Cabin by the Lake

by Desiree Douglas

  “You’re safe now,” he said. “They took him away.”

  She blinked slowly in response.

  “Sheriff Jenkins said he’s an escaped convict, and that he’s been stalking you. But he won’t be bothering you again.”

  She closed her eyes and didn’t open them again.

  “Let her rest,” Vivian said.

  The two of them stepped out into the hallway. “I’m sorry,” Mike said. “So much has happened today, I’m just trying to understand. Drugs? Prison? I hate to admit it, but I Googled her, and I found nothing about Lydia Steadman.”

  “You wouldn’t, because she changed her name. She wanted to start over,” she explained. “When she was two years old her biological father, Kip Steadman, left and she got a new stepfather, Paul Brown. Katie insisted that he adopt the girls and give them his last name. He didn’t stick around, but his name did. She’s been Lydia Brown ever since, until she legally changed back to her birth name, Steadman, just before she came here. She so wanted all of her past to be behind her.”

  “This afternoon, the accusations her mother was making,” he said, trying to sort things out, “Lydia said it wasn’t true.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t. When it came time for the trial, everything happened so fast. As usual, Katie tried to hide the facts from us, and then it was too late. Todd and I would have hired a good lawyer for her, but instead she got an inept public defender who advised her to plead no contest to the charge of drug trafficking. She was innocent, but the prosecutor’s case was wrapped around the fact that no one could be that naïve and not know they were being used.”

  A tear ran down Vivian’s cheek and she swiped at it absentmindedly. “That’s our Lydia, though. Sweetly naïve, trusting to a fault, and the daughter I should have had.”

  Mike grasped her hand and glanced at his watch. “I know this is terrible timing, but I have to go.”

  Vivian looked at him uncomprehendingly.

  “I don’t want to leave, but I have to. The doctor says she’s going to be okay. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He searched Vivian’s face for understanding, but found none.

  Her expression was guarded as she gazed at him. “You do what you have to do,” she said coldly, and turned to go back into Lydia’s room, dismissing him from her world.

  He walked down the hospital corridor with leaden feet. He had never felt so torn in his life. The woman he loved was lying on that bed, and the responsibility of the lives of hundreds of people hung over him like a teetering boulder on the edge of a precipice. People’s jobs were at stake. Corporations didn’t run themselves and time had run out for him. Responsibility had never been a choice for him; it was a natural trait. The timing couldn’t be worse, but he knew what he had to do.

  Back in the waiting room he was met with a crowd. Deuce and Emily Colbert were there, along with Mr. Lincoln and Betsy. Word had spread quickly. Vivian’s friends from the women’s shelter had rushed to the hospital to lend their support. Violence was a rarity in this small community. Old friends that she thought had fallen by the wayside were gathering in support. Pete and Ally talked quietly with Dugger until he left the waiting area to join Vivian, leaving Mike to fend for himself.

  When he asked if anyone had the number of a taxi service, Deuce and Emily offered to drive him. They stopped by Vivian’s so he could gather his belongings from the cabin, and they patiently walked to the lake as they waited to drive him to the airport.

  It took him just minutes to get what he needed. As he was leaving, his hand lingered on the doorknob. There was one more thing he wanted to do.

  Needed to do, for luck. He turned back and tore off a sheet of notebook paper and began to write.

  On the way to the airport, Deuce apologized for his brother’s behavior at the IHOP. He was embarrassed, and said, “Emily and I hope Ace will agree to a stint in rehab.”

  “And maybe your father will support you this time,” Emily put in, “instead of turning a blind eye to Ace’s misbehavior.”

  “I hope so,” Mike said, although he found it hard to concentrate on the conversation, his thoughts back at the hospital with Lydia. That unpleasant incident at the restaurant seemed to have happened a long time ago, instead of just this morning.

  He boarded the plane for North Carolina, his emotions in turmoil. He was determined to expedite his business and return before she even knew he was gone.

