Saturday, April 17
Aurora was fixing breakfast when the phone rang. “Good morning, my darling Susie-Q. Did I wake you?”
“No, Sam. I’m tired, but I got up early to see one of the gorgeous lake sunrises that I’ve missed so much, then King and I went for a walk.” She glanced at the clock—7:45. “Actually, I’ve gotten up early both mornings. I’ll probably fall asleep on the dock this afternoon. How are you? I surely do miss you.” She squeezed orange blossom honey into her bowl of oatmeal, then stirred in dried cranberries, raisins and a little skim milk.
“I miss you, too, honey. It’s no fun here without you. How much longer before you come home to Augusta?”
“I’m not sure. It’ll take longer than I thought to put Mom’s affairs in order. I need to meet with her lawyer this week, too.” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “And I’d hate to take King away from his beloved lake so soon. Wish you could see him, he’s acting like a puppy again. Keeps bringing me stuff from the lake that I don’t want: dead fish, a deflated inner tube, chunks of wood, sticks, pieces of Styrofoam. You wouldn’t believe how much junk is in the water.”
“I’m glad King’s with you.”
“King’s better company than a lot of people we know, Sam. Smarter, too.” She spooned some cereal into her mouth.
“You’re right.” He chuckled.
“By the way,” Sam said, “Harold Johns called me late last night from Lynchburg. He wants us to join him and his wife for dinner next Saturday night. He’s flying down to Augusta on business for a few days, Melinda is coming with him. Think you can make it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not ready to leave yet. Like I said before, there’s still a lot for me to do here.” She sipped her coffee. “I’ll see what I can do, though. You know I’d love to be with you.”
She’d never told Sam that Harold Johns gave her the creeps. After all, Sam had to work with the arrogant man occasionally. And Harold’s wife Melinda, well! She was a snobby, rich socialite who’d probably had more facelifts than she could count. “I’ll think about it and let you know tomorrow. Any excuse to talk to you.”
“I really do hope you can come for the weekend, Susie-Q, but I’ll understand if you can’t.
“How’s the weather there, Aurora? Are you staying warm enough?”
“I’m plenty warm during the day, but the water’s much too cold for a swim. In the evenings, I light the gas logs, pull an afghan up over me and read.” King whined and nosed Aurora. She patted his head. “Can’t see any sense in turning on the heat. As for the weather, that storm that roared through here has gone. Last night I thought I heard gun shots, but I’m guessing now that it was isolated claps of thunder or a car backfiring.” King whined again. Aurora opened the door and let him out.
“And Sam, don’t worry about me. Even though I get teary-eyed when I think of Mother—and I do miss her terribly—I know she’s much better off now.” Aurora didn’t want to worry Sam, so she didn’t mention the undercurrent of fear that never left her.
“I’m relieved to hear that, Susie-Q.
“What are your plans for the day?”
“I’m going to finish these thank-you notes to all the nice people who sent flowers and cards. I’ll save the cards they sent me; I’m sure you’d enjoy reading the sweet things they said about Mother. People have been so kind, even though Mother had suffered with Alzheimer’s for several years.” Aurora opened the door when King barked to come back inside.
“I’d like to read the cards. By the way, did you look at the necklace again?”
“I did. Sam, it’s hard to believe, but it looks like the diamonds and rubies are real.” She swallowed some orange juice. “I can hardly wait to get your opinion. If it’s genuine, then I’ll report it to the police. But I’d feel like a fool if I made a big deal out of a piece of costume jewelry.”
“I can understand that. Where’d you put it?”
“In the junk drawer in the kitchen.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing it. And seeing you, too. Guess I’d better head to the office now, though. I’ll call you tomorrow, Susie-Q. Love you, ‘bye.”
“Goodbye, Sam. I love you, too.” Aurora stood for several seconds after hanging up the receiver, her fingertips touching the phone.
By mid-afternoon, Aurora sealed and stamped the final envelope. That’s a relief. Tomorrow I’ll take them to the post office and put them in the mail. Right now I need to get outside. She pushed her chair away from the antique cherry writing desk.
“King, want to go down to the dock?”
King barked. Aurora laughed. “Let me get my bathing suit on, then we’ll go.” She hurried to the bedroom and put on a green and blue print suit. After picking up a thick yellow towel and her digital camera, she turned on the answering machine. She grabbed two slices of bread from the kitchen cupboard and walked down to the dock with King.
She put the camera and towel on a chair. Then standing on the edge of the dock, she broke off small pieces of bread and tossed them into the water. Small fish darted out from under the dock and gobbled up the treats. Aurora laughed. “Some things never change, King.” She tossed him a piece. He caught it in midair.
After throwing the last of the bread to the fish, she walked over to the boathouse and looked up at the canoe hoisted high above the pontoon boat. She knew that with the aid of the intricate system of ropes and pulleys her dad had installed, getting the old Grumman aluminum canoe down would only take a few minutes. She wanted—no, needed—to get out on the water, to prove to herself that the lake itself wasn’t her enemy. However, she still wasn’t ready to go swimming.
Within fifteen minutes, Aurora was in the canoe. Her camera hung from her neck. She zipped up her life jacket and said, “Okay, King, come.” He stepped carefully into the boat. Aurora dipped her paddle into the water and the canoe glided away from the dock. “We’ll look for the grebes, see if we can find a nest.”
Thirty minutes later, after no sign of the grebes, Aurora returned to the end of the dock so King could jump out. Not yet ready to get out of the canoe, she pushed away from the dock. She put the paddle down and dangled her hands in the deep, calm water.
