Anchored: A Lake Series Novella (5 page)

I
follow the instructions of my Hugh Jackman-sounding GPS and turn onto
a road that quickly ditches the asphalt for dirt. As my Hugh tells me
that my destination is ahead, I’m left squeezing my eyebrows
together in confusion. There’s not much ahead of me but land,
and lots of it. It’s not until I pass a huge cluster of thick
and brushy trees that I see the house. It’s an older farmhouse
with a carport instead of a garage, and the front porch is one tiny
step up and covers the length of the house.

I
approach the path to the front door and a large dog appears from the
side of the house where there is a massive clearing. He’s
galloping toward me and I can feel my nerves racing. I quicken my
pace but don’t run, as I don’t want to encourage him to
come at me any faster. In a matter of seconds, his pace slows and he
comes to a grinding halt. He surveys the land and me and then lays
himself down for a rest.

“That’s
Bob,” Rachel says from the front door. I turn my attention to
her and take a relieved breath. She doesn’t seem very excited
to see me. I could be showing up here with a blank check for all she
knows, yet she’s guarded. “His size is deceiving. He
doesn’t have a vicious bone in his body.”

“I
can see that,” I say with a nervous laugh. I don’t know
why I’m so nervous. I’m the one holding the cards here.

“If
I had known you were coming today …” she begins.

“Oh,
well, you know … I just thought I’d pop by.”

She
steels herself and opens the screen door. “Won’t you come
in?”

I
smile and walk the remaining length of the path to the porch and
inside. The house is filled with a mix of modern and antique items.
There’s a turn-of-the-century grandfather clock positioned next
to a couch I’m certain I saw in a Haverty’s catalog a
year or so ago, and a vintage baby grand piano in the front window.
The only places with any continuity are the walls. They are filled
with old pictures of what I assume were the original inhabitants of
the home. Many of the photos are brown and all of the frames look
aged.

“Your
home is lovely,” I say.

“It
was my mama’s. Well, it was my great grand-daddy’s first.
My grandfather was born in this house. The room right at the top of
the stairs.” Rachel pauses, grabbing hold of the wooden globe
finial on the bannister. “Would you like a tour?”

“Maybe
another time. I thought we could talk some more about your
situation,” I reply.

“Right.
Of course.” Rachel leads me through the dining room and kitchen
to a back sunroom. There is a large, round table and five director’s
chairs situated around it. Potted plants sporadically line the room,
accentuating the beautiful view.

Rachel
excuses herself and returns shortly with two glasses of lemonade,
setting them on the table in front of us.

“So,
Rachel, what is it that you and Michael do? I mean, you said he had
his own business.” I take a sip of the lemonade and it tastes
just about as fresh as it comes.

“We
own a hot air balloon company.” It takes a moment for that to
register with me. I’ve never thought of it, but, yeah, I guess
someone has to own and operate a hot air balloon company. There have
to be hundreds of them around the country. “I get that look a
lot.”

“I’m
sorry. I suppose it took me a second to digest that. I’ve never
met anyone who owned a hot air balloon company. I’ve actually
never met anyone who’s ever been in a hot air balloon before.

“It’s
pretty amazing, actually. Michael is a certified balloon pilot.”

“How
did he get into that? I know it was some years ago, but I thought
Michael was in advertising.”

“It’s
a funny story, really,” she begins. “It was my family’s
business. Michael brought his girlfriend up here to propose to her.
We did a lot of those. Well, he got her out to the clearing where the
balloon was all ready to go, but when he took her blindfold off she
freaked out. She started yelling at him that if he really knew her he
would have known how terrified of heights she was and would have
never brought her out here.”

“Oh
my gosh!” I laugh. “That’s terrible!”

“It
got worse. Apparently they drove up in her car, so she grabbed the
keys and left him here!”

Now
we’re both laughing and it feels like two sisters-in-law just
sitting around, shooting the breeze. It fills me with conflicted
feelings of not wanting Michael to be sick, but wanting Rachel’s
story to be true so that we can begin to build a relationship with
them.

“So
what happened?”

