3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
E mma
The smooth glide of the water is like a gentle massage on my skin.
I feel my stress and all my thoughts pulling away with the waves. I cut through smoothly, swimming to the other end of the lake with my eyes closed. And then I roll over on my back and just float, lazily paddling my feet to propel me back to my starting point.
The water carries me easily, lapping at my sides as I stare up at the beautiful sunset. I love sunsets, and staring at the sky in general. It reminds me that I’m not so important in the grand scheme of things, that my problems aren’t that monumental even though it might feel like they are.
And it reminds me how quickly things can change. Light can quickly turn into darkness, but in the same vein, darkness can quickly become light too.
I don’t look back but I know I’m approaching the shore when the water gets shallower and my feet brush the rocky ground. Lifting my head out of the water, I hear the slow shuffle of feet. I assume it’s my Grandpa done with his fishing and come to help me out of the water.
Still floating, I reach out a hand behind me, stopping myself from backing against the lake's edge.
"Done fishing already?" I stretch my legs and spin around to greet him.
She’s not my grandpa! I let out a horrified scream.
She screams too.
She being the apparition standing at the edge of the lake staring at me.
No. Not an apparition. A teenage girl, wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans and clutching a large book to her midriff.
Where on earth did she come from?
She takes a step back, her eyes wide with fear and I immediately jerk into action.
"Sorry!" I say, holding out my hands. "I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting you to be here."
"Uh huh," she says but then the fear doesn’t leave her eyes. "You’re not a mermaid, are you?"
"A mermaid?"
"Yeah. I thought I saw feet but I wasn’t sure so I came closer to see if I could see a tail."
I blink at the girl, wondering if she’s joking, but no. Her eyes look dead serious.
"Nope," I answer. "‘Not a mermaid. See?" I stick one leg out of the water and wiggle my toes for her.
"Oh." The fear lessens, but it's also accompanied by some measure of disappointment. She purses her lips and murmurs, "Would have been kinda cool if you were though."
"Yeah, wouldn’t it?" I stand and rise out of the lake. As I walk out, I fetch my cover-up, one of my grandpa's old ratty T-shirts from the floor. I was swimming in my underwear, which was just a sports bra and panties. I typically do that because no one comes to this end of the lake. It's close to Grandpa's cottage, which is right on the edge of the Baker Woods.
Speaking of Grandpa...
I glance behind me to see that his boat is still nearing the middle of the lake, a fishing pole in hand and his Chinaman hat shielding his face from the departing sun as he relaxes in his seat.
I turn back to eye the girl as I pull the shirt over my head. "Are you lost?"
"No," she responds, sticking her nose in the air and pointing. "That’s Baker Woods right there, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then I’m not lost," she says. "I’m following the map from my book. See?" She opens the book and holds it out. I read the book title at the top of the page
" The Ten Most Wonderous Towns of America ," I read.
"Yeah. Lakewood is number five because it's the only town that has Rainbow Pearls. It’s also one of the towns with the most sightings of Big Foot."
I chuckle. "Yeah, but our Big Foot might just be Old Man Shoreton without a shave."
"Old Man Shoreton?"
"Yeah. He lives in the Georgian Woods, with his son Buck. They're both big as bears with hair all over them. And rumor has it that Old Man Shoreton used to be quite the nudist back in the day."
I shudder at the memory of the time that Tate and I walked in on him sunbathing. "I can see why they think we have so many Big Foot sightings but trust me, you don't want to see that ."
The girl grins at my joke and tucks a strand of her brown hair behind her ears. Her blue eyes twinkle.
"So, you know about the Rainbow Pearls?" I ask. It's not exactly a surprise, since a few tourists who come here do so because of the town's history with the pearls.
But typically, they're not teenagers.
"Yeah!" she says excitedly. "The book talks all about them. Have you seen one?"
I swallow, a dark memory suddenly flashing through my mind before I bury it again.
"Once or twice," I say. "But I already gave mine away."
"Oh my gosh. Where did you find it?"
"There." I point to the Baker Woods. "There used to be a stream in there coming from the lake, and one time I was hiking and saw one right there, winking up at me." I remember the excitement of that moment. "It was so beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."
"If it was that beautiful then why did you give it away?"
I think of an answer and then sigh. "One of the stupid things you do for love, I guess." I shake my head. "I never did find another one, but I didn't look real hard either. But if you want we can go looking right now, before it gets too dark."
Excitement flares through my blood, like it does whenever adventure is just on the horizon.
As a teenager, I used to love exploring the woods in town, but I haven't had anyone to go with for a while.
My own excitement reflects in the girl's eyes, and they widen. "Really? You think we'll find one?"
"We might if we get lucky," I say. "I found mine not too far from here. Come on, I’ll show you."
She nods rapidly and we start towards the edge of the woods where a winding path reveals itself next to grass that brushes our ankles as we pass.
