My healing continues.
Like the tall trees I enjoyed outside the cottage, I have withstood tremendous winds, lived under a layer of ice and isolation, and taken the nourishment their roots provide. I’m still here, my family keeping me planted as my branches yearn to rise to the sunny skies.
Chapter
Forty-Two
Two days before my flight to California, I borrow Dad’s old truck and drive. Traveling the back roads reminds me of the day I arrived, the day of Craig’s funeral. Yet it’s different too. The roads and Blue Gil are busier with the summer season in full bloom.
After my attack, the police took my laptop and phone. Becky retrieved my personal belongings and took them to my parents’ home. My electronics have since been given back to me.
I haven’t been back to the cottage on Stark Lake. Yet I know as we’re nearing July, the waters of Stark and all the other lakes are no longer calm but filled with boats and jet skis, swimmers and partiers.
During Becky’s visits, we talk about her wedding and the reason I didn’t attend. While she knew about my relationship with Craig and the pregnancy; I never told her that I carried the baby full-term and gave him up foradoption. I would have been visibly pregnant during her ceremony.
“I’m sorry I’ve let you think that Hank was to blame for all of these years,” I said with tears in my eyes.
Becky smiles. “If there’s ever a vow renewal, you’re definitely invited.”
“If there’s a renewal, I’m your maid of honor.”
“Deal.”
“Sisters forever,” we say in unison.
Despite what occurred on the property, the cottages at Stark Lake are booked week after week. The lakeside mansions shine with a golden glow as night falls. In the daytime the water is busy. The music venue is packed with both Blue Gillians and outsiders. And Theo opened the outdoor patio at the Walleye Tavern. Ollie tells me it’s hopping.
I haven’t been there.
For the most part, I haven’t left my parents’ home.
Not until today.
The deaths of the beloved football coach and that of a high school senior have been mourned. The crazed brother with a psychotic grudge has been caught. Mrs. Coach and her precious son moved away. Last I heard, she was staying with her parents but had a job prospect in Chicago. It would be a convenient location for fashion design yet still close enough to stay in touch with her family and friends in Michigan.
Does she visit Keith?
I don’t know.
I’ve wanted to reach out to him, but it feels wrong.
Blue Gillians are doing what Sheriff Manes and others wanted them to do.
The town and people have moved on.
Death came, but as with any season, it passes.
As the summer heat grows, life prevails.
The wet season of spring is gone, replaced with the dryness of summertime.
After a few hours of driving, I find myself on County Road 62, taking the back road toward Lawton. The radio is playing some terrible country-music station, muffled by the breeze coming through the open side windows. Above me the Michigan sky is a vibrant blue, and the fields are filled with growing corn stalks. I turn off the twangy music and put in my earbuds. From my phone, I stream the latest episode ofCrime Daily Podcast. My unrestrained hair blows in the light wind as I listen to an episode already in progress.
“…talking about that cold case in Marquette, Michigan, where the woman was killed and sexually assaulted?”
I sat straighter, tightly gripping the steering wheel.
“I do, Ali. Tell our listeners what we learned.”
