Green Lake

GREEN
LAKE
 

BY

S.K.EPPERSON

C
opyright 1996 © S.K. Epperson

All Rights Reserved. Digitally published by Shevan Productions. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual person living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Without limiting the rights of copyright reserved above no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

MADELEINE HERON stared with unfocused eyes at the gleaming gray coffin that held the body of her husband. Seated to her right, behind a sheer curtain, sat most of Sam Craven's family, including his mother and father, who, in a display of contempt, had asked that Madeleine be placed elsewhere. She was given the first pew in front of the coffin, and it was empty but for her. In the rows behind her sat a roomful of Sam's friends and former business associates, many of whom looked with angry surprise and spoke in barely concealed whispers when they recognized her.

The weight of the stares and the almost unanimous condemnation in the tiny chapel were more than Madeleine could bear. Her mouth was drier than dry and her pulse raced as she fought to shut everyone out and concentrate on the words of the soft-voiced minister. Her mind resisted his sorrowful droning and attached itself instead to the casket, left open in spite of Madeleine's wish to have it closed.

The stitches in Sam's temple were clearly visible, made raw and ugly by the knowledge of what they covered. The bullet had gone through and through, according to the death certificate. Death had been instantaneous as a result of a self-inflicted wound.

To Madeleine's distress the drama replayed itself continuously
as she sat through the service, the wretched final moments, the screaming, and the terrible culmination of two years' worth of daily strife.

The beginning had been much different. Sam had been different, confident and carefree, always flirting with her, ceaseless in his teasing, and endlessly happy. It was good to be around someone who was always happy. Happiness was infectious, and it was especially so with Sam, who lived spontaneously and did crazy, wonderful things just because it made him feel good to do them. He was irresistible.

Then Sam lost his job. At first Madeleine hadn't worried, he was bright and ambitious and they would get by temporarily on her earnings as a college professor. But Sam surprised her by refusing to accept any employment but his previous position as an aeronautical engineer, regardless of the job market. Madeleine tried to be understanding as long as she possibly could, but as the months passed and their savings dwindled she began to urge him to take on other work. Sam was steadfast in his resistance, claiming he would be rehired any day. Soon the savings were gone entirely, and each month it was a nail-biting struggle to make the mortgage payment. Madeleine suggested selling the house in town and finding something smaller, but Sam refused. He grew angry at Madeleine for wearing a diaphragm again; telling her their plans for a family shouldn't change because he was temporarily out of work. Madeleine wore it anyway.

Months passed with no notice for Sam to return to work, and he grew increasingly morose and self-absorbed. Madeleine found herself reluctant to go home to him, she knew she would find him in a drunken stupor before his computer, watching the screen with glazed, unblinking eyes.

The night she asked him to get help he stunned her by flying into a rage and swinging a fist at her. He blackened her eye and savagely threw her out of the house. The next day at school was one of the worst in Madeleine's career. Most of her students knew about her husband, since many of their parents were employed in the aviation industry too—or had been. Madeleine lied in fending off queries about her appearance and dealt with pupils both pitying and scornful, causing her to ask herself why she was still teaching. She missed field work. She missed it desperately. She had achieved her degrees in anthropology to do research and writing, not to spend her days in a college being grilled and examined as if she were on a sleazy talk show.

A student named Alpha was the worst. Alpha was an acne-scarred twenty-year-old with an idea that no female other than Ayn Rand could teach him anything. He made Madeleine miserable in class, forever interrupting, forever asking intentionally insipid questions, and after class that day he waited till the room was empty before approaching and standing beside her desk until she looked at him.

“Yes?” she said finally.

His lips parted in a smile. “You had it coming, didn't you?”

Madeleine blinked and stared at his pitted face.

“Excuse me?”

“What he did to you. You don't kick a man when he's down, and you must have kicked hard, hard enough to make him fight back. Why don't you help him instead of trying to make him feel worthless?”

Her mouth fell open as she continued to stare, and Madeleine knew she looked as shocked as she felt.

“Everybody knows,” said Alpha. “It's not like you have a big secret or anything.”

