Bitterroot Lake, Alicia Beckman [good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT] 📗

at the lake. Or whatever it was she saw.

Sarah set her bucket down and sat next to her mother. Flecks of green and red paint dotted her mother’s nails and knuckles.

“After your grandmother died,” Peggy said, “your father and I talked about moving out here. He wanted to live on the lake and wake up to this view. I’m sorry I disappointed him by saying no.”

“Why did you?” Sarah had been busy with two small children then, and not paying a lot of attention.

“It just—it just didn’t feel right. I never could explain.”

“Well, sure. It was your mother-in-law’s house.”

“No. I adored Mary Mac. And I do love the place. It was almost as if—oh, never mind. Too hard to explain.” Peggy started to get up but Sarah pulled her back.

“Try, Mom.”

“It was as though the house wanted something from me that I couldn’t give it. See? Now you think I’m nuts.”

No, she didn’t. Not at all.

Peggy stood. “But I know what the house wants right now. It wants a good cleaning.”

They decided to wait on the windows until the sun wasn’t shining directly on them, and moved up to the second floor, to her grandparents’ bedroom. After all these years, it still held faint scents of cedar and lavender. A milk glass lamp sat on a simple oak dresser with cut-glass knobs, and Peggy switched it on. “This lamp is one of my favorite pieces in the entire house.”

“Speaking of which, where’s all the stuff from the third floor?”

“Don’t you remember?” Peggy asked. “Brooke had visions of turning this into a luxury rental. They started clearing, but didn’t get very far—Connor got too busy with work.”

“Oh, right. I completely forgot.” Her memory had become a sieve, another casualty of Jeremy’s illness. Not a bad idea. Except that she hated it. Strangers in their house.

“By the way, your brother has something to discuss with you.”

“That sounds ominous.” Connor hadn’t mentioned anything in Seattle. He and Brooke, a bubbly brunette who barely reached his shoulder, had brought the kids out for the funeral, but it had been a quick trip, so the kids didn’t miss much school. Not much time to talk.

“No, no. Nothing to worry about.”

A phrase guaranteed to make her worry. But Connor was rock solid. Always had been. She regretted that they weren’t closer, mainly because of the age difference—he’d only been twelve when she left for college.

“I always felt like I was sleeping in a tree house when we stayed out here,” she said. “That’s the feeling I was after when we built our house. Watch out for falling spiders.” She ran the yellow-headed dust mop around the coving where the walls and ceiling met, then both women picked up dustcloths.

A few minutes later, Peggy straightened. “So why is Janine here? Neither of you wanted to tell me.”

And Sarah didn’t want to talk about it now.

“It has to do with Lucas, doesn’t it?” Peggy continued. “With whatever happened the day of the accident.”

“You know what happened, Mom. He attacked her.” Sarah started dusting the head of the sleigh bed she’d always loved. She’d searched all over for a king-sized version that didn’t scream “new,” and finally had one custom-made. After Jeremy’s funeral, she’d crawled into it, seeking comfort. Instead, it felt cold and foreign, no longer hers. She’d crept down the hall and slipped into bed with Abby, the two of them holding each other through the long, sleepless night.

“I always felt terrible that I wasn’t a better friend to Sue,” Peggy said.

Sarah stopped dusting. “Janine’s mom? You weren’t friends at all. Were you?”

“I know, everyone thought she deserved what she got. And no denying, she had problems, long before …” Peggy waved her hand, as if to wave away the memory of what Sue Nielsen had done. “But when she was sober, she was nice. And funny.”

Sarah sat on the edge of the bed. “How did you know her?”

“Pie, of course.”

“What?”

“We bonded over pie. I used to treat myself to a piece now and then, at the Spruce, when I was feeling the need for a little sweetness. Sue was a terrific waitress, and we had some great conversations.”

This was a side of her mother she’d never seen.

“You can tell, sometimes,” Peggy continued, “when someone needs a friend. So I stopped by more often.”

“For pie.”

“Or just coffee and a chat. To keep an eye on her. You and Holly were off in Missoula, and so was Janine. Connor was in high school, busy with sports and girls and who knows what else.”

“But then …”

“But then, we had staffing changes at the school and I picked up more hours. Something had to give.”

“Pie.”

“You graduated and moved out to Seattle. And you know what happened.”

She knew. But why had she never known that Peggy felt guilty over Sue Nielsen’s fall—or plunge—off the wagon and into hell?

Guilt, the legacy that keeps on giving.

They finished in silence, then moved to the sewing room. Part of the fun of hide-and-seek games in the lodge had been dashing out the door that opened onto the balcony, then disappearing around the corner and sneaking back in through her grandparents’ bedroom.

Sarah was dusting the gold-framed pictures on top of the bookcase when they heard a car approach. Peggy went to the window and pushed the lace curtain aside, as Sarah had done this morning when Leo arrived. Had that really just been this morning?

“Well, that’s a relief. You won’t need to buy a new phone.”

“I better go talk to her.”

Downstairs, Janine stood by the windows, arms crossed, staring out at the lake. At the sound of Sarah’s footsteps, she spoke. “I didn’t run off with your phone.”

“I didn’t think you had. Janine, I know you didn’t kill Lucas. I know you only went to see him because …” Sarah interrupted herself, aware of Peggy coming up behind her.

“Because of the letter,” Janine said.

“Letter? What letter?” Peggy asked. “Why did you go see him?”

“I know,” Sarah said. “Everyone who knows you knows you couldn’t have