The Boat

The boat rolled with the lapping swell at the edge of the lake, oars still in the water. 

James had gotten up early and gone to Dunks for a coffee and an apple fritter. He brought his morning coffee down to where he'd set up lawn chairs on the man-made, sandy beach area below the camp he'd rented on Stone Point Lake. It was the first real vacation he'd taken in five years. Six? Seven? Split the difference. Six years. Maybe. Maybe that was the point; why he had arrived at this 'maybe point' in his life. Life? His life had not been about the journey; it had been all about the destinations. Director. VP. Senior VP. Chief Financial Officer. He had hidden in his job for too long. It had cost him everything; his home, wife, and family. His ex Michelle had denied his request to have his kids, Erica and Scott, join him for his week on the lake. He had begged. He had cried. Michelle simply quoted the divorce agreement. Hard to argue with someone when you know they've got the better lawyer, James thought.

He hadn't noticed the boat before he'd left to get his coffee. Had he just missed it? After finishing the fritter and most of his coffee, James pulled the boat onto the short sandy beach. It was completely and utterly empty. No odd bits of rope or a spare life vest or crumpled up beer cans. He pulled the oars from the oarlocks and placed them in the boat. He thought it was 12, maybe 15 feet from bow to stern. It had been painted red with gold and green highlights along the gunwale. There were no identification markings, save for the name Annie painted in script on the transom. All in all, it seemed to be in good shape. Ship shape? How long does a boat need to be before it becomes a ship? he wondered. Whatever the case, the boat was in good enough condition that James assumed it was somebody's property and that somebody would be missing it. He had arrived the night before and had planned to go into town for the groceries and household goods he would need for the week, anyway. He didn't think the town had changed much in the six (or seven?) years since he'd brought the family to Stone Point Lake for what would turn out to be the last happy weeks of his doomed marriage. He could stop at the Stone Point police station on his way to Market Basket. The police would probably know if someone reported a missing boat. He pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures.

He went back in the cabin to make a list for the store. James believed in lists. How do you know you're done without a list? He sighed. It was a symptom of everything that was wrong with him. He planned everything. He wasn't living his life; he was managing it and the results had been mediocre at best. CFO? He would never be CEO. Then again, what difference would it make? Being able to manage your divorce settlement was hardly the measure of a man. He reviewed his shopping list. He considered the quiet emptiness of the room. He felt frozen in space and time. What was he doing? Then he remembered the boat. Somebody would be happy to get their boat back. It was a small thing, perhaps, but as far as giving some meaning to his life on this late summer Monday, it would have to do. He crumpled up the list and threw the wadded up paper in the trash. New day, new man, he thought.

The Stone Point Police Station was really just office space in the town hall, a converted grange that looked it's age despite the recent paint and modern doors and windows. James suspected bats flew from the belfry each night at dusk. Inside, the space was poorly lit, painted in an unflattering, industrial green, cluttered with boxes and stacks of paper. The digital age had not yet reached Stone Point. 

James found the door marked "Stone Point Police '' in large script with "Tim Kichman, Chief of Police" in smaller script below it. There was no one to greet him at the counter inside the entryway so he called out, "Hello?"

He heard a muted voice call back. "Hello?" A man in uniform opened the door of an office set back from the counter. "Hello!" the man said in a booming voice. With his pencil-thin mustache and close-cropped salt and pepper hair James thought the man looked like an aging badly version of George Clooney. He looked a little soft in the middle but his shirt seemed strained to contain his neck, chest and biceps. James thought the man could probably handle himself if the circumstances demanded it.

"I'm Chief of Police Kichman. Sorry about that. Patrolman Mercer is out on a coffee run and that's about it for the Stone Point Police Department. Call me Tim," he said.

"Good morning, Tim. My name is James Gordon. I'm staying at a camp on the lake, 19 Mallee Orchard Road and-" James began.

"And let me guess," Chief Kichman said. "You found a strange, empty boat when you got up this morning."

"Well, yeah. So, somebody has reported it missing, then?" James asked.

"Not exactly," Kichman said. "When you rented the place, didn't the agent tell you the story?"

