Cabin by the Lake

by Desiree Douglas

“It’s not a bar, Mom. It’s Barney’s Diner.”

  “Whatever. That’s so trashy. You’re twenty-eight years old, for gosh sakes. Don’t you think you should look for a job that’s a little classier?”

  “I’m looking, Mom. Anne is trying to help me find something better.”

  “Anne, your old parole officer,” she said, disapproval apparent in her voice. “I can’t believe the people you choose for friends. I hate to say it, Lydia, but frankly, I’m embarrassed to tell my friends what you do for a living. At least your sister Brittany is—”

  “I’ve really got to go. Talk to you later.” She hung up before she could hear about her beautiful, successful sister. There was just so much she could take. It never changed. Her mother could find a way to work some sort of criticism into any conversation.

  She replaced the receiver on the old wall phone and leaned her head against it.

  “You okay?” asked Barney. He was sixty-five, rough around the edges, but he’d been very kind to her and gave her as many hours a week as he could.

  “I need a minute,” she said.

  “Sure, the morning rush is slowing; take a break.”

  She locked herself in the grungy bathroom in the back and began to cry. Uncle Todd had been a huge influence in her life. As men rotated in and out of her mother’s life, Todd had been the one constant father-figure who had always been there. Strong, quiet and steady, he was always there for a hug and would let her hang around in his garage while he worked on a project, listening as she chattered on incessantly, nodding his approval when she looked to see if he was paying attention.

  He and Aunt Vi were like one entity, always together, and when she was with them, she felt surrounded by safety and love. Time seemed to slow down when she was at the lake. She and Brittany stayed with them the summer she was nine while her mother was on her honeymoon with her third husband. Vivian taught her to sew that summer, patiently showing her how to hand-stitch neatly and evenly, giving her projects a professional look.

  When she got home that fall, she’d been full of creative fervor, and made colorful tie-dyed pillows for her bed with matching curtains. She was eager to have a more grown-up room, and she worked tirelessly, painting peace signs on picture frames and stringing beads to hang on the wall above her bed. She hot-glued scraps of fabric on the border of her bulletin board, and was so pleased with the results. She thought it might be the coolest bedroom ever.

  A month later they moved to a McMansion in a gated neighborhood—a step up, socially—and Katie hired a professional decorator to design the entire house, top to bottom. All of her creative work was discarded in favor of a tasteful white canopy bed with monochromatic shades of peach and heavy flowered drapery tied back around the cushioned window seat.

  She felt as if she were living in someone else’s room, someone who was boring and, quite possibly, already dead. That whole house seemed like a museum to her, and she was never allowed to insert her own personal touches that would make the room her own.

  But Vivian’s influence served her well now. She and Jessie had decorated their apartment with every thrift store and yard sale find that they could drag home. Her creative juices flowed. Everything in the apartment had been repainted, re-glued or reupholstered. The result was a cheerful environment that she knew was tacky—because her mother had said so during her one visit—but she was very comfortable there. It fit her personality and her budget. She felt extremely fulfilled when she resurrected something that had been thrown away and made it beautiful and useful again.

  She would like to do the same with her own life. If she could just paint over her past with a fresh coat of re-do, and embroider over hurtful words that should never have been said, she could escape the burden of the bad decisions that haunted her.

  But now Uncle Todd was dead. Dead was dead; final and over. She didn’t even get to say goodbye. It may have happened two years ago, but it was right now to her. She splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the spotted mirror. She didn’t like what she saw, but she didn’t know how to change it.

  She could hear the lunch-crowd noise picking up, and knew she had to get back to work. Barney was a patient man, but she was grounded in reality, and the tips she received made all the difference between paying her bills and going under. She pulled herself together and went back to waitressing, a smile on her face and a spring in her step. One didn’t get big tips for being a sour puss.

  Now she explained to Jessie that they had been very close at one time, but she hadn’t seen her aunt and uncle in ten years.

