Strands of the Soul (Beneath the Surface #2)

Prologue

“It’s awesome, Grandpa!” Six-year-old Graham burst out of the truck just as it was coming to a stop and raced across the grass to the edge of the lake.

He stood excitedly at the water’s edge while Quinn climbed out of the truck, grinning.

This was his grandson’s first trip to the cabin on the lake, and the boy was ecstatic.

Warm affection softened Quinn’s face as he approached the lake, noticing the gentle “quiver” that rippled across the surface as he got closer to the water.

It had been a lonely winter in the valley, as he had come to think of the city where his family lived.

The winters were the hardest for him when the lake froze over, and Lochlan went into hibernation.

Since the birth of his grandson, Graham, winters in the valley had become a little easier, softening the longing in his heart.

From the moment he held his newborn grandchild in his arms, Graham became his whole world.

He knew that one day, he would share his secret with Graham.

Even at such a young age, he sensed how special the boy was.

It took a special kind of heart to carry the secret of the lake.

Lochlan knew about Graham; Quinn told him everything, and what he couldn’t express in words, Lochlan felt through their unique connection.

Today marked the first step in sharing his special secret with his grandson: introducing Graham to Lochlan.

“Can you teach me to swim, Grandpa?” Graham’s excitement was contagious, although Quinn didn’t really need to catch the bug since this was his first trip to the lake since the winter’s thaw. He yearned for connection with Lochlan—intimate connection—but that would have to wait.

“Of course.”

“Is the water cold?” Graham crouched at the edge of the gently lapping water, his small hands gripping his knees as he looked through the shimmering surface.

“Shouldn’t be too cold this time of year.

” A tender shiver ran through Quinn’s body at the thought of the lake’s cool embrace and Lochlan’s…

touch. Maybe his first trip should have been a solo one, but he couldn’t resist Graham’s pleas to come along.

He’d been telling Graham stories of the lake—and Lochlan, the lake creature—since he was two years old, framing the tales as stories he made up, being an author.

Tales of Lochlan were Graham’s favorite stories, even more than the published children’s books his parents had bought for him.

He loved them so much that Quinn had personal copies printed, with illustrations designed by Quinn, and gave them to his grandson.

He never published the storybooks, though he was sure kids everywhere would love them.

But Lochlan was a secret not to be shared with the world, a piece of Quinn’s soul.

Even Graham seemed to sense this, and only wanted Quinn to read him the Lochlan stories, never his parents.

Just before Graham’s sixth birthday, Quinn began casually suggesting taking his grandson up to the cabin.

Although Quinn was a nature lover, his son and daughter-in-law were the ultimate city dwellers and had no interest in “getting back to nature.” However, Graham took after his grandfather and thoroughly enjoyed Quinn’s stories of his younger days spent hiking and camping in the great outdoors.

Once Graham learned that the lake from his favorite stories was real and the inspiration for the Lochlan tales, he started begging his grandpa to take him to the lake.

The boy’s parents weren’t comfortable with Graham being near a large body of water—Quinn’s son, Adam, had a fear of water ever since he almost drowned as a teenager while swimming with friends. It took a lot of coaxing and reassurance for Graham’s parents to finally agree to let him visit the lake.

Graham looked up, squinting in the bright sunlight, with a big grin on his face. “Can you teach me now?”

Quinn chuckled. “Why don’t we unload the truck first and get settled? Then we can go swimming.”

“Okay.” Graham popped upright and waved at the lake. “See ya later.” He tore off back toward the truck as a large ripple rolled across the surface.

Quinn stayed at the water’s edge, a smile on his face.

“He’s going to love you,” he murmured. Water lapped at his boots.

Quinn looked down and sank to his heels, running his hand over the cool surface of the water.

Silken filaments fluttered just beneath the surface, tickling his palm, then slipping through his fingers.

A tingling warmth spread through his nerves and brightened his mind. Quinn shivered. “I missed you, too.”

“Grandpa! Come on!” Graham shouted from the truck.

“Coming!” Quinn reluctantly withdrew his hand, rose to his feet, and headed back to the truck.

After unloading the truck, Quinn prepared a light lunch for himself and Graham—sandwiches and apple slices—and ate out on the porch. Graham was almost too excited to eat as he looked out at the lake, eager to start his swimming lessons. But Quinn wasn’t quite ready to take the boy into the water.