James remembered the call. "Well, she said there was something she needed to tell me about the place but it was the only cabin available and I told her I… I told her I didn't have the time." It was the excuse he had used so many times before. A lifetime of excuses. Always busy. No time. He'd never had time for anyone but himself. Now he had only himself and nothing but time. God loves irony, he thought.

Patrolman Jeff Mercer walked in with a tray holding two coffees in one hand with a bag of pastries in the other. "Sorry, Chief. They were all out of apple fritters today so I got you a coffee roll," the man said as he reached the counter. "Good morning," he said to James. "Patrolman Jeff Mercer."

"Good morning," James said. "James Gordon."

"What's up, Chief?" Mercer asked. Mercer appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He was tall and broad-shouldered. James thought he looked a little too tightly wound, much like himself at that age.

"Why don't you come on back to my office, Mr. Gordon," Chief Kichman said.

"James."

"James." Chief Kichman nodded at Patrolman Mercer. "You, too, Merc," Kichman said. "Patrolman Mercer is new here in Stone Point. Hired him just last fall, straight out of the Navy. You'll want to hear the story about the boat, too, Merc." He chuckled. "The Legend of Stone Point Lake!"

They sat around the chief's desk. Chief of Police Tim Kichman took a bite of his pastry and washed it down with a sip of coffee. James hoped there wasn't a trace of apple fritter left on his breath or on his shirt. "First summer in Stone Point for you and your family, James?"

"No. And no."

"No and no?" Patrolman Mercer asked.

"Not my first summer in Stone Point but this time I'm here by myself. Divorced," James said.

"Sorry to hear that," Chief Kichman said.

"She cheated on you?" Patrolman Mercer asked.

"What?" James asked, taken aback by the blunt question.

"Well, you're here by yourself so I'm thinking you weren't cheating on her," Patrolman Mercer said.

Except I was, James thought. Cheating on Michelle and the kids. It was always the job first. "I… I really don't know if she cheated on me but if she did, I wouldn't blame her." He shrugged. "Modern life. Let the job get in the way. As the poet said, some words once spoken, can't be taken back." From the look on his face, James decided Patrolman Mercer had no idea who Eddie Vedder was.

"What do you do for a living?" Patrolman Mercer asked.

"You were born to be a cop, weren't you?" James asked.

"My apologies, James," Chief Kichman said. "Merc takes a rather dim and suspicious view of humanity. Oddly enough, it's his best trait. He has no filters. I suspect he's on the spectrum, as they say. And as you've observed. He was born to the job."

James nodded.

"I just wondered what kind of job could be better than sex," Patrolman Mercer explained with smug smile and a sip of coffee.

"My apologies, again. Patrolman Mercer obviously meant to say love, of course," Chief Kichman said.

"Pretty sure I said what I meant to say, Chief," Patrolman Mercer said.

"I think this is the point where I say, 'but enough about me'. Weren't you going to tell me all about the, uh, what did you call it? The Legend of Stone Point Lake?" James asked. 

"I suppose," Chief Kichman began, "this is a tale better told around a campfire with a cold beer or two but…" He shrugged.

"As the story goes, it was ten years after the Civil War, and Stone Point was quite the booming enterprise. Logging. Agriculture. Apples, strawberries, and of course, blueberries. More of a tourist destination now. Cabins and cottages on the lake - like the one you're staying in, James - used to be homes to the people who worked in the town, worked the lumber yard, and the Mallee orchard at harvest time. Back then there was hustle and there was bustle in Stone Point." Chief Kichman paused for a bite and a sip. "Stone Point was one of those places where you wouldn't think something like that could ever happen but sometimes, I guess, neighbors can be too friendly or maybe I should say, more than friends."

"Something like that could ever happen? Something like what?" James asked.

Chief Kichman continued. "The Bradford family - Michael, his wife Anne, and their little girl Annie - lived in the cabin where you're staying. Michael was the manager of Vernon & Sons Farm Supplies store and Anne took care of their home. Michael doted on his daughter but his marriage was not the happiest. As the story goes, Michael became more than friends with the bookkeeper at the store, a younger woman. When his wife Anne found out about it, they argued. Things got out of hand, violent, and as the story goes, Michael Bradford killed his wife and his daughter and dumped their bodies in Stone Point Lake. He explained his wife's and daughter's disappearance by saying his wife had taken up with another man and they'd run off to Ohio. Ohio might as well have been Mars back in the 1870s so who was going to know?"

