Memories on the Lake (Lake Placid #1)
Chapter 1
Bonnie Wilkins had stood in many lines in her sixty years on Earth. The grocery store checkout, the registration office at her children’s schools, the post office, the bank—life was full of lines, right up to the end. In this case, amidst a cruel twist of fate, she faced the ultimate, eternal line—the receiving line at her husband’s funeral.
“Bonnie, I’m so sorry for your loss. So sudden, and too soon.” Yet another person approached and squeezed her hand.
Bonnie did her best to offer the person a gentle half-smile—something appropriate for a grieving widow. Truthfully, she couldn’t quite figure out what she was feeling, or who this person was. Everyone in the church was wearing black clothing and somber expressions, and Bonnie was having a hard time remembering where she knew them all from. Plenty of them were near-strangers; her husband, Peter, was a businessman, and heaven knows she wasn’t sure what all he did with his time, or who he did it with.
Late husband, she corrected herself. Peter was her late husband now.
“Thank you for your kind words.” She slowly pulled her hand from his with a tight smile lining her lips, hoping the man would move on before social niceties required her to remember his name.
So much of the funeral process made no sense to her. The past few days had been a hideous whirlwind of decision-making and action. Bonnie’s world had come to a screeching halt, but for some reason, everyone around her kept insisting she do things, and feel things, and keep moving forward. She wanted to get up in the middle of the funeral, stand on the pew, and scream, “ Why did you make me do this? Why can’t you all just let me be? ”
But that wouldn’t have been proper, and Bonnie wasn’t the kind of woman who did improper things. She lived her life with the understanding that if she did the right things and behaved the way she was supposed to, everything would be all right. Seasons would change, obstacles would rise and fall, but at the end of every day, she’d be able to lay her head on her pillow, content that all was as it should be.
Then, on a bright, early Tuesday, her husband had gone out for his morning jog and never returned. Instead, the police had shown up on her doorstep. They told her it had been quick—Peter probably didn’t even have enough time to feel afraid before the car struck him and ended his life. But that wasn’t a comfort. That wasn’t the way things should’ve been. Peter was supposed to go for his jog, then come home, have breakfast and a quick shower, then go to work. That was proper. Not this. Not a closed-casket funeral because the damage to his body was too severe for a viewing.
Prior to the accident, Bonnie hadn’t known that was possible. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the possibility that her husband’s body could be so badly destroyed that she wouldn’t even be allowed to see it after he passed. Well, she hadn’t been exactly forbidden, but the funeral director she’d met with had a very expressive face. When she had asked to see her husband’s body, the wince that fluttered over his expression before he gently advised her against it was enough to persuade her to leave the lid on the coffin closed.
The funeral director was, in fact, the sixth person to tell her she ought not to look. Police, EMTs, the coroner, the funeral director—all of those hardened professionals who saw death and gruesome injury every day, and all of them were haunted by what had happened to her husband.
“You’ve seen what happens to a bug on a windshield, ma’am,” one of the officers had told her. “That’s not how you ought to remember your husband.”
Bonnie wasn’t sure she remembered much of anything anymore. That was another side effect of funeral planning and grief. All week, every time anyone asked her a question, the only answer she had readily available was, “I don’t know.” Somewhere in her mind, she was certain there were answers; she just couldn’t get to them through the fog. No one ever told her that grief would make her lose her mind, either. There was no warning that every minute of this whole ordeal would be so excruciatingly painful that, instead of dealing with it, her mind had simply shut down.
So, she stood in the receiving line at the post-funeral reception, shook hands, and let people tell her how sorry they were for her loss. Her hand felt like paper, too dry and liable to rip and tear at any minute now. Her face felt strange—the muscles exhausted from trying to make appropriate expressions when all she wanted was to let her features go slack. She wasn’t even sure what an appropriate expression for a funeral was, anyway. Misery made other people uncomfortable, even as they were prattling on about how tragic Peter’s death was, and how terribly, awfully sorry they were it happened.
Someone new approached the line, but she didn’t take Bonnie’s hand. Instead, she wrapped an arm around Bonnie’s waist and laid her head against her shoulder. “How are you holding up, Mom?”
Some of the fog in her head cleared. She knew this person—her daughter, Jackie. Finally, this was something she knew how to do, how to handle. She could talk to her children, understand their pain, and accept their comfort. If anything made sense in the midst of this waking nightmare, it was her children.
“A little tired, but it looks like things are winding down. How about you, sweetheart? You doing okay today?”
Jackie lifted her head off her mother’s shoulder and narrowed her light green eyes. “That’s all? Just a little tired? Have you even cried yet? You’re kind of freaking me and James out.”
“What do you mean? Of course I’ve cried. But you don’t need to worry about that. Let me fuss over you; I’m your mother.” Bonnie fixed the collar on Jackie’s dress with a gentle smile, the kind she reserved for her children. “Speaking of James, where is your brother?”
“He’s helping get the O’Neals into a cab. Mrs. O’Neal doesn’t drive anymore, and Mr. O’Neal left his glasses at home, so we figured they shouldn’t be on the road today. What about you? How are you getting home?”
