The Light in the Lake

by Sarah R. Baughman

  “I’m writing the article,” I say. “Maple Lake has been here since the glaciers, Mama—you told me that. I want it to be here for a lot longer. I know Amos would too.”

  Mama stiffens a little bit, but she doesn’t loosen her grip on me.

  “The scientific method says you have to look at everything from lots of different sides,” I say. “And Dr. Li and Mr. Dale and Jake and Tasha, and even Tai, keep talking about pollution from farms, and they say they’re worried about helping the farmers too, but so far I think I’m the only one who’s talked to farmers—Uncle Mark and Aunt Mary.”

  I see Dad smile, just a little, as he releases his hold on me and starts the motor back up. “You’ll figure it out, Ad,” he says.

  Mama opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but then closes it and rests her chin on the top of my head. Dad peels the boat away in an arc, water rising up from the dark. The lights on the boat guide us all the way back to shore, and from there, we go home.

  Chapter 27

  Tai digs in his pocket and pulls out a wrinkled square of newsprint. It’s the article we wrote for the Herald. “My mom saved it for your parents,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’m pretty sure they already got one. Plus, I read it on my phone and saved the screenshots.”

  “I figured,” Tai says. “But you know old people. The more printed copies, the better.”

  I take the newsprint and unfold it. And, okay, it is kind of cool to be able to hold our words in my hands.

  YOUTH VOICES: LET’S PRESERVE MAPLE LAKE, AND FARMS TOO

  After collecting and analyzing water samples throughout Maple Lake, we have found evidence of high phosphorus levels. Phosphorus is an important mineral that helps keep us strong and healthy. However, high amounts of it can be dangerous for our local waterways because it changes the ecosystem. It creates harmful algal blooms that can hurt drinking water and keep people from being able to use the lake. It also hurts fish and other wildlife.

  Phosphorus pollution can come from many different sources, such as new construction projects and lawn treatments near Maple Lake, septic systems that malfunction, and wastewater treatment plants. To help, people can install rain barrels, maintain their septic systems regularly, and stop doing their laundry when it’s raining so that less water goes into the treatment plant. When they mow their lawn, they can let lawn clippings decompose so the grass roots grow strong and absorb more water.

  But in addition to some of the more urban causes of pollution, farms within the watershed also contribute to high phosphorus levels. These farms all have streams on their property that flow into Maple Lake. Since farms are such an important part of Shoreland County, and farmers are so helpful to our community, we need to make sure we support them as they care for their farms and the lake.

  There are things farmers can do differently to help clean up Maple Lake. For example, they can build new manure pits in different places. They can create buffer strips, which are wide sections of plants between streams and pastures that help collect runoff. They can create a nutrient management plan and apply manure only during certain times of year. They can also use cover crops.

  But these changes cost a lot for farmers. And we need farmers for our economy and our land. Local dairy farmer Mary Lago says: “We all love Maple Lake. But changing how we farm can be difficult, and expensive. We are hoping for help, and time, from the state so we can see this lake clean for our grandkids.”

  We think the state should set aside money to help farmers. That way, they can make improvements that would help the lake. Also, farmers should be asked to help with making new environmental rules. They know the most about what it is like to work with the land because they do it all the time and they care about the environment, so we should listen to what they say and trust that they will help. This way, we can keep Maple Lake healthy forever, or at least until another glacier comes through.

  Addie Lago and Tai Jiang

  Young Scientists, Maple Lake Biological Station

  “You going to show it to your aunt and uncle?” Tai asks.

  “They’ve probably already seen it,” I say. “Uncle Mark and Aunt Mary have gotten the paper for, like, ever. And obviously, I had to call Aunt Mary for that quote anyway.”

  The last time I saw Uncle Mark, just after the article came out, I thought he’d walk right past me. But instead he handed me some grain buckets and asked me to walk out and feed the cows, which were milling around the big feeder in the lot outside the barn. He didn’t say much and neither did I. But he did still call me Favorite Niece. And we worked together all afternoon, side by side.