"I'm guessing the bodies must've floated back to the surface, and he was found out," James said.

"You're kind of a 'cut to the chase' kind of guy, aren't you?" Chief Kichman said.

"Sorry," James said. "Didn't mean to-"

"The bodies were never found," Chief Kichman said. "To this very day. Kind of why this story always begins with, as the story goes…" He smiled. "Anyway, as the story goes, Michael Bradford's friends mistook his distracted manner and short temper for loneliness and grief from his wife taking his child from him, but the pain he felt, the guilt and regret he suffered in night terrors was something else entirely. Michael was convinced the ghosts of his dead wife and daughter were haunting him, calling to him like sirens to join them in the icy cold depths of Stone Point Lake. One morning, he thought he saw Anne and Annie sitting in the boat he had used to dump their bodies in the lake. Their hair and clothing were wet and dripping with lake water. His daughter Annie smiled and waved to him. His wife Anne beckoned to him. They came to him every morning until one day, he got in the boat. He rowed it out to the middle of Stone Point Lake where it was found the next day. Empty. Michael Bradford was never seen again."

The chief paused and in that beat of silence James heard patrolman Mercer swallow hard. The two men exchanged a sheepish look.

"In the years that followed, the boat with the name 'Annie' would appear at various cabins on Stone Point Lake. And then, conveniently enough, it would be gone without a trace whenever the town's constables would investigate. It became the Legend of Stone Point Lake. The appearance of the boat became a metaphoric accusation. The occasional, convenient disappearance of a runaway bride or wayward husband only served to add to the legend of scandalous sex, murder most foul, and its ghostly retribution." Chief Kichman shrugged. "Most of these 'disappearances' were easily explained by simply connecting the dots of small town politics and romantic triangles. Open the closet in any home in Stone Point and about a dozen skeletons will fall out. Then again, who doesn't love a good ghost story?"

"You say the bodies were never found. Why not drag the lake or use some sonar-type technology?" James asked. "I've seen enough cop shows to know that at that depth and temperature the bodies-"

Chief Kichman laughed. "It's called the Legend of Stone Point Lake for a reason."

"But, the boat," James began, reaching for his phone. "I've got pictures."

"Kids," Chief Kichman said. 

"What?" James asked.

"Kids," Chief Kichman repeated. "It's a prank. Seen it before. Six summers in a row, in fact. Pretty sure it's one of Woody Vernon's kids who's the ringleader. Woody owns and rents most of the cabins on the lake including the one you're staying in. Whoever it is, they park the boat on that little beach whenever somebody rents the cabin at 19 Mallee Orchard Road. If you know the story - which you didn't - the renter tends to freak out."

"To what end?" James asked.

Chief Kichman shrugged. "What's the point of any practical joke?"

"Okay," James said, standing up. This had been a huge waste of time. He still needed to get groceries. "Thanks. Good to know. So, what should I do with the boat?"

"Don't worry about it," Chief Kichman said. "Should be gone when you get back. It is a ghost story, after all."

"Kids?" James asked.

The Chief smiled and nodded. "Kids."

After Patrolman Mercer walked James out, he returned to the Chief's office. "The Legend of Stone Point Lake. Great story, Chief."

"I wish it was," Chief Kichman said.

"Wish it was what?" Patrolman Mercer asked.

"Nothing," Chief Kichman said. "Thanks again for the coffee, Merc. Close the door on your way out. I've got some phone calls to make."

Chief Kichman dialed up his old high school buddy. "Woodrow! It's Tim. How are you? Yes, I know you hate it when I call you that... Okay…. Woody. Listen. I need the emergency contact information for a James Gordon, staying at your property at 19 Mallee Orchard Road... No. Nothing's happened." Not yet, Chief Kichman thought. "No... No... There is no reason to call your lawyer, Woody... Look… Stop… After what happened last summer you told me you'd never rent 19 again. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It'll never hold up in court. Whatever. Just get me the contact info, will you?"

