Lost Lake (Lost Lake, #1)(32)

The alligator disappeared under the water, resurfacing even closer to the dock.

The Alligator Box, it said.

It disappeared again. Minutes passed and Devin finally sat up. Her head felt swimmy from dangling it over the dock. Suddenly there was a tremendous splash and the alligator seemed to jump right out of the water. Midair, its body arched as if in a spasm, flinging its head in the direction of the dock. Devin heard a small clacking sound as she was sprayed with water. The alligator fell back into the lake with a great splash.

Devin looked down and saw that it had tossed her what looked to be a wet knobby root the size of a large ice cream cone. She picked it up. She’d rather have had a tooth, like the one her mom found and gave to Wes, but she’d take what she could get. After all, how many people got gifts from alligators?

“Devin!” her mother called. Devin turned. Uh-oh. She knew that tone of voice.

“I’m here,” Devin called back. “I’m fine.”

Kate slid on the wet grass as she crossed the lawn. Her short dark hair was sticking up in spikes from sleep. It made her look like an elf. Devin remembered when her mother cut it. It took a long time to get used to it, waking up in the mornings and not recognizing her. First her father died, then her mother changed her appearance so drastically. Then Grandma Cricket came into their lives, and Devin had to go to a new school, and they had to sell their house and move in with Grandma Cricket. It was strange, when she thought about it. Her dad was at peace, but no one else was. For almost a year, her mom had floated around, not really present, not happy, not anything. Devin had hated it.

But now, Devin could see her start to change. It was hard to trust at first, but her mom was happier here. Devin was happier here. And what a strange set of circumstances it was that brought them to this place. It almost scared her, how much could have gone wrong. What if they hadn’t seen the alligator on the road? What if Devin hadn’t found the postcard? She’d been playing in that trunk of clothes almost all her life, and she’d never noticed that corner of paper, tucked almost completely into the lining.

They were meant to be here.

“What are you doing out here so early?” Kate asked when she reached Devin. She knelt in front of her. “How did you get so wet? And look at you—you’re barefoot.”

Devin leaned forward and said softly into her mother’s ear, “I saw the alligator.”

Kate smiled and ran her hands up and down Devin’s arms, as if to warm her. “Sweetheart, there aren’t alligators here.”

“Yes, there are!” Devin insisted. She held out the root as proof. “It gave me this. I’m not sure what it means yet.”

“I see. That was nice of him.” Kate met Devin’s eyes. “Okay, make me a real Devin Promise. You will not leave the cabin alone like this again.” Devin Promises were what Devin and her mother had agreed were the most serious promises to make. You made them, you kept them.

Devin sighed. “I promise. But I tried to get you up first.”

Kate stood and took Devin’s hand. “I know you did. The trick is to wait for me. Then we both go.”

“Okay,” Devin said, looking over her shoulder as they walked away.

The alligator watched her go, then dipped under the water and vanished.

*

That afternoon, Eby was gazing at the ceiling in cabin number 9. There was a water stain here that looked like a bicycle wheel. It had been here for years, growing progressively larger. It had appeared the year George died. Back then it had looked like a tiny black beetle, and she used to come to this cabin and stare at it, sometimes swearing it would move, that it would run around the ceiling and spell out words like hope and love and real. But then she would blink and the words would go away. The stain was in the corner of the room, and its moisture had caused the coral wallpaper to peel away from the top. She’d always meant to fix that tiny leak, but then she’d thought, What if the ceiling wanted to tell me something else? So she’d left it.

This cabin also had a truly magnificent sleigh bed, antique and handcrafted. The camp was scattered with antiques from Eby and George’s halcyon days, hidden like secret treasure among the cheaper stuff. The vanity next to the yard-sale dresser was one George had bought on their honeymoon, an antique with inlay, the mirror slightly smoky, as if it would magically show you the most beautiful version of yourself if you asked. But she’d never asked. Her sister Marilee had been the beautiful one in their family. Even so, George, who had risen to the top of Atlanta’s eligible bachelors when he’d unexpectedly inherited his estranged grandfather’s money, had chosen Eby over her. Oh, Marilee had tried to win him. But she would have had to overcome a lifetime of teasing him in school about his red hair and bad teeth. Eby had always been kind to him, in love with him most of her life because he drew the most beautiful things with pencil and paper during classes. He was a dreamer, like her. And he’d wanted to marry her when he’d inherited his money, much to everyone’s surprise. He could have had his pick of beautiful belles. He could have had Marilee, before she’d fallen in love with Talbert, the gas station attendant. But he’d loved only Eby.

You didn’t need a mirror to tell you that you were beautiful when you had proof like that.

There was a knock on the door, then she heard Kate call, “Eby?”

Startled, Eby sat up on the dusty bed. She thought she could come here in secret. She thought Kate would be like everyone else and fall under the siesta spell that summer afternoons at Lost Lake were famous for casting.