“But after, when everybody was around her, and the sheriff and the ambulance came—do you remember what happened to the movie camera? It was on a tripod, and it went down with Mom.”
Kevin shook his head and offered an apathetic shrug. “No idea. Can’t even picture it in my head. Just yer mom, and that pretty little boat poundin’ on the rocks. So, what’s yer mom up to these days? She seein’ anybody?”
“Wh-what? Mom?” Charlie tried hard not to gag at the thought of her mom dating a creep like him. “Um, yeah. She has a boyfriend,” she lied.
Nicholas got him back on track. “And you never heard anything about it—the movie camera—later on, like from Petey Truman, or the sheriff, or anybody?”
Another shake and shrug. “Why’re you kids lookin’ for that old camera, anyway? Ain’t worth nuthin’ now. Probably can’t even buy film for it no more.”
It was Charlie’s turn to shrug. “It’s kind of like a piece of family history.”
“Yeah? Well, good luck with that, kid.” Kevin grunted and picked up his wrench. “Oh, and be sure to tell yer mom I said hi.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” said Charlie as she and Nicholas spun their bikes around and rode away.
* * *
Petey Truman, whose house was spotless inside and out, was not much help, either.
“Come in, come in! Get out of the sun for a minute. I sure hope you kids have UV protection on. The sun is a killer, you know. Do you mind taking your shoes off outside? Dust sets off my allergies something fierce. Now, let’s see. You were asking about Will’s movie camera.” He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. “Huh. I just assumed the sheriff confiscated it for evidence. But that’s just a guess. I have to be honest, I don’t remember paying any attention to the camera once that mast fell. Have you asked the sheriff? He’s not sheriff anymore, of course, but he lives just down the road. It’s worth a shot—he might remember what happened to it. And what about Teddy Bradford? There’s another one you could ask.”
Charlie and Nicholas turned to look at one another; Franny had mentioned that it was Teddy’s boat that was wrecked, but his name didn’t come up when she was standing in the marina reliving the experience of the big event.
“You mean my dad’s cousin Teddy—the guy who owned the boat? He was there that day?” Charlie asked.
“Sure—at least at the end. I’m not sure about him being there earlier, but I definitely remember seeing him after the ambulance pulled away. Wasn’t saying much. A bit odd, now that I think of it. He’d just watched his boat get wrecked, the mast toppling over and almost killing a kid, but instead of yelling and screaming, or trying to do something about the boat, he was just kind of wandering around in a daze.”
“Hmmm,” said Nicholas and Charlie, agreeing that it did seem like strange behavior.
“But I’d start with the sheriff if I were you,” said Petey, and he gave them Ned Randleman’s address. They thanked him for his help and rode down the bumpy gravel road, stopping in front of a run-down mobile home where a life-sized plastic Santa stood guard in the yard.
“I guess this is it,” said Charlie. “Kinda creepy. I’m glad I’m not alone.”
They parked their bikes and knocked firmly on the door.
“Who is it?” a man’s voice shouted from somewhere behind the screen door.
Nicholas put his face close to the screen and tried to peer inside. “Nicholas Mettleson and Charlie Brennan.”
“Who?”
“We just want to ask you a question,” Charlie said. Under her breath, she added, “So get off your butt and answer the door.”
“Are you sellin’ something?” the voice demanded.
Charlie sighed loudly. “No. Sir. We want to talk to you about something that happened a long time ago, back when you were sheriff.”
Suddenly, they were staring up at a giant in a stained tank top and boxer shorts that were decorated with big red hearts—exactly like the ones cartoon characters wear. No one had bothered to tell them that Ned Randleman was six feet ten inches tall.
“What about when I was sheriff?” he growled through the screen.
Charlie and Nicholas each said a little prayer that he wouldn’t invite them in or join them outside. It was just a screen door, but they felt better with something between them and Underwear Guy.
