by Joe Hart
“Shaun, do you see the lake?” Evan asked, pointing toward the water while he navigated a curve.
Shaun shifted in his seat. “Ahhh,” he said, as the lake vanished behind a veil of trees. “Wha?”
Evan glanced in the rearview mirror, taking in his son’s disappointed features. “It’ll come back, buddy, wait a second.”
The road twisted to the right, and a sign appeared, hewn in rustic letters and hanging from a post made to look like a pine tree. “Mill River welcomes you, population six hundred ninety-three,” Evan read aloud. “Six hundred ninety-five now, huh, buddy?”
Shaun smiled in the mirror.
Does he even understand you?
Evan clenched his jaw and shoved the niggling voice away. He understands me, he thought. I can look into his eyes and see that he does.
The thorn of doubt that accompanied him everywhere tried to raise its voice again, but he shut it down, humming a tuneless melody instead. Ahead, Mill River came into view.
It was a postcard come to life. The highway became Main Street, with a fifteen-mile-per-hour speed limit. Storefronts lined the left side of the road, while the lake made a panoramic sweep opposite the buildings. A few cafés and coffee shops studded the beginning of the first block, followed by a general store, then a small grocery, and finally a Holiday station. The street rose, and at its top sat a white, steepled church, its bell tower at least fifty feet from the ground.
“Let’s take a little drive and see if we can find the hospital,” Evan said.
When he checked on Shaun in the mirror again, he saw that the boy’s attention hadn’t left the lake since it came back into view. Evan turned left at the first stoplight and followed the side street for two blocks before a brick building marked as “Mill River Elementary” appeared. They drove past the school, traveling deeper into what looked like several connected neighborhoods. Just when he was about to turn around, Evan spotted a small sign bearing a blue H with an arrow straight ahead. The road dipped and made a hard left turn before running past a low, glass building set on the right.
Evan coasted into the parking lot but didn’t stop, letting the minivan roll past the automatic front doors of the hospital. Its size and architecture were impressive for a town as small as Mill River. When he’d called the pediatric-therapy department two weeks before, the scheduler he spoke with sounded polite and businesslike. She assured him that they could definitely handle all of Shaun’s therapy needs and told him to stop in for a tour of the facility when they got settled.
“This is it, buddy, this is where you’re going to do some work and play. What do you think?”
Shaun laughed, and Evan guided the van back out of the parking lot and returned to the main street. He hadn’t seen the small marina that Jason had described, so Evan turned left and drove toward the looming church at the top of the hill. A battered sign came into view, a badly drawn bass leaping from an equally childish-looking pond gracing its center, with “Collins Outfitters” arched over the top. Evan turned into the parking lot, which provided an excellent view of Long Lake.
Shaun laughed again, and Evan’s spirits buoyed. Perhaps this had been a good idea. Shaun seemed to love the lake, and the town was picturesque. He sent a silent thanks to Jason, promising himself he would deliver it verbally next time they spoke.
Collins Outfitters consisted of three buildings pieced together by rudely constructed hallways topped with a mixture of shingles and faded tin. The front of the structure had a long overhang, with several benches and chairs stacked beneath it. Two of the chairs were occupied by a pair of men dressed almost identically in faded jeans, red suspenders, and blue chambray work shirts. Even their bald heads glistened the same way, and Evan had to make himself quit staring at the twins, who had to be approaching their eighties. Instead he looked to the right and saw a long, concrete ramp leading down to a makeshift pier and boat landing. Four aluminum fishing boats and a wide pontoon bobbed in the waves beside the long dock. A man and a boy, each clutching fishing rods, stood at its end, casting into the rolling water.
Evan shut the van off and turned to face Shaun. “Ready to go on a boat ride?”
A look of delight lit up Shaun’s face, and he began to fiddle with his seat harness. But his small fingers couldn’t manipulate the two buttons to release the fastener.
“Let me help you,” Evan said, climbing out. He strode around the side of the van and opened Shaun’s door, uncoupling the belts before lifting him from his seat.
