Free Summer at Forsaken Lake by Michael D. Beil Page A

“Yes, about that. Tell me, Nicholas, did your dad ever say anything … well, about what happened the last summer he stayed here with me and Lillie?”
    Nicholas shook his head. “It was something bad, right?”
    “What makes you think that?”
    Nicholas thought about the letter and all that it revealed about his dad, but decided that this wasn’t the time to bring it up. “I don’t know. I just have a feeling. You know, the movie—he didn’t finish that, and now thisboat. So close to being done. Something bad must have happened.”
    “Not much gets past you, does it?” Nick said. “For tonight, let’s just leave it at that. It was all a long time ago. For now, I think your dad will be pleased that you’re going to finish up the Heron.”
    “I’m going to keep it a secret from him,” Nicholas said. “I want it to be a surprise when … 
if
he ever comes out here.”

CHAPTER SIX

    N icholas woke with a start at 2:53 a.m. He had fallen asleep while reading an old
National Geographic
about Robin Lee Graham, the sixteen-year-old boy who sailed his boat,
Dove
, around the world, and wondering if he would be ready for a journey like that in four years’ time. He reached up and turned off his reading light, and was surprised that the moonlight pouring into the tower room was still bright enough to read by. Out on the lake, the lunar spotlight fell directly on
Goblin
, tap-dancing on the rippled surface of the cove.
    He was about to turn away and try to go back to sleep when something far out on the lake caught his eye. Heblinked his eyes a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but there was no doubt about it: someone was out sailing! By the time he saw it, the boat was nearly at the edge of his line of vision, and within seconds was out of sight. If Nicholas hadn’t at that moment looked at Aunt Lillie’s painting, mysteriously titled
2:53 A.M.
, which seemed to capture a moment exactly like the one he had just witnessed, he probably would have crawled back into his bed without another thought. But he did see it, and it was all just too much of a coincidence for him.
    Nicholas grabbed his sneakers, pulled them on quickly, and spun down the spiral staircase. He almost stepped on Pistol, who was stretched across the hall at the bottom of the stairs. The dog lifted his head long enough to watch Nicholas disappear out the front door, and then returned to chasing the slow-moving rabbits of his dreams.
    Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see anything from the dock, Nicholas sprinted around the edge of the little cove to the sandy point of land that the twins had named Beach End, which came from
We Didn’t Mean to Go to Sea
, naturally.
    The breeze was steady but light, and Nicholas had sailed enough to have a pretty fair idea of where the boat
should
be when he reached Beach End and looked down the lake.
    There was, however, not a boat in sight.
    The moon had ducked behind a cloud, and for a few seconds he thought the blanket of darkness that had been thrown over the lake was the explanation. When the clouds parted, though, no boat appeared.
    What the …? Was I dreaming?
    He stayed there for a few minutes, letting his eyes get used to the darkness, but it made no difference. He tried to picture in his mind the shoreline north of where he stood—was there someplace a boat could hide? There were no docks or moorings for a good half mile, much farther than a small sailboat could have traveled in the short time it took him to get from his room to Beach End. It seemed to have just … vanished.
    * * *
    July 14
    Hi, Dad
.
    3:15 a.m.—the moon’s shining on Goblin and I’m wondering if you can see the moon where you are. Crazy, right? I know I should be in bed, but my brain is going, like, a million miles an hour. This place makes New York seem boring
.
    Nicholas
    * * *
    When Nicholas went down for breakfast in the morning, he found Nick already out on the porch, drinking coffee and reading