“You can.”
“Do you promise to keep this secret andnevertell anyone?”
Graham wriggled excitedly. “I promise, Grandpa. I won’t tell.”
Quinn believed him. He had shared smaller secrets with the boy, and he had never broken his promises not to tell. This was amuchbigger secret for the child to keep, but it was also a special secret—not only for Quinn but also for Graham. And his grandson wasn’t like other children; there was something remarkablyuniqueabout him, about the way he looked at life, even at six years old. Most of all, Quinn saw that special “something” in the boy whenever he told him stories of Lochlan. A light appeared in Graham’s eyes as if some deep part of him understood that Lochlan wasn’t just astory, but something real andalive.
“Come on.” Quinn stood up, and Graham followed him off the porch and down to the lake. Both were already wearing their swimming trunks.
“What’s the secret, Grandpa?” Graham asked eagerly as he grabbed Quinn’s hand, gazing upward with bright eyes.
“The secret…” Quinn murmured. “Is down here.” He nodded toward the water.
The boy squinted and looked ahead. “The lake?” He scrunched his nose. “How is the lake a secret?” He giggled. “It’s just a lake.”
“Mm.” Quinn smiled and shook his head. “Things aren’t always as they appear. Remember how, in the Lochlan stories, everyone thought his lake wasjust a lake,too? He only revealed himself to his special friend.”
“Yeah. Mikey.”
“That’s right. He knew he could trust Mikey to protect him bynottelling others about him. Because if others found out…?”
Graham’s face pinched. “They would hurt Lochlan.”
“They would. Because sadly, human beings, too often, aren’t kind to things they don’t understand. So, it would put Lochlan in danger if Mikey told others about him.”
“But he didn’t,” Graham said. “He kept Lochlan’s secret.”
“Why?”
“Because he was Lochlan’s friend.”
“Right. And a faithful friend is one of the best things you can be. Do you agree?”
The boy nodded and smiled. “Uh-huh.”
Quinn sank to his heels at the water’s edge, and Graham hunkered down beside him. “What if Lochlan was real?” Quinn asked softly. “And he was exactly the same as in the stories… would you be afraid of him?”
“No,” Graham answered without hesitation. “I think Lochlan is cool.”
“But sometimes it’s different when it’s just a story. Sometimes we think it would be neat if the story were real, but if it actually were… we might be a little scared of it.”
“I wouldn’t be scared,” Graham insisted with childlike bravado. “Lochlan isn’t scary. He’s nice.”
Quinn smiled small as distant memories filtered through his mind—disturbing images of twomonstersas they met their fate beneath the surface of this very lake. “Yes, he is,” Quinn whispered. “He’s always nice to his friends… andprotectshis friends.”
Graham sighed and leaned against his Grandfather. “I wish Lochlan was real.”
Quinn hugged him. “About that secret…”
Lifting his head, the boy’s curiosity came flooding back. “What is it, Grandpa?”
Quinn stood up and lifted Graham into his arms. “I’llshowyou.” He waded into the lake, shivering pleasantly as the cool water engulfed his bare legs, tender vibrations rippling through the very molecules like tiny fingers massaging his skin.
His small arms wrapped tightly around Quinn’s neck, Graham exhibited no fear of the water, only eagerness. His feet flinched a bit when the water touched his toes, then rose over his feet and lower legs. He giggled and hugged Quinn’s neck a little tighter. “It’scold.”
“Give it a minute,” Quinn chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.” When he was waist-deep in the lake, Quinn dipped his free hand below the surface and was immediately met by a flurry of tiny, silken tendrils weaving between his fingers. He smiled and gently withdrew his hand. “Here.” Quinn took one of the boy’s hands from around his neck. “Touch the water.”
Graham leaned forward, keeping one arm hooked around the older man’s neck, and flattened his small hand on the surface ofthe lake—then squealed and jerked his hand back, his mouth a startled “O”. “Something tickled me!”
