Lakeside Cottage (9 page)

Kate found the name and likeness of Sonja Evans, Callie’s mother. Callie said she hadn’t seen her in over a year. Maybe… Kate clicked through link after link and eventually found her way to another likeness, a mug shot from the sheriff’s department of Pierce County, Washington. Even in the mug shot, the woman scarcely resembled a hard-faced criminal. In fact, she looked remarkably pretty, soft and vulnerable.

Kate felt a little queasy. Sonja Evans had been arrested for theft and was serving time at the Washington State Correctional Center for Women in Purdy. I’m so glad they locked you up, she thought. You don’t deserve to be called anyone’s mother.

She put her things away and went to find Callie. The girl was seated at a table, paging through an oversize book. “Find anything interesting?” Kate asked.

“A book about Cake—that’s my favorite group. I’ll put it back on the shelf.”

“You can check it out if you want.”

“I don’t have a library card.”

“No problem. We’ll get you one right now.”

A short time later, when they left the building, Callie held a temporary card in her hand, cradling it as though it was fragile. When she saw Kate looking at her, she gave a fleeting smile. “I’ve never had a library card before.”

Kate had a powerful urge to hug her, but held back. Callie didn’t seem comfortable with hugging. They went outside into the sunshine. Kids were testing their paper airplanes on the lawn, and they stood watching while Aaron flew his again and again.

“I looked up Millennium Commune,” Kate said. “In there, on the Internet. I hope you don’t mind. I was…curious.”

“It’s not like it was a secret or anything. It was in the papers in California.”

“It’s awful, Callie. If there’s anything I can do, if you just want to talk—”

“I had counseling and all that crud,” she said with a dismissive shrug.

Kate gently touched her on the shoulder. “You didn’t tell me about your mother.”

“Oh, gee, sorry,” she said sarcastically. “That’s usually the first thing I tell people, that my mom’s in the slammer.”

“Are you allowed to visit her?” Kate asked.

“Sure. Not that I do or anything.”

“I could take you there,” Kate suggested. “If you wanted to, that is.”

“Nope.”

Kate dropped her hand. “Sorry. What I’m really sorry about is that you didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because you deserve better, Callie. You’re young and incredibly smart, and you deserve the best life has to offer.”

She regarded Kate with incredulity. “God, are you for real?”

“Do you have a problem with me wanting the best for you?”

“Just seems kind of pointless,” Callie muttered.

“I disagree. What if I had decided there’s no point in thinking I could write an article for a national magazine?” Kate persisted. “What if I hadn’t even bothered to try? Then I’d still be rattling around at the cottage, convinced I had no future as a writer. It’s not a bad thing, wanting something and thinking you deserve it. So what do you want?”

“A different life,” Callie blurted out. “To be a different person, not some fat loser with zits.” Callie stared at the ground. “I can’t believe I said that.”

It wasn’t quite what Kate had in mind. Teenagers, she thought, glancing over at Aaron and the other kids playing on the lawn. “I don’t want you to be a different person, and I bet you don’t, either. Not really.”

“Yeah, everything’s just peachy.”

Kate refused to get annoyed. “For what it’s worth, I thought I was a loser when I was your age. Dated the same guy all through college because I thought Nathan was as good as I could ever get. He wasn’t such a great catch, but I thought, hang on to him, Kate. If he dumps you, you’ll have nobody. And of course, he dumped me. Never even saw Aaron.”

“What a jerk.”

“Took me years to figure that out.” Kate caught Aaron’s eye, waved to tell him it was time to go. She felt nonplussed, having forgotten the point she was trying to
make. “That’s the guy in my life now,” she said, watching her son tell the library volunteer goodbye.

“What, you don’t date because of one bad experience? Don’t you think you deserve better?” She managed to imitate Kate’s tone exactly.

“I didn’t say that. I do go on dates. I just…haven’t had much luck in that department.”

“What about that guy?”

Kate’s heart sped up. “What guy?”

“Right. You know who.”

Kate turned and headed toward the Jeep. She did know. She did indeed.

