The Lake Season (33 page)

“She's never looked more beautiful.” There was protectiveness in Stephen's voice, which Iris drew comfort from.

A nurse came in and did a quick check of vitals. “Mr. Willets, would you like me to have them send in a cot again tonight?”

He glanced quickly at Iris, nervously, then nodded to the nurse. “Yes, that'd be great.” He stood up. “I can help you with it.”

“No, no,” the nurse said, shooing him away. “You stay with your bride. We know the drill.”

Iris studied him as Stephen walked to the window, arms crossed uncomfortably.

“So you've been sleeping here?”

He nodded.

“For how long?”

“I haven't left yet.”

Iris looked around the tiny room, at the bed, the one chair. The bedside table crowded with pictures, cards, and flowers.

“But how? I haven't seen you. And my mother said—”

“Your mother meant well. But she was wrong.” He turned to face her. “Leah needs me.”

He walked around the bed, to Leah's pillow. Touched her hair.

“So you mean to tell me you've been hiding out here since the first night?”

Stephen sighed. “Yes. But please don't share that with Millie. I don't want to upset her, because that will only upset Leah. I didn't want to fight her on this, but I will if I have to.” His voice softened as he looked back at Leah. “Whatever she needs.”

“So you've talked to her about this?” Iris nodded toward Leah, who stirred in the bed. “And she's known you've been here all along?”

“Yes, of course. We wanted to keep it between us. She needs peace.”

Iris sat back in the chair, taking it all in. So that was why Leah had not asked after Stephen yet. She hadn't had to. “How'd you do it? Leah never said a thing.”

“When your family visited, I stayed on the cardiac floor, below.” He shrugged. “My mom brought me clothes, and I ate in the cafeteria.”

Iris's jaw dropped. “Your parents are still here, too?”

He looked at her sheepishly. “Just my mom. She thought it was the right thing to do.”

So Adele was in on it. But instead of drawing ire, the move filled Iris with a new appreciation. “So your mother has gone into hiding somewhere in town, and you've pretty much camped out in the cardiac center for a week?”

“Pretty much.” He smiled roughly, rubbing the overgrowth on his chin. “Though I don't recommend trying to bathe yourself from a restroom sink. Not very thorough.”

Iris squeezed her nose with one hand, playfully. “Now that you mention it.” But the relief of their easy banter was quickly overshadowed by concern. “Stephen, I'm amazed you did this. Really.” She paused, struggling for the right words. “But what does all this mean?”

“Mean?” The confusion on his face was genuine.

“Leah couldn't handle you leaving again. She's got a long recovery ahead of her.”

“I wouldn't do that to her,” Stephen said. He turned back to Leah and swiped at his eyes. For the first time Iris saw the spill of tears, running down his cheeks. “You have to believe me, I wouldn't do that.”

Iris rested a hand on his back. “I want to believe you.” She had all the answers he had to give. For now it would have to be enough.

Thirty-Six

I
ris awoke to a buzzing sound. She glanced at the clock. Nine thirty. Had she really slept through the night?

Her phone buzzed again on the nightstand, and she reached to silence it.
Two messages.
Her heart jumped. Had Cooper finally called?

The first was Trish, checking in to see how Leah was. Impatiently, Iris hit Delete. She'd call her back. The next was a number she did not recognize. From out of state.

“Iris!” It was Joan, her editor, and at first Iris's heart fell in disappointment. Cooper hadn't called.

“I finished the proposal, and I went ahead and shared it with the marketing and business team.” Joan paused, and Iris's stomach flip-flopped at the realization that this was the call she'd been waiting for. She held her breath, pressing the phone tighter against her ear. “There are a few questions about format, and we really need to rethink the title, but I have to tell you . . . they loved it! I've put together some numbers for you. Call me. It's a go!”

Iris squealed. Phone in hand, she leaped up, both feet straddling the twisted blankets beneath her, and began jumping up and down on the bed. “Oh my God! Oh my God! We did it!” An energy raw with happiness coursed through her like a bolt, and jumped until she was afraid the bed would break.

She had to call Trish! She had to go downstairs and tell the kids! And her parents! But first, she wanted to tell Cooper.

She grabbed her phone. His number was at the top of her screen, under Favorites. All she had to do was hit Call. But instead, Iris set the phone down on her bedside table and covered her face with her hands.

•    •    •

Iris navigated the Rover up the wooded drive. She'd taken a chance on finding him here at home. Cooper had not been to the farm all week, and she couldn't go another day without seeing him. Buoyed by the joy of sharing her news with her family and Trish, who'd about blown out her right eardrum on the phone, Iris had decided to make the first move.

She hopped out and looked around the small clearing. Overhead a red-tailed hawk circled. A small breeze stirred the pines. She climbed the wooden steps to his porch and took a deep breath before knocking.

