Page 27 of The Souls of Lost Lake
“They’resick. I just watch to learn.”
“Learn what? How to disembowel someone?” Wren’s irritation was coming to the fore. It was what happened when her anxiety rose. She got snippy. It was that or burst into tears, and her parents had taught her long ago that the quest to gain emotional stability was the avoidance of all eye leakage.
“Relax.” Eddie dropped the doll onto the couch. “She’s not possessed.”
“How do you know?” Wren eyed the doll. “I mean, look at her!” The cracked face, the one eye that had rolled back into its head and stuck there, and the other eye that stared straight ahead. “Possession has to be considered,” Wren determined.
They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Eddie reached out and flipped the doll over so at least her eyes were staring into the couch cushion and not at Wren.
“I need to check on Mom.” Eddie’s quiet statement jolted Wren back to the present and back under the other dark cloud hanging over them.
“I’ll go with you.” She stood from her sprawled position in the recliner and followed Eddie. He smelled like the woods, and she noticed the cuffs of his jeans had little burrs stuck to them from the underbrush.
The hallway to his mom’s bedroom was dimly lit, and the carpet sank under their feet. Patty’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. Eddie gave it a light rap with his knuckles, pushing it open.
Gary, Eddie’s dad, looked up from his place in a chair by the bed. A book was open on his lap, his one leg crossed at the ankle on his opposite knee. His glasses were balanced on the tip of his nose, his beard hanging onto his chest. He was, after all, the epitome of a Northwoods man.
“Hey, kids.” Gary’s voice was soft, not unlike Eddie’s, and level. There was kindness in his blue eyes as he closed his paperback, keeping his thumb in between the pages to mark his spot. “Any news?”
“Nothing.” Eddie shook his head, and Wren knew Gary was referring to Jasmine—not the creepy doll on the living room couch. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s ... hanging in there.” Gary’s gaze strayed to his wife. Patty lay in a quiet slumber, but even looking at her made Wren’s heart ache. Patty had always been beautiful. Even now she was. But the sixty-year-old was gaunt, her sixty-two-pound weight loss from the battle with breast cancer leaving her almost skeletal. Her cheeks were sunken, and the rosy luster and twinkle that had always been the Patty Wren knew growing up were gone. Hospice was doing a good job caring for her. The last hospital stay had been a week ago, and then she’d been sent home, a sentence applied to her lifespan. Three months would be a miracle. A few weeks more likely.
Wren swallowed hard. She held her eyes shut against the burning and willed tears away. Life without Patty Markham was going to be empty. Void. She’d bonded with Patty since the day Eddie had hid earthworms in her chicken noodle soup. Patty had taken Wren’s side and said if Eddie thought worms were so wonderful, he was welcome to finish Wren’s for her. And she’d held her stance until Eddie lifted the spoon to his mouth, a squiggling worm dangling. Mercy had been shown. Eddie chastised. Wren had received a chocolate brownie for dessert, while Eddie had to settle for a carrot.
It wasn’t the first time Patty had come to Wren’s aid. When she’d broken up with her first boyfriend in middle school, Eddie had teased her mercilessly. Patty had held her and encouraged her to“maybe wait till you’re older before you date again.”When Patty spoke, Wren listened. So she had waited. She’d brought her prom date home, and then they’d stopped at the Markham house to double date with Eddie and his then-girlfriend. Patty had made as big a deal over Wren as she had over Eddie. Wren was the daughtershe’d never had, she always said. When Wren attended a community college in place of a university, her dad had been—upsetmight be a lackluster word for it. But Patty had encouraged Wren by saying the unpopular“not everyone needs to have a four-year degree.”
It was Patty who’d changed over her sewing room and put in a twin-sized bed.“Sometimes you need to get away from the family home.”Patty was right. It was easier to get away to the Markham home than to face all the questions at her own.
Wren knew she mocked the fact that Pippin was nearing forty and living in their dad’s basement. But here she was, twenty-six years of age and working in the administration building at camp, doing admin work. A secretary, if an old-school term could be applied. Which meant she’d been saving to buy her own house now for a few years, but she too was in limbo. Tempter’s Creek downtown was miles away from camp, so getting an apartment there had been impractical when she spent all but sleeping hours on the grounds.
The truth was, between Wren and Pippin, her dad didn’t seem proud of their career successes—or failures. Pippin’s programming work at leastsoundedsmart. Wren knew her dad still waited for the moment she would leave for higher pursuits. She loved her dad. Wren never questioned that. And he loved her. They just didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. Patty Markham, on the other hand, saw Wren’s heart.
Pushing aside the disturbing thoughts, Wren joined the men by Patty’s bedside. “Do you need me to sit with her awhile?” Wren offered.
Gary drew in a deep breath, weighted with the imminence of bidding his soulmate farewell, and shook his head. “No. No, I’ll stay with her, but thanks, Wren. I’ve got the chair here—I’ll catch some sleep later.”
Wren didn’t miss Eddie from the corner of her eye. He had rounded his mother’s bed and now sat carefully on the edge. He looked so strong, so vibrant compared to Patty. Where they hadonce shared very similar features—the same eyes, the same cheeky grin, the same facial expressions—now it was just Eddie, looking down at the shell of the only woman he’d ever really adored. Wren knew this. Eddie was a mama’s boy through and through, and in the best of ways. They were inseparable. They always had been.
Wren had to get away before she burst into inopportune tears. She gave Gary a quick nod and could tell he seemed to understand. One last glance at Eddie and Patty brought the first unwelcome tear rolling down her cheek. He had wrapped his hand around Patty’s and was singing some silly song from the Lawrence Welk show. About pleasant dreams. Sleep tight. It was all so pithy and would’ve been comical had Wren not known that it was the song Patty had sung to Eddie since he was a baby. He was tucking her in for the night. A reversal of roles.
She hurried into the living room, leaned over the horrific doll, and snagged a tissue from a box on the end table. Wren wiped at her eyes, sniffed, and resorted to the one distraction that was sure to not fail.
Her phone screen blinked to life, and Wren scrolled through her notifications. Text message from Troy. She quickly responded.
At Markhams’ for the night.
His reply was swift.
Got it. Everything is going to be all right. See you in the morning.
Troy. He was an optimist. Wren loved that about him. Right now she wished he’d also be heroic and show up at the door, wrap her in his arms, and let her hide her face in his chest. But coddling Wren over a weird scare about a doll and burned-out cabin remains was second priority to finding Jasmine. The little girl was going on her second night missing in the woods, and the longer it went without finding even a hint of her...
Wren’s phone trilled in her hand, and she swiped to answer.
“Hello?”
“Arwen.” It was her dad.
