Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(48)

Bruce had opted out. But Hannah had spit in the vial and sent it off—without too much of a thought. Just something to talk about with her family when the results came back. Maybe they’d find some long-lost relative, or some strain of the family they’d never otherwise have known. She did the full suite—ancestry, medical, and traits. She’d even ticked the box to allow any searching relatives to get in touch via the app. Why not?

It was a curiosity, nothing more. After all, she knew her family. She knew where she came from. On her mother’s side, she had a big group of aunts and uncles, a passel of cousins all over the country. Her mother was of Scotch-Irish descent whose parents had come to the US in the thirties and settled in Brooklyn. Hannah’s grandmother had been a seamstress, her grandfather a chauffeur. Eventually, the warm Florida weather called them south, and that’s where Sophia was born and stayed. Hannah’s father was Italian, both maternal and paternal grandparents from Naples. He was an only child, parents passed before he was fully grown. He lived with relatives before he joined the army. There were aunts and uncles, cousins who were less a part of Hannah and Mickey’s life than Sophia’s family. But she knew them—cards at Christmas, random visits, once a big family reunion at Disney.

Hannah had been curious. What would she learn about her ancestry, about herself? Who, if anyone, would reach out claiming this connection or that? She’d read that all humans share about 99 percent of the same DNA. That it was less than a 1 percent difference that makes you who you uniquely are, that connects you to the people you call family. There was something about that that she liked; this idea that all people, no matter what they thought or believed, were essentially the same.

But the results when they came were—confusing.

“Earth to Hannah.”

She jumped, startled back to the moment. “What?”

“You have that look.”

“What look?”

Cricket tapped her temple. “That thinking too hard, lost in your head look. Your brother does that, too. Just blanks out, goes on some kind of internal journey.”

“Doesn’t everyone do that?”

Cricket laughed, ahead of her on the path. “No, not everyone. For example, Joshua doesn’t seem to do any deep thinking at all. That’s what I love about him. He’s about food and sex and good times.”

Hannah gasped. “Did you just say the L word again?”

Cricket covered her mouth, looked with big eyes at Hannah. “Maybe?”

Something rustled in the bushes, something big. Both of them shrieked, their voices echoing in the silence. Glancing back the way they came, Hannah couldn’t see the house at all anymore.

“What was that?”

It came again, and this time they took off running. Hannah lost a flip-flop but didn’t go back for it. They ran up the path shrieking.

Then they were laughing. Yes, there it was, that lightness, that bubbling happiness she remembered from the days when she still partied. How it took her away from all those deep thoughts, her worries, whatever darkness in the world.

“Oh my god,” breathed Cricket, slowing, breathless. “Was there something out there?”

“If there was,” said Hannah. “We scared it away.”

Around the next turn, they were at the lake, which was really more of a large pond, still and inky black, dappled with silver moonlight, tall trees all around whispering.

“Tearwater Lake,” breathed Hannah, coming to its edge.

Hannah stared at its blackness, thinking about the little girl who died there. She couldn’t help it. She started to cry.

“Hannah,” whispered Cricket.

“I’m okay.”

Cricket grabbed her arm. “No, Hannah. There’s someone there. On the other side of the lake in the trees.”

“What?”

“Look, there, right across.”

Hannah stared, and then yes, she detected a shift in the black. As her eyes adjusted to the distance and the blackness, she saw it, a tall form standing among the trees. She could see the legs spread, arms akimbo.

A jolt of fear moved through her. “Oh my god.”

“Someone’s there,” Cricket breathed. “Someone’s—watching us.”

“Hey,” Hannah called. “Who’s there? This is private property.”

Was it? She didn’t even know.

The form stood rooted like the trees around it, unmoving, impervious.

Hannah felt like the world stood still, as she watched the strange form across the lake. Who was that? What was it? Man? Woman? Ghost?

“Hey,” she called again. Cricket tugged on her arm, and she took a few steps back, one bare foot cold against the earth. “Do you hear me?”

No answer, maybe the slightest shift of movement. Then as she watched the form seemed to leak back into the darkness like ink soaking into cloth.

“Hannah,” Cricket was pulling her, harder now. “Hannah, let’s get out of here.”

Then they were running. Hannah stooped to grab her lost flip-flop on the way, looking back into the night where there was nothing.





21


Hannah

Mako was already in the hot tub when they returned breathless to the deck.

“What the fuck?” He’d had his back against the edge, eyes closed but sat up to look them as they thundered up the stairs. “Where were you guys?”