The Lure of White Oak Lake (2 page)

“I’ll definitely do that.”

“Okay, sis, I’m gonna let you go and get settled in. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Morgan tucked her phone in the back pocket of her shorts and looked around. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ll get back on your feet and life will begin again.” Her words echoed in the emptiness of the cabin, and she wished that she could believe them.

Morgan unloaded the Jeep, took a shower, and ate a tomato for dinner because she was too lazy to go in search of food. She lay in bed listening to the TV playing in the living room. Hearing other voices made her feel less alone. She was tired from the trip and felt if she switched off the lamp next to the bed, she might fall asleep. It was foolish to be afraid of the dark at thirty-six, but she’d never grown out of the phobia, though her father had tried to help her with it.

“Lights out, baby, it’s time to go to sleep.”

Morgan pulled the covers up to her neck. “Can I keep my closet light on?”

“You have a night-light and you’re six big ol
’ years old,” her father said, pointing at it. “Isn’t that enough?”

Morgan shook her head.

He sat on the side of her bed. “What are you afraid of?”

“Monsters. I saw them on TV, one had a wolf face.”

“Where do these monsters live?”

“In the dark outside behind the trees,” Morgan whispered.

He held his arms out. “Come with me, baby. Let me show you what’s really outside.”

There was no place safer than in her daddy’s arms. As long as he held her, Morgan believed nothing could harm her. She rode on his hip with her arms around his neck as he opened the back door and hugged him tighter when he stepped into the grass. “Where are we going?”

“To see what’s in the shadows. What do you hear?”

Morgan listened intently for a moment. “Crickets and a bird.”

“That’s all that’s out here, baby.” He walked amongst the trees with Morgan tight in his arms. “It’s very peaceful out here, don’t you think?”

“Do you have a silver bullet?” Morgan asked seriously. “That’s what you have to have to kill the wolf people.”

“I don’t need a silver bullet, are you kidding me?” he asked as he tickled her ribs. “I’d take that wolf man by the arm and bang him on a tree if he were real. But he’s not, honey. I promise.”

Morgan held on to his neck, looking behind them just to be sure that nothing followed.

“Daddy’s not going to let anything happen to you or Brad,” he said as he sat with her on the porch swing. “I’ll always protect you, and you know what?”

Morgan yawned, and they rocked back and forth. “What?”

“One day when you’re bigger, you’re gonna have a little girl or a boy that you’ll protect. And you’ll live in a house like this one, and you’ll have a husband that’ll watch over you.”

Morgan reached up and switched off the lamp, thinking her dad had been wrong about a lot of things.

J
aclyn Wyatt felt as though someone had strapped a load of bricks onto her back as she trudged home. She climbed the slight rise to her house above the lake, and it seemed as though she was trying to conquer Mount Everest. Working seven days a week was beginning to take a toll on her thirty-nine-year-old body. After being on her feet for twelve hours, all she wanted was to drop into her porch swing, and if the mosquitoes weren’t bad, she’d seriously consider sleeping there. Wooden steps creaked beneath her feet as she used the last of her energy to propel herself to the swing. She’d almost reached her goal when the screen door flew open.

“Hey, Mom, I made you a glass of tea.”

Jaclyn released a grateful sigh as Austin set the cool glass into her hands. “You’re the best son a woman could have,” she said as she sat.

“I think the roast is ready. Want me to make you a plate?”

“Not yet, but thanks.”

“I’m gonna go get a plate,” Austin said as he turned to go back inside. “I’m starving.”

Jaclyn sipped her tea and surveyed her freshly mown yard in the waning light of day. Her eyes narrowed. “Austin?”

“Yes, ma’am?” he said behind the screened door.

“Where’s the plum tree I just planted?”

“Well, the buds to my iPod—my hands were sweaty—a bee…I’m sorry.”

The last time, the sun was in his eyes. The time before that, he’d simply claimed he hadn’t seen it. Jaclyn sighed, thinking she never had to ask her son to mow the grass. Maybe having a plum tree in her yard wasn’t that important. Three had already been murdered. She tore her gaze from the mulch that had been around the tree and was now scattered over the yard.

