Lake Season Page 5

  Grace’s eyes lifted to meet Molly’s. They held for a long moment, the poignant yearning in Lizzie’s written words filling the space between them.

  Molly’s breath escaped. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it. “He never got her letter.” The full weight of that realization pushed at her shoulders.

  Grace’s eyes fell to the sheet of paper. “It’s dated August 18, 1964.”

  Molly took the letter from her sister. “Who cares what it’s dated. He never got it.”

  “Maybe she called him when she didn’t hear back from him. Or maybe he had a change of heart, too, and called her.”

  “I wonder what she said to him that she regretted. I wonder what her dad said to him. His ‘rejection.’”

  Grace hitched her thin shoulder. “Maybe he told Ben he wasn’t good enough for his daughter. Sounds like something a dad would say.”

  “It could’ve been anything.” Molly glanced down, scanning the letter for a long moment. “She mentions the war. The Vietnam War was just getting started in ’64.”

  “Maybe he was drafted.”

  “Or he enlisted. Maybe that’s what they argued over before he left. She said she’d wait for him—only he never got the letter. What if he went off to war, never knowing how she truly felt?”

  Sadness enveloped Molly like a heavy cloak. She could hardly bear to think of this lovelorn couple separated by a misunderstanding that could’ve been rectified, she was certain, if only this letter hadn’t gotten stuck in that stupid mail slot.

  Molly knew what it felt like to have someone suddenly taken from you. Maybe that’s why she was having such a visceral reaction to the letter.

  She’d been so excited to find it. It had seemed like her own personal buried treasure, tucked away in her pocket all day. Like maybe God hadn’t forgotten about her after all.

  Now she wished she’d never opened it. Never found it.

  No, she wished it had never been lost to begin with. Instead, Lizzie had likely been left pining for Benjamin. And he’d never have known about her change of heart. The course of their entire lives had likely been changed by a fluke. It all seemed so random, so pointless, so cruel.

  Molly released a soul-deep sigh. “This is awful. I wish I’d never found this stupid letter. I hate sad endings.” She never even started reading a book unless she knew she could count on a happily-ever-after. This was worse—it was a real-life tragedy. And she was all too familiar with those.

  “Look at it this way,” Grace said. “Lizzie was nineteen in 1964. That would place her in her midseventies today. That’s pretty old. These people are probably dead by now.”

  Molly gave her a look. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Well, if their hearts were broken, their misery is over now. He could’ve even died in the war. And look, Lizzie probably found some nice man, got married, and had a houseful of kids. She probably had a long, happy life. Maybe he did too.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “And you don’t know it ended badly.” Grace gave her head a shake. “Wow, it’s like we’ve switched places.”

  That terrible ache was back. The one that throbbed every time she remembered her last phone conversation with her parents. It hadn’t ended badly. Not really. She pressed against the spot, but it did no good. It never did.

  Molly gave the slanted script a good hard look. The worry clutching her heart was a tangible thing, like a fist squeezing in a death grip. She couldn’t stand this . . . this not knowing.

  She was going to get to the bottom of it one way or another, she decided.

  “What’s that look on your face?” Grace asked. “I’m a little scared.”

  Molly picked up the envelope and scanned the return address. “Elizabeth Van Buren . . . Have you ever heard of any Van Burens around here?”

  “No. But that was a long time ago. People come and go. They could’ve even been summer people.”

  “The address is on Church Street, so not a lakefront house. It was probably their residence. I wonder if Miss Della would remember them.”

  “She’s only in her fifties, isn’t she?” Grace narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You’re not going to let this go, are you.”

  “Of course I’m not going to let this go. I have to find out what happened.”

  “What does it even matter? It’s over now, whatever it was. Long over.”

  Molly blinked at her. “What if Benjamin never found out Lizzie had a change of heart? What if he’s still alive and has been pining for his first love all his life?”

  Grace smirked. “This isn’t a romance novel, Molly. More likely he went off to war, came back, and fell in love with someone else.”

  “You’re so cynical.”

  “And you’re such a romantic. Love isn’t resilient enough to last years and years without a stitch of contact. People move on. They get over it. They fall in love again.”

  She wondered what her sister could really know about love. “Maybe so, but they deserve to know what happened. Call it . . . closure or whatever.”

  Molly looked at the envelope. She had first and last names and addresses. How hard could it be to track them down in this day and age? Then again, she wasn’t very good with computer stuff.

  She wasn’t good at it . . . but Grace was. She glanced up at her sister.

  Grace’s face froze, her eyes going hard. “Oh no, you don’t. This project is all yours.” She hopped up from the bed.

  “But you’re so much better with the internet.”

  “So go the library route. I’ve got finals, and after that I’ve got volleyball practice, and we’re running an inn, remember? You’re not going to have time to worry about some lovelorn couple from the sixties.”

  Grace disappeared into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her. A few seconds later the shower kicked on.