  “Are you going to the funeral?”

  “No, you’re not going to believe this, but he died two years ago. My mother just got around to telling me this morning.”

  She slipped out of her shoes and propped her feet on the coffee table. It felt so good to be off her feet, she didn’t think she had the energy to get up again.

  “This was your aunt and uncle who live on the lake, right?”

  “Yes, and I wish I could have been at the funeral.”

  Jessie shook her head. “Your mother is a real piece of work.”

  She rolled her shoulders, feeling the tension slowly leave her body. She couldn’t get her mind off of Vivian. She should call her. Or write a letter. Or send a card. But she couldn’t. Not after the way she’d behaved the last time she saw her. She didn’t think Vivian would want to hear how sorry she was that Uncle Todd died, especially now that two years had passed. She was sure Aunt Vi thought she didn’t care. She ached inside for the closeness they had once shared that she’d thrown away so recklessly.

  She could remember, when she was little, pretending that Vivian was her real mother. Life was slow and uncomplicated when she lived at the lake. It was only for short periods of time, vacations and summers, but those visits stood out in her mind more clearly than the rest of her life, where all of Katie’s attention was centered on her sister Brittany.

  Vivian never found fault with her. She always seemed to be interested in what she thought, and what she said. Everything she knew about cooking, she learned from her. She patiently let her help in the kitchen, even though there was always a big mess to clean up. She took up for her when her mother criticized because she’d gotten her clothes dirty down by the lake catching frogs, or her hair hadn’t been brushed.

  “Let her be a kid,” Vivian had said one Sunday morning in her defense.

  Her words just made Katie snatch the brush through Lydia’s tangles even harder, and that morning Vivian grabbed the brush from her sister’s hand.

  “You’re hurting her.”

  Katie was angry. “I told her to get ready. She knew we had to leave for church soon. And what does she do? Goes up to the garage and pesters Todd when she should have been minding me. The way she looks is a reflection on me. Give me that brush.”

  Vivian stood her ground. “I’ll finish. You go on and—”

  Katie grabbed the brush but Vivian wouldn’t let go. They stood frozen in a tug-of-war for a long moment, Katie glaring at her older sister, but Vivian was stronger. By that time Lydia had tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Fine!” Katie finally said, and leaned over, her face close to her daughter’s. “You are a brat!”

  When she stomped out, Vivian gathered Lydia in her arms. “You are definitely not a brat,” she said, wiping away her tears. “You’re perfect, and I think you have the most beautiful hair; not all crazy like mine.” She shook her cascade of unruly curls and made her niece laugh. She began to gently brush out the snarls and by the time Todd cranked the car, they looked like the picture-perfect family.

  Now Lydia shook her head to clear out the memories. Thinking about the past made her sad. She went to bed exhausted, and the next morning looked forward to a better day.

  The diner was busy, and she pulled a double shift because her relief was a no-show. She often came home alone after Barney’s closed at two in the morning, and never thought much about it. But this time it was differ
ent. She had no sooner parked her Volkswagen in front of the apartment and gotten out when three skulking figures emerged from the gloom beside her front stoop.

  “Hey, baby. Long time, no see.” She recognized the man as Leon, one of Rocco’s old clients. He was one of the rough crowd she tried hard to avoid. His companions looked even meaner than he did. One was tall and bald, and the other had tattoos of teardrops dripping from the corner of one eye.

  Her heart slammed against her chest.

  “You remember me, right? Sure, I see you do.”

  “Hi, how are you?” she said, trying to casually slip by, as if this encounter were a normal chance meeting of old friends.

  “Hold up,” he said. “See, my friends and me, we’re in a bad way and we’re lookin’ to score. You know?”

  “Sorry,” she said, backing up the steps. Leon was twitching as he talked, and she could see that he was, indeed, in a bad way. “I don’t know anyone who’s into that anymore. Sorry.”

  “Come on now, don’t be holdin’ back on your old pal.”

