A little while later at the sink, I splashed cold water over my face hoping to bring the redness and swelling down. I pulled the wig over my hair, packed my luggage, put on my sunglasses and slicker, and waited at the window, watching for Puppa through sheer curtains.
An eternity passed before his black truck arrived. The vehicle hesitated, finally pulling slowly down the row of motel units. I opened the door and stepped into the parking lot. His brake lights blinked red as he stopped and backed up. I pulled open the truck door and climbed into the passenger seat. I kept my eyes straight ahead so I wouldn’t look at him and start crying again.
“Thank you,” I whispered, afraid to say more.
The truck made a circle and headed west on US-2. The road curved toward the lake. Out in the harbor, waves washed over thick ice already covering the jetty. The lighthouse stood lonely and cold, bleeding red against gray water and white snow.
A sorrowful sense of déjà vu crept over me as we passed places it seemed I’d only just left. But it had been nearly a year since I’d first returned home. Perhaps the scenery hadn’t changed much, with ice and snow and cold being the same from year to year. But the people would be different now, having lived through another year of experiences. I knew I was different.
Sneaking a glance toward my grandfather, I wondered if he’d be happy for the changes I’d made in my life or if he’d be angry at me for continuing to make the same mistakes over and over. Life could be so frustrating when the old adage “the more things change, the more they stay the same” came into play.
Puppa’s hair had whitened in the last ten months. And from my angle, his face looked weary and sad.
“How have you been?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking the question, though I wasn’t sure I could bear the answer.
He stared at the road ahead, driving another mile or so in silence. I fidgeted, worried he was passing judgment on me.
At the passing lane, he swung his eyes in my direction, staring at my profile. I pulled off my sunglasses and returned his look.
So much sadness in his eyes. What had happened while I was gone?
“Where have you been?” He croaked the words.
It never occurred to me that he had no idea where I’d been all this time. I just assumed Brad had let him in on the plan. Or Denton had contacted him so he wouldn’t worry. But what good would disappearing from the face of the earth do if everybody knew where you were?
I bit my lip. “Puppa. I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t worried. I thought Brad would have told you.”
At Brad’s name, he snapped his head in my direction and blinked hard. “Brad? How could he tell me?” He looked straight ahead. “We’ve all thought you’ve been dead since June. They told us you died in a car crash in Minneapolis. We had a funeral.”
I shook my head. “No. I was in a car crash, but I’m fine. I got away to California, where Brad told me to go so I’d be safe from Frank Majestic.”
He gave a little nod of his head. “A faked death.” He hummed in disgust. “And we all fell for it.” He glanced at me. “You were safe as long as you were dead. Now here you are, back in the thick of things.” His eyes watered up. “And you’re alive. You’re alive.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “Yes, I’m alive. And I’m home. But I wasn’t safe in Del Gloria. Someone’s been trying to kill me. I’m not sure there is anyplace safe for me.” I looked in his eyes. “I might as well be home.”
A mile of pines passed by the window before he spoke.
“Patricia, things have changed. Things happened… You were dead, for crying out loud.”
I nodded in agreement, still smiling to be home. “I know. I’ve been gone a long time. I kept waiting for Brad to call.” I gave a little laugh. “I guess if he thought I was dead, that was a pretty good reason not to call…”
My brow scrunched. Something wasn’t right. Denton assured me Brad would call when it was time. They must have been in touch. Denton should have told Brad I was still alive. I put a hand to my forehead. Brad must know and was just keeping it a secret. Because if Denton hadn’t told him the truth, and Brad really thought I was dead, Brad might have moved on with his life. He could have met someone new. He might be engaged to some other future Mrs. Walters instead of me.
I gave a ferocious shake of my head. It wasn’t possible. Brad knew I was alive. He had to know.
We turned onto the Silvan Peninsula. Just a few more miles to my log home on the lake. I looked at Puppa. “I’m sure there’s no heat or anything, but I’d like to stop at my house and see if I can get things going.”
I’d lived a few places in my life, but none felt as much like home as the lodge. I’d spent summers there as a girl, wandering through half-pint pines that now towered skyward. And after I’d been ripped from the secluded safety of the lodge by well-meaning grandparents, I dreamed of the day I would return to Port Silvan and buy the log cabin and make it my own. And I’d done just that. Now that I was back from my leave of absence, I could finish the renovations and get the yard ready for an outdoor wedding, sometime next summer.
Puppa stared straight ahead, not responding.
The miles flew past in snow-covered splendor.
“Looks like we’ll be having a white Christmas this year.” The closer we drew to home, the more the goose bumps raced up and down my arms. Three days ’til Christmas. I was home just in time.
My driveway was around the next bend. My right leg pressed against the floorboard as I willed Puppa to slow down for the turn.
He turned in. The drive was plowed, the banks pushed back in tidy order. Tracks from multiple cars covered the surface, and strangely, a large wooden sign was posted to a tree. VALENTINE’S BAY LODGE, it said in burgundy and cream, with a phone number and website address beneath it.
“What’s going on? Who’s been down here?” I was used to my house being off the beaten path and my drive only lightly traveled. Who would post a sign?
“Patricia, this isn’t a good idea.” Puppa stepped on the brakes. “Stay at the lake house with me. We’ll come back another day.”
“Keep going.” I got a sick feeling in my gut. “I need to know what’s happening here.”
The vehicle slowed. “You’ve been dead since June. Things have changed.”
“Obviously my house is one of them. Keep going.” I pressed my Tasha Stewart sunglasses onto my face and set my mouth in a tight line.
Puppa accelerated, though I could tell by the set of his jaw it was only against his will.
We crossed the creek and came around the corner. And there it was. My log cabin. Or was it mine? The logs were newly stained, the door was painted a welcoming shade of red to match the new shutters, and Christmas lights and garland hung in joyous celebration of the holiday. I took a jagged breath. I hadn’t expected this. A dilapidated cottage in need of repair, yes. But this pristine building with a perky sign announcing Guest Parking where my shed once stood had never entered my mind.
I did a double-take as we passed. My Explorer-there it was in new condition, as if it had never been crunched by a murderous truck.
But the lodge… What if they’d sold it? What if it didn’t belong to me anymore? Could they do that? Maybe they thought I was dead, but now that I was alive again, it was still mine. Right?
Grandfather pulled close to the entry. Welcome to VAENTINE’S Bay arched over the door. Window boxes filled with cedar boughs, pinecones, and red bows garnished the porch.
The car doors slammed as I stepped into the crunching snow. A woman came to the door as we approached. She smiled, her dark hair and eyes sparkling even in the dingy gray light of early afternoon.