The Girl in the Lake

by Kate Hall

  “So,” Kyle says, his voice resolute, “I think we should do more research before we make a move. I can check out the microfiche in the library. See if there’s more information on the disappearances or maybe what caused them?”

  Everyone begins to discuss their options, and I nod along but don’t say a word. I just know if they do this, if they do find a way to get everyone out of the lake, that it will ruin everything. The lake doesn’t like giving up its prisoners. Janna mentions a magic shop that might be useful, and Alyssa asks me if I’d like to go, and I just shrug and nod.

  Chapter Eleven

  We return as night was falling, so I park the jet ski, and we ride the previously abandoned four-wheeler back to the house. After showering, Alyssa and I collapse into my bed.

  My room is silent but for Alyssa’s soft breathing. It’s calming, and I can’t help but enjoy the night right now. Even though everyone thinks I’m going to help, even though I’m bound to disappoint her again, I just want to enjoy her head on my chest as she sleeps peacefully in my bed. Rodney and Kyle are asleep on the sectional sofa upstairs, as there really isn’t enough space on my bed for so many people.

  The cicadas screech in the trees, and I focus on the sounds, counting them with the tune of their songs. One-twoooo, three-foouur, five-siiiix. On and on as I try to ignore everything going wrong with this day, this week, this life.

  While we’d been sitting in the boat, Janna had asked if I even wanted to stay on the farm and take care of the fish. Didn’t I have goals? Dreams?

  I’ve never thought of it before, but I close my eyes and use my senses to reach to the stars, imagining myself as a ball of light floating through space. It’s nights like these when I remember that I’m made of stardust, just a tiny bit of magic living in a tiny portion on a tiny rock in the vastness of the universe.

  Below me, the Earth I live on is pulling me in a gentle caress, calming me and being nothing but the loving mother she has always been. Along with that is the water, drawing me in, pinning me down in Ginger Hills. The idea of leaving fills me with dread, but it’s impossible to know if it’s my own.

  Alyssa sighs into my neck, sparking my skin to a small flame that catches and burns me all the way up.

  This could be perfect, if only people would stop insisting that we can get everyone else out of the lake.

  With that thought, my entire mood is soured and I am brought back to my bedroom, the vast, drafty basement that’s never warm enough, even in the summer.

  Alyssa sighs again and nuzzles my neck, and I freeze. How long has she been awake? Did I wake her?

  “You need to go to sleep,” she mumbles, her lips brushing tantalizingly over the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck. “You’re thinking too hard.”

  “I’ll try to think quieter,” I say. She stretches and lifts herself off me. I can’t help but let out a little sound of protest.

  Her skin is alight a blue-gray from the moon, the light of which is streaming in through the high windows on the rear wall of the basement. She’s leaning on one arm, looking down at me as her hair cascades down, blocking out the rest of the world. Here, there is no lake. There is no curse, or fish, or evil monsters that it creates to drag us down. Here, it’s just Alyssa and me.

  “Can I ask you something?” She asks, her voice still groggy with sleep.

  “Of course,” I say. “Anything.”

  She sits up, breaking the illusion. Her eyes hold mine for a moment, but then she looks away. “We were friends, before.” I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t.

  “That’s not a question.” I sit up as well, leaning against one pillow and pulling another around my front, hugging it to my chest.

  She chews her lip, and I wait.

  Finally, she says, “I don’t know if I ever believed the rumors about the lake. That day, though…Did you know that three girls locked me in the bathroom at school and wouldn’t let me out?”

  I gasp, and my eyes prick with tears. “Oh, god, Alyssa. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She hugs her arms to her torso, and I want to go to her, to hold her and tell her that everything is going to be okay, but I can’t. Everything is fucked right now. If I can’t protect her from magic, the one thing I know, how can I protect her from people, who I’ve never understood?

  She continues, her voice shaking. “When I went out to the dock, I thought, maybe the rumors could be true.”

