Chapter Three
The Goth teen sat cross-legged on the boulder, facing the water. It was still, like glass. The sun reflected off the rocks on the shallow bottom. A group of minnows scooted by.
"You should not have gone out there," the Watcher said behind her. "You cannot be seen yet."
"No one saw me," she said without turning around.
"She did. I know that you went to her. You must stay near the water's edge."
She breathed in, filling her lungs. "I didn't wander off too far. No one even noticed."
"We cannot take any chances," he said. "He is here now. He might see you. And if he does—"
"He won't. Not until I want him to."
She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Her hands were buried deep inside the oversized sleeves of her sweatshirt. "I want to talk to her," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.
The Watcher put his hands on her tiny shoulders, gripping tightly, but gently. "You shall tomorrow. You must be patient and move slowly or all will be lost. The day of reckoning shall come, but we must let things happen as they are supposed to. And stay near the water's edge."
She lifted her head, staring past the shelter of the tiny bay out into the lake. Her cheeks glistened with tears and her eyes narrowed.
The day of reckoning shall come…
Chapter Four
No one felt like doing much the first afternoon. The unanimous vote was to unpack the car and help Sage re-familiarize herself with the cabin and the surroundings. The usual rule was to unload the car, unpack suitcases so everyone could go down to the dock for lunch and fun. Gran believed the old 'a place for everything and everything in its place' premise before any fun could happen. Freesia guessed the rules were different that year since it was the first summer without Dad. Or Mom.
The transition of home-to-cabin, school-to-summer routine had always been tough for Sage. So the family kept things simple the first day, deciding to delve into the kickoff to summer the next morning. And what better way to ease into the new routine than to have some fun on the dock for a few hours.
Gran prepared a quick lunch of cold-cut sandwiches, cheese, potato chips and iced tea while Freesia, Sage and Granddad put their swimsuits on and jammed the dock bag with sunscreen, bug spray, towels and any fidgets Sage needed.
"Freesia, love, I need a hand with the lunch trays," Gran called from the kitchen.
"Coming." She continued helping Sage find her swimsuit. "Here. This one is your favorite. It's the soft one that doesn't squish into your shoulders. I'll wait for you in the kitchen, okay?"
Sage grabbed the suit, clutching it to her chest, and nodded.
Freesia's eyes watered. "Ah, Sagey, I know. It's tough for me too. But we can do this together, okay? Let's go downstairs, eat and go swimming and have some fun, just like we always do. I bet the blow-up dolphin you love is down in the boathouse. You know, the one that squeaks when you bounce on it?"
Sage looked up at Freesia, keeping her chin tucked in. A tiny smile pulled up the corners of her lips.
"Ah-ha!" Freesia said. "I knew that would get a smile. And who knows? I heard Bob telling Granddad that Mr. Oakley is already here. Maybe he can take us for a boat ride later too! Wouldn't that be great? You always loved doing that."
The smile disappeared. Sage shook her head, her eyes widening, and tossed her bathing suit on the bed beside her.
Crap. I should've stopped with the stupid dolphin.
"Okay, okay, don't worry." She rubbed Sage's biceps as hard as she was taught to whenever anxiety crept in. "No boat ride today. We have to get used to everything and everyone all over again, right? We don't have to do anything crazy. Let's just go down and have some fun, okay?"
Sage bit her lip, her whole body easing with each rub. She nodded again.
Freesia released a slow breath and smiled. "Great. Get changed. And don't forget to grab whatever fidgets you want for the dock bag."
She gave Sage's arms one last squeeze and walked to the door. Just before closing it, she whispered, "We can laugh at Granddad trying to sink the pump. Remember how he always slips and curses?"
Sage covered her mouth with her hands and giggled. Freesia winked and shut the door. Instead of going to the kitchen to see Gran right away, Freesia turned to go out the back door. She sat down on the back step, folded her arms on her knees and tried with all of her strength to stop tears from surfacing.
