Summer at Forsaken Lake

by Michael D. Beil

  Nicholas, Charlie, and the twins wore confused looks, but Uncle Nick nodded in agreement. “He is the spitting image of his father, isn’t he? Janet at the library had the same reaction.”

  “It’s remarkable.” She quickly regained her composure and, after setting the salad on the counter, held her hand out for Nicholas to shake. “I apologize, Nicholas. I’m Charlie’s mom, Franny Brennan. You must think I’m crazy, the way I’m staring at you. I was … Well, I knew your dad when he was about your age—I was Franny Sherbrooke back then. I’ll bet you’re probably sick to death of people telling you how much you look like him.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “It’s okay. Doesn’t really happen that often.” Even so, he knew it was true; he’d seen pictures of his dad as a kid, and the two of them looked more alike than Hetty and Hayley.

  “You knew Daddy when he was a boy?” Hetty asked. “Did you know he’s a doctor? He’s in Africa, helping people with mengeeitis.”

  “Meningitis,” said Nicholas.

  “I did know that he’s a doctor. It’s nice that he’s helping people,” said Franny.

  “Were you in his movie?” Hayley asked. “We just saw it last night.”

  Franny turned to look at Nick, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “Nicholas found Will’s movie,” said Uncle Nick.

  “In a secret compartment up in the tower room,” said Hayley. “That I discovered.”

  “You know, I don’t think I was. Maybe one little scene. Mostly, I was the cameraman, er, person. Your dad and I were the only ones who knew how to use the camera, so we took turns—”

  “Okay, kids,” Uncle Nick interrupted. “Why don’t you all go out on the porch for a while and let Fran and me get dinner ready.”

  Franny looked relieved, and immediately started tossing the salad with the dressing and croutons she had brought.

  On the porch, Hetty and Hayley insisted that Charlie sit between them on the swing while they continued their interrogation about school, what she did for fun, her favorite musicians—anything they could think of.

  Nicholas, meanwhile, picked up a magazine about wooden sailboats and pretended not to listen. Part of him was dying to show Charlie the letter from her mom to his dad.

  Not yet. Maybe if I get to know her better. She might think I’m weird, or get mad because I read somebody else’s letter. You just can’t tell with girls.

  So he sat there pretending to read until Uncle Nick called them all into the dining room. The twins immediately started their assault on Franny, hitting her with questions about The Seaweed Strangler, but Uncle Nick held up his hand for them to stop.

  “Girls, what do you say? Let’s let our guest enjoy this beautiful dinner—which she prepared—in peace. No more questions.”

  Hayley and Hetty put on their poutiest faces.

  “That’s not going to work on Uncle Nick the way it does on Dad,” Nicholas said, laughing.

  “Tell you what, girls,” said Franny. “Because you’re so nice, and because I just love your names, I’ll tell you a little secret. I married the Seaweed Strangler.”

  “You WHAT?” the twins shouted.

  “But that means,” Hayley said, turning to Charlie, “that you’re …”

  “The Seaweed Strangler’s daughter!” Charlie exclaimed.

  “Absolutely true,” said Uncle Nick. “Remember, I told you that the monster was a kid named Jimmy Brennan.

  That’s Charlie’s dad.”

  “Too bad you weren’t Daddy’s girlfriend,” said Hetty. Nicholas and Franny both choked momentarily on bites of salad.

  “Yeah. You would have been our sister, Charlie,” Hayley said wistfully.

  “Um, I don’t think it works like that,” Charlie said. “Besides, you have Nicholas; isn’t he better than another sister? I always wanted a big brother. I have an older sister, Natalie, but she’s already away at college.”

  “No!” Hayley shouted. “You saw what he did to us today. He tried to kill us! If you hadn’t rescued us, we would have drifted out to sea.”

  “It’s not really fair to lay all the blame on Nicholas,” said Nick. “As I recall, I’m the one who untied you.”

  “But Nicholas tried to capsize us,” said Hayley. “That was way worser.”