“It's none of your business,” Madeleine managed at last.

“Hey, I don't care. I'm just telling you, help the guy out instead of stepping on his balls. Act like a real woman instead of this highbrow intellectual bullshit that nobody ever bought from you anyway.”

“Are you finished?” Madeleine asked.

Alpha only snorted and swaggered out of the classroom.

Madeleine went home that evening and told Sam she wanted a divorce. He responded by showing her a notice from his former employer that he had failed a second drug test and would not be accepted for rehire. His voice rose to a scream as he asked her what the hell she wanted from him. When he came after her with blazing red eyes it was her turn to scream and run out of the house. A neighbor saw her and came to her aid, and all was quiet for several minutes as Madeleine shakily asked if she could borrow a phone to call her sister, Jacqueline, who worked at a nearby hospital. Through the picture window of the house Madeleine could see Sam on
his phone, and though she wondered who he was calling, she wasn't going back inside to find out.

In the next five minutes the entire neighborhood was stilled by the sound of a gunshot.

Now Madeleine sat by herself and stared at the casket. Her guilt over Sam's suicide was compounded by the discovery that he had cashed in his insurance policy months ago and recently borrowed money from the bank, using the equity on the house. Unable to pay for her husband's funeral, Madeleine was forced to ask his parents for help. Sam's last phone call had been to his mother. He told her Madeleine was divorcing him because he couldn't find work. Madeleine attempted to tell her side, but no one listened, and no one but the police took note of the failed drug tests.

Madeleine herself wondered why she had never suspected. She had lived with the man for six years.

The minister cleared his throat suddenly and Madeleine's daze was interrupted by movement to her left. She looked up to see her sister, Jacqueline, and her busy neurologist husband, Manuel, moving to sit beside her in the pew. Madeleine smiled gratefully and clasped Jacqueline's hand when she offered it. In the last few years, friendships had been impossible to maintain, but Jacqueline and Manuel had always been there for her, and it was to their home Madeleine would go after the funeral. She had made immediate arrangements to sell her own home and hired a woman to hold an estate sale the following week. Madeleine had had no choice; she needed money more than she needed china and antique furniture.

The days after the funeral passed quickly, with the sale and packing and the handling of finals during the last weeks of school. The house sold within the month, enabling Madeleine to cover all debts, but leaving her homeless, virtually penniless, and forcing her to throw herself indefinitely on the mercy of Jacqueline and her frequently absent husband. Jacqueline swore that Madeleine was no problem, saying she could stay as long as she liked, but Madeleine had no intention of sponging forever. When classes were over she would find a summer job and a cheap apartment while testing the prospects of obtaining a grant and going back into the field.

“You mean you won't be teaching anymore?” Jacqueline asked when Madeleine told her.

Madeleine shook her head and remembered the hateful expression of the student named Alpha when she returned to class after the funeral. The dull red animosity in his acne-pitted face was unnerving.

“No,” she said finally. “No more teaching.”

Jacqueline watched her. “You haven't cried yet, have you? Not even once.”

“What good would that do?” Madeleine snapped in irritation. Then she softened. “I'm sorry. I know you think I'm strange. I'm just... numb. I can't feel anything. I don't think I want to.”

Jacqueline went on considering her blonde older sister, whose skin was every bit as fair as the freckled, auburn-haired Jacqueline's, but was unmarked. Thinking about it gave Jacqueline a sudden idea.

“We just bought a cabin on the lake, did I tell you?”

Madeleine looked at her. ”A cabin?”

“At Green Lake. We went there nearly every weekend last summer. Manny has a boat and he loves to fish. I don't do much but read paperbacks and get sunburned, but it's a great place to relax and unwind.

Manny loved it so much he offered to buy the place from the owner, and he finally accepted, so it's ours. What would you think about going there after you wrap up at school?”

“For a vacation?”

“No, to live. For the summer, I mean. Until you get a grant.”

“If I get a grant,” said Madeleine. “I haven't done any worthwhile research in years.”

“Okay, if you get a grant. What about it?”

