Walleye Junction (36 page)

Emma pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “Maybe it was all in my head. I've been so willing to think the worst of people these last few days.”

“Well, you can stop thinking that way about me. We may have had a fucked-up relationship in high school, but I have grown up a lot since then.” He hesitated. “I'm not one of the bad guys anymore.”

“You're not all good either.”

“Neither are you.”

“I've decided to get help,” she said, not quite believing she was admitting aloud that help was what she needed.

“Help for what?” asked Nathan.

“I have an eating disorder.”

“That's not exactly a state secret.”

“I've never accepted that I have a problem.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Something my dad said to me the last time we were together,” said Emma.

“Do me a favor,” said Nathan. “When your therapist asks about the boyfriend who messed up your self-esteem, try to think of something nice to say about me?”

Emma shielded her eyes from the sun. “There was plenty of good.”

“Why don't you talk about the good times more often, then?”

“I suppose I'm trying to get past the bad times first.”

“Anything else on your list?” asked Nathan.

“That whole thing with Lucy dealing drugs, were you involved?”

“I'm not proud of it, but yeah I bought stuff from her. Got in so deep I ended up owing her a shitload of money.” He shrugged. “But then she died.”

“How come I didn't know about this?”

“Emma, I hate to break it to you, but half your friends were using.”

“Seriously?”

“You were this perfect girl—straight As and always in control. Meanwhile the rest of us were going off the rails. There was an unspoken agreement among us.
Don't tell Emma. She won't get it
.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“There's really nothing to say. After Lucy died most of us never touched the stuff again.”

Emma leaned on the bed of the truck next to Nathan. She was tempted to rethink every interaction she'd had in high school. It had always felt like she was on the outside looking in. Now she knew why.

“I need to go,” she said.

“You'll tell the police about the guy that was following you?”

“Yeah,” she said, heading for her car. “I'll call Lou Turner from the house.”

“Emma,” he said. “You take care.”

“You too.”

*   *   *

Emma stood in the middle of her mother's kitchen staring at her phone. There were several new messages. Her heart sank when she saw the text from Kyle. He'd signed off the message with kisses. She keyed in his phone number and waited for him to pick up.

“Hi, Emma,” he said. “I was just thinking of you. Do you feel like getting together?”

Emma hesitated. He sounded a little too eager.

“Emma,” said Kyle. “Is everything okay?”

“We should talk.”

“Sure,” he said, dragging out the word like he was anything but sure. “I have plans later on, but I have a couple hours free now.”

“That works for me,” said Emma.

“You could come to my house,” said Kyle. “We'd have the place to ourselves.”

Emma stepped out onto the lawn. The grass was soft underfoot, the sky an endless blue. It was coming up to five. There were still a few hours of daylight left.

“I feel like being outside,” said Emma. “Let's meet at the park near the fairgrounds.”

*   *   *

Emma walked along a paved bike trail that overlooked the Flathead River. Where the river widened, shallow slate-gray water tumbled over half-submerged rocks. Someone upstream must have been throwing wildflowers into the wash. They swirled around in the whirlpools formed by the rapids. Emma noted that she wasn't alone. She'd already spotted a few joggers and a couple of dog walkers. A group of youths played soccer on a nearby field. There were plenty of people around, but it wasn't crowded. It would be a good place for them to talk. She'd been rehearsing what she was going to say. She'd let Kyle down gently. She'd be careful to blame herself. She'd been lonely and emotional the previous day. It made no sense for them to get involved. After her father's funeral she'd be leaving for San Francisco. Aside from her mother there was nothing left to keep her in Walleye Junction.

From the west a lone figure slowly appeared through the sun's glare. Kyle was walking across the open fields. He stopped and kicked a soccer ball back toward the players. He was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses and heading straight toward her. She held up her hand and he waved. She was so angry with herself. She'd acted without thinking things through and now she was going to have to hurt him.

Kyle gave her a nervous peck on the cheek.

“It's a beautiful evening,” he said, touching her arm. “It was a nice idea to meet down here.”

Emma couldn't look him in the eye. Worryingly, the spot she'd chosen had turned out to be the kind of place you'd come for a romantic picnic. There was a bandstand, a wildflower meadow, and picnic tables tucked back under the trees. She'd remembered it as a dump.

“It's nicer than I remembered,” she said.

He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She was about to say something when her phone rang.

“I'm sorry,” she said, pulling away from him. “It's probably my mother. She was in a bit of a state when I last spoke to her.”

It was an unknown number. She gave Kyle what she thought was a convincing smile and lied. “It's my mom,” she said. “I'll just be a second.”

The woman's voice was too quiet. Emma pressed the phone closer to her ear and put more distance between herself and Kyle.

“I'm sorry,” said Emma. “Can you please repeat that? I was having difficulty hearing you.”

“You called and left a message on my voice mail. I'm the manager of the restaurant up at the ski resort.”

Emma turned to face Kyle. He was a good fifteen feet away. He wasn't watching the river. He was watching her.

“Thank you for getting back to me,” said Emma.

“We're very sorry you had a bad experience when you were our guest here at the resort. I've spoken to the bar staff who were on duty that evening. We believe the man who followed you to the parking lot was a member of a wedding party that has been staying here over the past few nights.”

“You must know who he was. From what I understand he was kicked out of the restaurant when you found out what happened.”

“We don't have any record of that.”

“I'm just going by what your security guard told me.”

“Ma'am,” said the woman. “I'm afraid there's been some misunderstanding. We don't have any security guards working for us.”

“That's not possible. He was patrolling the parking lot.”

“That may be the case, but he doesn't work for us. I'd appreciate it if you could give us his contact details. We'd like to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.”