  Tai and I are at the biological station for one last afternoon, cleaning the boat and storing files, helping to close up. Tai’s leaving to go back to New York City tomorrow, where his mom will continue analyzing all the data we collected. And before too long, I’ll be back at middle school. But Mr. Dale came through with his promise—he’s letting me join the Science Club, and I’ll go to the high school to do experiments every week.

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving,” I say.

  “Can’t get rid of us that fast,” Tai says. “Mom has to come back this year to check in at the university. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to come along. I never did that boat ride with Darren.” He smiles, his eyes dancing.

  “I hope so,” I say. “What will you think of, when you think of your favorite parts of Vermont?”

  “Hmmm,” Tai says. When he speaks again, he’s quiet. “Your grandpa and Uncle Mark being really patient when I squirted milk in all the wrong directions. Teaching me how to do it right.”

  “Yeah.” I smile. “They’re good ones to remember.”

  “And you,” he says, “kicking the soccer ball back to me in the office. I know it probably didn’t seem like a big deal but… that’s when I knew you were going to be my friend.”

  Tai hugs just like Amos always did—full of bones and angles, but warmth too.

  I thought I’d feel sad saying goodbye to Tai, but instead I feel okay. It’s not like I’ll never see him again. I just know I will.

  Dr. Li and Mr. Dale come in, hauling stacks of folders that they set down on the table with a soft thud.

  “Addie,” Dr. Li says. “It’s been a pleasure working with you. You’ve done an excellent job this summer.”

  I blush. “Thank you, Dr. Li.”

  “You’ve been through a very hard time, from what Tai and Mr. Dale have told me.” Dr. Li’s kind eyes shine. “Yet you’ve worked incredibly hard. You’re determined. Knowledgeable.”

  “Um, thanks,” I say. “I mean, you’re welcome. I mean… I’m really glad I did this.” I turn to Mr. Dale. “I can totally help whoever becomes the Young Scientist next summer, by the way. You’ll probably have more research to do on the lake. I could show them the ropes before they start.”

  Mr. Dale and Dr. Li look at each other with these weird smiles on their faces. Then Mr. Dale laughs kind of awkwardly and claps his hands together. “Yeah,” he says. “About that… there probably won’t be a different Young Scientist next summer.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Mr. Dale shakes his head and laughs. “Not at all,” he says. “But—I should probably just go ahead and tell you this, but I don’t want you to get upset. We sort of—made the position up. For you.”

  “Huh?” I ask. Now it’s Tai and me looking at each other, confused.

  Mr. Dale smiles so big I forget to be embarrassed.

  “I saw so much potential in you,” he says. “And I knew what a hard year it had been for you, and that Dr. Li had a son your age that you’d probably get along with…” He trails off.

  I can’t believe Mr. Dale made this all up. No wonder Liza hadn’t heard him talk about it in class. I cringe at first; it’s kind of weird to think about somebody doing all that just for me.

  “I know I told you I was really interested in science back when I was your age,” M
r. Dale says. “And there wasn’t anybody telling me to go for it, showing me I could do it. All that’s true. But I don’t think I told you how much time I spent fishing with my little brother on Maple Lake.”

  He takes his wallet out of his back pocket and reaches into one of the slots.

  “Look at this,” he says, “from back in the days when we actually used rolls of film.”

  It’s a picture of a younger Mr. Dale, probably around the age I am now, and a little boy, probably about eight. They’re in a boat, and Mr. Dale has his arm around the boy’s shoulders. The boy’s holding a perch and smiling about as big as a kid could.

  “I know a Maple Lake fan when I see one,” Mr. Dale says. “And Addie, I knew you’d want to help.”

  I think about how it felt heading out on the boat with Tai, the sun on my face and the wind in my hair; and about how much I needed to learn everything I did, no matter how hard it was, if I wanted to save Maple Lake.

