When I Dream Of You. Laurie Paige
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Chapter Three
M egan went through the usual rigors of the week. Horse-training actually meant training the owners, which was a lot harder than dealing with their mounts. On Friday, she controlled her impatience with an effort as she guided seven girls and three boys through their paces.
Kyle was on the lake. She’d heard the powerboat shortly after three and seen him heading out from the boathouse toward the narrow end of the lake.
It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed him out in his boat. He’d been fishing every day that week, having acquired a great enthusiasm for the sport, it seemed. And he always went toward the narrows, the place where dangerous boulders and rocky outcroppings barred the way of easy cruising.
The place where the sailboat had gone down.
Suspicion sliced into the low spirits that plagued her. It crossed her mind that he might be exploring the wrecked sailboat. Why, after all this time?
Thinking of the tragedy reminded her she still had tasks to perform. Tomorrow she would definitely go through Grandfather’s things and clean out his closet.
Or tonight.
Why put it off? This afternoon, as soon as the class was over. Yes, that’s what she would do.
“Head him straight, Kathy,” she called to one of her students, who couldn’t seem to get any commands across to her horse. “Let up. You’re holding him in too much.”
The girl was afraid of all animals, yet her parents insisted she not only learn to ride, but to train for show-jumping. Megan worried about the twelve-year-old who was trying so hard to please the two most important people in her life.
The sadness hit her again as she thought of parents and what they did to their kids. However, her father had been wonderful after her mother died. He’d held her each time she woke from the terrible nightmares, confused about what was real and what wasn’t. Each time, he’d assured her it was only a bad dream and that it would soon go away.
Shaking off the useless emotions, Megan headed inside as soon as the last lesson was over. After eating a quick sandwich and downing a glass of tea, she went to her grandfather’s quarters, which had been a butler’s pantry, herb-drying room and back parlor in the early years of the house.
The musky scent of closed rooms assailed her when she entered. She pulled back the drapes and threw open all the windows to let the fresh air roam through.
The parlor had been turned into a bedroom. The wall between the pantry and herb room had been removed, creating a combination office and library for her grandfather after he’d had the stroke and could no longer walk upstairs.
Megan paused, then went to the bedroom closet. Few clothes remained. Patrick Windom had stubbornly worn his ranch clothing until the jeans and work shirts had worn out, then he’d gone through the dress shirts and pants. The suit jackets had been donated to charity long ago. There was little to do but place the remaining items in bags for the dump or the church emergency supply.
The drawers and shelves took little time, and she was soon finished with the task. She stood at the office door, staring at the massive desk that had served several family patriarchs through the years.
Tomorrow, right after the chores, she would go through this room. Unexplained dread wafted through her. She didn’t know what she was afraid of, but it was time to face those fears. She knew Jess would be interested, but she didn’t intend to ask for his help. This was something she needed to do on her own.
If she discovered anything, she wanted to evaluate the information first, then…then she’d make a decision.
The next morning, Megan woke at dawn as usual. She put on a pot of coffee, then, munching on an English muffin, headed out to start the chores. Saturday was livestock auction day, but she decided not to go. She didn’t want to take on any more training chores just yet, although she made part of her living buying, training and selling Western riding horses.
In a field near the house, she waved to the farmer who leased their land. He was cutting hay, which would be stored for winter feed.
After feeding the mare, she let mother and daughter into the pasture next to the barn. Cattle roamed the meadows and rocky hillsides with their young ones. The sky was clear. The lake was still. All of nature looked peaceful.
Sitting on the rail fence, she studied the tranquil waters and wondered if Kyle was out in his boat again.
Probably not. The sun was barely up. She’d have heard the engine in the quiet of early morning. Gazing toward the section where the lake narrowed to a point and a creek flowed into it from the high mountain peaks, bringing down snow melt and glacial runoff, she considered an idea that had been running through her mind all week.
Why not investigate the wrecked sailboat?
Surely no one had a better right. Besides, she’d read the police reports. She knew exactly where the wreck was.
Once she’d gone out there by herself and, with her snorkeling mask on, had been able to make out the lines of the craft on the rocky shelf beside a huge block of granite pushed into the lake by a glacier long ago.
Excitement pulsed through her. The water was icy cold in the depths, but it was bearable near the surface in the summer. She could stand the temperature long enough to dive down to the wreck and look it over, see what there was to see. Maybe she would discover something.
Or maybe seeing the boat would trigger her memory. That’s what she wanted more than anything, to simply remember, to find the child she’d been and put her and the memories to rest.
The troubling sadness struck her again. It was as if her adult self felt sorry for the child she’d once been. She didn’t understand it at all.
Leaping from the rail fence, she jogged to the house. There, she called Kate’s number and asked for Jess.
“He isn’t home,” Kate said. “He and the kids have gone to Medicine Bow for the auction. They’ll be gone all day.”
“Darn.”
She thought for a minute. Her two female cousins lived along a creek that ran into a shallow finger of the lake. Jess and Kate often took their kids for a cruise in the evening. They would surely notice any activity, even if it was at the opposite end of the long, narrow lake.
“Can I take a message?” Kate asked.
Megan took a deep breath. “I want copies of all the information he has on the sailboat that went down, all the photos and police reports. I’m going to—”
She tried to think of an explanation.
“Check it out?” Kate finished on a curious note.
“Yes.”
“Sometimes,” Kate said slowly, “it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.”
A chill crept up Megan’s neck. “I may remember,” she reminded her older cousin. “Seeing the sailboat could trigger my memories of the past.”
“The memories might not be pleasant, not all of them.”
Kate was the nurturer in the family. She always considered the impact of events and worried about the consequences. Her concern warmed Megan.
“I know, but…I want to know.”
“Even if you remember everything that ever happened to you, even if we discover all the facts, we still might not understand the why of it.”
“It’s something we all have to face,” Megan said, resolute in her quest. “I’d just like to know what happened. The whys and wherefores I’ll leave to those who want to speculate on them.”
“It’ll stir up old gossip, that’s for sure.”
“That’s why I want to keep it quiet. Mrs. Herriot has gone