They explained the purpose of their visit while he listened, occasionally slurping noisily from a can of beer and scratching his belly where it hung out below a shirt that was clearly meant for someone several inches shorter and many, many pounds lighter.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody ever told me about a camera. Let me get this straight. You say your dad was making a movie? That’s a good one. Haw-haw-haw! And he was how old? Haw-haw-haw!” He was laughing at Nicholas for believing such a dubious story. “All’s I can tell you, kid, is that your old man shoulda been sent up to juvie hall for what he done. I think he wrecked that boat ’cause he thought it would be fun.”
“Look, just forget it,” said Nicholas, turning to walk back to his bike. But then something growing inside him made him stop in his tracks and spin around. “I don’t care if you believe it or not, but he was making a movie, and if you knew anything about being a cop, you would have asked a few questions and found out there was a camera with potential evidence on the film. Evidence that would have proved that my dad didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Hey, you can’t come around here bad-mouthin’ me, you little—”
Nicholas wasn’t done, though. “And if you had taken five minutes to look at the boat, you would have found some other very interesting evidence. Somebody cut the steering cable and sawed halfway through the backstay. But I guess you were too busy worrying about whose boat you were going to go drinking on, now that your buddy’s boat was trashed. Come on, Charlie, let’s get out of here.”
“Gladly.”
Nicholas threw his leg over his bike and turned to face the trailer. “Oh, and one more thing, mister. Put some pants on. And buy a shirt that fits. Nobody wants to see that.”
* * *
When they got back to Nick’s house, they found him standing on the dock with the twins and Jo, about to row out to Goblin for an afternoon sail. The morning’s strong winds and rain were long gone, replaced by deep blue skies and a pleasant breeze, and the twins admonished their older brother to hurry so they could take advantage of the perfect conditions.
Nick smiled while Jo watched in wonder as Nicholas and Charlie took charge after climbing aboard Goblin. Without a moment’s hesitation, they removed the cover from the mainsail, hanked on the jib and staysail, and rigged the sheets. Then they raised the main, tying off the halyard and coiling it neatly. Nicholas then casually walked to the bow and reached down and unclipped from the mooring after Nick gave him the “okay” sign. Charlie trimmed in the mainsail while Nick, at the tiller, slowly bore away onto a beam reach. Not a single word had been spoken.
Hayley and Hetty noticed, too.
“Why is everyone so quiet?” whispered Hetty.
“Shhh,” said Hayley. “Just listen. It’s like a ghost ship.”
And so they went, up and down the lake, silent except for the sound of the bow creaming through the water and the occasional creak of the wooden mast, until Hetty could take it no longer.
“I’m sorry, but I just have to talk.”
Everyone burst out laughing at her admission.
“Why don’t you come back here and take the tiller awhile, Het?” Nick asked. “It’s a good day for you and your sister to get some time at the helm.”
“R-really?” Hetty said, looking nervously at the sails and water. “I’ve never steered when there was wind—when we were actually moving.”
“No time like the present,” said Nick. “Come on. You too, Hayley. I’ll be right here next to you. Show your mom what you’ve learned.”
As the twins joined him and their mother in the aft part of the cockpit, Nicholas and Char
lie moved up to the foredeck, where they sat side by side, dangling their feet over the edge.
“That was pretty cool, what you did today,” said Charlie. “Sticking up for your dad like that. God, what a creep that guy was. I can’t believe they ever let him be sheriff.”
“Can I tell you something? Just between us? I was shaking like mad after I said all that stuff. I thought he was going to shoot me or something. I’ve never done anything like that before. He just ticked me off—it’s like he was making fun of my dad, and of me, all at the same time.”
“That reminds me—I need to call my dad tonight. Maybe he’ll remember something different. Or explain why his cousin was acting the way he was.”
“So … um, you’ve never really talked about your dad. He raises ostriches?”