“Is it secluded?”

“Not really. There are other people near. Manny and I would come up on weekends, but the rest of the week you'd have the place to yourself. I'm not trying to get rid of you, of course, but I know how you hate feeling like a third wheel.”

Madeleine looked at her sister and wondered suddenly if Manuel had said something to Jacqueline. She wouldn't blame him if he had. It must have looked to him as if she had moved in to stay.

“Rent
free,” Jacqueline dangled. “We put in our own septic system, a phone, and a miniature satellite dish. A cozy little home away from home, just ninety minutes from the city.”

Madeleine moved her head in a small nod finally and gave her sister a grateful smile. “It sounds great, Jac. Really. Thank you for being so kind to me.”

“Trust me,” said Jacqueline. “You're going to love it.”

CHAPTER ONE

The random objects Madeleine noticed on the drive east to
Green Lake did little to inspire any enthusiasm. The trees beside the highway were gnarled, desperate-looking things, greedy for whatever water they received. An occasional length of rubber from some long blown-out tire littered the side of the road. A big gray heron flew low over the horizon, and when Madeleine glanced away from its awkward-looking flight, she saw a red cow with its tail kinked up, sending a stream of urine onto the side of another, smaller red cow in front of a barn.

“Isn't it beautiful out here?” Jacqueline was draped elegantly across the front seat of her husband's Jeep Cherokee. “Just look at those gorgeous, rolling hills.”

Madeleine stared at her from the seat in back. She saw nothing but rocks, urinating cows, and more rocks.

“I think I've been in the city too long.”

“The cabin and the lake will charm you, Madeleine, as it has charmed the two of us,” said Manuel in his thick accent.

She looked back to the highway in time to see a dead, bloated black and white cow being lifted out of the road by a tow truck. Beyond the truck were two large black tires stuck on fence posts, the words
Keep Out
written on the sides in big white letters.

Madeleine closed her eyes and decided to sleep the rest of the way. Five years ago she would have looked at the land and its inhabitants with different eyes. She would have been curious, interested in the geological aspects, and full of wondering about the humans who might have wandered the area centuries ago. Now she felt nothing but a mild case of carsickness from riding in the back seat.

“Almost there now,” said Manuel, cheerful but tired.

He had been called in for emergency surgery at the last minute, delaying their start by several hours. It would be dark soon, so Madeleine wouldn't be able to see much that day. Jacqueline assured her they would explore the lake together the next morning. The two of them had gone shopping for food that afternoon and brought along a month's worth of supplies with them. Fresh items could be bought in the tiny town of
Green Lake, just four miles away from the reservoir or in Fayville a larger town a dozen miles away. Anything else she required she could tell Jacqueline, who would bring it with her from the city.

“You should feel safe at the cabin,” Manuel informed her. “Your nearest neighbor is a conservation officer.”

“A what?”

”A game protector,” said Jacqueline. “They were known as game wardens before, but they're called conservation officers now. We met him last year. His name is Eris Renard.”

“French?” asked Madeleine.

“No,” said Jacqueline. “He's an Indian. Tall and ugly as sin, but nice.”

“Oh,” said Madeleine, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Did he ever say what kind?” Jacqueline asked Manuel.

“What kind?” Manuel echoed, and his wife waved a hand.

“Madeleine should be able to tell us. That kind of thing is her specialty.”

Madeleine glanced at her. “I doubt I'll be able to tell what nation he's from just by looking at him.”

“Not looking. Hearing. I thought dialects were your thing.”

“Linguistics, Jac. Languages.”

“Sorry, I keep forgetting.”

“Me too,” Madeleine said under her breath.

“There's another conservation officer that comes around in the summer,” Jacqueline went on. “He stays mostly on the water, checking out the boats and such, but this one is a real looker. He won't say much to you, but then neither does Renard. They're polite and all, but they keep pretty much to themselves.”

“This Renard lives in a cabin?” asked Madeleine, and Manuel nodded.

“There are several year-round residents. He's one of them. You will meet him soon, since his is the nearest cabin. Most of the other cabins are down the hill, in Briar's Cove. Ours is near the cemetery—”

“A cemetery?”