“The same way I got here—in my car.” Bonnie tsked, raising her perfectly arched brows in silent question. “Sixty isn’t that old, young lady. I’ll have my license for many years to come.”
Jackie shook her head, her wavy blond hair brushing along her shoulders, and rolled her eyes affectionately. “I don’t doubt it. I just wanted to make sure you were all set before I headed to my hotel.”
“Hotel?” Disappointment filtered through the numbness of Bonnie’s grief, leaving her flawless features pinched.
“Where else would I stay? I’m not going to sleep on the floor of the airport.”
“But you could sleep at home, in your own bed,” Bonnie pointed out. She struggled to think about going home without her daughter—especially on a day like this.
“I’d hardly be sleeping. I’ve got to be at the airport by five, and taking drive time into account, I’d have to get up before four if I want to be on time.” Jackie’s defensive nature returned, the same one she’d had since childhood—eyes bouncing around the room, shoulders slightly pulled into a perpetual shrug, hands moving as she spoke.
“Why is your flight so early?”
Jackie’s features softened. Sympathy radiated from her round eyes, and her shoulders fell. “I know you’ve been busy with the arrangements and everything, but I told you, Mom. I’ve got to get back to Chicago for work. There’s a huge deadline this week, and I’m scrambling to keep up as it is. The client’s understanding, but I can’t miss out on this sale.”
Bonnie vaguely remembered her daughter talking about this. She was proud of Jackie—at twenty-five, she was already the most successful salesperson at a rapidly growing software company based in Chicago. Although, she only spent a week or two in Chicago every month, traveling far and wide across the country the rest of the time. She had so much ambition and drive; it was incredible. But Bonnie couldn’t help the pang of regret--all that ambition meant Jackie could barely spare a few days for her own father’s funeral.
“What’s this about missing sales?” James, Bonnie’s oldest, had come back inside the church.
Only two years older than his sister, he was just as successful. His architecture firm in Atlanta was thriving. His team frequently won awards for buildings they designed, and the last time Bonnie and Peter visited their son in Georgia, it had been such a treat to drive around the city seeing his designs come to life.
Now, though, Bonnie wished life hadn’t flung her children quite so far afield. They’d both come running the moment they heard the news about Peter, but she didn’t relish the idea of them flying back to their homes and leaving her on her own.
“Your sister is rushing off tonight because she’s got a big deadline coming up. Bonnie pressed a hand to his lapel, hoping her unintentional guilt trip would work on at least one of her children. “But you’re staying the night with me, aren’t you? Your flight’s not until mid-afternoon tomorrow, right?”
James turned his dark eyes away, the same dark eyes as his father’s, and ran a hand over his meticulously styled hair. Guilt ran through him, though it didn’t dissipate with the exhale that rushed past his lips. “I meant to tell you sooner, Mom, but things were so busy today…I had to move my flight up. There’s an issue with a design rendering being out of scale, and if we don’t fix it ASAP, we’ll miss the window to change the materials order, and the contractor will have my head.”
Bonnie’s hand fell away, her painted lips parted in shock and despondency.
“A delay like this could cost the construction company millions, and if they point fingers at the design team, it could be catastrophic.” He was desperate for his mother to understand. The last thing he wanted was to let her down—especially today. “I’ve got to be out of here at the crack of dawn so I can put out fires. But you’ll be all right, won’t you?”
Bonnie’s heart sank, though she couldn’t hold it against either of her children. They had such full, rich lives in their new cities. They’d spent years building careers and relationships for themselves. She was so happy to be their mother and so thrilled with everything they’d achieved in their young lives, but she didn’t understand how they could pick up and move on so soon after losing their father.
Peter hadn’t been the most involved parent; he’d worked too much for that. But he was a good dad. He’d been present for a lot—all the big things and a good portion of the smaller ones, too. Every graduation, dance recital, flute recital, track meet, and soccer game, Peter had been front and center to cheer on his kids. They’d had warm, close relationships with him.
And now he was gone.
Yanked out of all of their lives in a single instant.
It took Bonnie’s breath away and left her cold.
She took a deep breath, centering herself enough to put on a brave face for her kids. “I’ll be okay. After dealing with so many people all week, it’ll be nice to have some quiet.”
“You’ve got dinner, right?” Jackie asked with a concerned tone as if she were the mother. “I labeled all the casseroles everyone dropped off, and they should all be easy to find in the kitchen.”
“Yes, sweetheart, I can feed myself. I’ve got even more practice with that one than driving.”
Jackie and James exchanged a knowing glance.
“Okay, well call us if you need anything.” James kissed his mother on the cheek. “We love you.”
They hugged her in turn before heading out to the parking lot, leaving Bonnie alone in the empty fellowship hall. A few members of the altar guild were floating around, cleaning up the leftover finger foods and putting away folding chairs. They were putting everything back exactly as it was before the funeral. Everyone, it seemed, returned to their lives as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Bonnie watched them for a moment, wondering if she’d had a job—or anything particularly interesting to do—if she’d be eager to get back to her life as well.