  Of course I know about the rumors. They keep everyone out of the lake. They say that, if you go in the water on a rainy day, you never come back. The rumors aren’t technically wrong, but they don’t tell the whole truth, either.

  “I didn’t know what it meant, though. I thought I would drown.”

  “No,” I whisper, finally reaching out and resting my hand on her shoulder. I’m not denying her statement, but protesting. She’d wanted to die? I should have been there for her that day. If I had, maybe she wouldn’t have gone. The last two years seem like such a waste without her.

  Her eyes dart to mine, and they’re welling with tears. She chokes on her words. “Do you… Did you ever think you and I…”

  Her breathing becomes heavy, and I scoot closer. She looks down, a sob bursting out of her. Pain wells up in my chest, and every instinct is screaming for me to run, to hide. If I say anything, I could get hurt.

  If I’d said something before, maybe she wouldn’t have left.

  “I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you,” I say, resting my hand against her cheek, which is wet from tears.

  Her eyes snap back to mine, and I would happily drown in her lake eyes, the only permanent scars of her past.

  I choose my words carefully, speaking slowly. “I was too scared to say anything before. I didn’t want to ruin everything, but I think that not telling you is what really fucked things over.”

  A short laugh comes out of Alyssa’s throat, and she seems surprised at the sound. I crack a smile, and she leans forward and presses her lips to mine. I let out a little moan and tangle my fingers through her hair.

  Her lips move against mine, testing and teasing. I run my tongue gently over her bottom lip, and she groans. The sound sends an ache between my thighs, and I pull her toward me so that her legs are straddling me as I lean against the headboard. She’s so much shorter than me that we’re now eye level with each other, and she pushes her mouth back to mine.

  Her hands run down my body, her fingers sliding under the waistband of my pajama shorts, and I freeze, jerking back from her.

  She yanks her hand away as though I’ve burned her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice breathy. “I haven’t…I’m not ready for that.”

  She nods and leans forward, kissing me gently on my forehead. “Okay. No problem.” She nuzzles her face into my neck, her breath hot. “We don’t have to rush anything. We have all the time in the world.”

  I smile and run my lips along her jaw. “I’d love it if you kept kissing me, though,” I breathe into her ear before nibbling on the lobe.

  She kisses me again, this time keeping her hands on my waist.

  At some point, we end up lying down, legs tangled together and eyes heavy, although I can’t help but give her gentle kisses every few seconds.

  “I love you, Alyssa,” I whisper, giving her another kiss.

  “I love you, Heather,” she replies, a content smile on her drowsy face.

  If I could hold on to this moment forever, I would. I rest my forehead against hers, unable to keep my eyes open any longer. I drift off tangled with her, and nothing else matters.

  Chapter Twelve

  Breakfast starts with me cooking eggs and bacon in my pajamas while Alyssa leans against the counter. Mom is actually out of the house, in the pasture riding one of the horses.

  Rodney walks in without knocking and sets a box of donuts on the kitchen table, and the others arrive shortly after. Kyle brings a stack of books from the library, and Janna brings another carton of eggs and a loaf
of Texas toast.

  Janna sets up the electric griddle on the counter while I cook enough bacon and eggs for everyone, and she makes French toast. Alyssa wraps her arms around my waist and gives me a peck on the cheek. I flush as Kyle and Rodney give each other a meaningful glance over their books. They aren’t judging us, are they?

  Alyssa hooks my phone up to the bluetooth speaker hanging off the kitchen cabinet, and a bad country song comes on. She puts on an exaggerated drawl and sings to me, twirling me around the kitchen in front of all of our friends. I don’t let myself be embarrassed. Instead, I go along, dancing and singing and being absolutely in love.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Alright,” I drawl, the word long and slow as I consider. Janna has never showed an interest in anybody, but the expression on her face had been clear.

  Despite the absurd amount of food we’re making, it’s all gone in moments. Even Mom comes out to eat some, the earthy scent of hay and horses wafting in with her.

