Lakeside Cottage (18 page)

She caught her breath at the way he touched her. “That’s true,” she whispered. Then, because she knew in a few moments she would not be able to speak at all, she spoke the truth. “I’m afraid.”

He pulled her closer, threaded his fingers into her hair. “Afraid of what?”

“Of losing you as a friend.” She tilted back her head to look up at him and was struck by a wave of dizziness. Good Lord, he was incredible. “That’s what will happen, you know. Once we sleep together, we won’t be friends anymore.”

“No,” he said softly, whispering against her mouth. “We’ll be closer.”

O
n her birthday, Callie felt like an old woman with an aching back and bad knees. She had spent a rotten afternoon cleaning up a party house on Lake Sutherland after the vacationers had gone back to the city. The place was designed to sleep six, but clearly, they’d had twice that many drinking, eating junk food, using every dish and utensil in sight, littering the decks with cans, bottles, wrappers and spent fireworks.

To top it off, Yolanda had bugged out early, leaving Callie to finish up and walk the half mile back to the Livingstons’ house. Actually, Callie didn’t mind the walk and she knew she could use the exercise. It was the best part of a crappy day.

The road was empty of cars as usual, dappled by shifting patterns of sunshine and shadow. Through the trees, she glimpsed the lake, not Sutherland with its buzzing Jet Skis and pounding ski boats, but Lake Crescent, pristine and protected, home to only a privileged few. It was kind of amazing that she had wound up here, as if it was meant to be. Sometimes she imagined the lake was part
of an enchanted world, protected by an invisible bubble. When she was there, with the Livingstons, she belonged in that world, safe and protected.

The lake itself was the center of the world. She loved the water. She always had. She loved holding her breath and sinking under, into the darkened silence. In that silence, she could forget about her own screwed-up life for whole minutes at a time.

She turned up the volume on her Discman and let the cool music of The Visitors fill her up, until she was drowning in the smooth notes and lyrical poetry about someone else’s hurt, which somehow made her own fade away, just for a few blessed minutes. That was why she loved music. She wished she could disappear into the sea of notes, sink underneath them and never come up for air, never again break the surface and see what a mess she had made of her life.

She wasn’t stupid enough to believe she could actually do that. She was stupid, though. This was something she had to quit hiding from herself, because she couldn’t any longer. Her mistakes were part of her and she couldn’t get away from them. She tried running, but here was the problem. You couldn’t run away if the thing you were trying to escape was your own self. She would forever be California Sequoia Evans, raised on a loony farm, then shuffled from house to house by folks who saw foster kids as an extra check from the state every month.

Not all of them, though. She had to be fair. The first family she’d been placed with as a scared, surly misfit had been kind enough. The Clines. She still remembered the wonder she’d felt at the simplest things—a mother helping with homework, Saturday-morning cartoons. The relief of feeling normal had been strictly temporary, though. Just when she was learning to like her life again,
she had been reassigned to a different family, this one tense and restrictive, and when she broke too many of their bullshit rules, she’d wound up with the Coldwells, a well-to-do family made up of a bitter, suspicious mother, a critical, demanding father and their nineteen-year-old son, still living at home.

And now here she was with Kate and Aaron at their house at the lake. She’d never known anybody like them. Kate was kind and funny and caring, and Aaron was a doll. A little freaky sometimes, but what kid wasn’t? Callie shouldn’t let herself get too involved. Summer would end and they’d go back to their lives in the city. Knowing Kate, she’d probably try to help Callie out, but Callie wouldn’t take advantage of her anymore. She’d figure out…something. She had no idea what.

She rotated her shoulders as she walked, trying to ease the cramping there. Yolanda was always advising Callie to try yoga, which was a nice way of urging her to do something about being so fat, like yoga would actually help at this point. Shaking her head, Callie rubbed the small of her back. Nothing would help. She had read somewhere that time heals all wounds, but by now she knew that was a crock of shit.

She was having depressing thoughts on her birthday. Big deal. This was a depressing birthday. Here she was, marking the day she was born, and all she could do was think about how much her life sucked.

“Snap out of it,” she muttered, stopping to take a bottle of water out of her tote bag. Kate fixed her a sack lunch every day and always included a chilled bottle of water. Callie took a long drink and sprinkled the last drops from the bottle onto her overheated face. She was sick and tired of dragging herself around every day, tired of wearing fat-girl clothes and acting all normal.

Honestly, she didn’t want anything for her birthday. She wanted something for her
life.
To be normal. To laugh and have fun and not worry about the future. To have a best friend. A boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure,” she muttered, but even in the middle of nowhere, she automatically straightened her shoulders and strutted like a beauty queen down the middle of the road. Just the thought of Luke Newman did that to her, made her want to stand up straight and face the world with a smile.