  “I don’t have any drugs, Leon.”

  “Lemme see,” Baldy said, snatching her purse from her and dumping out the contents in the middle of the street.

  “Hey, no need to get rough.” Leon chastised Baldy in a friendly tone, even though his twitching was getting worse. He turned to Lydia, shuffling from foot to foot as he reached out and took her arm. She could feel his grip jittering through her jacket sleeve. “Look, we’ve got to roll. Sorry about your purse,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “But, see, here’s the problem: we’re short. We need another hundred to score tonight. You look like you could spot me a hundred, Lydia. Huh? See, I wouldn’t ask but—”

  He was getting closer as he spoke, leaning in, and she was so frightened she could hardly breathe. She reached into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out the cash. “Here,” she said, pushing the money into his hands. “That’s all I’ve got.”

  “Oh hey, thanks,” he said, backing away. “You’re a good person, Lydia. I’ll see you around.”

  She watched them leave feeling a numbness wash over her. She walked out into the street and gathered her things, stuffing them back in her purse.

  Once safely inside the apartment, she clasped her hands together in her lap, trying to stop shivering. That wasn’t the first time she’d been approached by someone looking for drugs. But it was the scariest. That scene could have gone so much more wrong than merely losing a hundred dollars, although that was bad enough. As strung out as the three of them had looked, they could easily have forced their way inside and stolen everything of value, and hurt her and Jessie.

  Or worse.

  She didn’t know how to outrun a reputation when she had nowhere else to go and no money to get there.

  She needed help. She lay down on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest in the fetal position, not bothering to undress any more than toeing off her shoes. She pulled the blanket over her head and closed her eyes as tears began to wet her pillow. As tired as she was, sleep was a long time coming.

  The next morning, she called her old parole officer. Anne had just told her about a new program that helped low-risk felons find jobs in the corporate world. Maybe that would pan out for her.

  She knew she could no longer stay there in that apartment, not now that Leon had connected the dots and knew where she lived. She knew he’d be back, along with his strung-out buddies, and she no longer felt safe. She not only wanted to move to a new apartment now, she wanted to move to another state or, better yet, another country. Tennessee didn’t feel like home anymore.

  When Anne came by the apartment the next evening, she had the answer to her prayers. Her great-uncle was a lawyer in Georgia, and he had agreed to interview Lydia for a job as a receptionist in his law firm. It seemed too good to be true. Anne offered to drive her down and introduce her, and see if she would be a good fit for the firm.

  That sounded great. The only drawback was that her uncle’s law firm was in Franklin, Georgia, the small town in which Vivian lived. That could be very awkward, with all the water that had gone under the bridge between them. She was sure her aunt hated her now, and as much as she would love to move to a new location and start over, there were so many memories there. She felt that this was a cruel joke. Could she really make this happen? This was a wonderful opportunity, and the least she could do was make the effort and check it out.

  They left early Sunday morning and drove down, meeting with Anne’s great-uncle when the office was closed. That way the interview would remain private and her past history would be protected.

  Mr. Lincoln met them in the reception area, and the interview lasted all of thirty minutes. He was elderly, but a man of quick decisions. Lydia loved what she saw, and wanted the job more than she’d wanted anything before.

  With no waste of words, he stood and held out his hand. “I think you’ll do nicely.”

  She clasped his hand. “You mean I’ve got the job?”

  “It’s yours if you want it.”

  “Oh, I want it,” she assured him, excited beyond belief. “Thank you so much. You won’t be sorry, sir.”

  “I’m sure I won’t.” He gently ushered them out the door with an affectionate hug for Anne. “Betsy’s waiting for me. I’ll see you bright and early next Monday morning, young lady.”

  Her head was spinning as they drove home. For once, she felt the need to call her mother. She needed a loan to buy a few new outfits until she got on her feet, although she hated to ask. She borrowed Anne’s cell phone and made the call.