“Well,
my dad gave him a refund because he felt so badly for him, and then I
drove him back to Charlotte. The rest is history.”

“That’s
a really great story, Rachel,” I say.

“It
made for interesting conversations when he came up here to see me.
But it opened the door for my dad to be the father Michael never had.
So when my dad asked Michael if he’d take over the company, it
was a no-brainer. It became Michael’s family business, too.”
Rachel looks out into the open field from where she indicated the
balloons take off. I can see it pains her to think about selling
their family business.

“Rachel,
why don’t you just take over the business? Why do you have to
sell it?” I wondered.

“You
have to be a certified pilot. I just run the books. I’ve never
made time to get all my flight hours in, and now it’s too late.
Between trying to run the company as long as Michael is able and
taking him to doctor’s appointments in Charlotte, there’s
no way I could do it now.” Rachel takes a deep breath and looks
at me purposefully. “Look, Layla, I want to apologize for just
showing up the way I did. I wasn’t right for me to come ask you
for money like that. I’m very sorry.”

“You
don’t need to apologize,” I begin.

“Yes,
I do. And I want you to know that we don’t need anything from
you. The buyer for the company agreed to pay what we were asking …
and I found a buyer for the house and the land. Between all of that,
we should be good.”

If
I thought she was in pain before, I was wrong. This girl’s
whole world is about to disintegrate. Not only is she going to lose
her husband, but now she’s going to lose her family business
and the family property.

Whoa!
Hold on there, Layla
,
I tell myself.
You
still haven’t determined if Rachel’s story is true or
not.

“Well,
why don’t we take a look at how Will and I might be able to
help anyway? We’d like to if we can.”

She
darts her eyes as if searching for something inside her head.

“It’s,
um.” Rachel searches for the right words. I don’t know
what to say to her now. Had she said she was still interested in my
help, I would have asked her for the medical bills. Now that she’s
recanted her request I have nothing.

I
suppose I should be fine with her deciding to do whatever it takes to
cover these expenses on her own. Something about it isn’t
sitting well with me, though. I know I showed up here unexpectedly,
but she’s been extremely uncomfortable almost the entire time.
How does she go from things being desperate enough to show up on my
doorstep to ask for financial help, to all of the sudden getting
asking price for the company and finding a buyer for their property?

“Rachel
… are you being straight with me about Michael?”

“What?
You think I made up …” she stands in feigned disgust.
No, she bolts up out of her chair in telenovela fashion, dramatic and
with an audible gasp. “I think you need to leave now.”

I
stand and follow her to the door she is already half way to. I feel
like a switch got flipped and I’m now in the presence of
someone entirely different.

“I
didn’t mean to offend you. Please understand … we’ve
had our share of people wanting something from the Meyer name. It
wasn’t personal. We just have to be … safe.” This
is my apology that isn’t really an apology because I don’t
make apologies for protecting my family.

“I’m
sure.” Rachel stands with the screen door open, her body
propping it in place.

With
a polite nod I pass her and step off the porch, not looking back
until I’m in my car that is already facing the house. I watch
the door close and the screen door bounce closed after it. Surveying
the house, I catch movement from an upstairs window. Michael has
pulled the curtain to the side and is watching me leave. We make eye
contact just long enough for me to know exactly how he feels about me
showing up at his home today. I’m not the one he should take
issue with. Had his wife not come to me first, I would never have
trekked out here in an effort to verify her story.

He
darts away from the window and doesn’t return in the few
seconds I linger before putting the car in reverse and making my way
back down the long dirt road. Still unsure if Rachel’s story is
true, I imagine one of two things is happening in their living room
right now: Michael is either giving Rachel a tongue lashing for
having made me aware of their very personal situation or for letting
me drive away without writing a check.

Once
I’m back on the highway and know where I’m going to get
home, I call Wes on the car’s Bluetooth speaker.

“Hey,
Layla. Ready for that ass kicking?” Wes’ laugh echoes
through the car.

“Yes,
but that’s not why I’m calling. I need you to do
something else for me … please?”

“What
are you getting yourself into?” he says, his jovial tone now
gone.