She didn't realize how hard it would be returning to the cabin—her mom's favorite place in the universe. And it didn't make things easier that everything, and everyone, around there reminded her of her mom.
She had to be strong for her sister. For her grandparents. For her dad. Sometimes all she wanted was just to worry about normal stupid crap kids her age worried about, whatever that was. Nail polish? Boys? Getting boobs or dealing with her period? Justin Beiber? Ugh. Not that last one.
She lifted her face up, resting her chin on her folded arms. Closing her eyes, she felt the comforting warmth of the sun on her face. The light breeze moved her bangs out of her eyes, just like Mom used to do. A pinecone fell from the massive pine tree outside Sage's bedroom window, landing by Freesia's left foot. A squirrel chattered from the trees to her right. There were no sirens or revving car engines or god-awful rap music blaring or people yelling at each other from across the street—just the beautiful sounds of nature.
She filled her lungs until they pressed against her rib cage and then released her breath slowly. For some reason, she felt she'd been hugged in the way she'd needed to be for months. And it felt amazing.
Her grandfather's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Coming down, Freesia?"
"Yeah, just waiting…for Sage," Freesia said without turning around.
"I think she's good to go. Just have to put her routine chart up on the fridge and grab her keyboard. I swear, we have more junk to take down for an afternoon of good times than the Osmond family takes on holidays. You ladies and all your girl things."
"That's what you get for living in a houseful of women." Freesia turned around. Granddad stood at the door with his hands on his hips, sporting the purple-and-lime-green psychedelic swim shorts they'd given to him for his birthday. Sage stood in front of him, scraping her fingernails along the screen. Freesia burst out in hysterical laughter. "Lookin' good, Granddad."
He sucked in his cheeks and struck a model pose. "That's why your Gran married me. I'm a true fashion icon. C'mon, smart butt. Daylight's burning."
Freesia wiped her eyes, stood up and brushed the dirt off her bum. "Let's do this."
On her way in, a small stack of boxes next to the right of the doorway caught Freesia's eye. There were four boxes, each marked with specific letters in large black marker. A—G, H—M, Mc—T, and U—Z. She recognized the handwriting right away.
"Granddad? Why are these boxes here? They look like the file boxes from mom's old home office."
Tamara had been a practicing clinical psychologist right up until she had gone into labor with Freesia. She did various types of counseling in her practice, but her specialty was helping children and families recovering from different kinds of trauma. And she was really good at it. Freesia guessed that's why she was so amazing with Sage and had found her the right help sooner than most people would have.
Freesia still didn't know the whole story, but something terrible happened to one of the overseas peace mission units through her dad’s base. The small group of men were surprised by the Taliban and held captive. One of the guys was tortured and killed, but the rest were found before something happened to anyone else.
Freesia only heard bits and pieces of the story, and of course no one would ever answer her questions. All she knew was that her mom was brought in to counsel the men when they came back home.
After that, her mom was asked to be the head psychologist for cases of trauma and PTSD for troops and their families after such missions. She did a lot of on-call type of work where she h
ad to go to people's houses or meet soldiers on the base. She didn't bring people home since some of the issues she dealt with weren't something she wanted around Freesia or Sage. Her mom was a sought-after psychologist. The military even brought her out to people or had them flown in to see her. It made Freesia so proud that her mom was part of the group to bring those brave people back home and adjust after terrible missions.
Granddad brought Freesia out of her trance. "What, those? Detective Cuaco borrowed some of your mom's files when the search began. Said he didn't find anything in what we gave him, so I found these. He's bringing the other boxes back and taking these ones."
"Does he think someone she helped might know something?" Freesia frowned.
"Don't know. He said there could be clues in there. Whatever we can do to help, right?"
"I guess so." For some reason, it just didn't feel right having someone digging through her mom's work files. Even if it did offer a lead or something. "You know, I did some filing and other office duties for Mom. I know some of the files pretty good."
