The Lake

“It’s bad, Jenny. It’s real bad…” Leigh broke down again, heaving and sobbing into her aunt’s soft, accommodating bosom. A cold shiver touched Jenny’s spine. This was bad. She knew she wasn’t going to like what Leigh was about to tell her.

Had the girl been raped? Oh my God! What do we tell Jack and Helen?

“Take your time and tell me all about it, baby,” she said in a soothing voice. “Tell your auntie Jenny.”

Leigh’s parents listened in horror to Mike’s story over the phone. “Not that we wouldn’t like her to stay with us a while longer,” he’d explained in a calm but concerned voice. “It’s just that I—we think Leigh needs her parents at a time like this…And, of course, there is the matter of her being questioned…”

Mike met Jack and Helen at General Mitchell International. They’d brought a change of clothes in their carryons, expecting only to stay overnight before taking Leigh home.

The journey to Wahconda was not a good one. Along the way, there was a wearing mix of tearful accusations from Helen, interposed by irate remonstrations from Jack—punctuated by Mike’s patient explanations. Fielding their rhetoric wasn’t easy, and Mike wished like hell Jenny had come along as referee.

He sighed. He’d expected the drive to be a nightmare. It was—and more besides.

They arrived at Wahconda in the early hours, fatigued and more than ready for the fragrant coffee, but, for the aggrieved parents, not the cheese sandwiches and apple pie Jenny put before them. Preparing the snack beforehand, she hadn’t reckoned on them doing much eating.

She was right.

Jack and Helen demanded to see their daughter, who’d taken sedatives prescribed by Doc Barton and was lying, pale and barely breathing, when her parents arrived.

“Not a good time to wake her, Helen. The poor dear has been through a lot these last twenty-four hours. Best let her rest while she can.” Jenny looked anxiously at her sister-in-law. The last thing they all needed was one of Helen’s tantrums.

“You’re right, of course,” Jack said, placing an arm around Helen and steering her into the hallway. “Come along, dear. Let’s get us some rest. Plenty to discuss tomorrow.”

“You’re not kidding,” retorted Helen, glaring at him through red-rimmed eyes. “Leigh had better have a real good reason for going off on her lonesome like that.” She darted an accusing glance at Jenny. Clearly, right now, she was blaming her in-laws for the mess they were in.

Daylight found them drinking coffee around the kitchen table again. Still tired, but determined to see this thing through like sensible people.

“At least,” Dad said, “Leigh’s alive. That’s a blessing in itself.”

Leigh, pale and dazed from her drugged sleep, joined them in the kitchen. Smiling wanly at Mom and Dad, she avoided their questioning looks and gratefully hugged the mug of steaming coffee Jenny placed before her.

“Good morning, young lady,” Dad began.

Leigh groaned inwardly.

This I can do without.

After…Charlie…

Tears welled and fell down her face. Mom rose and took her daughter in her arms. They both had a darn good cry. Then Mom told her: “We love you so much, sweetie. How could this awful thing be happening to us…?”

“Now, Helen,” Dad put in. “All we can do is get our little girl through this unfortunate incident. We have to be strong, for her sake.”

“Agreed,” Mike murmured. “At this stage, recriminations are redundant. Leigh needs all the help we can give her.” Jenny nodded, smiling bravely. “That’s right,” she said. “We must pull together, whatever happens.”

“Now, perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell us in your own words what happened back there, day before yesterday.” Dad caught Mike’s raised brows, realizing that maybe a confrontational attitude wasn’t going to work with his little girl. Not this time.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’ll tell you as best I can…I appreciate you need to know the facts before the cops get here.”

Mom and Dad exchanged glances. This was their errant offspring. Chastened and acting grown up for a change.

They listened in stunned silence to Leigh’s halting account of her brief affair with Charlie. Afterward, Mom stifled back tears, her cheeks getting redder all the time. She fiddled nervously with the gold cross hanging on a chain around her neck. Dad looked shocked and embarrassed by turns. For the first time in living memory, he had nothing to say to his daughter.

Leigh sank into a bewildered daze, reliving the nightmare of Charlie’s death—the way he’d looked—over and over again. It was the most horrendous thing she’d ever experienced; something she’d never, ever, forget even if she lived to be a hundred years old. Tears streamed down her face, and she just couldn’t face her parents’ wounded expressions.

Just as if it had happened to them.

But they had every right to be horrified.

And so, she told herself, had Charlie’s mom—she had more right to hate her than anyone.

Losing her son that way.