Emma didn't know what to say to the woman. Kyle was walking toward her. She hung up.

“Kyle,” she said, standing her ground. “That was the manager at the restaurant up at the resort.”

He looked confused. “Why … why would she be calling you?”

“Do you even know her name? You supposedly work for her.”

“They've had a lot of turn … turnover recently.” He shrugged. “What's this all about?”

“I called the restaurant because I was worried you were going to get in trouble. I wanted them to know that your actions were justified.”

“You shouldn't have—”

“Why did you lie about working for them?” asked Emma.

“I didn't think it through.”

“Why were you really there?”

“I was meeting someone,” said Kyle.

“Who?”

“A friend. Does it matter?”

Emma glanced over at the soccer field. The game had ended. The players were dispersing. There wasn't anyone on the paved walkway. As the sun dropped behind the western range the valley fell into shadow.

“Did you follow me up to the resort that night?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“I'm going to leave now,” she said, turning toward the parking lot.

“I wasn't … I wasn't following you.” He grabbed hold of her arm. “Emma, don't do this. Don't walk away from me.”

Over his shoulder she caught sight of two men jogging along the walkway. One of them was pointing in their direction. She raised her voice.

“If you don't let go of me I will scream.”

He dropped her arm and backed away. His eyes were cast downward. His face rigid.

She stared at him. The realization came slow, but when it hit, it hit hard.

“On the road near the river … it was you in the car that was behind me.”

“No, that's not true. I'd been fishing all morning.”

Emma hesitated. She hadn't seen the driver or the car that followed her on the road. She retraced the steps that had brought her face-to-face with Kyle. He'd been hunched over his tackle box, wearing waders and a jacket. They'd walked to his car together. She'd drunk the juice he'd offered. He'd parked so he was blocking the sign to the trailhead. It was the same sign she'd stopped to read as she made her way up the road. He couldn't have been parked there all morning if she'd stood in that same spot twenty minutes earlier.

“I don't believe you,” she said. “You followed me on that road then tried to blame Nathan. I spoke to him today. He was in Kalispell yesterday.”

Kyle backtracked. “I didn't know it was you on the road.”

“So, you admit to following some random woman? And then lying about it? That doesn't make it better, Kyle. It actually makes it creepier. You scared the shit out of me.” She folded her arms around herself protectively. She felt as if she might be sick. “It's one of the reasons I invited you back to my house. I was still scared.” She shook her head. “I'm such a fucking idiot.”

“No, you're not. I'm the idiot. I should have said something.”

She backed away. “Kyle, I'm leaving.”

He took a step in her direction. “Let me explain.”

“Not now. I'll call you tomorrow once I've had time to think.”

He kept coming.

“Kyle,” she said, holding up a hand. “I told you I'd call you tomorrow. You need to respect that.”

The two men she'd seen jogging on the path were now heading in their direction. One of them shouted.

“Is this guy bothering you?”

Kyle turned his back on Emma and started walking away.

“Everything's fine,” said Kyle. “I'm going.”

*   *   *

Emma arrived home as darkness was falling. She locked the door behind her and stood at the front window watching the road. There was no sign of Kyle's car. Full of nervous energy she went around collecting the stray dishes that were scattered through the downstairs rooms. The phone rang as she was starting the dishwasher. Her mother sounded tired but relieved.

“I finally spoke to Peter,” said Francine. “He's very weak, but he's going to be okay.”

“That's good news. Will you be home soon?”

“I'll be another couple of hours. My friends said they'd drop me off once we've had something to eat.”

Emma sat down at the kitchen table. Her predominant emotion wasn't fear. It was anger. She should have told Kyle to fuck off then and there. She'd never met someone who was so socially awkward. What was he thinking?

“Emma?” said Francine. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” said Emma, pushing all thoughts of Kyle to one side. “I've just got a lot on my mind.”

*   *   *

Emma took her father's coat down from its hook and stomped across the orchard with the keys to Caleb's house in her hand. Clouds veiled what little moon there was and the cherry trees rose and fell with each gust of wind. All the windows of the farmhouse were dark. Emma cleared the cobwebs that draped across the back porch and unlocked the door. The ceiling lamps flickered for a few seconds before settling into a steady glow. The air smelled faintly damp, but she was sure that was a trick of memory. The water had long since retreated. The house was empty, silent, and bone dry. Emma stepped into the kitchen and tried to imagine what it had been like when she was a child.

When Beverly was alive it had been cluttered with everything from cats to coupons to cake tins. There were always a few long-tailed dogs crashing about the place, baying above the Motown records that were playing on the turntable. That all stopped after she passed away. The records were boxed up and the turntable consigned to the back of a cupboard. The cats and dogs died one by one and nine years later Lucy was gone too.

Held in place with yellowing tape and corners curled up like fists, old snapshots of Lucy covered the front of the refrigerator. It was a carefully curated collection. Lucy and Emma had been inseparable for years, but here there was only an occasional glimpse of Emma—an arm, a tanned leg, or strands of stray hair but nothing more. It was just like the paintings of the girl at Dot's house—the parts could not make up a whole. Some of the photos had been torn in half. Others were folded back. She removed one and pried the stiff card open, revealing her childhood self. Flat chested and freckled, she and Lucy stood arm in arm in the shallows of Darby Lake. They wore matching grins and homemade bathing suits. It was the summer after Beverly died and they'd spent the day picnicking on Darby Lake with Emma's parents. Lucy's hair was a mess. In a sign of things to come, she'd tried to re-create something she'd seen in a magazine using her mother's sewing shears. The result had left her looking like a porcupine for weeks. Caleb had insisted she wear a hat to cover it up, but she'd refused. It was the first of many battles he was destined to lose.