  As we’re getting ready to leave, all of us splitting up for our research plans, there’s a knock at the door. I open it to find Ruth, the new girl, standing on the porch.

  “Mom, client,” I call. Then, to the girl, I say, “Come on in.” She opens her mouth like she has something to say, but when I tilt my head, she doesn’t respond. “Would you like something to eat?” I offer. There’s all of one piece of toast and a sprinkling of eggs left, but she nods enthusiastically.

  “Thank you,” she breathes, reaching out like she’s going to touch me but stopping short.

  Weird.

  “You’re lovely, you know,” she says.

  Even weirder. “Thanks,” I reply slowly. Then, I take Alyssa’s hand and take her outside with me before this strange girl can say or do anything else too creepy.

  The magic shop in Springfield is quite a drive away, but Yelp seems to think it’s the best one around. I let Mom know that I’ll have the car for the day, and Alyssa joins me. The lake tugs at me as I drive through the Southern Missouri “mountains,” escaping Ginger Hills. Tension winds in my shoulders, and I clench my jaw.

  Alyssa rubs her thumb over the back of my hand on the shifter, but the lake refuses to release me.

  Pain seeps into my skull, and I take a sip of water from my refillable bottle.

  “Care if I put some music on?” Alyssa asks. I wordlessly pass her the AUX cable, and she scrolls through the music on my phone before deciding on an old pop-punk band. The music doesn’t do anything to distract me from the bind of the lake. I can never stay away from Ginger Hills for long, precisely because of the hold the water has over my family. If she could have, Mom would have packed me up and driven away long before now. I’m reminded of Janna’s question about my hopes and dreams. No, that’s not a privilege I get to have.

  The store is on the second floor of an old downtown building, the stairs painted with different Wiccan symbols. The floor creaks as we make our way up, announcing our presence. The girl working is mixing ingredients at the counter, her thick hair pulled up on the back of her head, although one stray curl rests over her forehead, just short enough that it won’t stay up.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” she says, not looking up from her project. A glass bottle is open next to the piece of fabric she’s working on, the materials spread into different sections. Chicken bones, herbs, and crystals are all organized into neat little piles, and she bites her lip as she works.

  I wander to the book section, picking at a few of the more modern works while Alyssa inspects the crystals and touristy gifts. None of these are what I’m looking for, but there’s no way I can afford the ancient manuscripts locked in a glass cabinet at the back.

  My headache is only getting worse, burrowing in behind my eyes. I sit on the ground in a hidden nook, staring at the bottom shelf and working on my breathing. Two minutes. After that, I have to find something. Anything at all.

  After a moment, my eyes focus, skimming over the titles.

  Love Spells: A Modern Girl’s Guide

  How to Please Your Partner

  What it Boils Down To: Attraction Potions

  I roll my eyes at the ridiculous romance section, but the next book gives me pause. It’s smaller than the rest, a stout leather journal with no title. I put a finger on top and pull it out, caressing the binding. The front has a name stamped into it.

  R. Whitman.

  My breath catches in my throat at Mom’s maiden name, and I flip open to a random page, careful not to touch the delicate words for fear that they’ll disappear.

  May 10, 1962

  Mom told me something impossible today. That we’re made of magic. Our whole family is. She showed me her cards, her candles, her crystals. And then she told me that I would start to learn from her as soon as we get away from Dad. He’s getting angrier by the day, and I —

  May 19, 1962

  We made it out. It was a long trip, but Mom drove until the car ran out of gas. There was a small town, and Mom got a job at an amusement park. We’re staying at the Motel until we can afford somewhere real to live. School is already out for the summer, far earlier than back home.

  I don’t love this town. Branson, it’s called. Still, it’s better than where we were. At least here we aren’t getting hurt. Our physical wounds are healing, but I fear the ones in our hearts will take far longer.

  Tomorrow night is the full moon, and Mom has told me that she’s going to start my training then.

  May 21, 1962

  The water had been dark, sucking in all the light of the moon as Mom led me out for my first true ritual. There was something wrong, sick. I tried to explain to her how I felt, but she said it was just the dark playing tricks on me.

