The Lake Season (25 page)

Iris did not ask Millie to stop, nor did Millie offer. Torn, Iris sat up straight for a better look out the window. Ignoring the nervousness that flooded her, just as she ignored the fact that her mother had accelerated, if only slightly.

As they passed, Cooper emerged from the smokehouse, shading his eyes in the late-day sun. Too late, Iris raised her hand in greeting, wondering if he'd seen her. But it didn't matter. His focus was on the back of the truck, taking in the kids for the first time. As they rolled past, Iris craned her neck to watch out the cab window as Lily raised her hand and waved at the stranger by the smokehouse. As Cooper raised his own and waved back.

•    •    •

After dinner, Iris went up to her room to make the call privately. But Cooper's voice mail picked up. “Hi,” she said, “I guess you saw us drive by this afternoon. I didn't realize you'd be here. Anyway, I just wanted to check in.” She paused. “I miss you.”

Trish, however, wasn't as indecisive. “There's no reason for them to meet,” she stated adamantly the next morning. Iris had brought the kids to the café to visit, and they'd made themselves right at home in a booth by the pastry display case. Lily and Jack went to work on their cupcakes as Sadie longingly watched the teenage crowd at a corner table.

“I'm not suggesting you hide Cooper,” Trish whispered. “He works on the farm, after all. But until you figure out the next step for you,
and them
,” she said, pointing discreetly at the kids, “there is no need. You've got enough on your plate. And so will they.”

“I'm not going to introduce them
like that
,” Iris said, mildly offended. “Do you think I'm an idiot?”

Trish smiled ruefully. “Only sometimes. But that's beside the point. You know what I mean. Just keep it neutral in their presence. They're here for their aunt's wedding. After that . . .”

Iris grimaced. “The real fun begins.”

“Oh, come on.” Trish squeezed her hand. “You're going to get through this. You all will.” She glanced over at the kids. “It's so good to see them. You are one lucky dog, you know.”

“I know. Well, I've gotta run. The girls have a dress fitting. Can you believe the wedding is next week?”

Trish screwed her lips together, her trademark face for deep thought. “How's the bride faring?”

“Okay, I think.” It was true. Since the kids had arrived, Leah was like one herself. Kicking the soccer ball around the yard with Lily and Jack, stretching out on the dock with Sadie. Even Millie had seemed more relaxed. Iris was relieved. This time was theirs; it was what she'd come to think of as “the before.” “The after,” once the four of them returned to their real lives . . . well, that would come soon enough.

She checked her watch and tipped back her coffee. “Fitting time. Let's go, guys.”

“Mom, no!” Jack groaned. “I am not going dress shopping. That is so not survivable.”

Iris reached across the counter and swiped chocolate frosting off his upper lip. “What? You don't want to spend the day helping me pick out gowns and shoes? I was counting on your great taste.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Relax, your grandpa is picking you up. He's taking you to the club, to play some golf. Is that ‘survivable'?”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Send me a picture of the girls in those dresses,” Trish said.

“Oh, I almost forgot. You and Wayne are coming to the rehearsal dinner at the club on Friday, right?”

Trish grimaced. “Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

Iris planted a quick kiss on her cheek before dashing out the door. “I didn't think so.”

•    •    •

To their delight, Miss Patty fussed over the girls. She offered each one their own dressing room, and sailed in and out with accessories as if bestowing gifts upon royalty.

As they tried on their junior bridesmaid gowns privately, Iris settled onto the couch between her mother and Leah, who was already fidgeting with her camera, at the ready.

“Is this the first time they're seeing the dresses?” Millie asked.

“Leah sent us a magazine clipping,” Iris said, thinking back to the one image of the dress they'd gotten in the mail. But she couldn't remember the details of the gown, so she was just as excited as Lily and Sadie to see the real thing.

“Excuse me,” Miss Patty said, appearing with two pink shoe boxes. “What style footwear would you like them in?” She produced a ballet slipper flat from one box, and an open-toe with a sizable heel from the other.

“I can already tell you which one they're going to want,” Leah said, smiling knowingly as she lifted the pair of heels out of the box.

“But they have to be able to walk down the aisle,” Millie reminded them, ever the voice of reason. “Besides, I think the heels are too old for them.”

“But they're so cute!” Leah cooed, running her finger over the tip of the heel, which Iris noticed for the first time was stitched with sequins. “Sadie will freak for these.”

“A proven ankle-breaker,” Millie cut in, plucking them out of Leah's hands.

“Whose ankle?” Leah demanded.

“Third-grade talent show,” Millie replied indignantly, looking at Iris.

“Not my ankle!” Iris said. “What are you talking about?”

“Amanda Breckenworth. Remember? She toppled off the stage like a sack of potatoes. Hasn't walked the same since.”

Iris and Leah burst into a fit of laughter.