Immediately Shaun pointed toward the lake. “Dere?”
“Yep, we’re going out there,” Evan said, walking toward the screen door of the building.
A gust of wind came off the lake and ruffled their hair with the cool touch of spring. Spring breezes always smelled and felt different than autumn winds. There was hope in the air during spring, and only a promise of frost with fall.
“Mornin’ ta ya!”
The voice brought Evan out of his musing, and he stopped a few yards before the door as a man pushed through it. His clean-shaven face beamed, and a pair of coal-black eyebrows stood out beneath a shock of white hair. He held out his hand as he approached.
“Jacob Collins,” he said, shaking Evan’s hand with a callused grip. “You must be Evan.” Jacob’s voice had a Celtic lilt that sounded a little like song when he spoke. “And this must be Shaun.”
He flattened his hand so that Shaun could slap it with his own. After two tries that missed their mark, Evan guided Shaun’s hand onto Jacob’s.
“What a nice smile you’ve got, boyo!” Jacob said, as Shaun grinned. “Jason told me ta look fer ya this mornin’,” he said to Evan.
“Yes, sorry if we’re early,” Evan said. He shifted Shaun into a more comfortable spot against his hip.
“Been up since the crack a dawn, you won’t see me sleepin’ late, specially this time a year. The opener was last weekend, ya know.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. My dad and I used to go out every year. Funny how you forget if you don’t keep the tradition.”
“Aye. Jason’s father, God rest his soul, and I used ta go out each spring together. I’ve known Jason since he was wee-high. He tells me ya grew up side by side?”
Evan smiled. “Yes we did, and that’s a good way to put it, we didn’t spend too much time apart.”
“Jason’s a good lad, and we’re glad ta have ya both up in the north again.”
“Thanks, we’re excited to get settled in, and thank you for agreeing to bring us to the island.”
Jacob waved his words away. “Ain’t nothin’. Now, I’m guessin’ ya got some gear. I’ll have ya back down ta the dock.”
Evan returned to the van and, after placing Shaun in his car seat, reversed the vehicle down to the pier, backing up until Jacob gave him the signal to stop. The rear end of the van was packed full of their belongings, and Evan felt a sense of pride at having managed to fit everything that they needed.
As he and Jacob hauled various suitcases and bags onto the pontoon, Evan surveyed the lake. It was wider than he’d first estimated, at least half a mile across in some places, and when he looked to the left, he couldn’t see its opposite end. Several fishing boats swayed in the swells, their occupants only dots that shifted from time to time, betraying the illusion that they were parts of the crafts.
“Somethin’, ain’t it?” Jacob asked.
Evan glanced at him before setting his laptop bag onto the heaping pile within the pontoon. “It sure is. I forgot how beautiful it is up here.”
“It’s a sight, that’s fer sure.” Jacob pointed northeast, across the water, his finger guiding Evan’s eyes to a dark mass he’d mistaken for a large boat. “That’s yer island there. The Fin, it’s called round here.”
“The Fin?”
“Looks like a shark’s dorsal when you get closer.”
Evan stared at the black speck, trying to discern any features. “How far out is it?”
“Eh, maybe a kilometer from the dock. T
akes ten minutes on a calm day, take us fifteen today.” Jacob moved to the back of the minivan and took Shaun’s walker out, then shut the hatch.
Evan watched a boat pass by before returning his attention to the island. It was so far from shore. He hadn’t anticipated it being that far away. What if Shaun had another seizure? What if he got hurt and couldn’t call for help?
He caught himself before the questions pushed him into a full-blown anxiety attack.
“You can park yer van in me lot. I live right here, so I’ll be able ta keep an eye on it,” Jacob said, setting the walker in the pontoon.
“Thank you,” Evan said, but his voice sounded distant, as if the wind had blown it away.
