera. I can’t believe I let it go.”
“And I’m still upset with myself for not talking to all of you about the dangers here,” I said. “Cliffside will replace your camera, Richard. It’s only right. I’ll speak to our accountant about it in the morning.”
He smiled and cocked his head to the side. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I was the fool who went headfirst into the lake.”
“I insist,” I said. “Please. I really do feel badly about it.”
“In that case, I thank you for your generosity, Miss Harper,” he said.
I took a sip of my wine and let myself look into his face. I had avoided too much eye contact with him, but now, somehow, something made me want to simply languish there in his gaze.
We stood, close enough to touch, just simply looking at each other, neither, apparently, wanting to be the first to break free of whatever web had suddenly woven itself around us.
He was taller than me but not by much. His dark hair was thick and unruly, curling around his ears and standing straight up in spots on the top of his head. He had a scar on his strong jawline, and it made me wonder what sort of escapade he’d been on when he got it. He wore a hint of cologne, so slight that it almost wasn’t there at all.
I can’t explain what it was or why, but something was happening between us, right there, in the drawing room. Neither of us could look away. It was as though I was memorizing his face, and he was memorizing mine. There was an energy, a sense of magic that vibrated in the air around us, my body vibrating with it. My peripheral vision blurred as though the room had fallen away, disintegrated into dust, and there was nothing in the whole world except Richard Banks’s dancing eyes.
“Eleanor Harper,” he whispered.
“Good evening, you two!” Henry chirped. And just like that, the spell was broken.
I snapped my head around and saw him entering the room, Brynn on his arm. She was smiling one of those strange, faux smiles you see on women who are competing in pageants, a smile with a tempest going on behind her eyes.
“Hello!” I managed, a little too loudly, I thought. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Henry, you were getting some great work done in the gardens earlier. Did it continue?”
“Oh yes, oh my, yes,” he said, winding Brynn’s arm out of his own and plucking a microbrew out of the ice bucket. “If every day is like today, I’ll have a whole series by the time our session here ends.”
“Wonderful!” I said. But oddly, his words hit me hard. Their time would end. Soon these people would be gone and a new group would come. Of course, that was the whole idea of this place, and of course, it was no surprise to me. And yet, it felt wrong, somehow. As though us being together at Cliffside was the way it should be. I remembered Miss Penny had warned me about getting too close to any of the fellows—maybe this was why.
Richard’s voice muffled those thoughts. “What can I get you, my dear?” he asked Brynn. “I’m on bar duty tonight.”
She squinted at the display on the sideboard and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I’ll have a white wine.”
Richard caught my eye for the briefest of seconds and winked as he was pouring her Chardonnay. I didn’t even try to stifle my grin.
Soon, Cassandra and Diana had joined us. The fellows began chatting about their days, who had made what sort of progress on their projects, and Richard’s untimely dip in the lake. I stood off to the side, letting them talk among themselves, while I planned what to say to the group.
Diana and I exchanged a glance, and I knew it was time to bring up the subject at hand.
I cleared my throat. “I want to talk with you all about something tonight.”
“Is it about the heat in our rooms?” Brynn piped up. “Because mine’s ice cold. It has been, all day. I could barely work.”
A wave of annoyance washed through me. “No, Brynn,” I said. “It’s not about that. But I’ll mention it to Mr. Baines after dinner.”
She huffed.
“Let’s all sit down,” I said, gesturing to the sofa and chairs. “I’m hoping we can do a little brainstorming together.”
They did as I asked, taking seats here and there. Richard sat next to me and crossed his legs, draping an arm on the back of the sofa.
“What’s this all about, Eleanor?” he asked.
I took a sip of my wine and tried to gather my thoughts. Everything I had practiced in my head that afternoon had flown away, and now I was at a loss.
Thankfully, Diana jumped in. “Eleanor and I were talking about what happened to Brynn’s journal last night,” she began.
But Brynn cut her off. “I know exactly what happened,” she said. “One of you”—she looked pointedly at Cassandra—“is jealous.”
Cassandra looked from side to side. “What, me?” She let out a strained laugh. “You think I destroyed your journal?”
“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” she said, squinting at Cassandra. “Here you are, writing your fancy history about this place. You’ve done years of research, and yet you had no idea what really happened here. You were as surprised to find out about it as all of these people were.” She gestured around the room. “If that’s not a motive, I don’t know what is.”
She crossed her legs and leaned against the back of her chair, triumphant.
“But I thought I was your culprit,” Richard said, a slight grin on his lips.
“I changed my mind.”
Cassandra shot me a look and rolled her eyes before turning back to Brynn. “For your information, my book isn’t going to include innuendo and gossip. I deal in facts. That’s why my genre is called nonfiction.”
Her arrow had hit its mark, the sting evident on Brynn’s face. If she wasn’t so annoying, I might have felt sorry
for her. I wouldn’t relish being on the wrong side of an argument with Cassandra. But, as it was, I just wanted to steer the conversation back on course before it derailed.
“Listen, everyone,” I said, addressing the room but looking at Brynn. “I need your help here. We all do. As I said, I’m hoping we can work out, together, why we’re all here at Cliffside at the same time. Every one of us, including me, was invited to come to Cliffside for this particular session at the last minute.”
“Except me,” Diana said.
“Yes, except Diana, but I think we’re going to find our way around that.”
Richard shook his head. “What are you getting at, Norrie?”
I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I began. “Penelope Dare went to great pains to make sure all of us were together at Cliffside during this session.”
Cassandra was nodding. “You know how it happened for me,” she said to me, “but the rest of you don’t. I’ve been applying for seven years to come here. And suddenly, out of the blue, I get a call from Penelope Dare saying I’ve been accepted for this session.”
Brynn huffed. “Well, that’s not how it happened for me,” she said. “Miss Dare saw the description of my work and thought it was special. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh, Christ,” Cassandra said under her breath. She pushed herself out of her seat and went over to the sideboard to refill her drink.
I let it go. Brynn was obviously going to be of no help, and it was best not to engage her at the moment.
“It was Henry’s story that really got me thinking,” I went on, turning to him. “Do you feel comfortable telling everyone? Or should we leave it between us?”
“Not at all!” he said, holding his glass aloft. “I’ll have you all know that I was conceived right here at Cliffside.”
This brought the room to a standstill.
Cassandra slid in next to him. “Well, you little devil,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “When were you going to let us in on this secret?”
“Oh, it’s no secret,” he said. “My mother was a nurse here, back in the day. I didn’t mention it last night—that was Brynn’s story. But I know for a fact that it’s one of the reasons why I was accepted to come here. Penelope Dare called me personally.”