  “Oh, you’re right. That is definitely much worser,” Charlie agreed, grinning at Nicholas. She then turned to Uncle Nick and said, “Why don’t you and Mom go relax on the porch. Nicholas and I will do the dishes.”

  We will? She’s even crazier than I thought.

  “And then afterward, I want to see this movie you’re all talking about,” she continued. “Apparently, I’m the only one here who hasn’t seen it.”

  “But what about our adventure?” Hetty asked. “Remember? We were going to sleep on Goblin tonight.”

  The distant rumble of thunder seemed to answer her question.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Not afraid of a little lightning, are you?” teased Nicholas.

  “We’ll do it another time, honey,” Uncle Nick promised. “Come sit on the porch with us and watch the storm.”

  Nicholas wished he were going to join them, but instead found himself standing next to the sink drying dishes as Charlie handed them to him.

  “You don’t say much, do you?” Charlie asked after a few minutes of silent washing and drying.

  Nicholas shrugged, smiling just a little. “Yeah. I mean, no, not really.”

  “Always, or just with new people? When you were at the ball field, I didn’t think you were so shy. Actually, I thought it took a lot of guts to do what you did.”

  “But you still struck me out.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did. I couldn’t help it. It just sort of … happens. It’s your uncle’s fault. He’s a great coach, isn’t he?”

  “To be honest, until a few days ago, I barely knew him. My dad never talked about him, or about staying here when he was a kid, or anything like that. I had no idea he even played baseball. I just figured, you know, with his arm and everything …”

  “What about the movie? Or my mom? Did your dad ever talk about them?”

  “Nope. Before we left New York, the only thing he said was something like ‘You never know what you’ll find.’ ”

  “And you guys are going to be here all summer? Are both your parents in Africa?”

  Nicholas hesitated a second before answering. “No, they’re, um … divorced. My dad spends most of his summers in Africa. Have you ever heard of Doctors Without Borders? He’s an immunologist, and he’s been working with them for a long time on this program to get kids in Africa vaccinations for things like measles. But right now he’s in Cameroon because there are a bunch of people with meningitis and they’re trying to stop it from spreading. I can’t wait until I can go someday.”

  “So you’re going to be a doctor, too?”

  “Yeah … well, I’d like to. It’s really hard, though. And it takes a long time.”

  “That’s cool, though, knowing what you want to do,” said Charlie.

  “What about you? Aren’t you going to be the first girl in the major leagues, pitching for the Yankees or something?”

  “The Yankees! Ha! I hate them. Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re a Yankees fan. I don’t know if I can be friends with you if you are.”

  “Who do you like?”

  “The Indians, of course.”

  “The Cleveland Indians? Are you serious? When’s the last time they won the World Series—like, 1800?”

  “It was 1948, for your information. But this year is going to be different. So, what about your mom? What’s she do?”

  “She’s, like, a vice president at this big public-relations company, and she works all the time. Like, twenty-three hours a day. And on top of that, they’re rebuilding our whole apartment, so they decided the best thing would be to ship the kids off to Ohio for the summer.”

  Charlie grinned at him, her eyes twinkling. “And I can tell you’re just thrilled about that. D
o you ever get to talk to your dad when he’s in Africa?”

  “Not much. Usually they have to use a satellite phone, which is pretty expensive. Sometimes he has email, sometimes he doesn’t. Mostly, we use regular old mail. It’s slow, but it works. He talked me into sending him at least one postcard a week.”

  “Wow. That must be hard—not being able to see him or talk to him for that long.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “I guess I’m used to it. Did your mom ever talk about my dad?”

  “Well, I knew that she used to have a friend who was a ‘summer boy’ named Will, and he was related to Nick, but that’s about it.” She looked out the kitchen window at the backyard, where the trees swayed wildly with the approaching storm. “Isn’t it funny—strange funny, not like ha-ha—that we met—well, almost met—in town before I came over here with this big ol’ tray of lasagna? I mean, if you believe in fate and all that, we were going to meet today anyway, so why did the gods have you show up at my team’s practice?”