~
The pontoon bounced up and down as they crossed the lake, and several sprays of water speckled them with cold drops, eliciting cries of glee from Shaun each time. Jacob piloted the pontoon without effort, animatedly talking with them about the history of the lake and his own story of how he came to live there.
“Me mum and dad moved here when I was twelve. Bought the land that the shop sits on and started a guidin’ service. Dad would take people out, help ’em catch some fish, and Mum would knit sweaters, sell ’em in the shop.”
“Pretty industrious,” Evan said, readjusting Shaun on his lap.
“Aye, they were workers, and once we got here, I never wanted ta leave. Took over the family business thirty years back when Dad passed.”
The growing mass of trees and rock jutted from the water ahead of the pontoon. Like the lake, the island had appeared smaller at first. The closer they got, the more the land lengthened and took on character. Its shape mimicked the lake around it, but its crescent curved the opposite way, creating the impression of a massive boomerang. Tall pines along the rocky shoreline swayed, while reed grass, not yet above a person’s knee, curled and bent along the banks.
“Did you know Jason’s grandparents very well?” Evan asked.
Jacob shook his head. “Not very. I’d stop out here from time ta time with Ray, but I never knew his parents more than the passing hello.”
Evan nodded, and looked at the island again. The pontoon moved closer to the landmass and Jacob idled the engine down. The outline of a house became clearer above an old dock sticking out into the water like a rude tongue. The house was large, with an attached three-season porch at one end and wide windows cut into its sides. A musical tinkle played on the breeze, and he saw swaying wind chimes attached to the porch’s closest end. Several tall oaks towered over the structure on either side, their branches newly budded with leaves. A gently sloping hill covered in fine grass rolled down to the edge of the property, where it met the lapping waves on a manicured beach. A small, canopied boatlift held a miniature version of the pontoon they rode in, and an aluminum boat lay belly-up near the sand, like some kind of silver fish out of water.
“It’s beautiful,” Evan said.
Shaun jerked excitedly on his lap. “Dere?”
“Yep, buddy, that’s where we’re headed.”
Jacob steered the pontoon to the left side of the dock. Evan spun in his seat and reached out, catching one of the dock’s steel supports, and held on until Jacob climbed out and secured the craft with a few ropes. The gentle rush of waves washing onto the beach was so calming, Evan imagined sitting in the pontoon with Shaun on his lap all day. He was sure they could watch the water run onto the sand and slide away again without ever getting bored.
“What would you like brought out first?” Jacob called from the dock.
“Shaun’s chair, then he can sit in the shade while we unload.”
Jacob nodded and hauled the medical seat, which was equipped with several straps to help keep Shaun upright along with wheels. Evan carried his son to the front of the pontoon and opened the side door, then stepped onto the dock. After positioning Shaun in his chair beneath the shade of a large pine, he helped Jacob unload the pontoon. As he carried a large suitcase up the hill toward the house, Jacob called to him, making him turn back.
“I hope you’ll forgive me, I’ve got ta get back ta the shop, but I’ll unload everythin’ onta the dock fer ya.”
Evan hesitated, a frown attempting to darken his face, then nodded. “That’s fine, Jacob, we really appreciate it.”
Jacob continued stacking their belongings upon the dock in an ever-growing pile. Within a few minutes the pontoon was empty, and Evan helped untie the craft from the dock’s moorings.
He held out a twenty-dollar bill to Jacob, who immediately waved it away. “You have to take it,” Evan said, pushing the money at the older man again.
“No, I don’t,” Jacob said, smiling. “That’s the nice thing about bein’ yer own boss. I’ll settle fer a handshake and maybe a beer next time yer in town. How’s that?”
Evan finally relented and shoved the money into his pocket, then shook Jacob’s outstretched hand. “Sounds like a deal, and thank you again.”
“No problem, boyo. Keep yer daddy in line, eh, Shaun?” Jacob waved at the boy.
Shaun raised a hand, kicked his feet, and smiled.
“Take care, now,” Jacob said, as Evan pushed the pontoon away from the dock.