“I
just paid a visit to the Meadows’ home. Rachel was totally
uneasy the whole time I was there. It was weird,” I tell him.

“Of
course it was weird. You showed up unannounced to their home, Layla.
What were you expecting?” There’s a chastisement in Wes’
tone. He likes to get fatherly with me sometimes. I don’t
disparage him for it. I just need him to hear where I’m coming
from.

“I
expected her to get excited because she thought I was there to tell
her we were going to help them. I did
not
expect her to take back her request and tell me that she had decided
to sell the family’s century-old property! Who does that? I
mean, who does that before they know if the person they’ve
asked for help is going to help or not?” I take a breath and
steady myself. I’m getting worked up and I really don’t
need to. What I need is more information. “Listen, I’m
telling you, it just didn’t sit right with me. I have a feeling
she was telling me the truth about their situation. If that’s
the case, I want to help them. I was hoping she’d clear it up
today and that I wouldn’t have to ask you for anymore help, but
…”

“But
you want me to check all the avenues to see if we can corroborate
Rachel’s story,” he says, completing my sentence.

“Yeah.”

“And
at what point are you going to tell Will about all this?” he
asks.

“When
I know as many of the facts as possible. If she’s lying, then
we can nip it in the bud before it goes any further. If it’s
all true, well, I know Will won’t just sit by.”

“Even
if Michael still isn’t interested in making peace?”

I’m
silent a good twenty seconds before I respond. This is the hardest
part. I can’t stand the thought of Will be devastated yet again
at Michael’s rejection. But it’s not in our nature to let
someone go through something so terrible without helping. Will always
says that being generous never came back to bite anyone in the ass.
So we’ll be generous.

“Even
if Michael still isn’t interested in making peace.”

I
pull up to the house and stretch my neck on either side. I don’t
like deceiving Will about where I went today, but until I have more
answers I can’t tell him. When it all comes out, I’ll
explain to him my reasons for not having been forthcoming with him.
Once he knows, he’ll understand. I’m sure of it.

I
open the door slowly because there is a good chance the babies are
still sleeping. They’ve been alternating days with a two-hour
nap one day and then a three-hour nap the next. With the craziness of
the day, I can’t seem to remember if yesterday was two or three
hours.

Stepping
into the foyer, I hear the giggles of my two little munchkins and the
laughter of the man who practically worships their chubby little
feet. Will is making weird noises that the girls find to be the
funniest thing they have ever heard. It is spectacular to witness.

“Well
hello there!” I say cheerily as I enter the kitchen lounge. The
girls are sitting in their Bumbos and Will is lying on his belly in
front of them. He gives Claire zerberts on her tiny feet. When she
laughs, Natalie laughs and I swear points at her.

“Hi,
Mommy! Should Mommy get zerberts next?” Will asks the girls.
They are still giggling and I almost give Will permission just so I
can watch them laugh again.

“Uh,
no!” I laugh. “How was your day? I got to thinking that
it was good for you to have this time with them, seeing as you’re
going back to work full time.” I come sit on the floor next to
Will and tickle Natalie’s toes. She giggles and a smile covers
my entire face.

“It
was great. They slept about two and a half hours and I got some work
done. Then they ate. They like that cereal stuff,” he tells me.

“Oh
good!” I say. “Do you ever stop to think about the
conversations we have now? Poopy diapers and naps and feedings and
zerberts. Gone are the days of sitting at the edge of the dock
talking, laughing, and you giving me music lessons. No more picnics
on the dock either. Our lives have changed so much.”

Will
sits up and examines my face.

“Does
this have a little more to do with Caroline than us?” he asks.
He takes my hand in his, threading our fingers together.

“I
don’t know. Maybe. It certainly isn’t a negative
commentary on our life. I love our life! We fought way too hard for
this life not to love it!” I give a small laugh. The kind you
can give only when something is so far in your past that you chuckle
because you know that experience made you the victorious survivor
that you are today. “But this thing with Caroline … I
just can’t believe that she’s changed, not this
drastically at least. You should have seen the way they looked at
each other. There’s no way she just doesn’t give a rip
about how Tyler feels. I just wish I could sit down and talk with
her.”