wife’s frustration and shared it equally, if not more so, but he desperately wanted to put it behind them in order to focus on the weekend ahead. It was the role he often played in their relationship. Amy was strong, tough, and outspoken, but she was a worrier, and Patrick frequently found himself assuring her all would be well, even if it meant bottling up his own fears and misgivings for the time being.
“Honey, I agree, what the guy did was exceptionally odd, but let’s just think about things for a second. He’s got a wife, in-laws, and twins to entertain while he’s up here. I highly doubt we’ll ever run into him again. Chances are, he was probably just passing by the restaurant, spotted our sore-thumb-of-an-SUV in a parking lot full of battered pick-ups, and decided to…I don’t know…reach out again.
“If you ask me he’s just a very strange guy who never received the handbook on acceptable social etiquette. Please, let’s not let it ruin our weekend, okay?”
Amy gave a weak smile, leaned forward and rested her head on Patrick’s chest. He stroked her long dark hair. “You know I would never let anything happen to you guys.”
“I know,” she said softly, her head still in his chest. She remained quiet for a moment before lifting her head and looking up at him. “You do realize we’re going to have to buy Carrie a new doll right?”
Patrick nodded. “Maybe I’ll go buy some lollipops and canvas the local pizza shops later. You know, look for a trade?”
Amy slapped his chest hard and pulled away. “You’re sick.”
Patrick took a step back and rubbed his chest. “Ouch,” he laughed. “That hurt.”
“Good,” she said without a trace of a smile. She picked up one of the small duffel bags and started walking towards the back door of the cabin.
A second later, the censor button on Patrick’s sense of humor appeared—late as usual.
6
Amy drove the Highlander along the only gravel road leading out of Crescent Lake. The large wooden sign that welcomed the family to the lake upon arrival now informed her that she was leaving, just in case the obvious had managed to elude her.
She recalled from previous years spent at the cabin that a Giant Food supermarket was a convenient three or four miles past the lake and would provide a decent go-to spot for any necessities that might pop up during the course of their stay.
As for now, Amy’s list was as basic as basic gets: some meat, some liquid, and some starch. Caveman-style, Patrick called it.
Remembering her husband’s expression brought a small smile to the corner of her mouth. When she recalled Patrick’s goofing around with the kids in his caveman voice the other corner of her mouth rose as well. She was suddenly overwhelmed with an immense feeling of love and gratitude for her husband—such a wonderful man who not only loved her unconditionally, but was the ideal father to her two babies.
The smile was now full-blown. Her light-brown eyes rimmed hot with happy tears. Amy laughed a small laugh, wiped the tears with the back of her hand, and pressed down on the accelerator. She wanted the food shopping over with so she could be back home with her husband and children as soon as possible.
* * *
“When will you let me pet him?” Carrie asked.
“When we take him to the vet and get him checked for every possible disease known to dog,” Patrick replied.
“When are we going to do that?” Carrie asked, looking over her shoulder at the four-legged bundle of dirt and fur that was following the three of them around the lake.
“That was a joke, sweetheart. We’re not going to be doing that. Besides, he probably belongs to someone else around here.”
Father, son, and daughter had walked halfway around the lake—Patrick in the middle with Caleb staying tight to his left, Carrie occasionally straying from his right in order to check the status of the terrier.
Despite the lake’s moniker, it was not crescent-shaped. If anything, it was more of a perfect square. However, Patrick believed he was correct in the assumption that “Crescent Lake” carried a bit more flair than the alternative “Square Lake” when it came to attracting potential residents.
Not that there were many vacancies. Crescent Lake was a small community—a secret of sorts. And the locals preferred it that way. If they wanted glamour and tourists they could have gone to any one of the fancy resorts in California, Arizona, Florida. Perhaps