  It is said that man proposes, but God disposes. Mike had no way of knowing what actually lay in store for him.

  Chapter 19

  Vivian peered out the window again to check on Lydia, the house quiet without the usual drone of the TV in the background. She hadn’t even watched the news since Lydia’s attack. Her every waking moment was focused on her niece’s recuperation.

  Lydia sat motionless in the Adirondack chair at the pier’s end, as she had for the last week and a half. She was looking better now; the swelling had gone down in her face, and the purple bruises were fading to yellows and browns. Her ribs were still wrapped tightly, but she was moving around well. It was her vacant eyes that worried Vivian. Her niece had always been quick to spring back from unpleasantness, to regain her cheerful enthusiasm, and now that didn’t seem to be happening.

  Each day she ate only a few bites of the food Vivian brought to her, and she stayed wrapped in a blanket in the sun gazing at the lake, in spite of the fine weather they were having. She had lost weight and her cheeks had taken on a hollow look.

  Vivian and Dugger had gone to the cabin and cleaned up the blood stains, and erased all signs of the attack. She tried to talk about the cabin, but she couldn’t pique Lydia’s interest in the renovation, and that worried her, considering how enthusiastic she had been about it.

  She herself had not heard from Mike, and she didn’t know if Lydia had. Lydia didn’t have her phone unless Vivian brought it out to her. But she never saw her check it. Mike hadn’t called the hospital that she knew of. She wondered if he had even tried to get in touch with Lydia personally.

  This Rocco character, as Lydia called him, was extradited back to Tennessee, much worse for the wear, and Vivian could relax on that point. As much as they could piece together, Lydia had injured him quite badly before Mike got there, fending him off long enough to be rescued, just before he could kill her.

  And Dog had done his part, bless him. She dug a tissue out of her apron pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

  She no longer felt they were in danger, but she was glad Dugger was around. He couldn’t seem to stay away, constantly running interference with news crews who were rabid for a statement, screening phone calls and bringing in food sent by friends. Pete and Ally had been by a few times, and Vivian was grateful for their steady friendship. She was thankful, though, that things were beginning to settle down.

  She had to admit she was growing accustomed to Dugger’s presence, depending on him, in fact. It bothered her that she was beginning to feel so comfortable with him so quickly. But the stress had been so high in the last week or so, it seemed as if a lot more time had passed. Things had been chaotic; it felt good to have him there, steady and reliable, hanging out in the background ready to fill in and support whatever was needed.

  Dugger came up behind her as she stood at the window and slipped his arms around her waist. Just a few days ago she would have been embarrassed and uncomfortable with this intimate touch. Now she leaned back against his sturdy chest without thinking, exhausted, her mind on Lydia.

  “She’ll be all right,” he said.

  She absentmindedly crossed her arms over his. “I hope so.”

  The next morning Lydia woke up in her bed without any real memory of having crawled under the covers. She was confused at first, but a jumble of scenes spilled into her brain and she sat up, rubbing her temples. She wanted to go back to the fog that had entombed her mind, but couldn’t. She remembered Rocco attacking her. And fighting for her life. She was frankly astonished to find herself alive and well, after the m
emory returned of giving herself up for dead.

  She remembered bits and pieces from the hospital. Vivian, Dugger, the pastor of Franklin Methodist Church, their encouragement. She remembered Vivian telling her that Mike had to leave. The rest was a blur of scenes, sunlight, darkness and soothing words that had little meaning.

  It was all too much. She threw the covers back and went to the bathroom where she examined herself in the mirror. She was astonished to see her thin face with the remains of a stitched-up scar on her cheek, faint ochre coloring around it. When she came downstairs thirty minutes later, showered and dressed, Vivian eyed her apprehensively, a surprised look on her face.

  “Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said, sliding the skillet off the hot burner. “I see you washed your hair.”

  Lydia gave her a wry smile.

  “I’m taking that as a good sign. Can I interest you in some sausage and eggs?”