“You can't be serious,” Iris said.

“When was the last time you saw Amanda Breckenworth, anyway?” Leah demanded.

Millie shrugged dismissively. “It's true. Her mother tells me she still hobbles.”

Iris held up her hands in mock surrender. “Better make it the ballet flats. Heaven forbid we burden them with a lifelong limp.”

Lily swept the curtain aside and twirled out. “Ta-da!”

“Oh, Lils.” The bodice was demure, a simple sleeveless shell in cream organza. But the bottom was a full skirt in pale pink that hit just above her knee. Tied around her waist was a delicate celadon ribbon, one of the wedding colors.

“Well,” Millie said, coming to stand beside Iris. “Aren't you the belle of the ball.”

Lily grinned from ear to ear, unable to contain her pleasure.

“And where's our other belle?” Leah called to the closed peach curtain on the other side of the mirror. “Sadie's is slightly more grown-up,” she whispered to Iris. “I hope that's okay.”

Sadie emerged from her dressing room with less flair than her little sister, but a grin to rival Lily's. “What do you think?”

Leah whistled. But Iris couldn't speak. The tears were already starting, and she swatted at them quickly, not wanting to embarrass Sadie.
But, just look at her
 . . . she thought.

Sadie stood before them in a sleeveless silk dress. The top was a tank style like Lily's, but the skirt was long and straight, flowing like liquid below her knee. It highlighted her slender figure and the small curves that Iris noticed with a pang were starting to emerge.

“Don't move,” Leah squealed, grabbing her camera from the couch. “Pictures!”

The kids smiled obligingly for their aunt, who ducked in and out snapping photos like the paparazzi.

But the laughter of the group escaped Iris, who felt transported, as if she were somehow watching this from some cosmic maternal distance. This time she did not roll her eyes when Miss Patty appeared and offered her the box of tissues. In fact, she took a handful as the girls stood in front of the mirror, admiring themselves and each other.

When Leah came to stand beside her, Iris reached for her hand and squeezed it. Hard.

“What is it?” Leah whispered, looking concerned.

The moment had deposited Iris firmly in the memory of those back-to-school shopping trips, when she and Leah stood side by side in the same kind of mirror. Monkeying around, and laughing too loudly. Being scolded by their mother to “Stand up, stand still. Just stand, will you?” And the fun they'd had.

Iris shook her head, smiling. “Nothing. Just . . . thank you.”

Twenty-Six

I
n the middle of the night Iris was awakened by the creaking of her bed. “Lils?” Iris murmured, still half-asleep. “Is that you?”

“It's me,” Leah whispered.

Iris blinked, her eyes straining to focus in the darkness. For a mother, midnight awakenings usually signaled nightmares. Or throw-up. Iris turned over. “What's wrong?”

In reply Leah slid beneath the covers and looped her arm over Iris's side. “I'm sorry.”

A lake breeze stirred the curtains. Outside a night owl called in the distance, its cry watery and distant.

“Can we talk?”

Iris glanced at the clock.
One thirty.
“Leah, it's—”

“I know. But I can't sleep.”

Iris rolled back over to face her. “Is everything okay?”

Leah let out a breath. “I'm ready to tell you. About last ­summer.”

Iris propped herself up on her elbow and sighed. The importance of her sister's visit weighed on the air between them. “Okay. I'm listening.”

“When I came home last summer, it wasn't about the farm. It was to get away.”

Iris's voice was still raspy with sleep, and she cleared her throat. “From what?”

“Everything. Myself, mostly.” She paused. “I'd been working at Yellowstone about five months, and I really liked it at first. Every day was something new. New visitors, new locations; it was
great
.”

Iris nodded in the dark, remembering how Millie had gone on and on about Leah's national parks job whenever she called. It
had
sounded great, leaving Iris longing for such serene open spaces, trapped as she was by the confines of car-pool schedules and after-school sports. It had seemed a perfect match for her adventurous sister.

“But after a few months, I just felt empty. Like something was missing. There I was working on the trails, guiding people on day hikes and up to their camps. Nothing but wildlife and fields, and these huge blue skies. Iris, you can't believe how blue they were.” Her voice trailed at the memory, and Iris lay quietly. “It should've been perfect.”

“Maybe you were just homesick,” Iris allowed.

“No, it was more than that. Like this itch inside me that I couldn't reach. I was lonely. I was edgy. No matter what I did, I just couldn't seem to shake it. Eventually I let the loneliness get the better of me. And I fell for someone I shouldn't have.”

Leah sighed. “His name was Kurt. He'd been up in Alaska running adventure tours for this eco-tourism outfit, and he just reeked of perfection. Conservationist, outdoor adventurer, charmer. The park hired him to train us on backcountry ­guiding.”

“So let me guess, you two hit it off?”

