“Sort of.”
“They’ll let you back in soon enough.” Her gaze flicked from me to the cabin door and back again. “First time living with a group of girls?”
I nodded.
“It takes some getting used to. I was an only child, too, so coming here was a rude awakening.”
“You were a camper here?”
“Yes, in my own special way,” Lottie said. “But what I learned is that each summer there’s always a fight or two in these cabins. It comes from being shoved together in such close quarters.”
“This one sounds pretty bad,” I said, surprised by how shaken seeing them fighting had left me. I couldn’t stop picturing Vivian’s cheeks flaring red or the tears glistening behind Allison’s hair.
“Well, I know of a friendlier place we can go.”
Lottie put a hand on my shoulder, steering me away from the cabin and into the heart of camp. To my surprise, we headed to the Lodge, skirting the side of the building to the steps that led to the back deck. At the top stood Franny, leaning against the railing, her eyes aimed at the lake.
“Emma,” she said. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“There’s some drama in Dogwood,” Lottie explained.
Franny shook her head. “I’m not surprised.”
“Do you want me to defuse it?”
“No,” Franny said. “It’ll pass. It always does.”
She waved me to her side, and the two of us stared at the water, Lake Midnight spread before us in all its sun-dappled glory.
“Gorgeous view,” she said. “Makes you feel a little bit better, doesn’t it? This place makes everything better. That’s what my father used to say. And he learned it from his father, so it must be true.”
I looked across the lake, finding it hard to believe the entire body of water hadn’t existed a hundred years earlier. Everything surrounding it—trees, rocks, the opposite shore shimmering in the distance—felt like it had always been there.
“Did your grandfather really make the lake?”
“He did indeed. He saw this land and knew what it needed—a lake. Because God had failed to put one here, he made it himself. One of the first people to do that, I might add.” Franny inhaled deeply, as if trying to consume every scent, sight, and sensation the lake provided. “And now it’s yours to enjoy any way you’d like. You do enjoy it here, don’t you, Emma?”
I thought I did. I loved it here two days ago, before Vivian took me out in the canoe to her secret spot. Since then, my impression of the place had been chipped away by things I didn’t quite understand. Vivian and her moods. Natalie and Allison’s blind acceptance. Why the thought of Theo continued to make my knees weak even after I humiliated myself in front of him.
Unable to let Franny know any of this, I simply nodded.
“Wonderful,” Franny said, beaming at my answer. “Now try to forget about the unpleasantness in your cabin. Don’t let anything spoil this place for you. I certainly don’t. I won’t let it.”
23
I wake with the dawn, my fingers still curled around the broken bracelet. Because I spent the night clenched with worry, my lower back and shoulders hurt, the pain there beating as steadily as a drum. I slide out of bed, shuffle to my trunk, and dig out my bathing suit, towel, trusty robe, and drugstore sunglasses. On my way out, I do a quick check of the door. Nothing new has been painted there. I’m grateful that, for now, seeing Vivian again is the worst of my worries.
After that, it’s more shuffling to the latrine, where I change into the bathing suit, then to the lake and finally into the water, which is such a relief that I actually sigh once I’m fully submerged. My body seems to right itself. Muscles stretch. Limbs unfurl. The pain settles to a mild ache. Annoying but manageable.
Rather than full-out swim, I lean back in the water, floating the way Theo taught me. It’s a hazy morning, the clouds as gray as my mood. I stare up at them, searching in vain for hints of sunrise. A blush of pink. A yellow glow. Anything to take my mind off Vivian.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by her appearance. Honestly, I should have expected it after three days of nonstop thinking about her. Now that I’ve seen her, I know she’ll return. Yet another person watching me.
I take a deep breath and slip beneath the lake’s surface. The colorless sky wobbles as water comes between us, rushing over my open eyes, distorting my vision. I sink deeper until I’m certain no one can see me. Not even Vivian.
I stay submerged for almost two full minutes. By then my lungs burn like wildfire and my limbs involuntarily scramble for the surface. When I emerge, I’m hit once again with the sensation of being watched from a distance. My muscles tighten. Bracing for Vivian.
On shore, someone sits near the water’s edge, watching me. It’s not Vivian, thank God. It’s not even Becca.
It’s Franny, sitting in the same grassy area Becca and I had occupied two mornings ago. She still wears her nightgown, a Navajo blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She waves to me as I swim back to shore.
“You’re up early,” she calls out. “I thought I was the only early riser around here.”
I say nothing as I dry myself with the towel, put on the robe, and slip on the sunglasses. Although Franny appears happy to see me, the feeling isn’t quite mutual. With Vivian now fresh in my thoughts, so, too, is her diary.
I’m close to finding out her dirty little secret.
That line, the appearance of the camera, and Franny’s noticeable lack of support after Mindy accused me of vandalizing my own damn door have left me in a state of deep mistrust. I’m debating whether to walk away when Franny says, “I know you’re still upset about yesterday. With good reason, I suppose. But I hope that doesn’t mean you can’t sit with an old woman looking for a little company.”
She pats the grass next to her—a gesture that squeezes my heart a little. It makes me think I can forgive the camera and her failure to rush to my defense. As for Vivian’s diary, I tell myself that she could have been lying about Franny keeping secrets. Being dramatic for drama’s sake. It was, after all, her forte. Perhaps the diary was just another lie.
I end up brokering a compromise between my suspicious mind and my squishy heart. I sit beside Franny but refuse to engage her in conversation. Right now, it’s the best I can do.
Franny seems to intuit my unspoken rules and doesn’t press me for details about why I’m up so early. She simply talks.
“I have to say, Emma, I’m envious of your swimming ability. I used to spend so much time in that lake. As a girl, you couldn’t get me to leave the water. From sunrise to dusk, I’d be out there paddling away. Not anymore, though. Not after what happened to Douglas.”