Chapter 14
Grace woke to the sound of the lake lapping against the pebbly shore, as comfortable and familiar as a pair of old shoes. Morning light streamed in through the edges of the blinds covering the windows.
She noticed the dark tufts of Evan’s hair peeking out of the covers and smiled. He was breathing deeply, one arm slung over his head. Despite being eight and more grown-up, he still took every opportunity to climb into bed with her.
Carefully, she lifted her side of the sheets and pulled them back slowly. It was a new day and Grace was glad. It had been a long and weird afternoon yesterday, topped off with her stepmother’s performance at the funeral.
Grace sighed long and deep. She slipped on her robe and shut the bedroom door behind her carefully, so as not to wake Evan. If she had to guess, her stepmother was probably awake an hour ago. She peeked around the corner into the living room, expecting her to be standing there.
It was empty, and the door to Kathleen’s bedroom was open just a crack.
“Hello?” Grace said in a loud whisper.
No answer.
Grace let her shoulders relax. Kathleen was probably outside walking or gardening, maybe talking to one of the neighbors. Her father always said that her stepmother could never stand still.
Grateful for the reprieve, Grace decided to make coffee. As expected, everything inside the kitchen cabinets was stacked neatly and labeled. Grace inhaled the nutty aroma as she measured out a few scoops of dark brown granules, added the water, and flicked the switch.
As the coffee pot began to gurgle, Grace inspected the living room. It looked completely different without a crowd of people. The space was clean and white, with a sofa and loveseat in the corner, both set an equal distance apart from the coffee table. The floor, wide-planked and wooden, was aged to mellow golden color.
Framed pictures hung on the walls. There were lovely panoramic shots of Keuka Lake, two of her father and his Sailfish, and several snapshots of Evan.
The majority of photographs, however, were of Henry and Kathleen. Grace moved closer, studying the details, and found herself mesmerized by the similarities. In each one—location aside—her father and stepmother were smiling. In Italy, in China, and France. On the campus of the college where her father worked, on the shore of the lake, and inside the house where Grace was standing.
Every time the shutter clicked open, Henry and Kathleen had their heads bent together and arms entwined. They glowed with happiness and love.
Grace stepped back and turned away, feeling her throat choke with emotion.
It hurt to look too long at her father’s face.
Grace slid open the heavy glass doors to the outside porch and stepped out onto the sturdy wooden planks, wishing the coffee would finish.
She shivered when the cool breeze hit her face and tugged the robe around her tighter. A tiny ant ran across the top of the wood, clinging for dear life in the breeze.
The chairs on the porch were empty. She looked further, down along the shoreline, for signs of life. The deck and pebbly beach were empty too.
Out of the corner of her eye, familiar blue and white stripes came into view across the aquamarine of the water. It looked hauntingly like her father’s sailboat. The trees near the deck bent in their branches, leaves rustling noisily.
The Sailfish was her father’s prized possession, the boat he’d bought in college for only three hundred dollars. Henry had lovingly taken care of it over the years, sanded carefully and painted the brightest white at least a dozen times.
Grace kept her eyes focused on the tall mast, bobbing slightly as it made its way across the water. She could make out a single figure in an orange life vest. One person on board. It could be Kathleen, but she wasn’t sure.
Then, the wind slowed, gusted once again, and sputtered. As the sun rose about the hilltops, the air became absolutely still.
Grace waited for the breeze to pick up, anticipating the brush of air against her bare skin. Her heart began to beat faster. She glanced around for other boats in the area—a fishing boat, a rowboat, anything.
The lake was empty. The sail hadn’t moved.
Shading her eyes, Grace held the boat in view, starting to walk toward the dock.
Another agonizing minute passed.
The boat’s mast teetered, causing the sail to shake from side to side. Grace blinked to make sure what she was seeing was real.
It was Kathleen.
Chapter 15
Kathleen hadn’t counted on the Sailfish being this difficult to manage. She had been on it a thousand times with Henry and chided herself for worrying.
Her husband had patiently shown her how to trim the huge sail and make the boat go faster. She remembered that letting out the rope allowed the Sailfish to slow down. Kathleen knew how to move the rudder, and when to pull up the centerboard.
But she never had asked—or didn’t remember hearing—exactly what steps to take when stuck in the middle of the lake. By herself.
Kathleen, in her hurry to enjoy the morning solitude, hadn’t thought to bring her cell phone. She didn’t leave Grace a note. And, of course, by now, Dr. Ryan Gordon was long gone, driving into work, his mind squarely focused on the dozens of patients waiting for him at the office.
If Henry could see her, Kathleen thought, he was probably having a chuckle. She looked up at the few white puffs floating by against the blue and leaned her head against the steel mast.
Kathleen scanned the horizon. It was daybreak. Lights were just starting to come on in houses dotting the shoreline. A few birds swooped down, nearby, in search of breakfast. They paid her no attention, darting and calling out to each other. Otherwise, the lake was empty. Even the Sheriff’s boat would have been a welcome sight at this point.
She considered her options. Kathleen could try to paddle back to her dock using the centerboard, which was awkward and unwieldy. She could try to swim back, as she had the life vest on, but she’d have to leave the boat. She could wait. Or, if it wasn’t so early, she might try to yell or scream and attract some attention.
The latter, however, was out, she decided. She’d rather not completely lose her dignity. The talk in Penn Yan would be nothing but stories about the crazy woman who lost her husband, and a day later, tried to drown herself in the middle of Keuka Lake.
Paddle it was, Kathleen decided.
At least she was facing the right direction. Letting the rope go slack, she tugged at the slippery centerboard. It wouldn’t budge. Kathleen set her jaw and tried again, readjusting her grip. With a small grunt, she yanked hard, finally freeing the centerboard.
The effort threw Kathleen off balance, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched the rope unfurl and slip into the water. A second too late, she grabbed for the thick, white strand, but felt the braided edges brush past her fingers.
Trying not to panic, Kathleen tucked the centerboard behind her, eased toward the edge of the Sailfish, and slid one leg into the water, trying to catch the rope with her toes.
No such luck. Kathleen slapped at the lake in disgust, causing droplets to spray her nose and mouth. With the back of one hand, she wiped at her face, trying not to cry.
How had she ever gotten herself in such a predicament?
Kathleen rubbed at the back of her neck and blinked away tears. She glanced around, hoping to see another sailboat or a swimmer. She saw no one, but noticed with increasing concern that the sky had grown dark. Thick clouds were rolling in from the South, covering what had been a perfectly blue horizon.
A few droplets of rain fell against her leg and spattered the boat.
Kathleen let out a tiny moan.
Gusts of wind now pushed persistently at the sail, rocking the Sailfish from side to side. Kathleen clung to the rails, unable to think. She shifted back, inching closer to the mast. When her tailbone hit something hard and cold, she jumped.
The splash, directly behind the boat, stopped her cold. With horror, Kathleen realized she had lost her only other means of saving herself. Holding her breath, she turned her head.
The centerboard was in the water, floating away. Damn!
Wind, causing the lake to whitecap, whipped at Kathleen’s hair. The strands played on her cheeks and eyelashes, making it difficult to see. Before she could tuck them out of the way, a bigger gust took the sail and spun it.
There was an awful scraping sound, metal on metal.
All at once, the long, silver boom swung around, gathering speed, and hit the back of Kathleen’s neck. She winced in pain and grabbed at nothing, too late. The Sailfish tilted up, unsteadily, then back. Water washed over her legs and feet, pulling and dragging her away.
Kathleen plunged into the dark, cool lake. The last thing she remembered was watching the sail crash to the water next to her head.
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March 6, 2013
