Chapter 8: The Lake Road

I drove the lake road that afternoon, alone, for the first time in three years.

I hadn't known it was three years until I turned onto it.

The road ran along the water for six miles, with maples on one side and the lake on the other.

I had driven it ten thousand times before Bea was born.

After Bea, I had taken Route 6 to the school, the grocery store and my sister's apartment, and I had never once asked myself why.

Winnie had the kids.

I had told her I needed to run an errand, and she had looked at my face and handed me her car keys.

The afternoon was gray and windless.

The water lay flat, and the maples were bare.

I drove slowly, with both hands on the wheel.

At the second mile, the road curved to the left around a rocky bank, and there was a guardrail.

It was new.

The rest of the rail along that road was dull and old, but this stretch, about forty feet of it, was bright and clean, with fresh bolts.

My foot came off the gas.

I pulled onto the gravel shoulder and put the car in park.

The engine ticked.

I sat there and told myself to turn around.

Then I got out and walked to the rail.

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