It was the freakiest thing. He liked her. He didn’t seem to mind her looks or the fact that she hadn’t been to school since before Christmas or that she dressed like a bag lady. He didn’t judge her. It was so weird that she had met him now, right after meeting Kate and Aaron. Just when she didn’t think she could get any further down on her luck, she’d lucked into all these people here at the lake. After a lifetime of having no one, she suddenly found herself with people who actually gave a hoot about her.

Which made her feel lousy about lying to them, but she didn’t quite know what to do about it at this point. Except to keep lying.

She felt an echo of the dizziness that had been bothering her all day, and stumbled in the road.

Easy now, she told herself. Take it easy. Must be the heat. She felt a raging thirst and wished she hadn’t emptied that water bottle.

Ah, well. She was nearly home now. Maybe she’d take Aaron for a swim in the lake. That always made her feel better, plunging in and sinking down, disappearing for a while. She never wore a bathing suit, not the way she looked, fat as a pig and with those weird dark patches on her skin here and there. When they’d first appeared
at the base of her neck, she had thought it was dirt and tried to scrub it off. To her horror, she realized the dark patches were a part of her. It was totally creepy. Some sort of punishment for being a liar and a fraud?

Or just bad luck. It was the only kind she ever had.

She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and focused on the lake. Yes, she should go swimming. And for Chrissake, rinse her mouth out. Her breath had a weird, fruity taste. She wanted to drink up all the water in the lake to ease the burning inside. And if she still couldn’t shake the dizziness, maybe she’d just close her eyes, lie back in the water and let it take over, spinning endlessly. Maybe she would float forever, out through the channel at the end of the lake, down the river and out to sea.

The driveway came into view. Home at last, she thought with an ironic smile. It was quiet around here today. Maybe Kate and Aaron had taken the dog for a walk, because normally Bandit came yapping up the driveway to greet her. If someone had told her she would make friends with a dog, she would have thought they were nuts, but she actually liked Bandit. He was proof that not all dogs were dangerous just because one bit her.

Maybe they had gone to see Sergeant Harris, because these days, Kate and Harris were quite an item together, even though they tried to be discreet about it. Except nobody but Callie knew he was a sergeant. That he was
the
sergeant as in Sergeant Jordan Donovan Harris, whose heroic act had been all over the news since Christmas.

Callie had to hand it to the guy. He had truly gone underground, erasing who he was and becoming a dif
ferent person entirely. Maybe she should ask him for pointers.

The moment she’d figured out his secret, she’d been royally ticked off. She’d felt duped, somehow, and it was totally off base but she couldn’t help herself. She understood, though, that hiding something, even for the best of reasons like JD did, was always going to get you in trouble. After he’d explained all about his rotten mother and all the weird stuff that happened because of his fame, she had forgiven him. And then a sizzle of possibility had shot through her. Just knowing him made her special. One phone call and she could have the crew of
Extra
here, interviewing them all. There was probably a way to make money off selling his secret, a lot of money. She could trade him for a secure future for herself.

The only trouble was, she’d given her word that she wouldn’t say anything. And she liked him too much to do that to him.

She caught a faint whiff of smoke from the barbecue, and her stomach cramped in anticipation. Lately she ate like a pig; she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Too bad. Today was her stupid birthday. Just for today, she wasn’t going to worry about anything.

She let herself in the back door. It wasn’t locked, which meant they hadn’t gone far.

“Hello,” she called out. The house was empty and quiet, but in a friendly, waiting way. A box fan in the window blew a gentle breath of fresh air through the downstairs.

“Anybody home?” she called, dropping off her backpack and Walkman in her room.

No answer. She went to the sink to get a drink and splash water on her face. In those old Georgette Heyer books she’d found in one of the crammed bookcases in
the family room, women were always bathing their wrists when they were upset. Bathing their wrists, as though that was supposed to help anything.

Callie let cool tap water run over her wrists but it didn’t make her feel any better.

She headed for the door, intending to sit on the porch facing the lake and wait for everyone to come home. Happy birthday to me, she thought.

She opened the door to the porch, and the world exploded.

“Happy birthday!” shouted a chorus of voices. “Surprise!”

Callie stood in the doorway, frozen with shock. For a moment, she couldn’t make sense of anything, not the smiling faces or the crepe-paper streamers, not even the picnic table with the giant three-tiered cake or the stack of brightly wrapped gifts on the lawn.

“Today Is Your Birthday” blasted from the stereo.