“Cooper?” There was no sound of footsteps inside, and for a moment she felt something akin to relief. She went to the porch railing and leaned out, looking down the hillside through the dense pines.

She was about to give up when she heard the crackling of twigs from the woods. Cooper emerged from the trees, a bundle of kindling under his arm. Before she could call his name he looked up and saw her.

Iris lifted her hand, a small gesture for all the big things she'd come to see him about. He nodded as if he'd been expecting her.

•    •    •

“So, how is she?” The teakettle sputtered on the gas stove, and Cooper dropped tea bags into two blue mugs, his back to her. He wore a few days' growth of stubble on his face. Iris watched quietly, wondering if this would be the last cup of tea she'd share with him.

“They're going to transfer her to a rehabilitation center in Keene soon. Millie's over there doing the paperwork now.”

Cooper turned to really look at her for the first time. His eyes didn't crinkle in the corners, like usual. “So, she's got a bit of a road ahead of her.”

“Yeah, she does.” Iris paused. “Her fine motor skills are coming along. Her speech is almost back to normal. But there's still the mental health part of recovery that she's got to tackle.”

Cooper filled the mugs with steaming water and brought one to her. “Still. It's a miracle, really, when you think about it.”

“Pretty much.” Iris couldn't let herself flash back to the edge of the country club pool, because if she did she would lose it.

As if reading her mind, Cooper put a hand on her back and guided her into the living room. “How're you holding up?”

Had anyone else asked her that? “Okay. It's been pretty crazy.” She took a sip of the hot tea and settled herself onto the couch. “But I did get some good news.”

“Oh?” He looked at her hopefully.

“The cookbook that Trish and I have been slaving over all summer?” She couldn't hide her grin. “It's getting published!”

Cooper smiled, a moment too late. Had he been expecting her to say something else? But he stood and hugged her tightly, whispering congratulations. “I knew you had it in you. That's fantastic! So what next?”

“Trish and I have a lot of editing to do. When that's done, we're going to New York to meet with the publisher, sometime this fall.” Just the mention of fall shifted the air between them. Reminding Iris of why she'd really come.

“So now I know a famous writer,” Cooper teased.

“I wouldn't go that far. A writer, at least.” She shook her head. “It's been quite a summer.”

“How are the kids?”

“Good. They're still here. And so is Paul.”

Cooper's expression remained even. “You need all the help you can get. I can't imagine.”

“I wanted to call you.”

“Iris, don't. I'm fine.”

“Well, I'm not.” She ran a hand through her hair, looking around them. At the wooden mantel on the fieldstone fireplace. At the knotted pine floors, a gleaming honey against the gray day outside. Everything in this cabin emanated warmth and peace, like Cooper himself. So unlike the chaos of the farm these last few days. So unlike her own home, brimming with tension, back in Massachusetts.

“Cooper, I don't know what to do anymore.” Iris stood and began pacing the room.

“About?”

“How can you ask that? Us, of course.”

“Oh.” He stared into his mug.

“Haven't you wondered? I mean, I can barely sleep. Eat. Or think.”

“It's all I think about, Iris.”

Iris felt a tightening across her shoulders. She had to ferry them to some kind of decision; she had to be honest. “When I came here in July, my marriage was over. That hasn't changed.”

Cooper waited, listening.

“It was Paul who brought it on. But as hard as it was to face at first, he was right. And so I came up here to heal. To move forward.”

She went to the window, searching for words. “But now, after everything that's happened, it's changed the way I see things. And suddenly Paul is back, and he wants us to work through this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No! I want
us
,
Cooper. I want us to have a chance. I think we'd be good. I know we would.”

Cooper's eyes held her own. “But?”

“But then I look at Sadie and Lily and Jack. They have so much ahead of them. And I can't help but wonder how much I'd derail that if I let my family go. It kills me to think about what this would do to them; the shuffling back and forth between two homes. The fact that they are either with their dad or with their mom, but never have access to both at the same time. And I think kids need that; I really do.”

Cooper watched quietly as she went on, her voice as rapid as her pacing.

“It's so unfair to the kids. What if Lily gets sick, and she's at her dad's? What if she wants me in the middle of the night?” She paused, imagining the scene in her mind. “And the split—who gets the weekends? Who gets Christmas?” She was rambling now, a stream of all her domestic fears pouring out into Cooper's quiet living room. “Forget about the holidays, what about the little things: like making sure they have healthy lunches packed for school each day? And that Jack does his homework. And who's monitoring their friends, and social media, and making sure they're okay? This whole separate-parenting thing: God, how does it even work?” She stopped in front of the fireplace, a wild look on her face.

Cooper, who'd been patiently waiting for her to finish, stood. “Iris. These are the things I was talking about that night at the inn. Splitting up was the hardest thing I ever went through, and I don't even have kids.” He approached her carefully. “These are not small decisions. And as much as I wish I could help, I can't make them for you.” He reached for her hands, but instead she fell against him, burying her face in his neck.

