Page 18 of This is Why We Lied

Will got the message, which Sara softened by looping her arm through his. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. They fell into a companionable silence. Will didn’t feel the incline in the trail so much as his calves reminded him that they weren’t used to this. The walk was not a short one. He guessed five minutes passed before the terrain got steeper. The trees pulled back. The sky opened up above their heads. He could see the mountains rolling in the distance like a never-ending magic carpet. Will didn’t know if it was the changes in elevation or the way the sun was moving, but every time he took in the view, it looked different. The colors were an explosion of greens. The air was so fresh that his lungs felt shaky.

Jon had stopped. He pointed twenty yards ahead to a fork in the trail. “Lake’s down that way. You’re not supposed to swim after dark. Cottage ten is the farthest away from the main house, but if you go left at the fork, it loops back around to the dining hall.”

Will asked, “There used to be a campsite around here, right?”

“Camp Awinita,” Jon said.

Sara asked, “Is awinita a native American word?”

“It’s Cherokee for fawn, but a guest told me a while back it’s supposed to be two words, and spelled with a d, like ahwi anida.”

Will asked, “Do you know where the camp is?”

“They closed it down when I was little.” Jon shrugged as he continued up the trail. “If you’re interested in all that stuff, you can ask my grandma Bitty. You’ll see her at supper. She knows more about this place than just about anybody.”

Will watched Jon disappear around a curve. He let Sara go ahead of him. The view was even better from behind. He studied the shape of her legs. The curve of her ass. The toned muscles along her bare shoulders. Her hair was up in a ponytail. The back of her neck had a sheen of sweat from the hike. Will was sweaty, too. They should probably take a long shower together before dinner.

“Oh, wow.” Sara was looking up an offshoot from the trail.

Will followed her gaze. Jon was climbing a set of stone stairs that looked like they had been etched into the hill for Glorfindel. Ferns crowded at the edges. Moss covered the adjacent stones. At the top was a small cottage with rustic board and batten siding. Colorful flowers spilled from the window boxes. There was a hammock swaying on the front porch. Will could’ve spent the next ten years trying to make something this perfect and never come close.

“It’s like a fairy tale.” Sara’s voice had a winsome quality. She was never more beautiful than when she smiled. “I love it.”

Jon said, “You can see three states from this ridge.”

Sara unclipped the compass from her backpack. She opened the folder, found the map. She pointed into the distance. “I think that must be Tennessee, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jon walked back down the stairs to do his own pointing. “That’s the eastern slope of Lookout Mountain. There’s a bench on the lake trail called the lookout bench where you can see it better. We’re in the Cumberland Plateau.”

“Which means that Alabama is that way.” Sara pointed behind Will. “And North Carolina is way over there.”

Will turned around. All he could see was millions and millions of trees undulating across the mountain range. He pivoted, catching the glare as the afternoon sun turned part of the lake into a mirror. From above, the expanse looked less like a snowman and more like a giant amoeba that disappeared into the curve of the earth.

Jon said, “That’s the Shallows. The water comes off the mountaintops, so it’s still a little cold this time of year.”

Sara held the folder open like a book. She read, “Lake McAlpine spreads out over four hundred acres, with depths up to sixty-eight feet. The Shallows, located at the end of the Lake Trail, is less than fifteen feet, which makes this area ideal for swimming. There are smallmouth bass, walleye, bluegill and yellow perch. Eighty percent of the lake sits in a conservation easement that can never be developed. The lodge compound is abutted by the 750,000-acre Muscogee State Forest to the west and the 800,000-acre Cherokee National Forest to the east.”

Jon said, “Cherokee and Muscogee are two of the tribes that were in this area. The lodge was founded after the Civil War, seven generations of McAlpines ago.”

Will assumed the land had come at a literal steal. The original inhabitants were removed from their home and forced to march west. Most of them had died on the journey.

Sara referred to the map. “What about this part along the creek, Lost Widow Trail?”

“That’s way down a steep hill to the very backside of the lake,” Jon said. “The story is, the first Cecil McAlpine who started this place had his throat slit by some bad guys. His wife thought he was dead. She disappeared down that trail. Only, he didn’t die, but she didn’t know that. He searched for days, but she was lost to him for ever.”

“You know a lot about this place,” Sara said.

“My grandma drilled it into me every single day when I was a kid. She loves it here.” Jon shrugged, but Will caught the blush of pride on his face. “Ready?”

Jon didn’t wait for a response. He walked up the stairs and swung open the front door to the cottage. There was no key. All of the windows were already open to take advantage of the breeze.

Sara was smiling again. “It’s beautiful, Will. Thank you.”

“Suitcases are already in your room.” Jon started a clearly practiced routine. “Coffeemaker’s there. Pods are in the box there. Mugs are hanging from the hooks. There’s a small fridge under the counter with all the stuff you asked for.”

Will looked around the space as Jon pointed out the obvious. He’d booked the two-bedroom cottage because the view was supposed to be better. The additional cost meant he’d probably have to pack his own lunch for the next year, but judging by Sara’s reaction, it was worth it.

He was pretty pleased with the choice himself. The main area of the cottage was big enough for a couch and two club chairs. The leather looked worn and comfortable. The corded rug underfoot was springy soft. The lamps were mid-century modern. Everything seemed thoughtfully placed and had an air of quality to it. Will assumed if you took the time to haul something up a mountain, you wanted to make sure it would last.

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