A
s Kate walked down the driveway to the Schroeder place, she reflected that this was quite possibly going to seem like the most lame, transparent ploy a desperate woman had ever committed. He was going to see through it immediately. And the hell of it was, she hadn’t managed to talk herself out of it. Her conversation with Callie had haunted her, and ultimately, she’d had to concede that the girl, young and confused as she was, had made a point. Here she was, urging Callie to set goals and take chances, yet she herself held back, acting as though everything was fine.

Well, everything wasn’t fine. Here she was, twenty-nine years old, and some nights she was so lonely that she feared she might shatter, and all the little pieces would melt into the atmosphere, rendering her invisible. All right, so that was fanciful. But she wasn’t fine and it was time she stopped pretending she was. Time to try something new.

She wanted to get to know her neighbor at the lake better, and she wasn’t going to accomplish that by
waiting for him to make the first move. She would proceed with caution, though. She’d checked with Mable Claire Newman who assured her that, according to the Schroeders, JD Harris was the best sort of guy, taking the summer off after being discharged—honorably—from military service. That sounded promising to Kate. She’d never known anyone from the military. The fact that he’d served his country made him seem reliable and brave.

The Schroeder place was decidedly rustic. Nestled amid soaring Douglas firs, it consisted of a main house with sleeping quarters for a small army in a loft, a boathouse and shed. Like the majority of homes on the lake, there was no cable TV or cell phone reception. Most people preferred it that way. It was one of the few places left where it was possible to unplug and retreat for a while. That was what this whole magical place was about—relaxing. Recharging. Rewinding your life to a simpler place.

Through the screen door, she could see him working at the kitchen table, bent over some project with total absorption, like a surgeon in an operating room. For the first time, she was seeing him without the John Deere cap. His long hair was touched by sunlight. In profile, he had a clean, square-jawed handsomeness she had failed to appreciate at first glance. His hands worked with surprising delicacy, wielding a tiny pair of needle-nose pliers. She thought about those big hands and their delicate movements, and her imagination took flight.

Get a grip, Kate.

The portable CD player was turned up loud, playing a Ben Harper tune, soulful and true, an unexpected choice for a man who looked as if he preferred honky
tonk music. Making quick, inaccurate judgments about people was Kate’s specialty. She needed to watch that.

“Hello,” she called, simultaneously knocking on the screen door.

He shot up from the table, the bench scraping the pine-plank floor. Tiny feathers scattered in the air around him.

“Jesus,” he said, turning down the volume.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Without being invited, she stepped inside. “Sorry about that. I—oh, my word, look at your hand.”

“My—damn.” He held up his left thumb. A fishhook was embedded in the pad. Blood dripped on the floor.

“This is my fault,” she said, bustling forward. “I am so sorry. Sit down, and I’ll help you.”

“There’s no need.” His eyes, behind the thick lenses, narrowed in suspicion.

“Sit down,” she repeated, giving his shoulder a nudge. Under her hand, he felt bulky and muscular. It had been a long time since she’d touched a man, and the sensation was surprising. Once he sat down, she went over to the sink and wet a paper towel. Then she put a pan of water on the propane cookstove, lit the burner and returned to the table.

“Let’s see,” she said.

“I can get it,” he said, but gamely turned the thumb toward her.

“It’s bad,” she said, feeling herself go a little green around the gills. “The barb is buried all the way into your thumb.” She took his hand and turned it. Even under the circumstances, the gesture felt strangely intimate. “Do you think I should drive you into town? There’s an urgent-care clinic in P.A.—”

“No. I said I’ve got this, Kate.”

She pretended not to hear the sharpness in his voice. “At least let me help. Is it a single-or double-barb hook?”

“Single. Doubles are illegal.”

“I know that, but most fishermen cheat.”

“Cheating a Beardsley trout. That’s pretty pathetic.”

He was definitely not pathetic, she thought, studying the broad shoulders, the square jaw. That jaw, she couldn’t help noticing, was now tightening with a tic of annoyance. “I shouldn’t have come,” she said, her heart sinking. “You were having a perfectly good time tying flies, and I came by and ruined it.”

“Yep.”

She frowned. “You’re supposed to deny that.”