”A really old one,” said Jacqueline. “Most of the stones are so weathered you can't even read them. It's a shame, really. You won't be able to see it tonight, but I'll show it to you in the morning.”

Madeleine nodded and was silent for the rest of the drive. The Jeep wound up one dirt road and down another, on and on until she felt she would lose the contents of her stomach to the floorboard. She was glad Manuel had talked her out of driving her car. The mud and rocks would have made short work of her small Audi. Finally they came to a sliding halt, and in the glow of the mud-splattered headlights she could see a small log cabin with a large porch and many windows, most of which had ornate security bars over the glass. To the side, she could see a stone fireplace. A double garage stood detached from the cabin.

“Do you put your boat in the garage?” she asked.

“I do, yes. The pickup I told you about is inside at the moment.”

“Okay. Great.” She had driven trucks before, though she much preferred smaller, more efficient cars. “Does it have any gas?”

“I'll fill the tank tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Manuel. And thank you, Jacqueline. The place looks lovely.”

“Wait'll you see inside,” said Jacqueline.

Inside was lovely, too. The furniture was comfortably overstuffed, the wood stacked up neatly beside the fireplace, waiting to be used. The top of the kitchen bar gleamed. The rugs on the floors appeared to have been recently beaten. Jacqueline took her into the bedroom meant for her and Madeleine found a large queen-sized bed and two dressers. The mirror over one dresser revealed the haggardness of her face, and she excused herself to visit the bathroom and splash some cool water on her cheeks. Inside the bathroom was a free-standing tub with a fancy shower implement hanging over the top. The cabin was wonderful, and once again she told herself how lucky she was to have it offered to her. At the moment, all she wanted to do was lean over the wooden seat on the toilet and throw up.

Jacqueline's voice called her away from the attempt.

“Are you all right?” her sister asked when she emerged.

“I'm fine, Jac. Just really tired.”

“I'll put everything away,” Jacqueline volunteered. “Why don't you go and lie down?”

Madeleine nodded and left her sister and brother-in-law to put away the groceries and supplies. She went into the bedroom Jacqueline had given her and shook her hair out of its bun before stripping down to her panties and rummaging in her bags for a T-shirt. Only when she stood up straight to wonder which case her T-shirt could be in did she think about the lamp being on and the curtains on the window being open. Quickly she turned off the lamp and hurried across the room to drop the curtains that were tied back.

Later, when she was in bed, she heard the door to the cabin open and listened as Manuel greeted someone. She heard a strange voice, deep and hesitant, and guessed the neighbor had seen the lights and stopped by to say hello. Madeleine dozed off while listening to the sound of their voices.

The next morning Manuel came out of the room he shared with Jacqueline and smiled when he found Madeleine eating a bowl of flakes. He said, “Eris Renard came by last evening. He asked me to please caution you about undressing in front of windows. It may feel as if you are isolated here, but you are not.”

Madeleine stopped chewing. Her face colored. “I'm sorry, Manuel. I was so tired last night I didn't realize what I was doing.”

“Don't apologize,” said Manuel. “How did you sleep?”

“Much better than I thought I would.”

“Good. Jacqueline always sleeps well here at the cabin.”

“Obviously,” said Madeleine. “Is she awake?”

“Not yet. I'm going to look at the lake. Would you like to come?”

Madeleine was already off her stool. “Let's go. Shall we leave a note?”

“No need. Jacqueline will know where I am.”

Madeleine followed him out to the Jeep and climbed inside the passenger seat. As he backed out of the drive she eyed the cabin closest to the log home. It was small and white, with a bed of colorful coleus in front. It reminded Madeleine of her grandmother's house.

“That's Renard's place?” she asked.

Manuel looked and nodded. “Yes.”

They ambled down the road toward Briar's Cove, and Madeleine frowned as she spied a man in a yellow fishing hat standing in back of a cabin and digging furiously with a shovel.

“What's he doing?” she asked, and Manuel laughed.