“Yep, that’s my dad. The Ostrich King of Trumbull County, Ohio. He got remarried last year to this woman named Linda. She’s all right, I guess—she has two kids. My dad is … well, the way Mom puts it, he’s kind of a dreamer. To tell the truth, though, I think she’s being … I mean, he’s my dad, and I love him and all, but calling him a dreamer is sugarcoating the truth. He’s always looking for some crazy way to get rich without really having to work.”
“And you can do that raising ostriches?”
Charlie laughed. “I know, right? But he swears that ostrich meat is the next big thing. I’ve had it—it’s not bad, actually. But Mom never says anything negative about him around me, even when he forgets to show up on the weekends I’m supposed to stay with him, or just completely misses my birthday.”
“Youch. Your birthday?”
“That’s only happened a couple of times.”
“You’re only twelve! Two birthdays is a lot. You know, I don’t understand grown-ups at all. There’s all these movies and shows and books about people meeting and falling in love, but it’s all so phony because, like, five years later, they’re all divorced. They don’t show you that part.”
“Not everyone gets divorced.”
“All my friends’ parents are.”
“All?”
Nicholas hedged a little. “Okay, not all. But most.”
“Ah, so there’s still hope for true love, you see. It may be on life support, but it’s not dead yet.”
* * *
July 22
Dear Dad,
Weird week. Mom’s here for a few days, worried that I’ll drown or get run over on the bike. But another first! I cooked the whole dinner last night—hamburgers, baked potatoes, and corn. And watermelon for dessert. (I made the twins clean up—LOL.)
Uncle Nick gave me this old National Geographic about a kid who sailed around the world when he was only sixteen. Get ready—that’s me in four years!
Nicholas
* * *
It had been a long, busy day, and after a late dinner of hot dogs and baked beans, the Mettleson kids said their good-nights and good-byes to their mom, who planned to be on the road for New York by five o’clock in the morning. As the twins tramped upstairs to their rooms with their books in hand, Jo marveled at Hetty, the twin who, just a few short weeks earlier, had claimed not to like reading.
“This is my seventh book so far,” said Hetty. “The librarian has a list of kids who read the most books over the summer, and I’m in eleventh place.”
“I’m in second,” bragged Hayley. She held up Misty of Chincoteague. “This is my thirteenth book. It’s my last one, Uncle Nick. Can we go to the library tomorrow?”
Jo laughed. “Who are you kids? And what have you done with my Hayley and Hetty?”
Meanwhile, Nicholas, who had already finished the books he’d borrowed from the library, scrounged around the bookcase in the living room, finding Lillie’s collection of Agatha Christie mysteries. He chose Murder on the Orient Express. He had heard of the book and its eminent detective, Hercule Poirot, and smiled at the memory of the day’s detective work. He and Charlie hadn’t really discovered answers—just more questions, really—but he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he felt more energized.
A half mile down the road, it had been essentially the same story with Franny and Charlie. Charlie fell asleep reading a romantic book about young time travelers that Janet, the librarian, had insisted she would just love, while Franny struggled to concentrate on the thriller a friend at work had lent her. Her mind kept taking her back to the marina with Will and all of her old friends, and she couldn’t help thinking about how her life—all their lives—had turned out. Would everything have turned out differently, she wondered, if Will had chosen a simpler, less spectacular ending to his movie? Or if she had been standing six inches away, in either direction, and the mast had missed her completely? She knew it was a pointless exercise, but she couldn’t resist imagining a version of her life that might have been—if Will had found her letter, if he had written back, if he had returned to Nick’s the following summer. Instead, she had started hanging out with Jimmy as a freshman in high school, a few months after Will’s departure, brokenhearted but blessed with the resilience of youth.
She wandered into Charlie’s room, where she found her daughter sleeping soundly—still dressed, her book resting on her chest. She covered her with a quilt and turned off the light, but didn’t move toward her own room. Instead, she stood silently at the threshold for a long time. The moon shone through the upper window onto Charlie’s peaceful face, and the curtains billowed gently as a cool north breeze filled the room. The scene gave Franny goose bumps, and in the perfect beauty of that moment, any misgivings, or questions, or doubts about her own life were put to rest.