By the time he'd finished shopping James had convinced himself that the Chief and his ghost story were all part of the same intricate, multiplayer practical joke the townies played on the tourists. The Legend of Stone Point Lake? Really? 

When he returned to the cabin, the boat was indeed gone. Kids, James thought. He scanned the wooded areas around the cabin and thought he might go exploring after putting the groceries away. Maybe he could find the spot where the kids would watch from; assorted junk food wrappers, cigarette butts suitable for DNA testing… He really did watch too many cop shows. 

His investigation uncovered well-worn pathways and several sightlines with a clear view to the cabin's lakefront but no footprints suitable for plaster casting and nothing in the way of criminal litter. The black flies were out in force and drove him back to the cabin after just under an hour of fruitless searching.

The boat was back on the sandy beach the next morning.

James sipped his coffee and considered what to do next. As he took a step toward the boat, he heard the car pull up to the cabin. He turned to see Chief Kichman getting out of the cruiser.

"Good morning, James," Chief Kichman said. "I see the boat is back."

"Kids?" James asked.

Chief Kichman laughed. "How're you doing?"

"I'm doing just fine," James answered. "How are you?"

"Good, good," Chief Kichman said. "Thanks for asking."

"You're not here about the apple fritter, are you, Chief?" James asked.

"Apple fritter?" the Chief asked.

"Never mind," James said. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"I'm good," Chief Kichman said, his eyes fixed on the boat. After a moment he looked at James. "Look, I don't really know you but the other morning in the office, I just got this feeling that you were… I don't think there's any other word for it. Haunted. By your past. Regret. Looking for an answer. Desperate for an answer you'll never find in this lifetime. I just-"

James laughed. "The Legend of Stone Point Lake is enough of an answer for me, Chief."

Chief Kichman smiled, then looked back at the boat. "You have your boater education certificate, James?"

"I didn't even know there was such a thing," James said.

Chief Kichman locked eyes with James. "That sounds like a 'no.'" James nodded. "Then stay out of that boat."

"I had no intention of-" James began.

"Yes you did. You were thinking about it when I drove up." Chief Kichman's face softened a bit. He smiled. "We take boater safety very seriously here in Stone Point. I'd hate to have you spend your vacation in jail."

James looked at the boat and then back at the Chief. "Really?"

"Really," Chief Kichman said.

James looked at the boat again. "Really. So, is this part of the joke, Chief? You coming out here. Stay out of that boat! Ooh-ooh! Spooky! Maybe I should be giving 1-800-Ghostbusters a call."

"Just do me a favor and stay out of that boat, okay? Thanks." Chief Kichman nodded and turned to go, then stopped. "You know, the ghosts in that movie were real."

"Nothing in that movie was real," James said. "It's a movie. Not a documentary."

Chief Kichman smiled. "You know what I mean," he said and left.

James awoke from his unintended nap just before noon. He was sitting in the lawn chair on the beach. He had been reading "The Great Gatsby." He couldn't remember the last time he'd read a book of fiction so he had searched for lists of great American literature and filled one of the suitcases he'd brought with him to Stone Point with paperbacks. "Gatsby" topped a number of the lists he'd referenced so he'd decided to read it first. The book had fallen from his lap onto the sand at his feet when he nodded off. He rubbed his eyes and stretched. He reached down to pick up the book and realized...

The boat was gone.

James was not a light sleeper. He couldn't believe someone - kids - could've come to get the boat without waking him. Perhaps it drifted off when I drifted off, he thought. He'd had enough reading for one day. He would fix a lunch and then go for a hike around the lake. That's what people do when they're trying to clear their head, he thought. Besides, I need the exercise. But his night was fitful, his dreams filled with scenes from his divorce. Angry words. Crying children. 

The next morning, the boat was back, once again.

James looked around at the trees and bushes surrounding the cabin then got in the boat. What am I doing? He grabbed the oars. It's just a boat, he thought. He began rowing out toward the middle of Stone Point Lake. I need the exercise, he thought. He wondered if Chief Kichman would arrest him for this joy ride and smiled reflexively. He didn't think the Chief was serious but he'd never done anything even remotely illegal in his entire life and he was feeling like a little bit of a badass. Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal" played in his head. He shrugged. Somehow he knew this was not the song a real badass would be playing in his head.