Aurora looked back at the two-story home her dad had designed and built on the hillside. The house’s exterior blended with the surroundings. A wide, covered porch—a veranda, her mother called it—around all four sides of the house allowed first-floor windows to stay open even during a heavy rain. An L-shaped section of screened porch on one corner provided spillover sleeping during the summer. The sunroom, Aurora’s favorite spot to curl up with a good book and a cup of mint tea on a winter day, was furnished with white wicker furniture, the cushions upholstered in a bright green and white fabric.
From the canoe, she admired the nicely trimmed yard and weed-free flowerbeds. Huge azaleas in shades of pink, purple, peach and white bloomed amid the white dogwoods, crape myrtles, tulip poplars and tall pines. Purple and yellow pansies blossomed profusely in the large, green clay pot on the end of the dock. Unkempt yards meant no one was home, so Sam had arranged with Tom’s Tidy Lawn & Lake Service to take care of all yard maintenance after Jack died. She smiled at the weather-beaten redwood sign still attached to the boathouse: “The House That Jack Built.” The sign had been repainted several times over the years. An identical sign hanging from the rail fence welcomed guests who came up the driveway.
Her father had divided the remainder of the tract into restricted five-acre lots and, as property values jumped, he sold one or two lots every couple of years. Eventually, his architectural firm grew as people in the area recognized his extraordinary talent and integrity—two qualities respected in the building industry. Aurora looked at the other homes. She was glad her parents had kept 21 acres as a buffer.
Not only had the acreage given the family plenty of privacy, it provided space for a three-stall barn with a tack room, two small paddocks, and a nine-acre pasture. She remembered the Christmas when she was ten years old, the year her family moved to the lake. That glorious Christmas morning she ran into the living room and discovered the end of a red ribbon pinned to her Christmas stocking. As her parents watched, she followed the ribbon out the front door and up to the barn. The other end of the ribbon was tied to a stall door latch. When she opened the door she saw the most gorgeous pony in the world—at least Aurora thought so. Red ribbons were woven through the pony’s mane and tail. The small mare nickered softly and nuzzled Aurora with her soft-as-velvet muzzle. Because she was a dapple-gray, Aurora named her Frosty. She had loved going on trail rides with Frosty and showing her at the local shows, especially the annual New London show. Frosty died a natural death at age 22, the year Aurora left for college.
Smiling at the memory, Aurora looked up at the blue sky dotted with billowing cumulus clouds. She thought of her dad and how he would have pointed at the deep blue sky and say, “See those clouds? They’re the kind N.C. Wyeth painted.” Then he would have told anyone who would listen about his favorite artist/illustrator.
She pulled her camera from its case and snapped a picture of the cloud-filled sky. “This one’s for you, Dad.”
Since her dad’s death, Aurora had been unable to recall his face unless she looked at his photograph. Now, three months later, she could picture his twinkling blue eyes, thin gray-blonde hair, and the deep laugh lines etched in the corners of his eyes. Why, she wondered, could she see him so clearly now? Was it because she finally had accepted his drowning, had forgiven him for being careless, had let go of her anger? Soothed by the water lapping against the canoe, she put down her camera, leaned back in the canoe, and closed her eyes. I loved you so much, Dad. And I always will.
King’s deep growl startled Aurora. Paddling back to the dock, she climbed the ladder and tied up the canoe. Less than ten yards away sat a middle-aged couple in a black fishing boat.
The heavyset man wore khaki shorts, a red knit shirt, brown leather boat shoes (no socks), sunglasses, and a tan fishing cap with “Born to Fish” scrawled across it. Hmm. Looks like a yuppie or a cleaned-up redneck to me.
Sprigs of bottle-blonde hair escaped from under the woman’s wide-brimmed straw hat tied under her chin by a pink and green striped scarf. Aurora noted the pale pink halter-top under the unbuttoned long-sleeved green linen shirt, the liberally applied makeup, the blue sandals and fuchsia shorts. Bet she was a knockout twenty years ago.
In the boat, two rods rigged for striper fishing rested in holders beside an empty live well for holding their catch. Aurora could hear the bait shad flitting around in the minnow bucket.
“Hey there,” drawled the woman as she adjusted her tortoise shell sunglasses. “That sure is a pretty Lab.”
“Thanks,” said Aurora. King continued to growl.
“What’s his name?”
“King.”
“May I pet him?” asked the woman, stretching out a well-manicured hand heavy with rings.
“I wouldn’t if I were you. He’s very protective of me.”
“That big head of his is just gorgeous. He’s absolute perfection.”
Aurora beamed, friendlier now after hearing praise for her beloved dog. “Thanks.” King continued to growl.
“Is King registered? I own a registered female Lab myself.”
“Yes, he is. He’s descended from an old Canadian line of champion Labradors.” Aurora scratched behind King’s ears.
“I’ve been dying to breed my dog, and when I saw King standing over here on your dock, I just had to come get a better look at him. He’s the nicest I’ve seen in a long time. Would you consider breeding him with my female? You could have your pick of the litter.”
Aurora chuckled. “Won’t work. His registered name is The King of Hearts, but he won’t be breaking the hearts of any female dogs. We aren’t in the dog breeding business, so we had him neutered when he was a year old. However, King’s sire and dam are owned by friends of ours. I could give you their name and phone number, if you wish.”
“Thanks, I just might take you up on that. Will you be here all next week?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, maybe I’ll see you around.”
“How’s the fishin’? Anybody catching anything?” asked the man.
“I’ve only been here a couple of days. Haven’t seen anybody catch anything, although I’ve seen some boats out on the water. Some at night, too.”
The woman looked at her companion. “Don’t reckon we’ll catch a fish if we don’t get moving, honey.” She said to Aurora, “Nice talking to you.”
Aurora nodded.