Chapter Eleven

During the spring and summer seasons, Katherine and James awakened early and almost always ahead of the guests. One particularly humid morning, they sat out on the steps having coffee while talking quietly and looking out over the lake, its surface smooth as a newly polished floor, placid and radiant beneath a slowly rising sun.

Though they had both been raised around the ocean, for James, the concept of swimming and communing with the water—whether it was the sea, the lake, a pool or even a walk in the rain—had never lost its allure. Katherine was a good swimmer, but never enjoyed the water to the extent James had. Over the years he had grown fond of the lake, clearly favored it, and rarely ventured to the beach. He seemed more connected to the lake in a physical and spiritual sense, while for Katherine, it was a pleasant but otherwise familiar experience, and therefore rather commonplace. Unlike James, Katherine still preferred the ocean, though she too rarely had time to go there.

“I love the ocean, but you never know what’s swimming alongside you in the open water,” he’d said on more than one occasion. “I think if most people realized what was lurking just beneath their toes out there, they’d never leave the beach.”

“You should’ve never seen Jaws,” she said jokingly.

“There’s more out there than we’ve even begun to understand.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “Look at all the new species they keep finding in super-deep waters. But the worst anyone is liable to encounter while swimming at the beaches around here is a jellyfish or a sand shark, and even that’s rare.”

James had smiled at her the way he sometimes did, with a mixture of interest and just a hint of condescension, the latter of which irritated her to no end. “At least I know what’s in the lake. One can never be sure what’s skulking around out in the ocean, Katherine, that’s my point.”

“Actually, I think we have a very good idea of what swims in these waters,” she said, dropping in a condescending tone of her own. “The lake is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but the ocean is so majestic and sweeping. Besides, what kind of New Englander prefers lakes to the Atlantic Ocean?”

“The lake’s safer.”

The sun had just fully cleared the trees on the far side of the lake, and its rays shone down more powerfully, gliding across the smooth surface like perfectly skipped stones. “Some sections of the lake are awfully deep,” she reminded him. “And it’s not as if there’s no life out there.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s not as easily…”

“Controlled?” she offered.

“The lake is just less mysterious, that’s all I’m saying.”

“But you love the mysterious.”

This time, when he looked at her, his smile was gone, replaced instead with a strange look of concern. “Not always.”

Katherine put her coffee down and slid closer to her husband. “We should go to the beach one of these nights. We used to go all the time when we were dating.”

“That was before we owned this place.” James slipped an arm over her shoulder and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Now we’ve got all we need right here.”

“Remember that night we got caught out on the dunes in that horrible thunderstorm?”

He nodded. “You were terrified.”

“So were you,” she laughed, that night so many years before replaying in her mind. “I never saw such lightning. You held me so tight, and kept saying everything was going to be all right, even though I had the distinct feeling you were trying to convince yourself as much as you were me.”

He took her chin in his hand and raised her head until her eyes met his. “You have no idea how much I wanted to make love to you that night.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“There was something perfect and pure about huddling there with our arms around each other,” he said. “It was like we were two innocent children out there all alone.”

“We were both over twenty at the time.”

“Don’t be so literal. You know what I mean. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“It wouldn’t have ruined it, James.”

“But it would’ve changed it.” He grabbed his coffee, took a long sip. “And I wanted to be able to remember it just the way I wanted it to be, the way I meant it to be. The way we are right now.”

Katherine stroked the side of his face a moment then let her hand drop away. “I always liked your poem about that night.”

“‘Thunder and Tears,’” he said.

“Recite it for me?”

“Oh, please. It was just a silly love poem.”

“It wasn’t silly to me. Come on, recite it for me.”

“You know I don’t like to—”

“For me?”

James smiled and shook his head, as if he had no choice but to comply, and she suspected he probably hadn’t. He hesitated a moment, looked off into the distance as if to retrieve the words from some far-off cue card, then began. “‘Do you recall endless dunes, desolate beaches and spears of lightning stabbing the sky, rolling thunder, crashing waves…the rain…and how we held each other tight? Or is it just a blurry chapter in a book never finished? It doesn’t matter, I guess, the thunder and all. The memory of your touch is enough, somehow.’”

“See? It’s not the least bit silly,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

“You know I haven’t written that sort of thing in eons.”

“That was before your work became so dark and—”

“Serious, Katherine, it’s called serious art…or at least my feeble attempt at it. Any jackass can write love poems or greeting card copy.”

“You so rarely let me read your work these days, I wouldn’t know anyway.”

His demeanor noticeably changed. “It’s not very good.”

“I’m sure it’s terrific. Why are you so down on yourself lately?”

James closed his eyes but said nothing, like the answer was too painful to voice.

“Sometimes you act as if you’re trying to shield me from your work,” she told him. “I almost get the impression you think you’re protecting me from it or something.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Why would you feel the need to do that?”

When he again chose not to answer, Katherine put her coffee aside and reached for him. He purposely remained just beyond her touch.

Katherine returned her hands to her lap, and she and James sat quietly finishing their coffee, together yet apart, beneath the gentle caress of morning sun.

You were hiding from me even then, weren’t you, James? Hiding all your demons, all your thoughts and fears and writings—your endless notes and scribbles in your journal—still hoping you could somehow escape all those things so vehemently pursuing you. But no one can outrun the night, can they, James? Not even with all your poems and prayers and alleged intellectual superiority. No one can outrun the truth. Not even you.

The past slept, slipped away to darkness.

Something wet tickled her face. The sky, gray and blurred through the falling flakes, came into focus above her as she opened her eyes, leaving the darkness of unconscious memories in favor of one more current. As her mind gradually cleared, Katherine remembered the cabin, the little girl and the man—she remembered running, falling, tumbling into the snow and everything going blank. She couldn’t tell how long she’d been unconscious and lying in the snow, but she was soaked and cold and her head was spinning. With a great deal of effort, she struggled to her hands and knees. Shooting pains arced through her shoulders. Coughing and gagging for air, she forced herself to her feet. In a newly formed trough in the snow, she located the shotgun and retrieved it.

She looked around and only then realized she’d fallen from the edge of the parking area down a small dune and onto the shores of the lake.

It was so quiet here, so deathly quiet. The snow was heavier and falling faster than before, the air filled with big plump flakes.

Her breath regained, she made her way through the heavy snow and trudged back up the slight incline until she’d reached the parking area. In the distance, the cabins sat locked, snow-covered and undisturbed. All were dark.

She looked back at the lake.

Walking away from her, across the frozen surface of the lake, was a man. A child walked on either side of him, each holding a hand. A third child clung to the stranger’s chest, legs clutching his waist and small arms wrapped around his neck to prevent himself from falling. The children on foot looked back at her in unison, but even at such a distance it was obvious only one possessed eyes that could see.

Katherine recognized the first as the little girl.

The second took a bit longer to identify through the snowfall, but even before his face came into full view, she knew it was the Japanese boy.

The third child slowly raised his head from the man’s shoulder. She had never seen him before, yet the child looked at her as if he knew her well.

As the foursome continued moving away into the storm, the stranger finally looked back at her as well.

It was not the same man from the cabin.

“James,” she whispered.