  Molly looked down at the letter. It was true their time would be severely limited. But somehow, some way, she just had to find out what had happened between Lizzie and Benjamin.

  six

  Memorial Day, 1964

  The warm sun blazed on Lizzie’s skin, and a breeze fluttered over her bare legs. Eyes closed, she smoothed out the beach towel at her sides. “Who Put the Bomp” blared from a nearby transistor radio, and Lizzie sang along, tapping her fingers on her towel. The sounds of laughter and splashing and the smell of Coppertone made it official: summer was here. And oh, how she adored summertime!

  School was out, the weather was finally warm enough for lake activities, and the summer people were arriving, bringing in a whole new crop of cute boys.

  A spit of sand scattered over her feet, and Lizzie squinted open an eye to see her best friend, Nonnie Ludwig, showing off her spiffy red swimsuit.

  “Come on, Lizzie.” Nonnie reached out a hand. “We’re having a chicken fight.”

  “Cool.” Lizzie let Nonnie haul her to her feet, then ran alongside her toward the shoreline. “Who’s playing?”

  “A bunch of us. My brother already claimed you, and I snapped up Earl Foster—he’s such a hunk!”

  Lizzie glanced at Nonnie’s bouffant that had been an hour in the making. “You’re going to get your hair wet.”

  “Only if I lose!”

  The water was cold on her legs as they splashed their way to the group. They were all kids from school, most of whom had graduated with them a couple weeks ago. They paired up, and sure enough, Lizzie ended up with Nonnie’s brother, Doug.

  “We’re first up,” Doug said, smiling big at the opportunity to have Lizzie on his shoulders. He was only fifteen, but he’d had a crush on her for as long as she could remember.

  She gave an inward sigh but smiled at him as he turned and lowered himself into the water. She took one of his hands, stepped onto his thigh, and swung a leg over. When she was properly seated on his shoulders he rose up out of the water, and Lizzie tucked her bare feet behind his waist.

  Across from her, Nonnie sat on Earl’s broad s
houlders, clutching the top of his head.

  “That’s attached, you know.” Earl reached up and poked Nonnie playfully in the side.

  Nonnie squealed and squirmed, making Earl almost drop her.

  “Settle down up there.”

  “Then stop tickling me,” she said.

  “Then let go of my hair.”

  “This should be a piece of cake,” Doug muttered to Lizzie. “They’re too busy flirting to pay us much mind.”

  But Doug had underestimated Nonnie’s determination to preserve her bouffant. She and Earl plowed forward. Nonnie’s stiff arms refused to give way, even though she was laughing her head off.

  Lizzie was laughing, too, at the gritty look on Nonnie’s face.

  “Give it up, Nonnie,” Lizzie said.

  “Never!”

  Lizzie felt herself tipping backward. Below Nonnie, Earl drove forward.

  Nonnie squealed, and the crowd cheered.

  Lizzie plunged backward, hitting the water with a slap. The sounds of laughter and squealing were instantly muted as water filled her ears. She turned herself upright, then pushed against the sandy bottom.

  Her arms brushed against flesh, then hands gripped her, pulling her gently skyward. She broke through the water, sucking in a breath, and opened her eyes, expecting to see Doug. Instead she stared into the eyes of the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen.

  He had brown eyes that turned down at the corners. They were framed by wet, spiky lashes. His dark hair was slicked back, exposing a low forehead and the black slashes of his brows.

  She was staring, she realized. And clutching his bare (very muscular) arms. His bare chest was only inches away. She snatched her hands away and put some space between them.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was shaky.

  He was slower to let go, waiting until she had her balance. And seemingly reluctant to look away. “You’re welcome. I’m Benjamin. Benjamin Schwartz.”

  “Elizabeth Van Buren.” Someone had turned a million butterflies loose in her stomach, and they’d gone to war with each other. “My friends call me Lizzie.”

  “Well, Lizzie, I’m here for the whole summer. How ’bout you?”

  “I live here,” she managed. “Over on Church Street.”

  Those lips stretched into a smile, exposing a set of perfect teeth. “Cool. Your friends are calling for you.”

  Only then did she become aware there was anyone else around. She heard Nonnie calling her name, saw Doug’s scowl. Another girl was already mounted and ready to go up against the winners, who were apparently waiting for her. How long had she been standing there, caught in his spell?

  “I better get back to them.” Lizzie gave Benjamin her best smile as she turned. “Thanks again.”

  “Anytime.”

  She made her way back to the group.

  “Hey, Lizzie,” Benjamin called.

  She looked over her shoulder, hoping her dripping ponytail didn’t look like a dead squirrel hanging on the back of her head.

  “You ever go to the dance hall?” he asked.

  She bit back a smile, her heart hammering in her chest. “I’m going Friday.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you there, Elizabeth Van Buren.”

  She went for a coy grin. “Maybe you will, Benjamin Schwartz.”

  seven

  Present Day

  Adam grabbed a pair of khakis off the hook behind his door and folded them neatly. He hadn’t bothered unpacking for his short stay at the inn, but the clothes he’d worn since his arrival were scattered around the room.

  He’d attended church this morning at a little chapel in town. It was like stepping back in time to the days of pews and choir lofts and organs. The stained glass was beautiful, though, and the preaching was solid. The people were probably friendly, too, but he slipped in after the service began and out before the last “amen” had finished echoing through the sanctuary.

