The lake had been here since the last of the great glaciers had thrust stone to earth, gouging out a bottomless chasm to accept the remains of their defeat by a warming planet, and the unforgiving rays of the sun. Her family too, had been here by its shores, generation after generation, time out of mind before the town was settled, since her ancestors had stumbled to this continent fleeing war, or famine, or the heavy yoke of tyranny. They had lived here by these waters beneath the towering maples, and the ancient pines, where they had prospered, becoming as much a part of this place as the bedrock its self.

Her great great grandfather had built this house, closer to the shore, and much larger than the three room cabin that still remained in the woods beyond. Her grandfather had expanded upon it as a wedding present to her grandmother, adding the modern day amenities of electricity, central heating, and running water, along with the addition of the grand wrap-around porch that encompassed most of the house, and swept around the right side of the building with its gazebo on the rear corner looking out across the water. She never expected to be returning here, to this place after so many years, and all that had occurred. The ride up was quiet, with only the radio playing low to keep her company, and memories of a happier time, before her Uncle Stephen had been killed in the line of duty, a time when her father still sang camp songs to her while sitting on the edge of her bed at night, and the smile had yet to leave her mother's eyes. There was a time when she and her brother would press their noses up against the rear window of their parent's station wagon as they crossed the bridge at Wilson's Creek, after they made one final stop for gas and groceries at the General Store, in heady anticipation of the days ahead. The lake house had been their refuge then, in those sun-soaked, lazy days of summer when there was time enough to play, and think, and grow under the watchful and loving eyes of two older generations.

The sun sat low on the horizon, and the wind picked up as she pulled into the once familiar drive. Thrusting her hands deep into the pockets of her leather jacket, she stepped from the car, hunching her shoulders to try and ward off the chill of late autumn. A frigid breeze ruffled her hair, and churned the steel blue surface of the water before her. It matched her mood, causing her to laugh bitterly to herself as her fingers curled around the heavy brass key to the front door of what would now be her home. She chewed on her lower lip feeling small. Unready to go inside just yet, she walked down the lawn to the wooden stairs that led to the boat launch. This was the beach where her father had taught her, and her brother to swim. Standing at the waters edge, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to breathe it all in, attempting to soothe the knot that had formed behind her eyes and ache in her chest. The sun sank lower, panting the lake and the sky in crimson and rust, allowing the darkness to creep into her bones, along with the cold. As her teeth began to chatter, she turned from the lake, making her way back up toward the house. She would unpack her car in the morning.

It had been almost six months after her brother went to jail when she was summoned to appear in court again. She assumed that something had gone wrong with his plea deal, and that she would either be forced to testify against him, or perhaps she was being brought up on charges herself, even though she had had no idea of her family's involvement in organized crime. She had faltered on the stand when called to testify, unable to tell the truth, or lie to create an alibi for him. Her parents had been furious!

"No daughter of ours could possibly have been that disloyal.", was the very last thing her mother said to her on the phone on the day she had called to find out how Steve was doing.

That had been almost four months ago now. Her father hadn't spoken to her since her brother had initiated a deal to keep her from having to testify at all. When Steve found her crying softly in the courthouse hallway, he gently gathered her in his arms and whispered that he was still her older brother, and promised to do the right thing, to take care of her, before demanding to speak with the judge and the prosecutor. As he walked away, her father regarded her for a moment, silent rage coloring his face, making the vein on his temple bulge and throb.

"Traitor!" He spat at her, before spinning on his heel and storming after Steve.

She wasn't sure if she felt anger, disappointment, hurt, or simply relief that no one in her immediate family felt that she was worthy of being brought into their family secrets. She had always been the odd one out. The one who no matter what she did, could never seem to be good enough for any of them, except sometimes, maybe Steve. To him she had simply been a burden, or so she felt, his weird little sister that he felt obligated to protect. Guilt prickled behind her eyes, and formed a lump in her throat. She had done a shit job at protecting him when he needed her! No wonder her parents had felt that she was unworthy to continue to bear their name. And now they were gone.

Her parents' lawyer was an older man with round glasses, and a kindly smile. She remembered him from the obligatory social events that her mother had insisted she attend. She briefly wondered what he was doing here, as the court officer ushered her into the magistrate's office and asked her to take a seat in one of the dark leather chairs. In spite of it all, nothing could have prepared her for the news that her parents had been killed in a suspicious accident when their car had been hit by a truck who's driver was allegedly asleep at the wheel, causing it to jump the barricade, roll several times, and burst into flames. She could barely remember being handed the thick Manila envelope, with her parents wills, and trusts that had been set up for her and her brother. The lake house was hers, he informed her, handing her the familiar set of keys. Much to her surprise, it always was, having been left in trust to her by her grandmother until she turned forty. Now that her parents were gone, he would be the acting trustee. He recommended she move there and get out of town while the investigation was ongoing. She remembered feeling numb as she was informed that because she had no useful knowledge of her families' activities or connections, that although she might be in some danger, there would be no protective detail assigned to her unless a threat proved imminent. It was strongly suggested she put in a transfer to the Ontario Provincial Police. And why not? It's not like anyone at the fifteenth trusted her or had her back anymore. They all hated her, and Traci couldn't even stand to be in the same room. The whole thing left her reeling from grief, and guilt, and shame, and the betrayal of everyone and everything she thought she once knew.