“Before, it was easier. It was Paul's decision, and somehow that made it different. Now, it's all on me. If I choose not to get back together, then I'm the one pulling the trigger. I can't imagine putting the girls and Jack through that. It just seems so selfish.”

“I know. Hearing you say it like that . . .” He pulled back, looking at her. “It's why I've stayed away, Iris. Because someday, when things got tough, which they would, you'd resent me. I don't want to saddle you with that kind of regret. Too much is at stake.”

Iris nodded appreciatively. But it didn't make it easier. “I don't want to stay in an unhappy marriage, Coop. I know people divorce, and kids get through it. But this feels like I have to choose between the kids' happiness and ours.”

Cooper looked pained. “I have to say this, Iris.”

“What?”

“Paul cheated on you. He had a woman like you, a beautiful, intelligent, strong woman. And he cheated. He doesn't deserve you back—he never did in the first place.”

Iris felt her insides give. It was what she wanted: Cooper was fighting for her.

Cooper looked at her searchingly. “Iris, I love you. But whether you end up with me or not, you deserve a happy ending. Paul can't give you that.”

Tears formed in her eyes. “I can't find the ‘happy' in any of it. Someone ends up hurting.” She went to the window. The clouds had darkened the sky to a steely gray that reminded her of winter. She shivered. “Tell me what to do.”

Cooper came to stand beside her. “I'll do whatever you need me to.”

Iris put her hands to her eyes. She felt as if she might fly apart into a million pieces right there. “I feel so damn alone.”

“You're not alone,” Cooper whispered, pulling her back against him. “Every night I sit on that porch thinking about you.” He pointed outside to the wooden deck overlooking the pines. “And every day I stand at that stove imagining making you breakfast.” He pointed to the kitchen behind them, where they'd done just that.

Iris looked up at him. “I want that, too. You have no idea how much.” She swallowed back her tears. “Every night I lie in bed, and my limbs ache. They just ache to be held.”

Cooper squeezed her harder. “Iris, before this summer, I didn't think I'd ever fall in love again. Not like this.” He laughed sadly. “You made me feel like a teenager. Like we were two crazy kids with nothing ahead of us but a long, hot summer. You made me feel so alive.”

“Me too.”

“But we aren't teenagers anymore. We've got grown-up lives and responsibilities. And I never expected you to turn your back on all that.”

“Oh, Cooper. I'm sorry. I've made such a mess of things.”

“Hold on a minute.” He sat back, his hands on her shoulders. “I wouldn't trade this summer for anything. No matter how it . . . ends.”

The word shifted in the air between them, ushering Iris to the heart of the matter. “I don't think there's any other way,” she said, her eyes brimming. “I tell myself that this is the right thing to do. I have to go home.”

Cooper's blue eyes clouded, and he blinked as she said it. “With Paul? Is that what you want?”

She shook her head. “Paul and I aren't in love; it's too late for us. But I think I have to stay in this marriage for the kids. I just want them to have a happy childhood. To feel loved.”

“What about you?”

“I had my chance. Right?” She put a hand to his cheek. “I had this summer. I'll just have to take it with me.”

Cooper sat down on the couch. “All right,” he whispered. “If that's what you want.”

“Do you understand?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Do you know how hard this is for me? That it goes against every grain of my being?” She looked into his eyes, which were glistening now.

“You're an amazing woman, Iris. I wouldn't expect any less from you.”

There, he'd said it. He'd freed her to go, though going was the last thing she wanted to do.

Cooper stood and jammed his hands awkwardly in his pockets, just the way he'd done on that first morning back in July when they'd bumped into each other at the farm stand. “It's probably the right thing to do.”

“Is it?”

He forced a small smile. “Every night your kids will have you.”

“I know,” she cried. “But every night when I close my eyes, it'll be you I see.”

And as suddenly as it was said, Cooper moved to the door. Iris hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. It was the worst decision, and the right one. Her head spun at the realization that she'd done it. It was over, and if she'd meant what she said, then it was time for her to go home.

Cooper did not open the door but stood there, beside her, as she paused on the threshold. Gentleman though he was, he would not be the one to open the door that would let her walk out of his life.

Iris turned, one last time, and brushed his cheek with her lips.

He inhaled softly.

She kissed his face lightly, trailing her lips across the stubble on his jaw. “I love you, Cooper Woods.” She kissed his eyes, his forehead. Until her mouth found his, and she pressed against them with her whole being.

Cooper wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, his mouth opening to accept her. To taste her, one last time.

And when she thought she would either burst or cry out, she turned away, pushed through the screen door, and hurried down the stairs. She did not look up at the porch as she pulled away. Vision blurred by tears, she navigated the gravel drive roughly. It wasn't until she reached the main road that she stopped, rested her head on the steering wheel, and wept.