“That's Sherman Tanner. We call him the earthworm. The man isn't happy unless he's digging and burying something. He'll plant a species of flower one week and rip them out the next. His wife is the same. They're always rearranging the mounds they make and shifting them from one side of the yard to the other. It's the funniest thing.”

“Earthworm?” said Madeleine.

“Yes. I should warn you,” said Manuel. “There are some strange people here. Quirky, if you like, with some very odd habits. Jacqueline and I have great fun observing them.”

“Strange,” said Madeleine. She was familiar with strange.

“You'll see,” said Manuel, and as they drove past the tiny band of mismatched cabins that made up Briar's Cove, Madeleine frowned.

“Some of them collect junk,” she said.

“Disgusting, isn't it?”

“Others look very nice and well kept. Why do they put up with the junkers? Shouldn't there be some community covenant?”

“There should be, but there is not. Jacqueline and I are lucky to live up the hill, away from the others. Like Renard, we keep to ourselves.”

He stopped the vehicle at a point that overlooked the lake a
nd smiled. “Look at that water, so beautiful and still. I love to come here in the morning, before the boaters and skiers arrive.”

“It's pretty,” Madeleine agreed, looking at the glassy surface of the lake. “Where do you fish?”

“I have my favorite little coves. You must always be careful, though. Some of these people are very private, and do not enjoy intrusion.”

“For example?”

Manuel shrugged. “One man has a private dock and frequently swims nude, as do his many guests. I think nothing of it, but Jacqueline says he is an orgy-meister.”

Madeleine cleared her throat. “Is there a public swimming area?”

“I will show you, although I will caution you about this also, as last summer a young woman reported an attack.”

“On the swimming beach?”

“One evening around dusk,” said Manuel as he guided the Jeep down to the designated area.

When he stopped, Madeleine gazed around herself with dismay. There was no beach, only a small sandbar that appeared to be getting smaller with each lap of the lake's waves.

“Do many people swim here?” she asked.

“Oh yes. More of them later in the summer, as you can guess. The water is still cold in May.”

Madeleine opened her door and stepped out onto the ground. Manuel got out, as well, but he stayed near the Jeep while Madeleine walked down onto the sandbar. She slipped off one sandal and dipped her toes into the water.

It was ice cold.

When she looked at Manuel, she saw another vehicle appear behind his, an official-looking truck with a logo of some kind on the side. She squinted as she saw the driver get out, and she knew immediately it was Eris Renard.

He was tall, dressed in a khaki shirt and olive trousers. A long black ponytail hung beneath his hat.

He spoke to Manuel and handed him something before looking at Madeleine from behind dark sunglasses. Madeleine's cheeks heated and her first impulse was to ignore Manuel's beckoning wave. Grudgingly she made her way up to them and stood biting the insides of her cheeks as Manuel introduced her.

“Miss Heron,” Renard said and touched his hat.

Madeleine said nothing to him. Up close she saw the pits in his cheeks and her lip began to curl as she was reminded of another pitted face. Renard's face wasn't as bad as Alpha's, being brown in color, but the distaste had already set in Madeleine's mouth, and she was helpless to disguise her reaction.

Manuel cleared his throat in embarrassment, but Renard had already turned and walked back to his truck.

When he was gone, Madeleine turned to her angry brother-in-law. “I apologize, Manuel. I'm sorry if I was rude.”

Manuel refused to look at her. He climbed behind the wheel and waited for her to get in the passenger seat. Madeleine got in and placed her hands in her lap.

“It was not as if he intentionally ogled you last night,” said Manuel in a tight voice.

“That wasn't—” Madeleine began, but then she stopped. She wouldn't tell him she had been rude not because the man had seen her nearly naked, but because his face was pitted and he was an Indian and she'd had her fill of pitted faces and had her own face literally shoved in the dirt by more than one white-hating Indian.

“Madeleine, the man is going to be your neighbor. You cannot practice such rudeness.”

“Yes, Manuel, I know. I've said I'm sorry. I will apologize to Mr. Renard at the first opportunity. Please don't tell Jacqueline.”