Soon the motor purred to life, and the boat as well as its captain grew smaller and smaller across the waves.
Evan turned back to the island, surveying the lush forest on the acreage, listening to the wind cutting through the trees, and breathing in the scent of fresh water and pine needles. Shaun waved at him, and he waved back before picking up one of their bags. When he glanced over his shoulder, Jacob had disappeared from sight.
They were alone.
5
A musty blast of air swept past Evan’s face when he opened the door to the house.
Like a crypt opening.
He shook his head, forcing the odd thought away. Hefting Shaun into a better position, he nudged the door open and stepped inside.
They were in a small entryway, with a closet directly opposite them. To the left, a living room opened into a wide space interspersed with comfortable-looking leather furniture. An entertainment center stood against the far wall, with a large flat-screen TV above it. The bank of windows in the room overlooking the lake were dusty but gave a great view of the yard and water.
Evan walked farther into the house, pausing every so often to take in a painting on the wall or a knickknack standing on a shelf. Past the living room was the kitchen, modest and clean, with a long, wooden table in its center. A fridge stood beside a small dishwasher, and another series of windows looked over the backyard, which was more overgrown than the front, hemmed in by trees that obscured the lake from view save a shimmer here and there between their trunks. To the right of the kitchen were two doors.
“Let’s see what’s in here, buddy,” Evan said, and grasped the handle of the door on the left.
It was the master bedroom, a neatly made bed in its center and a walk-in closet off to one side. The windows faced the woods to the south, their growth even thicker than those in the backyard.
A wave of self-consciousness rolled over him as he looked at Jason’s grandparents’ bedroom, as if they would come through the front door any moment and catch him and Shaun intruding in their private space. He shut the door, stanching the invasive feeling.
“How about door number two?” he said, tousling Shaun’s hair. The boy giggled.
Evan grasped the doorknob and pulled. The door swung open—
—to darkness. A set of stairs led straight down and disappeared from sight.
“Basement,” Evan said.
Reaching out, he felt along the wall for a light switch he knew must be there. His fingers found it, a disproportionate amount of relief flowing through him, and snapped it on.
Nothing happened.
Everything below them remained shrouded in black. Evan stepped back and shut the door, pulling his palm away from the knob as though it were hot.
“Let’s go find your room,” Evan said.
&nb
sp; They moved through the living room to the opposite end of the house. The three-season porch branched off to the left, its hexagonal shape holding a gas grill, four lawn chairs, and a small table. The only bathroom in the house sat before two other doors, and when Evan opened them, he found that they were almost identical guest bedrooms. Picking the larger of the two, he went inside and set Shaun down on the edge of a twin bed.
“What do you think, buddy? Is this your room?”
Shaun’s eyes roamed the ceiling and flitted across the closet and chest of drawers. He pointed above Evan’s head, his upper teeth biting into his lower lip.
“Fa, fff ...”
Shaun paused, his jaw working to dislodge the word he wanted. Evan mimicked his expression and coaxed him with the same sound.
“Fffff.”
“F-f-f-fan,” Shaun said, and smiled at the ceiling fan hanging in the middle of the room.
“Good boy,” Evan said, and hugged his son close. “That’s right, that’s a fan. Can you say it again?”
“F-fan!”
“High-five!”
Shaun raised his small hand and placed it against his father’s much larger one. “Five.”
Evan grinned, and in that moment Shaun looked so much like Elle it hurt his heart. How she would have loved to see his progress. Biting back a line of tears that threatened to spill out, he stood and gazed out of the window at the swaying trees.
“Come on, son. Let’s get the rest of our gear inside.”
~
They worked for the next two hours, Evan hauling their belongings up the short hill and into the house while Shaun watched from his chair in the shade near the front door. Every so often Evan would stop to take in their surroundings. Spring birdsong filtered into the yard from the dense copses of trees to either side of the house. The fresh air tasted good on his tongue, and his muscles burned in an almost pleasant way.