She knew every inch of the lake where she’d grown up. In the evenings, she loved to watch the lights come on in the houses along its banks. On this particular evening, she noticed light where normally there was none. The house that set on a small protrusion was lit up like Las Vegas. Someone new had come to White Oak Lake. If a local had bought the place, Jaclyn would’ve heard about it. She was kind of surprised that her sister hadn’t called her with news about the newbie. Usually, fresh blood was a hot topic.

“Austin?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Do you know who’s staying in the old cabin?”

The screen door creaked on its hinges. Austin was gnawing on a chunk of roast he held in his hand. “It’s lit up.”

“I know, that’s why I asked.”

“I think I was nine the last time I saw somebody in that house. Me and Logan used to dig for arrowheads in the backyard. Logan found a good one.”

Jaclyn looked at the gravy dripping off of Austin’s hand. “Please tell me you are not eating directly out of the Crock-Pot.”

“I was hungry, Momma.”

“Go into the kitchen, get a plate out of the cabinet, and put the food on it. Then wipe up the mess I’m certain you’ve made.” Jaclyn fanned a hand in front of her face. “After you eat, go upstairs and take a shower, use soap, lots of it.”

“I’m fourteen, Momma, not five.” Austin sniffed at his armpit. “I don’t smell that bad.”

“Trust me when I say you do.”

Austin shrugged and opened the door. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“No, Chet’s going to take my place.”

“Good.” Austin stepped inside, and Jaclyn was certain she heard, “’cause you’re grumpy.”

She was—and exhausted. Bailey, her new hire, was almost ready to be on her own. She’d take a lot of the pressure off of Jaclyn’s shoulders on the weekends. Chet did, too, but he only worked when he wanted to, and Jaclyn was never really sure when that would be. A widower, Chet Aucoin would call the day before and say he was available, but getting him to commit to any kind of schedule was impossible.

Jaclyn pulled her phone from the pocket of her shorts and pressed the number one on her speed dial. Maddie, her younger sister, answered on the second ring. “I was going to call you. Mom and Dad are in Utah, I just hung up with them. Dad’s complaining that Mom’s rock collection is costing them extra money in gas, and Mom is complaining that everything Dad eats is giving him gas.”

“Any word on when they’ll be home?”

“Thanksgiving. Sooner if the weather up there turns really cold. I don’t know if I could roam the country with Heath. I’d probably kill him after the first hundred miles. I think Mom wants to do the same with Dad. What’s up?”

Jaclyn looked out over the water at the little house in question. All the floodlights were on, and she could see light in all the windows. “Do you know who moved into the cabin down the road from me?” She pulled the phone away from her ear when she heard a loud clatter and figured Maddie was opening her blinds.

“Oh, wow, I haven’t seen life in that place for ages. Carolyn said some guy came in three weeks ago and had the power turned on there, but he left right after that.”

“That’s all you have?” Jaclyn asked in surprise. “Normally, you’re information central.”

“Well, I’ve been a little preoccupied,” Maddie said loudly, probably for Heath’s benefit. “Someone cut down a tree and sent it through my living room.”

“How’s the restoration coming along?”

“Slowly,” Maddie said just as loudly. “The roof’s been repaired, and apparently,
someone
thinks that’s all that needs to be done. But I have news for him. If he doesn’t want to eat peanut butter for the rest of his life, he’d better get started on the ceiling.”

“Poor Heath,” Jaclyn said with a chuckle.

“Poor nothin’! Don’t you feel sorry for him. He knew better than to cut that tree himself, and he wouldn’t have had I been home. Yes, I’m talking about you, Mr. Man. Do you know how long it took me to clean up the mess you made in here?” Maddie’s voice rose an octave. “I want to sit on my own couch! Is that too much to ask?” She cleared her throat and said calmly, “I have to go now. If you see an ambulance pull up in front of my house, pay it no mind, and I’ll get the scoop on the newcomer.”

“Love you, bye.”

The second she put the phone down, Jaclyn heard a crash in her kitchen, then a muffled “oh, that’s not good.” She rolled her eyes as Austin called out, “Mom, where’s the broom? You may not want to come in here.”

Jaclyn laid her head against the back of the swing and looked at the giant pair of sneakers lying next to the back door. It didn’t seem that long ago when she could hold both of his shoes in the palm of her hand. Where had the time gone? Jaclyn wondered as memories of birthday parties and building Lego towers flashed through her mind. Time would speed on, and Austin would be going off to college in a few years. She had no idea what she’d do with herself then.