He propped his elbow on the table. “All right, look. If you want to help, I’ll push the barb through and you can cut off the end so I can slide it out.”

“You can’t do that,” Kate said, aghast. “It’ll hurt like—oh.”

As she was speaking, he gave the hook a quick jerk, grimacing and uttering a word that made Kate wince. More blood squeezed from the wound as the bloody tip pushed through his flesh.

“Get the shears from the aid bag over the sink,” he ordered.

“Aid bag.” She felt stupid.

“First-aid kit,” he said. “Then I need you to snip the barb off the end of the hook. I’d do it myself, but I’m left-handed.”

“When I snip this, it’s going to move and hurt you.”

“Just do it, Kate.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Be quick and I’ll survive.”

“I want you to know, I feel terrible about this.” She went to the cabinet and rummaged for the first-aid kit.

“It was an accident,” he said.

“Which I caused.” She found the first-aid kit, which was indeed a bag, a surprisingly big one filled with a bewildering array of paraphernalia. “Are you a doctor?” she asked.

“Nope.” He didn’t offer anything further.

“A paranoid survivalist?” she ventured.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He directed her to a zipper compartment, which contained some weirdly shaped shears in a sterile pack. Trauma shears, he called them. She opened the packet, took a deep breath, then snipped off the barb, cringing as she did so. He made no sound other than a quick intake of breath. Her hand shook as she set down the cutters.

With a motion of his hand so swift she nearly missed it, he removed the hook. Then he went over to the sink and ran water over the thumb. Working one-handed, he disinfected and dressed the wound with assured, professional efficiency.

“So are you…what, a veterinarian?” she asked him, thinking of the raccoon.

For some reason, her questions embarrassed him. Even from across the room she could see his ears redden.

“No,” he said.

“Then…what do you do?”

“I thought I’d try fly-fishing, but it’s not going well.”

“I mean, when you’re not here at the lake.”

“I decided to give myself the summer off.”

Well. He was really opening up to her, wasn’t he? Maybe she was getting just what she deserved for barging in uninvited. “Time off from what?” she asked.

“Everything.” He grinned, though she sensed he was being serious. “I think I picked the right place to do that.”

“Mrs. Newman said you were in the military.” Kate flushed again. “I asked.”

He looked none too pleased about that. “Then why the Twenty Questions?”

He made her feel slightly ridiculous, but she held her ground. “They’re getting-to-know-you questions. The kind people ask when they first meet and they want to know more about each other.”

“Okay,” he said, not smiling, though she detected a gleam in his eye. “Don’t get so defensive. I asked about you, too. I asked my friend Sam Schroeder.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. “Should I be flattered?” she asked.
Or are you a weirdo?

“You should definitely be flattered. Especially given the things he said.”

“What things?”

“He was in love with you. And you broke his heart.”

Kate remembered Sam as a stocky, athletic boy with a general sense of irreverence and an absolute fearlessness when it came to physical danger. As far as she knew, he still held the record for diving off the highest rock ledge into the Devil’s Punch Bowl, the lake’s natural deepwater swimming hole surrounded on three sides by limestone cliffs.

“He’s lying,” she said. “I never did a thing to Sam Schroeder.”

“That’s why he was brokenhearted.”

“Very funny.” Against her will, she recalled some steamy-windowed nights at the local drive-in theater, but they’d been in high school. Ancient history. “What’s he up to these days?”

“He’s married and has two kids.”

Of course he was married. Of course he had kids. Didn’t everybody? Kate never regretted her choice to raise Aaron alone, but she often found herself wondering what it would be like to have a spouse, a partner, a best friend and lover, someone who cared about her and Aaron the way a loving husband would care.

Restless, she got up from the table and studied the pictures in rustic frames on the walls. Some were a good twenty years old. At least one looked familiar, and she pointed it out to JD, a snapshot of a group of kids in their bathing suits, standing at the edge of the lake, feeding the ducks. “This is me, right here in the green swimsuit. Freckles, skinny legs, knock-knees and braces.”

“To a twelve-year-old boy, you were a wet dream.”