"So," I say. "Don’t think I’ve seen you in town before. Are you new here?"
"Yeah," she says. "My dad and I are visiting from New York."
"That’s neat." And then a thought occurs to me. "Your dad knows where you are right?" When I was a teen, Grandpa typically let me roam around freely before dark, but I know not everyone's parents are so permissive.
"Yeah," she responds. "We’re staying at the Marriott but he told me that I could do whatever I want while he’s working."
"By yourself?"
"Yeah." Her shoulders straighten again, a tad indignantly. "I’m sixteen. I can take care of myself."
"Of course," I say, trying not to smile. I remember how adult I wanted to feel at sixteen. "I'm just making sure you’re not missing dinner is all."
"No. I already ate."
"Ok, then. And here we are." I stop in the middle of a rocky edge, pointing at the slow, trickling current on the stones. "That used to be a lot more. It's dried up over the years."
But the girl is no longer looking at the stream. Instead, she's staring at the twisted branches of a large tree next to us.
"What is that?" she asks.
"Not sure. It's a kind of Angel Oak I think, but typically they only have them in North Carolina. I don't know what this one is doing here."
"It looks cool," she says.
"Yeah. At one point, some guy wanted to buy Baker Woods and he was going to clear the entire forest so he could build a hotel or strip mall or something."
"They were going to cut down the tree?" Her eyes widen in horror.
"Relax," I tell her, smiling gently. "No one is cutting down anything. Not if Poppy Moon can help it. She chained herself to that tree for days on end, and went nearly a month without eating. Wouldn't leave no matter what threats he made, not even when he begged her. Eventually, the story got to major news outlets. It was too much bad press for him to handle so he gave up."
"Wow. That's so cool of her."
"Yeah. Poppy's a badass. She's my friend Tate's mom." I cock my head. "I'll introduce the two of you if you're in town long enough, I have a feeling she'll like you."
"I think I'll like her too."
I bend so I can survey the rocks in the stream, reaching in to grab a shiny one.
"These aren't Rainbow Pearls," I say, holding it up to the departing sun. "But they’re pretty regardless. Tate and I tried to make necklaces out of them but it didn’t work. We almost broke our fingers trying. So yeah, don’t do that."
The girl giggles and I tell her another story, pointing at the elevated rock on a hill in the distance. "There's a cave on there too. Tate and I went there looking for Rainbow Pearls once. We figured that a hundred years ago the stream may have reached all the way there. And that maybe one of the pearls got stuck in a cave. So we tried to climb up there and almost got stung by a bee. And then, as we were running away, we got chased by a bear."
"A bear?" Her eyes are wide.
"Yeah. Or at least we thought it was a bear at first. In hindsight, it might have been Old Man Shoreton again."
The girl laughs out loud this time.
I continue telling her stories as we search for the pearls. Ten minutes later, we call it quits and head back out of the woods.
"We can always search more tomorrow," I say as we walk. "But hey, you know who might know a thing or two about the pearls? My grandpa."
"Really?"
I nod.
"He’s super knowledgeable about all that. He used to work at the Pink Hotel, you know. Or the Grand Pearl Hotel as it’s more officially known. He was there when they stole the Pink Pearl."
"Shut up." Her mouth falls open. "No, he wasn't."
"Yes, he was. He swears he nearly caught one of the culprits when they were escaping too." I nearly laugh at the enthusiasm in her eyes. "Come on, he’ll tell you all about it. If you wanna talk to him that is. But I have to warn you that he does tend to go on and on."
She nods so hard I think her head is going to pop off and I laugh as we head back to the lake. It's good timing because Grandpa is just about to dock.
"Caught a pretty nice pike today," he's saying as he does. "Will roast it up with some potatoes later."
"Sounds good," I say. "I want you to meet someone."
He looks down at us, and then his eyes travel to the girl.
He peers at her. "Is my eyesight getting worse or did your friend Tate get shorter?"
"No this isn’t Tate, Grandpa. This is…" And then I realize I actually have no idea what her name is.
"Amelia," she says, staring at Grandpa in awe. "Is it true you were there when the Pink Pearl was stolen?"
"Sure was," Grandpa says, hopping nimbly off the boat with his fish in hand. He’s pretty spry for an eighty-year old man and he gestures with the air of a celebrity happy to be recognized. "And I remember every single detail like it was just yesterday. It was a stormy night...well not too stormy, but you know a drizzle of rain. The kind that makes it seem like it's going to storm real soon, but it's not quite there yet. We used to have those a lot during the summer of–"
"Grandpa," I say, and he nods.
"Sorry. I like to ramble. Anyway, like I said, it was a rainy night and there was a ball going on. And you should have seen it, the most ritzy thing I'd ever seen in my life. But then again, the Pink Hotel was known for hosting all kinds of rich folk and nobility. Heck, there was a duchess that stayed there from time to time. And of course, there was Madam Thornley."