  “I think I could definitely eat.” She slipped into a chair.

  Vivian cracked two eggs into the skillet and shook her head in wonder. “Feeling better? You certainly look better.”

  “My head feels clearer now. Everything sort of came back to me when I woke up this morning. Before, it felt like I was walking around in a dream. I think I owe my life to Dog,” she said, adding casually, “and Mike.” She tore a piece of toast in half and added butter and a smear of strawberry preserves.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from him?” Vivian slid the plate of eggs across the table.

  She sighed and shook her head. “No, have you?”

  “No. And frankly, I can’t understand it. He said he had to leave, but he’d be back as soon as he could. Then, not a word. That just doesn’t sound like him.”

  She waved her fork dismissively, but Vivian could see the hurt in her eyes. “I guess he went back to wherever he came from.”

  “I know where he came from,” Vivian said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I recognized him before he set foot on our porch, that day it was storming and he came in out of the rain.”

  “You recognized him? What are you talking about?”

  Vivian grinned. “I watch the news, remember? Although heaven only knows what I’ve missed since you got attacked. Anyway, his face had been plastered all over Nancy Grace for weeks in a big scandal involving a murder-for-hire plot to kill his father—by his brother and sister, no less—and he got accused of the murder.”

  Lydia gasped. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my business to tell.” She shrugged. “It was obvious when he arrived that he wanted to remain anonymous. I figured it would all come out in good time.”

  Lydia shook her head, amazed. “You always were tight-lipped. Is his name really Mike Rodgers?”

  Vivian smiled. “Rodgers Construction, does that ring any bells?”

  “Oh no, you’re kidding.” The connection slowly clicked into place. Rodgers Construction was one of the biggest construction companies in the southeast. She just never put him together with that Rodgers. She covered her face with her hands. “I feel like such an idiot! How could I be so dense?”

  “In your defense,” Vivian said, “he never put himself forward as anything but a regular guy, just passing through.”

  “That’s it then.” Lydia pushed back her plate. “I knew he was rich. I mean, that became obvious. But I didn’t know we were talking about over-the-moon rich. I guess he just needed some R and R. He had a little fun time with the normal folks, and now he’s gone.” She was quiet for a minute. “I just thought, you know, that he’d at least call or something. You know, check on me.”

  “I’m disappointed in him, too,” said Vivian quietly.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters.” Vivian watched a tear slide down her niece’s cheek. She wanted to tell Mike a thing or two. She had his number; maybe she would.

  Lydia stood up. “I think I’m going to take a walk down to the cabin, maybe putter around there for a while.”

  Vivian nodded approvingly. She had worried about Lydia’s lethargic state, after she seemed to be recovering so well physically. “A little walk will be good for you, I think. Just don’t over-do it,” she warned protectively.

  Lydia strolled slowly along the path. She missed Mike. She missed Dog. She was glad to be alive, but she felt empty, like she had opened a box on Christmas morning and found nothing in it. She knew all along she and Mike could not end up together, but the heart wants what the heart wants, regardless of reality.

  She would get over him, she supposed, in time. But she would never be the same, especially since there had been no closure. No get-well flowers. No call, no text. She checked her phone this morning and it became clear that Mike’s interests lay elsewhere. Maybe a clean break was for the best.

  She sat on the cabin steps for a while, resting. She was weaker than she thought. Her mind drifted to the times she and Mike spent here, laughing at nonsensical things, sharing memories with him about the cabin. She thought of Malcolm and Liz, and that beautiful love note. Suddenly, she didn’t know why, she wanted to read it again.

  She went inside, sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, and tilted up the loose board. She looked in, confused at what she saw. Now, on top of the pile, there was a different piece of paper, one torn from a spiral-bound notebook, the edge ragged and the page folded in half. She picked it up, her heart beating faster, and opened it. Tears blurred her eyes as she read:

  Lydia,

  Wait for me, my darling. If the gods allow, we’ll be together again soon.

