Page 27 of It Started at the Lake

A tan dreamcatcher with turquoise beads and brown feathers catches my attention. Jen had one very similar to this. She purchased it in Maine when we visited five years ago. When I packed up our apartment in Boston and moved to Amherst last year, I threw away the one she hung on her side of the bed.

The dream catcher didn’t work. Since Jen’s passing, I get nightmares several times a week.

“Someone came in at the end of last summer requesting a space in my store to sell their indigenous-made merchandise. Of course, I said yes. Look at how stunning these bracelets are.”

If Jen were alive, we’d leave with at least three bracelets and a necklace. “You made the right call.”

I absently pick up the dream catcher, rubbing my finger over the web in the middle. “Jen said she never had a bad dream since buying one of these a few years back. But the dream catcher must only work for the person who buys it, because it doesn’t stop my nightmares.” They leave me with a pounding heart and sweat-soaked pajamas.

“Are you still dreaming of Jen being trapped, Bennett?” Evelyn asks behind me, her tone full of worry.

I flinch. When did she get here? Setting the dreamcatcher back on its hook, I say, “Sometimes.”

Evie frowns. “I’m sorry, B. I wish I knew how to help.”

I shrug. I’ve tried a million different ways to erase the nightmare of Jen being trapped under a frozen lake with me desperately chipping away at the surface, only for her to float away before I can save her, out of my head. Nothing’s worked.

“Maybe you need to buy one and try again,” Linda kindly suggests.

“Maybe.”

Millie places a hand over her chest. “I’m sorry, Bennett. That really is awful. I don’t know if this will help or not, and if you’re not looking for advice, then tell me to shut it. But when I was younger, my school psychologist told me when I had a recurring nightmare to write down what happens, but rewrite the ending to give me the resolution I wanted. It sounds silly, but it worked for me.”

That’s not a bad idea and one I haven’t tried yet. “Thank you. I might give that a go.” What nightmare did Millie have? Why did she see a school psychologist? Will journaling the nightmare help me?

Evie hugs Linda and introduces Millie. I step around them, wandering the rest of the store, which hasn’t changed. I find the lotion Jen always bought and take a sniff of the tester bottle.

The scent of sun-baked coconut is comforting; an unexpected pleasant surprise I enjoy as dozens of moments of watching Jen rub it over her body swim in my mind. I pick up a bottle, taking it to the register.

Linda sees me standing by the checkout counter and comes to ring up my purchase. “That’s one of the most popular products I have.”

I believe it. Even I enjoy the scent and creaminess of it. “It was Jen’s favorite. She made me stop at your store on our way into town every May so she could stock up for the summer.” I always teased her about being addicted to the stuff.

Linda smiles sympathetically. “I remember.”

“I’m a few days late, but I can’t let the tradition slide.” Now that I know the smell reminds me of good things and not bad like I feared, I’ll keep buying a bottle every summer in her memory.

Evie, with her arms full of random items, comes up behind me. “Oh, you’re getting that lotion! I love that stuff.”

“Jen did too,” I say.

Her face falls. “Would you rather I not buy any then?”

I give her a grateful smile. “It’s fine, Evs.”

“I’ll get it for you since your arms are full,” Millie offers. “Where is it?”

I put my card back in my wallet and grab the paper bag Linda holds out to me. “I’ll show you.”

“Oh.” Millie tucks a strand of her long hair behind her ear, smiling tentatively. “Thanks.”

I walk a few aisles over, Millie on my heels. She’s been different since our pickleball game. She’s kept her distance from me in every store. Did I do or say something when we played that hurt her feelings? I rack my brain, recalling my actions, and come up empty.

The past year, Evie tried to introduce me to Millie multiple times, and I always declined. I wasn’t ready to pretend to be friendly or in a place to get to know someone new. Evie assured me meeting Millie wasn’t a set-up. She simply wanted me to meet her best friend since we all lived in the same city.

If Evie hadn’t brought Millie with her to the lake house, I might still have said no. Now that I’ve met her, I see why Evelyn loves Camille like a sister.

Millie is nice. Beautiful. Accommodating. Outgoing. I’m excited for friendship to develop between us. But first, I need to figure out why she’s acting like I’m diseased with MRSA and trying to infect her with it.

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