Page 5 of The Woman By the Lake

We headed out to the car, and within a few minutes I rethought his age, considering he could heft around a lot of luggage and groceries.

It was all inside in record time, and for that, I could have kissed him.

“I’ll let you be,” he said, going straight to the door after he set the last grocery bags on the kitchen counter. “Again, you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. It’s urgent or you’re worried, get a hold of Doc. He’ll sort you out.”

I was wandering his way as I replied, “Thank you. So much. For everything.”

He touched his forehead with a finger, bid me a, “Hope you’re happy here,” and he ducked out.

The screen door swooshed closed on a well-oiled mechanism before it snicked shut.

I went to the door, and through the screen watched him walk to his pickup.

I waved from where I stood.

Dave waved back as he drove away.

I then went right to the groceries and put away the stuff that needed fridge and freezer.

That was all I did before I headed to the back hall and out.

Once on the back porch, I again stopped dead.

Wicker chairs to my left that had fluffy pads on them, more pretty toss pillows, an ornate, white wrought iron table between them, and lots more pots brimming with flowers. To my right was a wicker loveseat with a coffee table in front.

And in front of me, the vista was pine trees and a tranquil body of water that could be described as a small lake or a very (very) large pond. A short pier sat on the lake, with two bright-red Adirondack chairs on it, which was all that could fit.

Leading off to the right, a stone-edged path led to a small shed, firewood stacked high on one side with a roof over it. Oddly, on the other side, was another stone-edged path, or what looked to have been one at one time.

Unlike everything else about the cabin, quite a number of the stones had been kicked out of place or had fallen away or been rearranged by the movement of critters. The path itself was not clear and graveled but seemed older. The gravel on top not fresh but embedded in the dirt.

And it seemed to lead to nothing.

I could see another trail, closer to the lake, that ran either side of the backyard, indicating there was a well-used walking path around the lake. This one, all dirt but also stone edged, disappearing on both sides into the pines.

I stepped out into what was my new backyard, even if it had no lawn and was mostly just earth, and walked to the edge of the lake.

I looked right.

Winking in the sun, I thought I saw some windows, but they were mostly hidden by trees. If there was a house among those pines, considering where the winks were coming from, it wasn’t one story.

What wasn’t hidden was the pier at that edge of the north side of the lake (I was on the east, and nothing was anywhere else).

That pier was much larger, had an arm at the end, and what looked like a small outboard fishing boat with a bespoke tarp fitted perfectly on top. The boat sat in the water tied to the pier.

I liked that fitted tarp, it said my neighbor took care of his belongings, and that boded well about this unknown Doc.

I felt better having a neighbor.

I needed to be alone.

I needed to sort out my head.

No, I needed to sort out my life.

But this was the literal middle of nowhere, and I felt safer with someone close.

Especially that someone being this Doc person, who clearly had the respect of Dave Weaver, someone I could tell was a nice guy.

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