  I have no way of knowing whether the spell was a success. It was supposed to be to find love, but I’m not so sure. I didn’t tell Mom exactly what I was casting, but I think she knows. It’s hard to hide my yearning for a handsome young man when we live so close. She nearly caught me ogling at Andy Griffith the other night.

  December 24, 1962

  The time jump startles me. There aren’t any pages missing, and there were so many pages filled to this point that it doesn’t make sense. After triple checking that I didn’t somehow miss something, I read on.

  Tomorrow is Christmas, but there’s not much to celebrate. It’s frigid here, and lonelier than ever. Tom has been in Laos for two months now, and the house isn’t even halfway done. I will have it finished before this baby comes, though. It will be fine.

  I tell fortunes on the side, and Tom’s money all goes into making a better life for us. Living on the base isn’t horrible, but there’s no privacy, and the other women call me a witch. They’re not wrong, but I can’t stand them anyway.

  It’s days like this when I miss Mom the most. She’d just found out about the baby when she disappeared. It had been a hot day despite the rain, and she’d gone for a dip in the little piece of lake that lines the two hundred acres she bought from selling her jewelry.

  I’m going to sleep, and then tomorrow I’ll be back to it. If I don’t build this damned house, then who will?

  A hand rests on my shoulder, and I slam the journal shut. It feels special, secret. If anyone can do anything about it, though, it’s Alyssa. She’s been in the lake, seen things I couldn’t imagine. Does she know anything about this young woman’s mother?

  “You alright?” She asks, glancing at the journal. I close it, wrapping the twine around it so it doesn’t open again. A “SALE! 50 cents!” sticker is on the back, and I stand.

  “Yeah. I think I’m gonna get this.” I don’t say why. It could be nothing, or it could be everything.

  It could hold the solution to all our problems. Maybe R...My great-grandmother Ruth, I realize, freezing in place. It must be. She’d been the one to build our house, and she’d been a witch, just like Grandma and Mom and now me. Maybe she knew something I don’t. Maybe her words will save us all.

  The journal has me rattled. I read through t
he beginning in the car, but it’s mostly about Ruth and her mother surviving an abusive father. Nothing to solve the mystery of my life. There doesn’t appear to be a family connection to the lake before that.

  There are newspaper articles and drawings, though. One is a photo of a young woman, her name written on the back. Ruth.

  She’s lovely and plump, her eyes shining with excitement. A baby is in her arms, although her features make it seem like she’s far too young to have a child. I recognize the slope of her nose when I look in the mirror, the set of her lips. Her dark hair is up behind her, and her smile is gentle and genuine.

  Alyssa tries to talk to me on the way home, but I keep spacing out, wondering about my great grandmother’s life. Its energy vibrates throughout the vehicle, and my head throbs in response.

  When we finally make it home, I go immediately to the water, abandoning the journal in the car. The sun is blindingly bright, and my ears have begun to ring. It has to stop. I can’t stand it anymore.

  I stumble over the dock, ignoring Alyssa’s concerned questions. When I slip into the water, she doesn’t follow me.

  The darkness encompasses me, the water cool and soothing. Gradually, the pain crashing against my skull fades. Something brushes my legs, but I don’t look at the giant fish that live here, that I protect. They would never hurt me. The fading scars on my arm beat in argument, and my lungs burn.

  Everything is fine. The water holds me, suspended in time and space. So long as I don’t open my eyes, it will be okay.

  Too soon, it’s over. One of the fish pushes me to the surface, its slimy scales rubbing against my lower back, right at the gap between my shirt and shorts.

  The sun burns my eyes through the lids, and the sounds of the real world make it through my senses. Someone’s boat is whining loudly, and music thumps out from a different direction. Too much, too quickly. I sigh and climb out of the water. Everything wells up inside me, and a sob bursts out as I collapse to the dock floor. As I cry, Alyssa wraps her arms around me, never mind my soaked clothes and hair.