Lost Lake (Lost Lake, #1)(49)

“They look like survey markers,” he said. “Did Eby have her land surveyed recently?”

“Not that I know of.”

The trees began to thin the farther they walked, becoming more uniform, more evenly spaced, as if they’d been deliberately planted years ago. Kate realized that they were all pine trees, and all of them had identical scars on them, reaching high into their trunks. The bark of the trees seemed to peel away in a V shape, like a curtain parting, and inside were even, whispery lines that looked like they were made by ax cuts. There was something magical about this place, about the uniformity of the trees, like they were dancers in costumes, frozen the moment before their first step.

“What are these marks on all these trees?” Kate asked.

“They’re called catfaces,” Wes said, walking at a brisk pace, like he was passing through the bad side of town. “That’s how I always knew we’d crossed from Eby’s property onto ours.”

“I don’t remember us ever exploring this part of the woods,” Kate said. “I think I would have remembered this.”

“I kept us on Eby’s property to avoid my dad. I think I knew her land better than my own.”

“Why are they called catfaces?” Devin asked.

Wes talked while he walked, so Kate and Devin couldn’t linger. Instead, they walked while looking up, periodically tripping over branches and roots. “Because those scars where the bark is peeled away look like cat whiskers. Generations of my family were turpentiners. They tapped these trees for resin. The catfaces are the hacks they made to get to the veins of the trees. Turpentining used to be a huge industry in this area. When the industry dried up, there wasn’t much to do with this land.”

A short time later, they broke through some brush and suddenly found themselves in the curve of an old dirt road. Kate was out of breath.

“The road leads to the highway, that way,” Wes said, pointing left, not stopping. “This way leads to what remains of the old cabin.”

They walked a short distance up the road to where there was a grassy bare spot containing an old stone chimney, looking as if it was standing inside an invisible house.

“And here we are,” Wes said.

Devin ran to the clearing. Wes stayed at the very edge, as far back as he could get without disappearing into the trees.

Kate walked over to him, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. She was the one who was winded, yet he was the one who looked like he was about to pass out. “Are you okay?”

He managed a smile that didn’t quite reach his blue eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”

“Oh, God. Wes, I didn’t realize. Is this the first time since the fire?”

“No,” he said, lowering himself to the ground and leaning against a tree. For a big man, he moved easily, deliberately, aware of his body and its proximity to those around him. He brushed some dirt off his hands. “The last time was when I was nineteen. I said good-bye to a lot of bad memories.”

He still didn’t want to be here. She could tell. He’d done this just for Devin. And knowing that he’d done this for her daughter, at a cost to himself, made her stomach feel strange, trembling slightly the way it did those last days at the lake all those years ago. Sometimes she thought she’d forgotten what selflessness looked like, until she ended up here again.

She sat beside him, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her hands, trying to cool the places where sweat collected, in the crooks of her elbows and the bends of her knees. “Who owns this property now?” she asked.

“I do.”

“You kept it all these years? Why?”

“I don’t know.” They watched as Devin kicked around in the dirt and looked under rocks. “Is Devin looking for something specific?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. She’s not talking to me about it.” Kate stared at her daughter for a few more moments, then turned back to Wes. “Thank you for bringing her here.”

“The trail wasn’t as hard to find as I thought it would be. Some guests from the lake probably found it and walked it over the years. Not lately, though.”

Kate frowned. “When did the camp start going downhill? When did people stop coming?”

He shrugged. “The hotel by the water park was built about fifteen years ago. That, combined with the economy, Eby’s aging guests, and the fact that Eby doesn’t advertise, just started taking its toll, I guess. I hadn’t been out to the lake in a while, so I didn’t know how bad it had gotten. If I had known, I could’ve helped. Repair work is what I do. When George was alive, he used to take care of all that.”

“What was he like?”

“George?” Wes smiled. “He wasn’t tall, but he was big shouldered. You could hear his laugh across the lake. He liked steaks and liquor. He loved entertaining. And he loved Eby. He would pull her into his lap when he was sitting at a picnic table, and she would kiss him before insisting he let her pass. He called it a toll.”

“Why do you think Eby didn’t sell after he died?” Kate asked.

“I don’t know. She was devastated when it happened. But there were a lot of people around her during that time. It kept her busy. She liked that. She’s always liked that. She and George were very social.”