She stayed for a few minutes longer, wrapping her cotton cardigan tightly around her and soaking up the loveliness of the picture before her. As she was about to turn and leave, she heard a crinkling sound coming from her sweater pocket. She reached in and felt something—the pictures that the twins had found of her and Will in their secret spot. When she saw them this time, however, Franny pounded her palm against her forehead. “I know who must have taken these pictures. Mikey.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Although she must have known it when they were kids, Franny couldn’t remember his last name. He had always been just Mikey to her. A long time ago, her mother had explained that he was “slow,” which was why he went to a different school, with other kids like him. That summer, he had latched onto Will for the simple reason that Will was always nice to him. The other kids would get tired of Mikey hanging around and either ditch him or flat out tell him to get lost, but Will never did. And so, on the rare days when Mikey’s mom would let him out of the house, Will had himself a shadow. He let Mikey follow wherever he went—with one exception: the secret place. When he and Franny were on their way there, they made sure Mikey wasn’t around. Or so they thought.
Franny smiled. “So Mikey spied on us.”
While she stood there looking at the pictures by moonlight, she suddenly remembered something else about Mikey: he had been at the marina on the day of the accident. She was certain of it.
“He was there!”
“Mom?” A groggy Charlie lifted her head. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“Nobody. Myself. I couldn’t sleep, and I was thinking about … and then I came in here to turn your light off, and you were just so beautiful that I couldn’t stop looking at you.”
“Mo-ommm. What is the matter with you?”
“There’s been a break in the case, as they say. I know who took the camera,” Franny said.
Charlie sat up suddenly in her bed. “You do?”
Franny nodded.
Charlie waited a few seconds, staring at her mother, until she couldn’t take it anymore. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”
“Wouldn’t you rather wait till morning? Then I can tell you and Nicholas together. He’s been working so hard on this; he ought to hear it from me.”
“Okay, fine. What time is it?”
“Little after eleven. Why?”
Charlie jumped out of bed and pulled on her sneakers.
“Well, let’s go tell him.”
“Now?”
“Why not? He’ll be awake. If the light’s off in his room, we’ll come home.”
Franny laughed. “I can’t believe I’m saying yes to this plan, but why not? You two have got me thinking about and doing all kinds of crazy things. Suddenly, I’m fourteen again.”
Charlie was right; Nicholas was still awake. The rest of the house was dark, but the tower room seemed to be glowing, with warm golden light spilling out of the windows and onto the roof. Nicholas stood facing the lake, his hands resting on the windowsill.
“Oww!” Something hit him squarely on the head and bounced across the room. He spotted a fluorescent green tennis ball on the bed. “What the …” He didn’t finish the question because he already knew the answer.
There’s only one person in the world who could throw a ball through an open window three floors up and hit me in the head.
“Charlie?” he said, looking out the window toward the backyard while keeping a hand in front of his face in case there were more tennis balls on the way. “You out there?”
She waved up at him. “Did I hit you?”
“Right in the head,” Nicholas answered. “You scared the—” He paused when he realized Franny was standing next to Charlie. “The heck out of me. What’s going on?”
“Come down and we’ll tell you,” Charlie said.
* * *
Down on the dock, they sat and drank hot cocoa from a thermos while Franny told them all about Mikey.
“He was kind of obsessed with cameras and taking pictures; he must have cost his family a fortune in developing expenses. This was before the days of digital cameras, remember. I think that he took those pictures of me and Will, and then gave them to Will, who probably didn’t want anyone else to see them.”
“Why not?” Nicholas asked.
“Because he was afraid people would figure out where our hiding place was. That’s my best guess, anyway.”
Summer at Forsaken Lake Page 12