  Love forever, Mike.

  She couldn’t believe her eyes. When had he left that? The day she was attacked? The day he left? Tears stung her eyes.

  She heard footsteps pounding up the cabin steps and across the porch. Vivian opened the door and paused, a stricken look on her face.

  “What is it?” Lydia looked into her eyes, her heart suddenly filled with dread. “Is it Brittany? Dugger?”

  “I was watching the morning news, and I saw it,” Vivian said, out of breath. “I told you it was important to keep up with the news. I told you—”

  “For heaven’s sake, Aunt Vi, tell me what happened.”

  Her aunt looked as if she could hardly find the words. “There was a wreck.”

  “A wreck?” She couldn’t comprehend.

  “It’s Mike,” Vivian said, her voice choked with emotion. “He was in a wreck, after his plane landed in North Carolina, on his way to his office. I’m sorry, honey. It’s bad.”

  Chapter 20

  Vivian and Lydia stood holding hands in the landscaped yard at the cabin, looking around in awe at everything that had been accomplished in the past year. A driveway had been poured from the curving road above them, ending in a new garage attached to the side of the cabin, but the wooded path was still the quickest way to get to the house. A beautiful gazebo with bench seating graced the end of a new pier that jutted out into the water, the old aluminum canoe tied up at the end.

  They stepped into the cabin through new glass sliders, and Lydia was unable to hide her excitement as she was finally able to reveal the finished renovation to Vivian. She had banned her aunt from the cabin for the last two weeks while she put the finishing touches on the interior.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful!” Vivian exclaimed, her hand over her heart. “I never thought it could look like this.”

  Patterned drapes that Vivian had sewn hung at the windows, graceful and elegant. Red and blue pillows—Lake Blue, Lydia thought when she saw the color—dotted Dugger’s over-stuffed leather couch and the new chairs in front of the fireplace. The big, square ottoman from Vivian’s living room, the one that Uncle Todd had propped his feet on for so many years, had been re-upholstered and sat in the middle of a large, plush wool rug that anchored the room.

  The log walls had been cleaned and polished, and the result was a warm, inviting room that felt brighter and bigger than it had
before.

  Her chest swelled with pride as her aunt noticed one beautiful detail after another, pointing out the refinished hardwood floors. “I thought they were going to be too dark, but they’re perfect. You were right; those rugs make all the difference. It came together beautifully. You have a real gift.”

  “I’m so happy you love it. Wait till you see the upstairs,” she said, picking up the front of her dress to keep from tripping on the stairs. The entire second floor had been Sheetrocked, covering the rough log walls and brightening the space. A walk-in closet was added to the master bedroom which was decorated in a masculine nautical theme. Vivian had made the navy blue and white striped draperies and matching duvet cover, and she was so pleased to see everything put together.

  The three sets of bunk beds were gone from the north-facing bedroom, and the space was now divided to accommodate a cozy den, a small office area, and a bedroom with an en suite.

  “This bathroom is to die for,” said Vivian. “I didn’t realize there was so much wasted space up here. A double vanity, a shower and a soaker tub; I had no idea this would turn out to be so elegant. It was so rough and rugged before.”

  “It did turn out well,” she agreed. “And I love the skylight!”

  “Yes, I never would have thought of that, but it adds so much natural lighting. Oh, and the little chandelier over the tub! You have such a talent for this sort of thing!”

  “Thank you,” Lydia said, excitedly. “I got two more clients this week.”

  “Really? Congratulations! But how will you find the time for more? You really need to slow down some.”

  “These are both small jobs, but I finished Deuce and Emily’s house two weeks ago, so I should be able to work them in. With the wedding and everything, I have been so busy.”

  “I’ll say,” Vivian agreed. She cupped Lydia’s face in her hands. “I’m so happy for you.”

  She gave her aunt a long hug. “I never thought I could be this happy; I want to pinch myself.”