  And I smile at Mr. Dale. “Thanks,” I say.

  “Addie wasn’t the only one who stood to benefit from working as a Young Scientist, though,” Dr. Li says, winking at Tai. “When Mr. Dale proposed the arrangement to me, I thought it sounded perfect.”

  “We know,” Tai says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling too.

  “Let’s just say it worked well for everybody,” Dr. Li says. “And Addie, Mr. Dale’s been telling me more about your professional goals too. Did you know there’s a word for an aquatic biologist who studies freshwater ecosystems? You could be a limnologist.”

  Limnologist. The word feels smooth and round on my tongue.

  “I’d love to host you in the city next summer,” Dr. Li says. “There’s an intensive weeklong science camp I’m trying to convince Tai to do… if it doesn’t conflict with pre-season soccer practice, of course. You’d be the perfect candidate.”

  She might notice my blushing and looking at my hands, because she adds: “There’s funding available for talented students like you.”

  “It would be so cool!” Tai says. “You’d really like the city. I could show you my neighborhood, take you to Central Park… even teach you how to ride the subway!”

  My heart leaps with the thrill of seeing a new place. Still, a week away from Maple Lake in summer—I’d miss Mama and Dad. And I don’t know if they’ll even let me go in the first place. But after that night on the boat, Mama asked me if I wanted to go walk the lake trail with her. Maybe when we do, I can ask her about Dr. Li’s science camp. I’m pretty sure she won’t say no right away.

  Chapter 28

  Mama and I are quiet, tightening our boot laces and sticking water bottles into our hiking packs at the trailhead. She and Dad and I have come a long way since the night in the boat, but they haven’t said much about the article since it came out. Dad’s given me hugs and winks, and once even told me he was glad I was helping to find a way to help Maple Lake and farmers. But it’s been harder to tell where Mama stands. She just hasn’t said much, so the article feels like a big rock squeezed between us, at least to me. When Mama actually asked me to get my hiking boots out of the closet and meet her at the car, I was surprised. Nervous. I’m not Amos, and he’s the only person she hiked this trail with before. I still feel fluttery inside, wondering how it will go.

  She walks just ahead of me. It’s a steep, skinny trail, and I watch the tracks her boots make in the dirt. Birds sing around us, chickadees and red-winged blackbirds talking to each other in music. Light drifts through weepy cedar branches and towering ash trees and splotches the ground.

  Then we turn a corner where the path widens, and Mama stops, breathing hard. She reaches behind and motions for me to walk closer. I jog a little to catch up, and we fall into step together.

  “Barbara Ann mailed me a copy of the article,” she says.

  “Oh really?” I try to keep my voice light.

  “I don’t know why she sent it.” Mama pauses, but I can tell she’s not quite finished. Some thoughts are still bubbling there, waiting to come out. “Okay, I can probably guess why. She wanted to make sure we’d really read it.”

  She doesn’t seem upset. Her voice sounds almost soft. Mine is too when I ask: “So did you? Dad told me I did a good job, but—I was wondering what you thought.”

  She stops then, looks at me. “I did read it,” she says. And then she smiles. “You’re a good writer, Ad. I don’t think I ever knew that about you. I’m not sure I was paying attention.”

  Pride flickers inside. “Thanks.”

  “And—you talked about farmers,” she says. “How important they are.”

  “I told you I would,” I say.

  She puts her hand on my shoulder. “You did tell me that. Dad says he hopes the researchers listen to you.”

  I laugh. “He told me that too.”

  “He’s so proud of you,” Mama says. “We… we both are.”

  “Why didn’t you trust me, then?” I ask. “I mean, in the first place?”

  Mama sighs, then pulls me over to one of the big rocks sitting between trees. I didn’t even notice that we’d reached the lookout point, with the whole of Maple Lake unrolled below, so far away it looks as small as my hand. Mama and I sit on the rock, our knees touching, our eyes focused on all the blue.