Jaclyn couldn’t see leaving White Oak Lake, the town where she’d grown up and made a life with the help of her grandmother. She’d followed in Augusta Wyatt’s footsteps with the house and the store, and like Augie, Jaclyn was afraid that she was headed for a life of solitude and loneliness.

Augie had never remarried though she was a young woman when her husband died. Everyone in town thought she was too determined and independent to have a man in her life. Augie had been fond of that reputation but had confessed to Jaclyn alone that it was all a façade. Love had never come knocking at her door again, and she was too afraid to go out and find it.

Jaclyn had done some searching and thought she’d found someone special at least once, but things never panned out. It seemed that White Oak Lake was shallow when it came to available suitors. And Jaclyn had grown tired of casting out her heart only to have it come back to her.

“Momma, where’s the Windex?”

Jaclyn winced. “What do you need that for?”

“I was gonna use it to clean the gravy off the ceiling.”

B
y nine the next morning, Morgan had already sweated through the T-shirt she was wearing, and she’d made hardly a dent in the front yard. She’d picked up sticks and large branches; the pile she’d made was impressive, but still, the sliver of land looked untouched. Needing to vent her frustration, she took an ax she’d found in the storage shed out back to a fallen tree that lay sprawled across the front lawn. The wood wasn’t as soft as she’d hoped it to be.

She paused and wiped her brow as something moved in her periphery. A teenage boy on a bike passed by on the road, watching her as he went. He slammed on the foot brake, making the back tire slide sideways on the asphalt when she caught his eye. “Hey,” he called out as he headed toward her.

“Hey,” Morgan said with a wave and prepared to go back to work on the tree.

The boy dropped the bike in her driveway and walked over to where she stood. “You bought this place?”

“I own it, yes.” He appeared to be about seventeen, Morgan thought as she looked him over, and figured he was nearing six feet. He tossed his head to the side, sending blond bangs from his blue eyes and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his long shorts. “You like Van Halen?” she asked, nodding at his T-shirt. “I saw them play in Baton Rouge when I was around your age.”

The boy squawked out the first line to
Panama
as he strummed the front of his shirt like a guitar. “That must’ve been a long time ago.”

Morgan tried not to feel insulted as she nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

“I’m Austin Wyatt, my mom owns The Lure, did you see it?”

“Morgan Chassion, and yes, I noticed it on my way in.”

Austin took his hands from his pockets and set them on his hips. “Is that ax all you got? You’re gonna need a chain saw for this.”

“It’s good exercise, and I figure I’ll have this tree cut up by winter.”

“Next winter, maybe. Mr. Harlan has a saw, be right back.”

Morgan called after the flash that took off toward the road, but he didn’t listen. She wasn’t hip on borrowing anything from a stranger, and she wasn’t going to allow a teenager to use a power saw in her yard. Whoever Harlan was, she hoped that he wasn’t home. She wiped her brow again and went back to chopping on the tree. A while later, a man showed up with Austin carrying a chain saw.

“Got yourself a big mess here. I’m Harlan Schaffer,” he said, offering Morgan his hand.

Morgan took it. “I’m—”

“Morgan Chassion, I know. Austin here told me. Is your dad Bob? You look like him.”

“Was,” Morgan said as she looked away. “He died a few months ago.”

Harlan was quiet for a moment. “Well, that’s a damn shame,” he said lowly. “I tried to keep this place up for a while, but after the last hurricane, there was too much to do.” He pulled a pair of gloves from his back pocket. “I’d be willing to bet that by the end of the day, we’ll have it looking good.”

“Mr. Schaffer, I’m on a limited budget and—”

Harlan held up a gloved hand. “This is what neighbors do for one another round here.” He turned his attention to Austin. “Go see if Clarke’s up and tell him to bring the tractor.”

Austin tore off again before Morgan could say anything. Harlan cranked the saw he’d brought with him, startling her. He’d cut through a portion of the tree before she knew what was happening. He was a slight man, thin and not much taller than Morgan’s five feet nine inches. Red and silver hair poked out from beneath a green John Deere cap he wore high up on his head. He looked up at Morgan and yelled over the sound of the saw, “My wife will be over shortly, she’s putting her face on.”