He was out of shape and the hike the day before had left his legs stiff and sore. It wasn't long before his breath grew labored and the muscles in his arms started to burn. He tipped the oars up into the boat and floated along, the boat rolling in the gentle swell. The sunlight seemed to be reflected in a thousand broken mirrors on the lake's surface. James considered the Chief's warning again, this time realizing he didn't have a life vest in the boat with him. Clouds breezed across the sun and the lake became dark, more green than blue.

He saw them. Did he see them? There. A man. No. It can't be. With a woman and a girl beside him. He couldn't quite make out their faces. He told himself it had to be some trick of the clouds reflected in the water but he couldn't look away. The man pointed at him. The little girl waved. The woman beckoned. James was leaning over the side of the boat, now, trying to see if there was really something there, in the awful, cold emptiness below him, his nose nearly touching the water.

The sound of the car horn startled him. He scanned the shoreline and noticed the car parked near his cabin. A blue mid-range sedan that reminded him of that old Ford Galaxie 500, the first car he'd bought as a married man, the car he'd bought when Michelle was pregnant with Erica. He looked back in the water but the shadowy figures were gone. If they'd ever been there in the first place, James thought. He began rowing back to the cabin hoping the next ghost would use a boat with a motor. His shoulders felt like there was broken glass in the ball and socket joints. I really need to get to the gym more often, he thought.

When he finally got to shore, the car was gone. He looked around, he even crouched down like he'd seen so many cops on so many cop shows, looking for tire tracks, bent blades of grass, something, anything, but there was nothing to indicate a car had ever been there. He was starting to think that maybe he was going crazy, wondering if people can actually see the crazy coming, when he heard the car approaching and saw Chief Kichman driving up in his cruiser. James suddenly felt relieved. It was all just a joke after all and the Chief was here to deliver the punchline. 

Chief Kichman parked the cruiser, got out and walked over to James.

"Good one, Chief. You really got me," James said.

"I told you not to get in that boat," Chief Kichman said.

"You going to arrest me, now?" James asked, holding out his arms for the cuffs.

"I probably should," Chief Kichman said, looking out at the lake. "For your own protection."

"For my own protection?" James laughed. "Look, the joke is over, okay, Chief? You got me. The Legend of Stone Point Lake. And, well, thanks. I've got a great story to tell when I go home. But… enough's enough, okay?"

"What did you see?" Chief Kichman asked.

"What did I see?" James said.

"What did you see? In the lake," Chief Kichman said.

James hesitated. "Nothing," he said. 

"Nothing. So, you didn't see Michael Bradford and his family? Anne and Annie? In the lake?" Chief Kichman asked. When James didn't answer, he continued. "I called your ex."

"You called Michelle?" James asked.

"Thought it was interesting you're still using her as your emergency contact. Anyway. Asked her to give you a call. Told her you were going through some kind of existential crisis and I was worried for your safety," Chief Kichman said.

"Existential crisis? What makes you think…" James couldn't finish the sentence. Existential crisis. He wanted to deny it but couldn't.

"Seemed like an easier sell than the Legend of Stone Point Lake," Chief Kichman said. "Anyway, she said she felt bad about something she'd said to you the last time you talked and I said maybe that's why you seemed-"

"Existential?" James asked.

"She said she'd give you a call. She called me back to say the call went straight to voicemail so I figured I'd swing by and see how you were doing." Chief Kichman paused. "We've all got ghosts, you know."

James took out his phone and saw the voicemail icon. He couldn't be sure but the timestamp looked to be about the same time he'd been out in the middle of the lake. Half to himself he said, "Funny, but I could've sworn I saw that '68 Galaxie Michelle and I bought…" He looked down at the boat. "It isn't kids, is it?"

"No," Chief Kichman said.

James nodded. "Have you got a law against bonfires in Stone Point?" James asked.

"Why?" Chief Kichman asked.

"I'm thinking about chopping up that boat and making a bonfire out of it," James said. "Sprinkle the ashes with salt. At least, that's what I've seen in the movies. You know, the ghosts in those movies are real."

Chief Kichman nodded and smiled. He looked at the cabin. "Maybe it's time we burn the whole damn thing down."