Her head was beginning to throb again. She paused for a moment under the bright porch light before slipping the key into the lock and opening the door. Hanging her jacket on a brass hook in the vestibule next to one of Steve's Maple Leafs hoodies, she kicked her boots off onto the rubber mat beside her father's slippers before opening the inner door and stepping inside. Everything was just as it had been, even the smell was the same. Passing by the dark oak staircase she made her way through the house, beginning to wonder if she had become a ghost, trapped in a shadowy world of memory. She listened to the pipes rattle and clang after pausing in the hall to turn the thermostat up from its lowest setting. Smelling the heat come on, she continued the ritual of opening up the house for habitation. It was exhausting.

Morning came too soon. Still buried under her Gran's good wool blanket and quilt in her grandparents big four poster bed, she watched the predawn glow illuminate the skeletons of trees as they emerged against the lake and the brightening sky. Wishing her stupid brain would let her sleep in, she got up with a groan, her heavy wool socks sliding silently across the wide boards of the hardwood floor. She shuffled to the bathroom, and then down the stairs in search of the means to make herself some coffee. The kitchen had been changed since she had last been here for her Grandmother's funeral, redone in her mother's taste with gleaming chrome fixtures, and hard stone countertops. Ignoring the fancy espresso maker, she rummaged in the pantry until she found her Gran's blue enamel percolator and set it on the stove. The comforting sound it made as it filled the room with its mouthwatering aroma soothed her. Her parents had been dead for two weeks, and she still didn't know what to say to Steve. He had looked smaller than she remembered him, and shaken when she visited him at the minimum security prison where he was incarcerated on her way out of the city. He told her then that he could be out in as soon as three years, if all went well. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Time passed slowly and then suddenly too fast, as it always seems to do, with nowhere to be and nothing to do but unpack her meager possessions from her car. No one from the Police station was expecting her until tomorrow. She sat at the round oak kitchen table watching the day grow bright, as the thick porcelain mug in her hands grew cold. She sighed, let go of her coffee, and allowed herself to slump, cheek resting on folded arms, pressing into the soft cotton of her Police Academy hoodie. The sun had moved high in the sky when she heard the loud banging on her front door. It woke her with a start.

"This had better be good." She grumbled with a scowl as she made her way to the front of the house.

She could see a tall man on her porch through the windows of both doors, standing, and fidgeting, his back turned to her, his denim jacket pulled tight across his broad shoulders. Dark hair peeked out from beneath the baseball cap he kept reaching up to nervously readjust. She wondered what he wanted. Well, she thought, at least she could tell by his casual attire, that he wasn't a Bible Thumper sent here to try to save her. She would hate to have to dispose of a body so soon after she moved back here. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stumbled. Unwanted memories of Holly unfurled in her head. They hit her like a physical blow to her chest.

Fuck.

She stood still for a moment, pushing them away, regaining her composure. Of all of the fucked up things that had happened to her in the past year, Holly's absence hurt the most, and still, apparently, had the ability to ambush her at any time. She closed her eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to staunch the flow of memory. She took a deep, steadying breath and let herself out, into the entryway. The man was starting to bounce on his toes now.

"What?" She demanded sharply, flinging the front door open.

He spun around so quickly, he almost stumbled into her.

"Gail?" There was a brief look of surprise, followed by the boyish grin she remembered. "It is you!"

"Chris?" She practically felt her heart stop as he scooped her up into a bear hug and swung her around. "Chris, what are you doing here?" She managed to sputter as he finally set her back down on her feet.

"Well," he replied, still grinning at her, "I saw the car in the driveway, and I thought I'd better check it out."

"No! Dummy!" She licked her lips and gave him a hard shove on the shoulder, "I meant, here." She gestured at the ground, "what are you doing here?"

He simply laughed at her. She gave him a pointed look, and waited.

"I needed to get out of Toronto, and I couldn't go back to Timmins. So, when a position opened up in the OPP I applied. I put in my transfer from rehab the last time I was there." He grinned, "And now we're going to be working together again."

"Great." She rolled her eyes, "just when I thought I had finally gotten rid of all of you losers."

"Come on Gail, I know you're happy to see me." He told her, his grin getting bigger.

She rolled her eyes again, but she knew he was right. She was more than just happy to see him.

"I heard about your folks." He said, suddenly serious, "But right now, I'm gonna take you to get something to eat, and you can tell me all about it when we get to the diner."

"Mickey's?" She asked hopefully.

"Uh huh." He replied, grinning at her again.

"I guess so," she sauntered past him, pulling her jacket off the hook as she went, "but you're paying."

She could hear him laughing as she climbed into the comfort of his old familiar truck, and put her feet on the dashboard. She clicked on the radio, changing the station from country to classic rock.

"Come on Gail!" Chris complained, as he climbed into the driver's seat.

She ignored him. As she turned to look out of the passenger window, she realized that she was smiling, and felt ok for the first time she could remember in a long, long time.