"Who's Madam Thornley?"
"One of the guests who Grandpa knew," I explain. "She stayed in the hotel when Grandpa worked there, and her lover died the same night the Pink Pearl went missing. Madam Thornley also disappeared that night. But it’s said that she ran away because she was driven mad by the grief."
"Poor thing already had a delicate constitution," Grandpa says. "I think she lost her father not too long before that too and was in a fragile mental state. Heck even her fiance, when he got drunk, would lament about it, saying he was sure she was going mad. And then to lose the love of her life just months after…" He shakes his head. "It’s fitting that the Pink Pearl went missing at the same time as she did."
"What do you mean?""Well, little one, Rainbow Pearls are a symbol of love and the Pink Pearl is the rarest of them all. It’s said that the Pink Pearl represents the strongest love, a bond that lasts a lifetime. And that the couple who holds it will be together forever. So, when her love died and she disappeared, so did the symbol."
"So cool," Amelia says, then frowns. "Wait, you think Madam Thornley took the Pink Pearl when she left?"
Grandpa shrugs. "Well the cops never found her again, so who knows?"
"But according to what I read in my book, they said the Pink Pearl was stolen by three thieves?"
"Maybe." Grandpa puffs up. "They never found the thieves either. You know I almost caught one of the bastards as he was escaping? I was in the gardens when I saw a dark figure running off. I had him right here, in my sights." He points at his eyes. "But it was raining and everything was slippery so I fell and he got away." He sighs. "If only I’d had a shotgun on me."
I roll my eyes because I know my Grandpa hasn’t shot a thing in his life, as much as he likes to pretend he’s so tough. Amelia catches my look and giggles.
"Anyway," Grandpa says. "I went back to the hotel and everything was in chaos. That’s when I found out that they shot poor Madam Thornley’s fiancé and the woman herself was missing. She had disappeared into thin air, gone without clothes or anything. She even left her diary behind."
"Her diary?" Amelia inquires.
"Yes. I found that a little later while I was snooping around somewhere in the kitchen. It was in the corner, where the cleaners never cleaned, judging from the amount of dust that had collected there. After realizing what it was, I tried to give it to her family or to the cops. The cops didn’t want it because they didn’t think it was relevant to the case. And her mother wouldn’t even let me get close enough to hand it to her. Mean, snobby old lady."
"So you kept it?"
Grandpa shrugs. "I didn’t have a choice. No one wanted it. The journal didn’t really have much that seemed pertinent to the case, mostly just letters between Madam Thornley and her lover which she pasted in there."
"They sent letters to each other?" Amela frowns. "Even though they were staying in the same hotel?"
"Yes. All the time," I say. "According to Grandpa, Madam Thornley was very reclusive and wouldn't leave her room for days sometimes, and so Victor, her fiancé, would tuck the letters under her door. Grandpa saw them once or twice when he was in the hallway, helping the cook deliver Madam Thornley’s food.""Yup. I remember thinking it was odd. I mean, if she liked the guy so much, why not just come out of her room and talk to him instead of trading letters back and forth? But Madam Thornley certainly cared enough to save about a dozen of those letters in her journal. And they’re still there now.""Can I see the journal?" Amelia asks, her eyes shining."Sure thing," Grandpa says and gestures to me with his chin. "I gave it to Emma on one of her birthdays. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sharing it with you."
Amelia turns to me with a plea in her eyes and I chuckle, ruffling her hair. "Of course. It’s up in my room," I say.
I used to read through it from time to time when I was younger, everything seeming like a fairytale to me. But after a while, I had to stop because the story made me sad. Madam Thornley was so in love with her fiancé, and then he just died. It was too painful to think about.
"I’ll go get it for you. Keep it as long as you like."
"You’ll really let me have it?" From her expression, you’d think I just offered her my left kidney."Sure will," Grandpa says, smiling proudly at me. "That's my Emma. So generous." He holds up the large fish in his hand. "Anyway, I'm going to put this down inside. You two come in so Emma can give you the book and I can finish up the story."
And with that, he heads to the cottage, whistling to himself.
We stand there for a few seconds, Amelia seemingly stunned into silence.
"You're grandpa is really cool, too."
"You think?"
"Yeah," she sighs. "My grandpa isn't half as cool as that. All he talks about when I visit is school and the stock market."
"That sucks," I say. "Come on, let me give you the book. And then you should probably get going. It's going to get dark soon."
"Yeah," Amelia sighs, but she doesn’t look in any hurry to go, kicking her feet on a stone.
"You can always come back tomorrow and hear the rest of Grandpa's story," I say.
Before she can respond to that, the loud hum of an angry car splits through the atmosphere and a jeep comes roaring down the path.
I grab her hand and draw her back as the car stops right in front of us.
And then a large man steps out.
My heart leaps.
It's burger guy from the bar.
"What the fuck are you doing with my daughter?"