  “There’s something I want to explain to you,” Mama says. “Do you remember what you said about me, that day you ran off to the lake by yourself?”

  I feel my cheeks flush hot. I don’t really want to think about everything I said.

  Mama’s voice cuts gently in. “You said I’d given up. And I want to say—you’re right. I did give up. What you don’t know is why.”

  The air’s so still now, I can’t hear the birds sing anymore. It feels like the whole forest is waiting for Mama to speak.

  “Addie, you know that all your life I’ve been telling you about Maple Lake,” Mama says. “About the science I remembered from high school. I was a good student, you know. Or maybe you don’t know. But I was.”

  I nod. “Liza told me.”

  “Going away to a four-year college wasn’t an option for me,” she says. “You know, when your grandpa and grandma got sick, they needed me, and money was tight anyway. I don’t regret staying home for them, but I did want something different too. At one point. So I never stopped reading. Environmental science articles, studies focused on local water sources, books about aquatic ecosystems.”

  Mama takes a big drink from her water bottle. When she starts talking again, her words tumble together a little faster, like she’s working toward an end she doesn’t want to think about. “Then, in the last couple of years, I started seeing journal articles about lake pollution in Vermont,” she says. “Nothing about Maple Lake, not yet. It’s such a unique lake, you know, like I always told you—so deep and cold, and Shoreland County is so rural. I know we got the Walmart and the condos, but there’s not nearly as much development here as in other parts of the state.”

  “You told me to look at construction,” I say. “Back when I first started.”

  “I know I did,” she says. “And it was worth looking at. But honestly, I had also read about some regulations the legislature was considering for small farmers based on other parts of the state where water pollution was worse, and I started to worry about what could happen to Uncle Mark and Aunt Mary. I knew Maple Lake was shallowest where the Pine River feeds it, and I just… I had a bad feeling.”

  Mama takes a deep breath and points out at Maple Lake. “Look how blue that is, though. Doesn’t seem like anything could be wrong with it, does it?”

  “Not from up here, I guess,” I say. But I’ve been in it. And I can’t go back anymore to not knowing, not seeing.

  Maybe Mama can’t either. “I started seeing the harmful algal blooms. Just here and there, out walking.”

  My jaw drops open. “You knew about the blooms? You never told me!”

  “I didn’t want to believe it,” Mama says. “I didn’t want to think it could really happen
here. Because if it could, if the lake I knew so well could change, then everything could change. And of course… everything did.”

  I don’t know what to think. All the stories Mama told us about the lake, about glaciers, white whales, the names of trees—she’s probably the reason I want to be a scientist in the first place. But she did what Tai says scientists never should do: she had information and she didn’t do anything about it.

  “And then your brother…” Mama pinches her lips together, then presses her forehead with her fingers. “Last winter. Your brother came to me wanting to tell me something… about the lake.”

  “Amos talked to you about Maple Lake?” I wrap my arms around my waist and shiver even though I’m not cold.

  “He told me he was looking for something in there,” Mama almost whispers. “Begged me to tell him how scientists prove things, so he could too. But I kept putting him off. I didn’t want him investigating the lake. I didn’t want to know what he’d find.”

  My jaw drops open. “He told you about the creature?”

  “No, he didn’t tell me any specifics,” Mama says. “And I guess I didn’t listen very closely either. I didn’t want to. I was thinking of the harmful algal blooms, I guess. I wasn’t looking past what I could see. Eventually, he stopped asking.” She wipes her eyes with one hand, then holds me at arm’s length and looks at me. “When you told us about the creature, I realized what he’d been trying to tell me. I wish I had listened to him. And to you.”

  The whole forest holds its breath. Not even the tiniest breeze ruffles the cedar branches. At the same time, I feel my shoulders sink down. And I do breathe. I take a big, shaky gulp of air.

  So Mama knew something after all. She didn’t know about the creature, but she knew Amos saw something in the lake. Knew he wanted to talk to her about it. She probably felt as guilty as I did.