Page 203 of It Happened on the Lake

Had it been mere coincidence that he’d run into her in California so soon after she’d moved? At the time she’d thought so. He’d said as much. But she’d been young, naïve, and desperate.

Now, as an adult and not for the first time, she considered the fact that their first meeting hadn’t been by chance and, more likely, been some kind of pre-planned plot.

1968

Chapter 50

Harper felt the weak winter sunshine against her crown as she walked across the quad to the deli. She was starving and yet slightly nauseous, her stomach as conflicted as she. She picked up a cheese bun and a Coke, then sat at a small outside table near a crepe myrtle tree, sparrows flitting through the branches. Famished, she took several bites before opening the schedule of classes she’d picked up. Spring term was due to start soon. Too soon. Though she’d passed her GED with flying colors, she doubted she could enroll in any of the classes she’d need. But summer term would be doubtful as well, because by then her pregnancy would be evident. For now, her abdomen was flat, but that wouldn’t last for long, according to the doctor who had examined her and confirmed her pregnancy just two days earlier.

So she’d have to put off college.

Until after the baby was born. Or maybe she could take some correspondence courses. And get a job.

She picked at her bun, dropping some tiny pieces onto the sidewalk where some of the less timid birds fluttered down to peck at the crumbs.

“Excuse me. You’re Harper, aren’t you?” a male voice asked as a man’s shadow spread across the table top and her open booklet. “Harper Reed?”

Her queasy stomach dropped.

Oh no!

On alert, she looked up. No one knew her here. No one. That’s the way it was supposed to be.

Shading her eyes with one hand, she squinted up at him, a tall, lanky guy in jeans, T-shirt, Birkenstock sandals, and a string of love beads slung around his neck. His blond hair was unkempt, eyes an intense shade of blue, and just for a millisecond she thought of Chase.

However she didn’t know this guy. Geez, was he yet another reporter who had tracked her down here, in California where her father and Marcia had insisted it would be safe, that she would be anonymous? No one was supposed to know about Chase’s disappearance or Gram’s death here.

She didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to find out. In an instant she started wrapping the rest of her sandwich.

“You are, aren’t you?”

She didn’t respond, just gathered her things, knocking over her Coke and upturning her purse. “Oh crap!” she cried, as soda spilled all over her bag. She quickly turned to a nearby table and grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser. The guy actually tried to help clean up the mess, but she yanked her purse away and glared at him.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“Well, you did.” Who the hell was he?

“I’m Joel,” he said as if reading her mind. “I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Why?”

“I just do.” She started to turn, but he grabbed her arm. “What’re you afraid of?”

“Nothing!”

“Seems like.”

She jerked her arm away and he didn’t reach for her again. “I saw you at the lake.”

Of course he did. Of course that was the connection. He was from Oregon. Some kind of reporter dressed like a college kid to blend in. To make her trust him.

So much for anonymity.

He explained, “I lived right down the street from Chase Hunt.”

Oh sure. “I don’t think so.” She was walking away, but he strode quickly to catch up to her.