Prologue

Please promise me that you will never tell this to anyone. Promise me!

Okay, I will tell you my secret. You must not tell anyone! My stepdad Mark, has been messing with me. For a couple of years. I finally told what he was doing. Last night, he took me out on my Dad’s boat. He tried to rape me again. I stabbed him, and escaped. I don’t want to go to jail. If anyone finds out, I will have to spend my life in jail, so please don’t say a word. Bye

M.

 

 

"A torn jacket is soon mended;

but hard words bruise the heart of a child."

 

Henry Wadworth Longfellow

 

 

 

 

 

“The River.” A term used by  the locals  for the lake. Lake Chabot was formed when the Chabot River was dammed in 1920. Hence the name of the lake, was still "The River". The 242 miles of shoreline is now dotted with the majestic Carolina Pine trees. Folks go down to the river to swim and play. It is a center of life in this part of Forest county.  Towards the southern end of The River  is an area locally known as Pinetree Bay.  The small bay that is edged with weeds and marsh grass. On one end, a rock retaining wall with white oval stones stacked on top of each other in long lines,  protects the edge of the property. Houses line the shoreline. They are large colorful summer houses, long empty as the warmth of summer faded. A long wooden pier and dock stretches into the bay. It holds tight to a couple of boats now, tied up to the bay side of the bay.  Pinetree Bay is not on the maps,  just the local name. It is a popular boat launch for sporting boats.  From the warmer days in spring, to the cold dark nights of fall, the bay is a bee hive of activity. When the cold weather sinks in, the bay turns calm and quiet. Isolated.

 

The water was calm and smooth, as the boat and trailer stopped. The trailer was buried half way to the gunnels. The carpeted runners hid the sliding noises. The boat slid out just a bit more, and slipped  into the water. It was then  that a large man tied the boat up to the wooden pole near the landing. The man climbed into the truck cab, pulled up the ramp, and stopped it under the oak tree. When the man got out, a small thin child with a knit cap got out beside him. The rope tied to the boat was pulled upon, bringing the boat back towards the landing. The slight grinding of metal against concrete cut through the silence. The man pointed, grunted,  and the child got into the boat. The large man sat near the end of the craft and grabbed the handle on a small motor. The child’s knit cap was barely visible,  head and arms were tucked in tight, as if huddling against the wind. The hat was shaking

 

The trolling motor  pushed  the boat out towards the center of the bay.  The noise of the motor faded and then was gone. An old bay hound could be heard howling off in the distance. The water could be heard as  slapped boards under the dock. The homeowner of the rock wall looked out the window. Maybe it was just a couple of midnight fishermen, maybe they were looking for fish when the water was still. Whatever reason they were there, they were slowly moving away from the landing. The homeowner went back behind the curtain. The River was good at hiding its sounds and secrets.

 

The sounds of a swimmer rose about an hour later. a young child emerged from the water at the landing, feet found purchase on the concrete pad where so many boats had launched. When clear of the water, the child stopped by the sign declaring that there was a There is a FEE for launching, please pay at store, and looked around.  Brown hair stuck to a wet neck. Then the sounds of bare feet pounded toward the truck, and with a fitful start, the truck drove off. The trailer was empty and bouncing behind. The waves left in the water faded away. The boat was gone from sight.

 

All that was left on the River was moonlight and secrets.