“That’s an obnoxious thing to say, especially to someone who just saved your thumb.”

He didn’t apologize. Instead, he regarded her with an impenetrable look. “I’d say you got over the skinny, knock-kneed, braces phase.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“You’re blushing, aren’t you?”

Discomfited, she sat back down at the table. “I used to call him Sammy,” she confessed. “Sammy Schroeder. So what else did he tell you besides the lie about his broken heart?”

“That he hasn’t seen you since high school. He asked about your folks. Sounded like he thought a lot of them.”

She nodded. “I think he did. Everyone likes them. My dad passed away and my mom remarried and moved to Florida.” She waited for the usual awkward sympathy but didn’t hear it. “So you and Sam were in the service together?” she ventured.

“That’s right.” He didn’t volunteer anything more. When the silence became awkward, she racked her brain, trying to think of something else to say.

He beat her to it. “Is Callie still with you?” he asked.

“Yes. As far as I know, she’ll be staying indefinitely.”

“So is she a friend?” he asked. “Relative? Baby sitter?”

“By now, she’s a friend
and
a babysitter,” she said. “She’s great with Aaron. To be honest, I was a little apprehensive at first, offering her a place to stay.” She didn’t add that Callie had scared a good seven years off her life that first day. “She’s going through a rough patch, so I told her she could stay. I’ve got tons of room at my place. Usually we’ve got a full house all summer, but this year it’s just Aaron and me. Do you think I’m crazy, offering her a room?”

“Jesus, Kate. Yeah, I do. How much has she told you about herself?”

“Enough,” Kate said. “More than you’ve told me about you.”

“But I’m not moving into your place,” he pointed out.

“I know everything I need to know about Callie for now.” The fact was, Kate felt herself growing closer to her with each passing day. The girl opened up a little more every day, offering glimpses of the pain and uncertainty of a life of being shuffled around, never quite feeling safe. More than anything, Kate wanted to give her a feeling of safety and security, and gradually, little signs of trust were emerging, like when she no longer seemed taken aback when Kate made her a sack lunch for work, or when she shyly asked if they could go to the
drugstore and get something for her skin. Maybe it was Kate’s imagination, but her whole outlook seemed to be improving.

“She’s feeling all right?”

There was something in the way he asked that made her frown at him. “Well, she’s fine. In so many ways, she’s a typical kid—passionate about music, curious. She and Aaron have been taking the kayak out every day.” At first, Kate had made them stay in sight of the house, but as she trusted Callie more and more she let them explore farther. The girl was a hard worker, up early every day, and she’d grown comfortable with Kate and Aaron. And Aaron adored her, tagging along wherever she went. She still didn’t like Bandit, though, and shrank from the dog whenever he came near.

“That’s good,” JD said.

“Is there something about her that I’m missing?”

“Doubt it. I just wanted to make sure things were going okay for you.”

“Things are fine,” she repeated. “Thanks for asking.” Ill at ease, she got up again and went to the window, tucking her hands in her back pockets as she gazed out at the lake.

“What are you doing here, Kate?”

She turned to face him. His intense stare ruffled her. “I was curious about you, so I was going to pretend I needed to borrow a tire pump.” Her cheeks stung. “I’m not very good at this.”

“At what?” He shifted a little closer to her.

She could feel the nearness of his body. Even though they weren’t touching, there was a flare of heat like a struck match.

“At…this,” she replied lamely, fumbling the explanation. “At getting to know someone new.”

“What can I do to make it easier?” His voice was both soft and rough at the same time.

She moved away, unable to think clearly with him standing so close. “And anyway,” she said, “as it happens, I do need a tire pump. Mine has a blown hose, and the tires on a couple of our bikes are flat as pancakes.”

“I’ll see if I can find one,” JD said, but he made no move toward the shed. He just stood there, watching her.

“Thanks,” she said a bit uncertainly. She couldn’t decide where to look—at his face? His chest? Did he know how distracting those glasses were? Her lips felt dry, and she ran her tongue over them. Then, realizing how that must look to him, she said, “I’m curious about something else. Why did you bail me out that day at the grocery store?”