  For someone who had never seriously considered the role of fate in his life—or anyone else’s, for that matter—that was too much for Nicholas to digest all at once. He stared at her, unsure how to answer.

  “You probably think I’m crazy,” Charlie said. “I just met you and I’m yakking about fate already. It’s just—well, you seem like a cool kid, and in a few weeks, baseball season will be over, and in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s not a lot of other kids around here, especially during the week. On weekends, there are a few summer people around, kids from Cleveland and Youngstown. We usually have a softball game on Saturday afternoons—just for fun. I only live, like, half a mile from here, and you know, I was hoping we could hang out, at least sometimes. And I would love to learn to sail, too. Nick could teach all of us, and he could teach you how to hit a curve.” She couldn’t help smiling as she said that.

  Nicholas smiled right back. Having someone his own age to hang out with would be good—he could only take the twins for so long. And then there was that idea that had started brewing in his head the moment he had found The Seaweed Strangler in the tower room.

  “So, do you know anything about making movies?” he asked.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  July 1

  Dear Dad,

  You were right about the country. We don’t even miss the TV, AND I’m almost done with my summer reading list for school. I give The Hobbit an 8, but To Kill a Mockingbird gets a 10. Maybe I’ll be a lawyer instead of a doctor. Kidding! Been playing baseball with some locals, this kid Charlie has a WICKED curveball. Uncle Nick says he can teach me how to hit it, but so far it’s pretty hopeless.

  Love,

  Nicholas

  PS You were right about the tower room. It is full of secrets.

  * * *

  By the end of that first week of July, Nicholas and Charlie were best friends, nearly constant companions, and, quick learners that they were, well on their way to becoming expert sailors. They sailed every day with Nick, who had less and less to say and do with each mini voyage. He spent most of the time sitting in the cockpit with his hat pulled down over his eyes, peeking out occasionally to make sure they weren’t headed for a sandbar or hoisting a jib upside down (that happened only once, much to the delight of Hayley and Hetty).

  On one particularly fine morning—so clear that they watched a fisherman on the other side of the lake land a walleye that would have fed them all—the five intrepid adventurers rowed out to Goblin, intending to spend the day aboard. As usual, Pistol was the first one out of the dinghy and onto Goblin’s deck, followed by Nicholas and Charlie, who wasted no time, immediately uncovering the mainsail and rigging the jib sheets. When Nicholas turned to ask Uncle Nick a question about their destination, he was surprised to see the dinghy, with Uncle Nick rowing and the twins perched in the bow seat, headed back to the dock.

  “Uncle Nick! What did you forget?”

  Without breaking his rhythm, Uncle Nick answered, “Not a thing. The girls and I decided we don’t really feel like sailing today. We’re going to just stay ashore with the other landlubbers.”

  “What about us?” Charlie asked. “You’re just going to leave us here?”

  “I figured you two wanted to go for a sail. So go,” Uncle Nick said. “It’s a beautiful day. Pistol’s ready, so what are you waiting for?”

  “You’re serious—we can take her out without you?” said Nicholas.

  “What do you need me for? I’ve been nothin’ but ballast the last few days.”

  Nicholas and Charlie looked at each other, grinning.

  “Thanks, Nick! We’ll see ya in a few years,” said Charlie with a wave.

  Together they decided that she would take the tiller as they left the mooring, with Nicholas running back to trim the sails after dropping the mooring line. They pulled it off like a couple of seasoned veterans. A gentle wind was blowing parallel to the shore, and as the sails filled, Charlie bore off perfectly onto a beam reach, with Goblin’s bow aimed at the public beach on the other side of the lake. They were off.

  “Well done!” Nick shouted. “Have fun, and keep her off the sandbars!”

  Nicholas and Charlie didn’t hear that last part. Of course, who knows if it would have even made a difference; it’s not like they were trying to find the one sandbar Nick hadn’t told them about.

