She parked the car near his old truck and climbed out. “Hello!” she yelled. “Anybody home?” No sound but the hardwoods and the sweep of the wind through the tall cypress trees. A far-off cry from a loon echoed lonesome through the late morning and Nola twisted her lips into a frown. She shaded her eyes and looked toward the lake. When she saw Johnny’s johnboat tied up at the makeshift dock, she headed toward the water. She figured he must be nearby, and she intended to find him. She decided she’d check inside the house if she didn’t see him fishing by the lake. A few feet from Caddo, she stopped when a water moccasin slithered across the path ahead. Nola shuddered and glanced around for a stick or something she could use to shoo it away if it returned or another came in her direction. Instead, she saw Johnny stretched out on the shore, arms tucked beneath his head as if he were sleeping. He should’ve heard me calling his name, and he shouldn’t be so still.