Leah laughed lightly. “No! I couldn't stand the guy at first. I thought he was cocky. Kurt had been all over the world; he spent winters skiing in Europe, and summers rafting in Costa Rica. There was even a rumor he'd been scouted for the Olympic downhill team, but walked away from it to climb Annapurna.” Leah turned to Iris, an urgency in her whisper, as if they were still teenagers talking about a boy. “Kurt had this vibe, like he was untouchable, you know?”

Iris nodded. To her, Kurt didn't sound any different from any of Leah's other previous boyfriends. “He was a hotshot.”

“And he knew it. So he showed up to train us for backcountry guiding, and everyone was scrambling to sign up. Then they'd come back from his workshops, and they'd be gushing. By the time my boss made me sign up for the last session, Kurt had a gaggle of groupies. I was over it.”

“So why the change of heart?” Iris asked.

Leah sighed. “Because once we were out on the trail, I realized why everyone was so smitten. Kurt was . . . amazing.” Iris tried to keep an open mind as she waited for Leah to go on. This time she really wanted to understand. “He wasn't just a talented guide; he was a pretty great guy, too. We stayed up late each night talking about our childhoods, all the places he'd been. And the things we wanted to do with our lives. By the time our workshop ended, I found myself not wanting to go back to the lodge. I could've stayed out there on the land with him all summer.”

“Is that when you guys got together?”

Leah's tongue clicked in the darkness. “
No
. We were with a group of my colleagues, Iris. Working.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean . . .”

Leah rolled away from her. “We didn't hook up until the workshop ended. Kurt had only three days' layover before he had to head out to Yosemite for another gig. We didn't leave each other's side once.”

Iris nodded in silence, imagining how easy it would have been. Romantic, even. A young, charismatic guy traveling from park to park, teaching others to save the world. Flying in long enough to shake things up for the staff, then heading off into the sunset. It was something out of a bad romance novel, and yet she got it.

“Did you ever see him again?”

“Once. I flew out to Yosemite, a couple of weeks later, like we'd planned. When I got there, we just picked up where we left off. He took me on this camping trip up in the High Sierra Camps, just the two of us. It was so secluded. We swam naked in the freshwater pools. We couldn't get enough of each other.” Leah's voice trembled. “I really thought that this was it. That he was the one.”

Iris turned over, studying Leah in the shadows. Her dark hair spilled across the pillowcase, in contrast to the pale oval of her face.

“What happened?” Iris asked, resting her cheek on her pillow.

Leah sniffed. “Kurt had to leave for another job up north. He promised we'd meet up a month later back at Yellowstone, when he got some time off. He even bought the plane ticket.” She covered her face in her hands. “But he never came.”

Iris lifted herself onto her elbow and cupped Leah's cheek, now damp with tears. “Leah. I had no idea you'd lost someone you loved that much.”

“It's not that. It's much worse.”

“What then?”

“You're going to hate me, Iris.”

“Of course I won't. Just tell me.”

Leah looked up at her. “I was pregnant.”

A small throb began at the back of Iris's head and she lay down. Leah was pregnant. She'd heard the words. But it wasn't “pregnant” that caused her to suck in her breath. It was the word that came before it: that sneaking past tense.

Leah sat up in the bed. “You see? I knew you wouldn't forgive me. I don't expect you to.”

Iris did not answer. Could not answer right away. Leah had been pregnant. And here was Iris, who'd struggled so long to conceive. Who'd fought so hard for her own babies. Instinctively, she ran a hand over the softness of her stomach.

“Please don't judge me,” Leah cried.

Iris blinked. “I don't hate you. I just need a second.” She rolled away and out of the bed, and padded to the bathroom. She ran the water in the sink and splashed her face, willing herself to feel something. What? Anger? Empathy?

Leah's voice came from the bedroom thick with regret. “I know this is hard for you to hear. But you asked me. All summer you've been asking me.”

Iris shut off the water and came back to the bed. But she did not get in.

“Keep going,” she said.

Leah was sitting up in bed now, her knees pulled protectively to her chest. “Are you sure?”

Iris sat back on the crumpled window seat cushion and steadied herself. “Keep going.”

Leah looked at her warily before beginning again. “I didn't know I was pregnant until I got back to Yellowstone. I didn't want to tell Kurt on the phone. So I decided to wait until he came out. But he kept making excuses, changing the date. Weeks were passing. Finally, I had no choice. I just told him.”

Iris waited for her to continue.

Leah's voice caught in her throat. “That's the worst part. He didn't say anything. I just sat there on the phone, saying, ‘Kurt? Are you there?' Until he finally answered. And you know the first thing he said?”

“What?” Iris held her breath.

“He asked, ‘What makes you so sure it's mine?' ”

Iris stood up and went to the bed, pulling Leah against her.