“Callie,” Aaron yelled, jumping up and down. “Were you surprised, Callie? Were you?”

She forced herself to close her mouth and nod in mute assent. It was just like on TV, with all the good wishes, the music playing, people clapping.

Except there was one big difference. On TV, the birthday girl looked lovely, flushed with pleasure and gratitude. Callie was not able to act like that, not at all. She tried, she nearly succeeded in forcing herself to smile and say thank you, but all she could manage to do was burst into tears.

Right there in front of everyone, she broke down and sobbed. It was totally humiliating, but she couldn’t help herself. She cried with happiness that someone had finally cared enough to give her a birthday party, and with sadness that it had taken all the years of her life.
She cried for joy that she’d found friends so true they felt like family, and cried with misery that it would all end with the summer.

“Hey, now,” said Luke, somehow looking both awkward and gallant as he patted her on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“You’re supposed to be glad,” Aaron said, sounding so put out that she had to smile. “This is a party, in case you hadn’t noticed,
genius.
”

“I noticed.” Callie gratefully took a paper napkin from Kate and wiped her face. “And I’m glad.” She looked at the small group gathered on the lawn—Kate and Aaron and JD, Mrs. Newman, Yolanda and her boyfriend, Richie. And of course, Luke, by her side.

There were silly games and way too much food. Aaron taught everyone the official Livingston method of making s’mores, otherwise known as s’mores for dummies. You had to roast the marshmallow until it flamed, slip the black char off it, then roll the sticky marshmallow in miniature M&Ms and squish the whole mess between graham crackers. Luke made and ate four of them at least, and Callie envied his ability to eat anything he wanted and not get fat. She refused to worry about her weight tonight, though, and ate her own share. The s’mores and cake made her incredibly thirsty, but even sucking down a liter bottle of water didn’t seem to help.

The dizziness swept up and over her again, but she closed her eyes and went with it, riding it like a surfer catching a wave.

“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing they couldn’t hear but well aware that they would never realize that they had made this the happiest day of her life.

“I
think it was a smashing success,” Mable Claire said hours later as they all sat on the beach watching the moon rise over the lake. “We surprised the heck out of her and everyone had a great time.”

“It was perfect,” Kate said. Around the campfire, the others were playing charades, though she and Mable Claire were sitting this round out. “I’ve never given anyone a surprise party before.”

“Me neither,” Mable Claire said. “I guess when you’re Callie, everything good that comes your way is a surprise.”

Kate leaned back against the huge log that had lain there for generations. Phil had carved his initials in it and the date: 7–4–84 to commemorate a long-ago night of fireworks. She looped her hands around one drawn-up knee. It was Richie’s turn, and he was desperately trying to get them to say the name of some sort of horned animal.

“Bull,” Aaron shouted.

“Caribou, moose, water buffalo!”

“Yak,” JD suggested, causing Richie to sink to his knees in gratitude, nodding approval.

“Yakety Yak! (Don’t Talk Back)” was the solution, and it came from Callie, of course, who knew every song ever written.

“My turn,” Mable Claire said, joining the group as Callie selected a clue from the hat.

Tiny orange sparks danced in the air. The firelight gilded the group in its kindly glow, and the sight of everyone, relaxed and playing together, caused Kate to feel a tug of nostalgia. The image took her back to other times, summers from long ago, nights filled with fun and laughter.

Aaron was wandering away from the game, unable to stay focused on it. Before Kate could call him back, JD snatched the kid up, swinging him around until Aaron shrieked with laughter and rejoined the group. Kate felt herself grinning like an idiot as she watched the festivities. She had anticipated this being the loneliest summer of her life. Who knew she would find happiness here?

A few minutes later, JD eased himself down beside her. “You look pleased with yourself.”

“The party turned out great.”

“Yep.” He reached across her for the sack of marshmallows and speared two of them on a sharpened stick.

She felt a thrill at his easy familiarity. Frankly, she acknowledged, everything about him was thrilling. She loved feeling like a couple with him. “You know, I came here this year with very low expectations. I thought Aaron and I would be miserable without the rest of the family.”

He meticulously toasted the marshmallows, con
centrating on browning them evenly and slowly. “And now?”

“And now that doesn’t matter. We’re having a wonderful summer.” She gestured at the charades game, which was getting rowdier by the minute. “This feels like family to me. Nobody’s related to anybody, but it all just works.”

Still watching the marshmallows, he turned the stick slowly in his hands.

“Callie seems so happy,” Kate said, watching her grabbing onto Luke’s arm as he teased her about something. “I hope that boy is good to her.”