  But she didn’t have to ask. In her mother’s world, appearances were everything, and she was overjoyed to learn of Lydia’s new job. Katie started making plans immediately. “I’m checking my appointment book. Let’s see… Okay, I’ll pick you up Wednesday morning and we’ll go shopping for a whole new wardrobe. You certainly can’t work in a law office with those rags you own.”

  “That’s not necessary, Mom,” she protested. “I just need a small loan.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense. You’re finally moving up in the world and you need to look the part. I’ll pick you up at ten Wednesday morning. Be ready.”

  Lydia thought that had worked out fairly well, but ten minutes later Katie called back stating that she had made arrangements for her to stay with Vivian. She was dismayed by her mother’s interference. “Don’t worry, it’s all arranged, and Vivian is looking forward to seeing you.”

  She doubted that, but she couldn’t do anything about it now. When she ended the call, she was left with the feeling that she was caught up in something that might be bigger than what she could handle. Her mother did that to her. She always felt swept along by a hurricane when Katie was involved.

  She wondered about the phone call to Vivian, and what her aunt really thought. It worried her, but the week ahead was busy and she didn’t have much time to obsess about her future while she was wrapping up the loose ends of her old life. She worked Monday and Tuesday at Barney’s and spent Wednesday power-shopping with her mother.

  That shopping trip did not involve a thrift store or any other bargain clothing store that she usually patronized. Growing up, she had hated shopping with her mother; she was never allowed any input into her choice of style and didn’t feel comfortable in the clothes Katie insisted on buying for her.

  But this time, other than having to endure her mother’s incessant criticism all day, things went well. She loved the clothes she tried on, and was surprised at her mother’s generosity. However, Katie was in her element and enjoying the one thing she was truly passionate about—shopping—and Lydia didn’t think her mother even had a clue about how much her credit card bill was going to be.

  Katie also insisted on buying her a cell phone. She accepted the gift as graciously as she could, but couldn’t help but think that she was starting off her new life with a new monthly bill.

  Her last day at Barney’s was Thursday, and he surprised her
with a going-away party that night. Barney’s wife was there, along with Anne and her family, and Jessie, and a room full of loyal patrons who were there to wish her well.

  Barney ceremoniously presented her with a silver bracelet with a clover leaf charm to remind her of her roots, he said in a toast, in case her success ever went to her head and she started to get uppity. That was greeted with a round of cheers, and she left with her heart filled with the warmth of friendships that she knew she would miss.

  She spent Friday wrapping up business, which included a stop by the courthouse to make her name change official; she was serious about starting a new life. Saturday was hectic, spent clearing out all of her unnecessary possessions, which surprisingly, were quite a lot. She left all of her furniture for Jessie, but there was an amazing amount of things she had accumulated that she either threw away or donated. In a way, it was sad, she thought, that all of her relevant possessions fit into a Volkswagen Beetle.

  She left early Sunday morning with her biggest fear being how she would be received by her aunt. If it became clear that Vivian wasn’t happy having her there, she would move into an apartment somewhere in town. But as the miles passed beneath her wheels, it really felt as if she was going home instead of moving to a new location. She had thought of nothing else for a week, warm memories from her childhood causing her to hope that things between her and Vivian could be as they used to be.

  Close now, she caught a glimpse of the lake house through the trees. Another few twists and turns and her new life would begin. She parked and saw Vivian standing on the porch waiting for her. She took a moment as she got out of the car and looked up at the ridge across the road, stalling. But as her eyes swept the ridge, she had the odd feeling that she was being watched.

  A chill ran down her arms, but the weird feeling passed after a few moments. She took a deep breath and turned to greet her aunt for the first time in a decade.

  Chapter 2

  Mike Rodgers squatted on his haunches, resting as he surveyed the isolated log house by the lake below him. The house was occupied; a Jeep sat in the driveway, and a thin tendril of smoke wafted from the main chimney. A small cabin separated by woods to the left of the main house looked abandoned and unkempt.