  He’d had a couple productive days scouting out the area. His mom had been right. It was the perfect place to set one of his stories. He’d been busy capturing the sights and sounds and smells in his trusty little notebook.

  This was the easy part—the factual part. All he had to do was take in the town with all his senses. Breathe in the smell of pine and fresh-cut grass. Listen to the distant purr of a boat engine and the slap of a flag whipping in the wind.

  The local gathering place seemed to be a coffee shop, set up in an old fire station. The parking lot was always full, and they kept the garage doors open, the crowd spilling out onto the paved patio.

  The history part came next. He needed to ask Molly if he might avail himself of her library after he left the inn. Bonus: it’d give him a chance to continue seeing her. Strictly as his muse, of course. He’d never had one before, so he wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work. He only knew that the more he learned about her the more he wanted to write her as his protagonist.

  He tucked a folded shirt inside his suitcase. He’d found a lake house that was available this week. Unfortunately their weekends were mostly booked. That seemed to be the case with most of the rentals. So instead of getting comfortable in one home for the summer’s duration, it looked as though he’d be drifting from one place to the next. Not exactly ideal.

  A knock sounded at his door, and his heart stuttered at the thought of possibly seeing Molly again. Or maybe it was her brother, whom he’d also seen a couple times in passing.

  He swung open the door to find his visitor was the former. Her dark hair was down around her shoulders today, her smile bright, bringing her dimple into play.

  “Hi, Adam. Sorry to bother you, but I was just . . .” Her eyes swept past him, and when they returned to his face the sparkle dimmed, as did her smile. “You’re leaving.”

  “Yes, I . . .” He was momentarily at a loss for words. She looked so disheartened, and that was the last thing he wanted. “I found a house that’s available now that the holiday weekend is almost over. Their guests had to leave early. It worked out.”

  She blinked. “Oh. Yes, of course.”

  He’d thought it was understood he’d get out of her hair as soon as possible. “I didn’t want to get you and your family in trouble with the authorities. You’ve been very generous in letting me stay.”

  She seemed to recover, her smile back in place. “Not at all. So you found a place for the summer?”

  “Well . . . no, not exactly. They have guests arriving Friday, so it looks as though I’ll be moving around a bit.”

  She shelved her hands on her slim hips. “Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun. You could just stay here, you know. We’re not sold out a single weekend, so you’d have a room for the entire summer.”

  She hadn’t mentioned that before. But then, he hadn’t been giving the inn serious consideration for the long-term. “What about the permit?”

  “That’s what I came up to talk to you about. We’re ready to open. The inspector will be here Tuesday. I was going to ask if you could maybe clear out your things just for the day . . .”

  “Oh.” He shifted, his palm sweaty on the glass doorknob. He waffled. It was tempting to stay under the same roof as his muse the entire summer. So tempting. It could even make the difference between success and failure where his writing was concerned.

  “We’d love to have you.” Her beaming smile dimmed a few watts. “But I understand if you’d rather have a full house to yourself. Inns aren’t for everyone. Especially old ones.”

  The dim light from the hallway gave her skin a golden glow and darkened her eyes to caramel brown. “You’ve been very welcoming, and you have a beautiful face—I mean, place. You have a beautiful place.”

  Why did he have to be such an imbecile with women? Heat rushed to his cheeks, and he fought the urge to cover his own face. Or better yet, shut the door and hide. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his clumsy gaffe.

  “I don’t want to pressure you, obviously,” Molly continued, “but please know you’re welcome here. F
ull service will begin immediately once we have the permit . . . cleaning and a continental breakfast and extra amenities you won’t find at a rental. If you think my muffins are good, wait till you taste Miss Della’s. And frankly, you’d be doing us a favor, as we want to keep our rooms filled. Weekends are one thing, but weekdays are harder to fill up around here.”

  Well, when she put it like that. “I’m certainly open to the idea of staying. I just didn’t want to cause you problems with the inspection.”

  She waved away his concern. “As I said, he’ll be here Tuesday. If you’re cleared out for that, we can formally check you in afterward, and you’ll be set for the entire summer. I can even give you a bigger room if you’d like. Not our suite—it’s already booked for quite a few weekends. But the corner room has a seating area you might find more comfortable for a lengthy stay. It’s a little more expensive, but—”

  He held up a hand. “I’m quite comfortable right here. Frankly, I’ll be gone a lot anyway. And I intend to make use of your library if the offer is still good.”

  “Of course! You’re welcome to spend all the time you like in there.”

  “All right then. If you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”

  Her smile was mesmerizing. “Absolutely. It’ll be fun to have a guest around all summer. Almost like part of the family.” She gave him a pained look. “Sorry. That was probably the wrong thing to say. Not everyone wants to get chatty with the innkeepers. Some prefer to just blend into the background. I’m going to have to get better at this. Levi’s always telling me I talk too much and have no boundaries.”

  She simply captivated him. Her long lashes fluttered down when she was embarrassed. He’d have to jot that detail in his notebook.