“He’s awfully young,” JD said.

A subtle note in his voice caught her attention. “He’s Mable Claire’s grandson and according to her, he can do no wrong. Do you think he’s bad news?”

“I think he’s awfully young, that’s all I’m saying.”

“So is she,” Kate pointed out.

He held the perfectly toasted marshmallows in front of her. “For you, madame,” he said, formal as a French waiter.

“How do you do that? Get them all brown without setting them on fire?”

“I’m a professional. Trust me.” He hovered the warm marshmallow in front of her, and she took it from him. It was meltingly sweet as it slid into her mouth, and she made him eat the other one.

“This is making me have wicked thoughts about you,” she said, watching him.

“Those are the best kind.” He glanced at the others to make sure they weren’t watching, and then leaned forward to place a brief but scorching kiss on her mouth.

She nearly melted like a marshmallow, but forced herself to shift away from him on the blanket. “Whoa,”
she said. “There are youngsters present.” She stuck two more marshmallows on the stick.

“Which is why I haven’t jumped your bones right here and now,” he said. “Quit worrying, Kate. Everyone knows. I don’t think it does Aaron any harm to see that somebody’s crazy about his mother.”

Her breath caught, and she fought to keep her expression neutral. That was as close as he had ever come to declaring his feelings for her. She could hardly believe her ears.

“Define crazy,” she said. “Do you mean crazy like you’re lusting after me or—” She stopped, not wanting to say the rest or let him see how much she needed to hear it.

“Nope,” he said. “I mean, I do lust for you constantly, that’s a given. What I meant was the other kind of crazy.”

Kate felt the stick slip from her fingers. The marshmallows turned blue with flame and then blistered black, disappearing into the coals. Deep inside Kate, a voice whispered,
Don’t throw this away. Don’t…
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t think I heard right. Did you just say—”

“Kate.” Mable Claire’s sharp summons cut through the night, severing the tension of the moment. “Kate and JD both, we need you. Something’s the matter with Callie. She fainted.”

Even before Kate could assimilate the words, JD had shot up and rushed to Callie’s side. She lay limply on the beach, with the others gathered around, all laughter gone now.

JD broke into action, checking her over, yelling her name and shaking her. “Someone go to my truck and get the aid bag,” he ordered with an authority she had
never heard before. “It’s in the toolbox.” Richie sped off to get it.

“Thank God somebody knows what he’s doing,” said Mable Claire.

JD took over. He moved in, the soul of competence, and went to work, using gear of surprising substance from the bag Richie brought from the truck. He kept calling her name, jiggling her, checking her vital signs. Yolanda took charge of Aaron, reassuring him and keeping him quiet. For once, this was not difficult. He seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

As JD checked Callie’s breathing and pulse, Kate went for her handbag and keys.

By the time she returned, JD had scooped Callie up in his arms. She lay limp and unresponsive.

Kate gave Aaron a quick hug. “We have to get Callie to a doctor. You stay with Mrs. Newman and Luke, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’m scared,” he said.

“I know. She’s going to be all right. I have to go now, buddy.” She squeezed him one more time and then ran to the Jeep. Richie and JD were getting Callie into the backseat. Luke stood by, looking as pale and scared as Aaron had been.

Kate expected him to insist on riding along, but he didn’t. “She’s going to be all right,” she said, just as she’d told Aaron.

He nodded and stepped back, his hands stuck into his pockets.

She and JD worked as a team. She drove while he stayed in the back with Callie. He grabbed a flashlight, stethoscope and blood-pressure cuff from his aid bag and kept talking to her, trying to get her attention.

As Kate drove off into the night, Callie came around, offering weak protests but giving vague answers to the usual questions about what year it was or the name of the president. She didn’t want to go to the hospital. That was clear enough. JD brooked no argument, which was equally clear.

The second they got into cell phone range, he made the call. Kate understood maybe half of the technical jargon he dictated into the phone, giving the information with precision and clear competence. “Caucasian female, eighteen years of age…Syncopal episode…BP’s 102 over 66,” he stated. “Pulse 160, respiration 22 and shallow. Patient’s shaky, skin’s damp, she’s obviously dizzy. She’s muscularly toned….” There was something incredibly comforting about his manner. He seemed so professional and confident. He also seemed like a different person, someone she didn’t know.

“ETA’s ten more minutes,” he said.

Kate didn’t hear the rest. Her hands shook but she forced herself to keep a firm grip on the steering wheel. She bit her lip to keep from interrupting his report to the dispatcher.

Kate wanted to believe Callie was safe in his care. Yet a seemingly healthy girl didn’t simply collapse.