  If you’re sailing on the ocean or the Great Lakes, you have nautical charts that show the water’s depth at every location, and most shallow spots, or shoals, are marked with buoys to warn you of the dangers. Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as an official chart for Forsaken Lake, or most other inland lakes, for that matter. In Goblin’s cabin, Uncle Nick had a laminated chart—drawn by his wife, Lillie—that showed approximate depths at most locations around the lake. He had taught Nicholas and Charlie how to identify shallow spots by watching the action of the waves and the changing color of the water.

  During their sailing lessons, Uncle Nick had pointed out all the big sandbars in his end of the lake, but there was one more—a small one, a few hundred yards off the very beach where Goblin was aimed.

  They were cruising gracefully at a comfortable clip, sails trimmed perfectly and Goblin heeled over just a few degrees, when it happened. Nicholas had the tiller in his hand and had just told Charlie to prepare to come about when Goblin’s bow suddenly dipped and she came to a lurching stop in the soft sand. Their “landing” was so soft that it took a few seconds for the two sailors to grasp what had happened. The sails were still full and drawing, but they were most definitely stopped.

  “Uh-oh,” Nicholas said.

  Pistol seemed to agree, whining as he assessed the situation.

  “What is going on?” asked Charlie. “Why aren’t we moving?”

  “We’re on a sandbar.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I dunno. I’ve never been on a sandbar before.”

  “Can’t we just back up? Should we start the motor?”

  “Not yet.” He pulled the tiller toward him. The bow started to turn, and for a moment, they thought they were free. Their relief was short-lived, however, as the hull ground into the sand again.

  “Maybe if we heel over a little more,” Charlie suggested. “Let’s both lean over the side and see if that helps.” Nicholas let go of the tiller and joined her at the shrouds, where they hung out over the water as far as they could. Goblin heeled over a bit more, but together they just didn’t weigh enough to make enough of a difference.

  “Okay, I have another idea,” Nicholas said. “If we’re on the bottom, the water must only be about three feet deep, right? I’ll go over the side and push us off.”

  Charlie looked skeptical. “You really think you can budge this big ol’ boat?”

  “Only one way to find out.” He sat on the gunwale and slid down into the water, which came up to his chest. “At least it’s nice soft sand. I don’t think it did any damage.” With Charlie looking on, he leaned down and pushed against the sturd
y wooden hull. There was some movement, and it looked as if Nicholas would be successful. The bow turned a few more degrees, slid forward two or three feet, and then came to an abrupt stop. Goblin remained solidly aground.

  “I think all we’re doing is getting more stuck,” Nicholas said.

  “I’m coming in to help you,” Charlie announced. And before Nicholas could protest, she was at his side in the water, pushing with him.

  “One, two, three, push!” they said. Still Goblin did not budge.

  Behind them, a hundred yards away, a fishing boat was going by at full throttle, and Nicholas recognized an opportunity. “When that guy’s wake hits us, it’s going to rock the boat, and that’s when we have to push like mad. If that doesn’t work, we’ll try the engine.”

  They got into position, watching the approaching waves over their shoulders and digging their toes into the sand in preparation. When the first one hit, Goblin floated up off the bottom while Nicholas and Charlie heaved with all their collective might, and as the second wave struck, Goblin, finally free of the sandbar, slid sideways—and started to sail away from a very surprised Nicholas and Charlie!

  “H-hey!” they both yelled, swimming after the runaway boat. “Wait for us!”

  Pistol, who had fallen fast asleep on his seat in the cockpit, raised his head, bewildered for a moment by all the commotion. Satisfied that he was in no danger, he put his head back down and closed his eyes.

  Goblin wouldn’t go far; eventually, an unmanned sailboat will always head directly into the wind, coming to a stop. After that, she will drift slowly in the direction of the wind. And since the wind on this day was not strong, they would have been able to catch up to her.

  But Nicholas and Charlie didn’t know that, so they swam frantically after her, certain that she would sail herself right up onto the beach. Just as Goblin started her slow turn into the wind, they managed to get hold of the starboard jib sheet, which was dangling over the side, and while both sails flapped in the breeze, Nicholas pulled himself onto the warm deck and then helped Charlie aboard.