Setting his plate aside, his lunch only partially eaten, Quinn wrapped his arm around Graham as the boy munched on a piece of apple. “We’re best friends, aren’t we, Graham?”

“Mm-hm,” the boy responded around a mouthful of fruit.

“And best friends can trust each other with secrets, right?”

Graham nodded.

Quinn inhaled, a nervous tremor in his hands. “I have a secret. A big secret.”

His grandson looked up at him and swallowed. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a very special secret,” Quinn said. “If I tell you, then you have to promise to never tell anyone. Not your parents, not your friends at school, not anyone. It’s that special.”

The boy’s eyes glowed with curiosity. “What is it?”

“It has to be our secret,” Quinn reiterated. “It’s very important that you understand that. I know you’re young, but I believe I can trust you with this.”

“You can.”

“Do you promise to keep this secret and never tell anyone?”

Graham wriggled excitedly. “I promise, Grandpa. I won’t tell.”

Quinn believed him. He had shared smaller secrets with the boy, and he had never broken his promises not to tell.

This was a much bigger secret for the child to keep, but it was also a special secret—not only for Quinn but also for Graham.

And his grandson wasn’t like other children; there was something remarkably unique about him, about the way he looked at life, even at six years old.

Most of all, Quinn saw that special “something” in the boy whenever he told him stories of Lochlan.

A light appeared in Graham’s eyes as if some deep part of him understood that Lochlan wasn’t just a story, but something real and alive.

“Come on.” Quinn stood up, and Graham followed him off the porch and down to the lake. Both were already wearing their swimming trunks.

“What’s the secret, Grandpa?” Graham asked eagerly as he grabbed Quinn’s hand, gazing upward with bright eyes.

“The secret…” Quinn murmured. “Is down here.” He nodded toward the water.

The boy squinted and looked ahead. “The lake?” He scrunched his nose. “How is the lake a secret?” He giggled. “It’s just a lake.”

“Mm.” Quinn smiled and shook his head. “Things aren’t always as they appear. Remember how, in the Lochlan stories, everyone thought his lake was just a lake, too? He only revealed himself to his special friend.”

“Yeah. Mikey.”

“That’s right. He knew he could trust Mikey to protect him by not telling others about him. Because if others found out…?”

Graham’s face pinched. “They would hurt Lochlan.”

“They would. Because sadly, human beings, too often, aren’t kind to things they don’t understand. So, it would put Lochlan in danger if Mikey told others about him.”

“But he didn’t,” Graham said. “He kept Lochlan’s secret.”

“Why?”

“Because he was Lochlan’s friend.”

“Right. And a faithful friend is one of the best things you can be. Do you agree?”

The boy nodded and smiled. “Uh-huh.”

Quinn sank to his heels at the water’s edge, and Graham hunkered down beside him. “What if Lochlan was real?” Quinn asked softly. “And he was exactly the same as in the stories… would you be afraid of him?”

“No,” Graham answered without hesitation. “I think Lochlan is cool.”

“But sometimes it’s different when it’s just a story. Sometimes we think it would be neat if the story were real, but if it actually were… we might be a little scared of it.”

“I wouldn’t be scared,” Graham insisted with childlike bravado. “Lochlan isn’t scary. He’s nice.”

Quinn smiled small as distant memories filtered through his mind—disturbing images of two monsters as they met their fate beneath the surface of this very lake. “Yes, he is,” Quinn whispered. “He’s always nice to his friends… and protects his friends.”

Graham sighed and leaned against his Grandfather. “I wish Lochlan was real.”

Quinn hugged him. “About that secret…”

Lifting his head, the boy’s curiosity came flooding back. “What is it, Grandpa?”

Quinn stood up and lifted Graham into his arms. “I’ll show you.” He waded into the lake, shivering pleasantly as the cool water engulfed his bare legs, tender vibrations rippling through the very molecules like tiny fingers massaging his skin.

His small arms wrapped tightly around Quinn’s neck, Graham exhibited no fear of the water, only eagerness. His feet flinched a bit when the water touched his toes, then rose over his feet and lower legs. He giggled and hugged Quinn’s neck a little tighter. “It’s cold.”

“Give it a minute,” Quinn chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.

” When he was waist-deep in the lake, Quinn dipped his free hand below the surface and was immediately met by a flurry of tiny, silken tendrils weaving between his fingers.

He smiled and gently withdrew his hand. “Here.” Quinn took one of the boy’s hands from around his neck. “Touch the water.”