“I was all alone, Iris. I had no one.”

Iris did not say that Leah had
her.
That if she'd called, Iris would have flown to wherever she was, no matter the years, no matter the rifts. It was too late for that now.

“After that he stopped returning my calls. I emailed, and left messages with his coworkers, everything. I went crazy, Iris. I really did.”

Iris pushed the hair out of her sister's face. “Is that why you came home?”

“I was pregnant. I had nowhere else to go.”

It all made sense now. Millie's furtive protectiveness, Leah's shifting facades. Iris imagined her own pregnancies, which had left her both elated and fearful, after years of trying so hard to conceive. But even amid the strain, she'd had Paul and her friends' and family's excitement. Not to mention a petal-pink nursery teeming with baby gifts. She'd crafted the perfect little nest. Imagining Leah, alone at Yellowstone, made her heart ache. She pictured her sharing a dorm room bunk with a bunch of twentysomethings, her only belongings a mountain bike and a knapsack. “It must have been awful.”

“I didn't tell anyone at first, I was just so ashamed. Mom and Dad couldn't understand why I'd left Yellowstone, or what I was doing here. Dad was supportive, of course, thinking I was just between jobs. But Mom knew something was up. She never said, but I sensed it.”

Iris laughed harshly, as she ran her hands through Leah's hair. “Oh, I can only imagine.”

“By then I was almost three months along. I couldn't hide it much longer, but I still wasn't sure what to do. I mean, I thought hard about having this baby, Iris. I really did.”

“You don't owe me an explanation.”

Leah sat up. “But I feel like I do. I wanted that baby. When I first found out, I actually thought Kurt would be thrilled. Which probably sounds stupid to you.”

“No,” Iris said quickly.

“Well, it sounds stupid to me now. But if you knew the things Kurt promised . . . I would have had that baby. I would have.” Leah paused. “But then he was gone. I had no house, no job. Christ, I was back home, tucked in my childhood bedroom, living with my parents.” Leah looked hard at Iris. “I tried to think of a million ways I could do this. But I just couldn't. I'm not like you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You're strong, Iris. You can handle things.”

“You were in a totally different situation,” Iris insisted. “You can't compare a divorce with a child. Who knows what I would have done, if it were me?”

“No.” Leah shook her head adamantly. “I thought about you through all of this. Strangely, I probably thought more about you than the baby or myself.”

“Why?”

“Because deep down, even though I knew I had plenty of reasons I couldn't make this work, I knew you would've. Somehow, you would've found a way.”

Iris sat back against the pillows. “You don't know that,” she whispered. “You did what you felt you had to.”

“But I always wished I had your strength. I've always been sorry I didn't.”

“You can still have your baby. With Stephen. Starting a family with you is all he's talked about since I met him.”

Leah pressed a hand to her eyes, shaking her head. “That's the worst part.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can't have another baby, Iris. Ever.”

Iris sat up, her throat catching.

“After I had the abortion, there were complications. First I had these horrible cramps. But then the fever followed, and I knew something was wrong. Mom drove me to the doctor's and that's when I found out.” She looked at Iris, tears spilling down her face. “It wasn't just an infection. I had cervical damage. I can't carry a baby.”

Iris was too stunned to answer. As hard as it had always been to imagine Leah as a mother, she'd always assumed she would be someday. When she found the right person. When she found herself.

“Are you sure?” she asked now, unable to give in just yet. “Have you had a second opinion? There are amazing treatments they can offer these days . . .”

“No, we're sure. I've been to three different doctors in New Hampshire and a fertility specialist in Manhattan. Both the cervix and the uterus were lacerated. I'm what they call ‘incompetent.' ” She laughed grotesquely.

“Leah, there are still ways you can become a mother. A surrogate. Adoption.”

Leah nodded wearily. “Yeah, I know. But it's not the same, is it?”

Iris couldn't answer that. “Stephen doesn't know any of this, does he?”

Leah shook her head shamefully. “No. None of it.”

Iris lay back down on the bed. So there it was. “God, Leah, you're marrying him in a matter of days. How can you not tell him?”

“I know. I tried. But each time something else always came up. The job at the foundation. The move to Seattle. It was already so complicated.”

“But all he talks about is starting a family with you. He wants kids. What are you going to do?”

“It will kill him if I tell him now.”

“But what do you think will happen if you wait? Did you think it'd be easier once you were married? At best, he's liable to feel tricked.” At this late hour it was a lot to expect of any guy, even Stephen.

Leah's voice thickened with defense. “I told you, I tried. But I knew the second I opened my mouth, everything would change. After all I went through, why not hang on to normal?”

Now look at them, Iris thought. One sister who'd chased
normal
her whole life was ultimately losing it in divorce. And the other, who'd never wanted it, clinging to it by mere threads.