Chapter 8: The Lake and the Lie

Hearing it was Scholar James, my mother’s worries vanished. Her mouth opened in disbelief, the tension draining from her posture.

Just now, seeing my mother-in-law so confident, she’d been angry, but deep down a little uneasy. The possibility of scandal was enough to rattle anyone’s nerves in Maple Hollow.

"Linda Parker, are you crazy?"

"That James Carter is as silent as a stone, never socializes with anyone."

"My Rachel has never had anything to do with him."

Mom spoke while turning to look at me. I felt her trust wavering, desperate for reassurance.

Seeing my pale face, she staggered a few steps, her voice trembling. The hope in her eyes made my heart twist.

"Good girl, you—you tell me, you don’t know that James Carter, right?"

I never thought my mother-in-law would use this to ruin my reputation. The shock of it stole my breath, leaving me frozen.

I did know James Carter. Briefly, quietly, in ways that had nothing to do with what she implied.

He had only a frail, sickly widowed mother, so to save money, he often went into the woods to gather herbs. I remembered seeing him by the roadside, basket in hand, always alone.

Thinking back, it must have been last month. The details swam into focus—how quickly a life can change with a single choice.

It had just rained. I went into the woods to pick mushrooms and happened to see James Carter fall into the lake. His cry was muffled by the trees, almost lost in the sound of wind and water.

As a child, I loved to play and learned to swim from my dad. My arms remembered the strokes, my mind the confidence of cold water.

We were from the same town—how could I not save him? The code of small towns: you don’t leave your own to drown.

It was just after dawn. I jumped into the lake, rescued James Carter, and carried him home on my back. His skin was cold, his breath shallow, but I didn’t hesitate. For a heartbeat, I thought I’d lose him. I remember screaming his name, my voice echoing through the trees, praying someone—anyone—would answer.

James Carter didn’t say much at the time. His thank you was a nod, his gratitude silent but sincere.

But later, when he heard Michael Parker needed money for college applications, he secretly gave me five thousand dollars. I never asked, but he pressed the envelope into my hands, eyes averted.

My mother-in-law found the money, and I was young and told her everything. I didn’t know how to lie—at least not then.

Unexpectedly, I was chewed out by my mother-in-law for a long time. Her words scalded more than any fever.

She called me unchaste, accused me of being a loose woman, and punished me to kneel at home for three days. My knees ached, my pride bruised beyond repair.

Even Michael Parker gave me the cold shoulder for a long time. He avoided my gaze at dinner, his affection cooling by degrees.

As for that money, my mother-in-law refused to return it to James Carter. She said that since I had carried James Carter on my back, he must have touched me.

Since he had touched the Parker family’s future daughter-in-law, he should pay compensation. In her mind, everything—even dignity—had a price.