Author’s note: To get the most out of this story, I recommend you first read the previous blog about the place. Thanks!
Doreen Roark sat in a folding chair on the beach at the northern edge of Sullivan Lake. Behind her, a maze of paths led through evergreen forest to the site where the Roarks were camped for a week. In front of her, iron-blue water slapped at pebbly gray sand. The lake, half a mile wide, curved between hills blanketed by forest. The sun was low in the sky, its rays gently warming her skin. She slipped a cover-up over her bathing suit and repositioned her chair to make the most of the remaining light. Lowering a floppy-brimmed hat over her face, she opened a mass-market mystery. Her eyes remained on the lake and a brood of children scampering in the shallow water.
Her own two daughters were with her husband, Doug, in the nearby community of Metaline Falls. Earlier, he’d offered to take them for pizza at a small restaurant on the main street and bring her back a couple of slices. No campfire cooking, no clean-up, time alone to enjoy the serenity of the lake – it was near perfect. Thanks, Doug.
Before long, the children left the beach, trailed by their mother half hidden under a collection of towels and inflatable toys. Doreen waved, and the mother responded with a grimace and a wagging pinkie.
Doreen nestled deeper into the chair. The lake had flattened out to resemble a dark sheet of glass. The sun was gone, and the sky slowly wrung itself of color. Forested hills became charcoal silhouettes. Scents of sunscreen gave way to that of pine resin. Silence settled in, broken only by occasional distant squeals of children playing at their campsites. A God’s-in-his-heaven-all’s-right-with-the-world moment. Doreen gave off a long, deep sigh of contentment.
Moments later, a truck pulled into the adjacent parking area, its headlights forming two harsh cones on either side of her chair before they and the motor were extinguished. Doreen turned to see a woman wearing a T-shirt and shorts, no shoes, exit from the driver’s side. No one was with her. Stooped in the shoulders and curved in the spine, she resembled the misshapen trunk of a bonsai tree. From the back of the truck, she wrestled with a squat kayak, the sort used for journeying down whitewater.
“Need any help?”
Whatever the woman mumbled was lost on Doreen, but a stiff shake of the head made her reply clear. Doreen watched out of the corner of her eye as the woman tipped the kayak on to the ground, retrieved a paddle, and dragged both across the pebbly beach to water’s edge. In the final light of day, the woman’s face – eyes, skin, and a short fringe of hair – took on an unnatural gray. For a long time, she stood, statue-still, in front of the lake. Then, with what could have been a shrug or a shudder, she pushed the kayak into the water, lowered herself in, and began to paddle.
No life jacket. Doreen rose from her chair with the intention of reminding the woman of the law, then pressed her lips shut. A lot of older people tended to sneer at such safety measures as seatbelts and life jackets; this woman was most likely one of them.
Doreen watched until the kayak was little more than a bug on the water, trailed by two faint threads of white. Once again, she sat in the chair, hands on book on lap. The sky, now dark, framed a lustrous moon and thousands of pinprick stars. Crickets chanted their monotone din.
After a bit, her husband and daughters joined her on the beach. The younger daughter handed her a take-out pizza box. “Pepperoni.”
Doreen handed it back. “You guys go on to the campsite. I’ll meet you there, and have the pizza with a glass of wine. I want to stay out here a bit longer. An elderly woman crossed the lake alone in a kayak. I want to stick around to make sure she gets back.”
Two hours later, Doreen gave up her vigil and joined the rest of the family. First thing in the morning, she walked to the beach. The truck was still there. She notified the authorities, who found the kayak in the middle of the lake, but no body. Several days later, the body floated to the surface, and authorities declared the mishap suicide by drowning.
For years to come, Doreen wondered if the woman had noticed the magnificence of the lake that evening, and why it hadn’t been enough.