Granddad put his arm around her. "That's right. We'll have to tell the detective that. Maybe you can help him find whatever it is he's looking for."
She doubted it, but she could at least keep an eye on what was being snooped through. She stared at the boxes once more and then turned to get the rest of the necessities ready for the dock.
After arranging the picture cards on the social story chart for Sage, Freesia tucked the keyboard under her arm and grabbed the lunch tray Gran had left for her to take down. The chart was something Sage had almost been ready to give up just before Mom disappeared.
Their occupational therapist had created a bunch of Velcro picture cards for different things in their routine, like school and lunch. There were several of them pinned up around the house so Sage could remember the steps involved in doing the tasks she had to do—like going to the bathroom, getting dressed, getting ready for school and other things.
Before therapy, Sage often forgot where she was in doing an activity or something she had to do, leaving her frustrated. With the charts, she did a step and moved the card over when she completed each part, until the whole thing was done. It sometimes took forever for Sage to do things that way, but at least she didn't get as mad or lost.
A few months earlier, she'd seemed to be getting so good with remembering steps on her own that she didn't need the charts as much. But when Mom had disappeared, Sage stopped talking, wanting to keep everything the same. It was her way of dealing with it all. She'd needed some control.
Freesia 'got' that.
She squeezed the keyboard into her ribcage with her arm while trying to keep everything on the lunch tray balanced. Unable to see her feet and having the added challenge of wearing flip-flops, she took a deep breath and started her descent down the 'Stairs of Doom.'
Slowly she went, counting each stair. She had each flight memorized. She had no idea who made the stairs, but each set of steps was a different size and narrowness. One false move and she'd either dump lunch or topple over into the short brush on either side. It had happened to her at least once a year. Every year someone fell either up or down one flight of steps. Gran always joked that Granddad had had a few too many cocktails when he and his buddies worked on them. Something Granddad neither claimed nor denied.
Three…four…five…six.
Two more flights to go and she'd be at the boathouse, where the steps were wider with less chance of doing a header. She stopped at the base of the boathouse where the steps split into two directions. Left led to the main dock, where they spent most of the day. Right went to the smaller dock, where she and Sage often sat throwing rocks into the shallower water. Another flight of steps went up to the roof of the boathouse—her mom's favorite place to tan and watch out over the water at the day's end.
Closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, Freesia swore she could still smell the coconut oil her mom slathered on herself to achieve the deep mahogany tan she achieved every summer.
Freesia's heart ached.
She chose the easiest route—left—since her arm was starting to fall asleep from being in the same position so long.
As she reached the dock, Granddad said, "Good grief. Finally! I'm so hungry I was about to hunt ya down."
Lawn chairs, towels and various water toys were scattered all over the dock. Sage sat in the middle of the giant inner tube with all of her sensory tools. She felt safe being surrounded by the rubbery wall that she could lean on, squish into, bounce against or just hug when it absorbed the afternoon sun's heat. On days when too much action went on at neighbors' docks, Freesia covered the top of the inner tube with a giant beach towel so Sage could hide.
"Sorry," Freesia finally answered. "It's always a little scary going down the stairs the first few times, you know."
Granddad finished putting sunscreen on his belly with a slap. "Don't I know it? Almost lost your Grandma on the last flight."
"That's only because you tripped and bumped me, you big lug." Gran threw a towel at him.
"Wouldn't that have been a sight," Granddad said with a snort. "All of us rolling around in the brush in our bathing suits…towels and toys flying everywhere…"
Their laughter echoed around the bay. It was awesome to feel sprinkles of happiness with all they'd been through. Even Sage giggled, her hands covering her mouth, her oversized sunhat shaking in time with her laughter.
Rudy bounded out of the channel between the two docks, water dripping from her chin and tummy. She clambered up onto the main dock and shook, spraying water in all directions.
"Rudy!" everyone shouted, dabbing water droplets from various body parts.
Freesia covered the sandwiches as best as she could.
The dog gave a throaty, playful bark and spun around, chasing her tail. After a few spins she wobbled over to where Gran's lawn chair was set up, shoved as much of her bulky body under it as she could and let out a snort before finally settling down for an afternoon nap.
"You turn into a pup every year we bring you out here, old girl." Granddad wiped his shades on his shorts.
Just as Freesia put the lunch tray on the dock, she heard a robotic command from Sage's tire tomb. 'I'm hungry. Sandwich, please.'
Freesia hated the fake, monotone voice from Sage's keyboard. It reminded her of the same voice that answered calls at customer service centers only to be put on hold for hours. It drove her nuts. The worst part was when Sage would get mad and blast the volume so it sounded like she was yelling. Nice.
"Chicken or roast beef?" Freesia asked.
Slight pause for a decision.
Tapping of keys. 'Roast beef. Chips too, please. And cheese. And iced tea.'
What am I, the maid? Freesia thought. Some days it seriously felt that way.
She grabbed a napkin, loaded it up with Sage's order and walked through the obstacle course of objects spread out on the dock. As she handed everything down to Sage and waited for her to arrange it all in her small space, Granddad shouted out to someone next door.
"Mornin', Rick. Didn't think we'd see ya up here this year."
Freesia's heart fluttered. Her face flushed when she realized she was sporting her new tankini and Rick was going to be around to see it.
The Oakleys had three boys—Brian, Billy and Rick. Even though the boys, Sage and Freesia had all grown up together, there was a huge age difference between the older two Oakley boys and Freesia, so they never hung out or anything. In fact, they weren't up at their cottage very much. But Rick was only two years older than Freesia. He'd be there every summer.
Freesia was never a girlie girl and liked a lot of the things other girls she knew didn't, like fishing and water sports. So she and Rick hung out quite a lot. And he was so sweet with Sage, letting her tag along. He once told Freesia he wished he'd had a little sister to tease and protect. She thought he was pretty awesome.
Even though they'd become great friends, Freesia secretly had a crush on him
since they were both in their single digits. How could she not with his beautiful, wavy blond hair that he kept just long enough to look cool, but not so long he'd be teased about it? He was a smaller guy, kind of like Johnny Depp—wiry but not skinny. And his eyes…those ocean-blue eyes she melted into whenever he talked to her that seemed to grow iridescent over the summer as his skin darkened to a deep mahogany.
She startled out of her thoughts when she realized she was bending over, her butt facing his direction. She stood up quickly, blushing, and adjusted her suit.
Rick waved. "Hey, Mr. Freisen. Yeah, I know. I was supposed to work back home in Dad's shop with my brothers, but I was offered a job out here to work over at the marina for the summer. Pay's better and I can be outside."
Granddad wiped sandwich crumbs on his bathing suit. "Sure. And I'm guessing your boss is easier to deal with too, right?"
Rick laughed. "Yeah, right. Don't tell him I said so. Hi, Freesia."
She waved. His voice sounds deeper this year. Wow.
"Where's your cool little sister?" Rick said, his hands on his hips.
Sage popped her head up over the inner tube.
"There you are." He grinned. "Hey, I can drive the boat around anytime I want this year, so get ready for a boat ride soon. Okay?"
Sage smiled and waved.
Freesia never saw Sage smile that big except when their dad would come home from work. His death was so hard on her.
Freesia's chest ached for a moment as she suppressed the tears trying to pool in her eyes. She watched as Sage disappeared back inside the tube.
Rick ran his fingers through his hair. "So…uh…Freesia. I gotta go over to the marina to check in, see when I start, get my work shirt—all that jazz. You wanna go for a ride to the main beach? You know, check things out?"
She looked up at Granddad, who had a hint of a teasing grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He handed over her cover-up and a beach towel. "Go ahead. Ask the boss first, though."
Freesia leaned around Granddad. "Gran?"
Dark Water Page 3
