The Lake (The Lake Trilogy, Book 1) (6 page)

“It’s nice to see you, too.” Too bad no one gets two chances to make a first impression. I’m positive I was the worst first impression
he ever had of anyone. As much as I’d love to run from the room right now, I’ll just have to roll with it.

“So, Mr. Weston tells me you’re going to be a senior at Heyward. Me, too. It’s a pretty small school so I’m sure we’ll have some classes together. I’ll have to introduce you to my friends,” Will says continuing.

“Oh…yeah.  It’ll be nice to know someone there before school starts.” This makes twice that I have lied to him. I’ve already planned on becoming the weird, reclusive girl at school and I won’t be changing that strategy any time soon.

“Ah, food! Yes! I’m starving!” Luke gives Claire a quick kiss as he passes by her on his way to the sink to wash his hands.

“How’s it going?” Claire asks.

I interrupt before Luke can answer. “What are you doing down there…if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The basement has been unfinished for years, but we’ve been working on getting it to a livable condition.” Luke smiles an almost sinister smile, like he’s hiding something. ”It’s…a surprise…for you, so don’t go down there until its ready. Ok?”

“For me? Oh…uh…sure…no problem. There’s plenty of house to explore…and books to read. I’ll find something to occupy me until then.” I say, completely perplexed as to why the basement would be a surprise for me. Surprises are for people you care so deeply about that the idea of giving them something so unexpected is more exciting that the thing itself. How could I possibly fall into this category? I want to ask why but Luke is giving me the same look he did when I told him they didn’t need to stay home with me. I know it will be a lost cause to argue
, and in all reality, it’ll probably be just a glorified TV room.

As the
days go by, I maintain my homebound status. I’m not spending much time alone with either Luke or Claire, but enough time to know that I really like them both…a lot. Claire and I cook together and have discovered that we work really well as a team. I fix dinner once or twice a week and the other nights we work together. It’s nice to feel like I’m a part of something rather than the glue holding it together, and mealtime with Luke is never boring. When I first moved in, I had him pegged as being straight-laced and serious. I’m finding out that he and I are more alike than I thought, starting with our sense of humor.

I’ve mentioned
Mom and Dad several times around Luke and have received the same response that I got from Claire, sometimes even better.

“Your father could barely boil water…” Luke
jokes.

“But he could rebuild a car engine!” I
say, matching Luke’s laugh. It’s such a relief. I haven’t talked about my parents in five long years. With Gram, it was like I had to pretend they never existed. It feels so good to say their names, to talk about them as they were.

I’m grateful for how Luke and Claire are taking care of me
, and they aren’t trying to be my parents. Not that anything eventful has happened where they’ve needed to step in and “act” like parents. Claire has been working from home every day. She doesn’t hover, but I’m glad she’s here. I can be alone without being alone. Luke goes into the office periodically but is home most of the time. I think they’re still waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop and for me to have an emotional breakdown. I guess that’s kind of parental of them.

Will is
at the house almost every day. Sometimes he works with Luke and sometimes he’s on his own when Luke is at the office. My plan of pretending I never met Will Meyer has swiftly been abandoned out of necessity. He eats lunch with us every day; climbing out of the box I put him in with each conversation.

“You definitely want to get Mrs. Dishowitz. She teaches Civics and is great, really fun,” Will says as he gives me the low down on the teachers at Heyward Prep. “And you
’ll definitely have Mrs. Houchens for English Lit and Mr. Regan for Science. He’s a crotchety old guy but knows his stuff.”

“Thanks! Not that I have any control over it, but at least I know what I’m headed into,” I tell him as I refill our drinks.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a wink. I wish he wouldn’t do that. I had been uncomfortable with Will at first, but all that has been disappearing. Those giddy butterflies have migrated and no longer take residence in the pit of my stomach. When he looks at me that way, the butterflies start flying back.

Will and I are becoming friends and that makes me happier than I would have expected. Will is smart and funny
, and he’s a legitimately nice guy. He makes me feel at ease. I’m not concerned with impressing him…not that I could begin to have the first clue as to how to do that. Will isn’t at all like I thought he was going to be. He doesn’t
act
rich, and he’s been doing manual labor for Luke – a very
un
rich thing to do in my mind. I did to him what I accuse his class of people of doing to me: I judged him, and feel badly about that. I’m glad I’ve had a chance to see this side of him. Perhaps I won’t be so alone at Heyward after all.

I finished reading my book during my first week here, but still haven’t picked out anything new. I find myself sitting at the edge of the dock for hours at a time most days. I take in the beauty
of the lake, breathe deeply, lie back on the dock, and close my eyes. In all my life I have never known a more peaceful place, geographically or mentally. I feel…alive…which makes me feel guilty. Didn’t I feel alive and at peace in Florida with Mom and Dad, or Gram and Gramps? No…well, yes and no. Living with Mom and Dad was truly living. Living with Gram and Gramps? I wasn’t meant to feel alive then. That was Gram’s point. Penance.

This
is so different. This is the first time I’ve ever really thought about me. What am
I
feeling? What do
I
want? Mom and dad always supported any activity I wanted to participate in, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I flew wherever the wind blew
them
.  Dad’s units on kinesthesia volleyed me into soccer, lacrosse, and tennis. Mom’s semester of Shakespeare and play adaptations led to my auditioning for every local play I could. I was never cast into anything – I was terrible, but mom joyfully helped me prepare and took me to each audition. If it was an election year, well…Dad and Mom were more passionate about politics than anyone I knew. They had strong opinions about everything and never hesitated to make them known. They rallied and joined campaigns to support both local and national candidates, and they were the first ones at the polls on voting day. Naturally, I ran for class president during the 2004 election. I lost to Amber Riley.

Reading, though…that was a shared activity that was genuinely mine. Mom always said that reading a book was far better than watching any movie. I loved going to the movies, but she was right. A book can tell you all the emotions and subtext that are so rarely aptly portrayed in film. You understand the nuances of each character. You breathe every breath with them and cry every tear. Yes, reading. That is something
special that I shared with my mother, but something I owned totally and completely in my own heart.

I’ve put it off long enough. It’s time to appease Claire and give her some girl time and go shopping. She has been so patient with me and seems to have really been looking forward to it. She was definitely disappointed when I shot her down the day after I arrived. She’s been so kind and generous to me in the time she’s given me to be alone. I don’t feel like I can deny her any longer and she is thrilled when I make the suggestion.

We make our way through the neighborhood and I finally see how beautiful it is. The streets are lined with maple trees, flowering bushes, and sidewalks. I hadn’t noticed how huge the neighborhood is when I first arrived. Since I’ve spent the last weeks being a hermit, this is my first real opportunity to see where I’ve been living. Each home is huge and completely different than the next. Some are brick, others wood. Whatever the materials are, it’s clear that they are all custom, made to order homes. There is nothing cookie-cutter about this neighborhood – nothing but, perhaps, the neighbors.

When we arrive at the shopping area I see a Borders bookstore, which I am eager to go in. There are also shops I‘ve never heard of. Either they are independently owned, or they are too expens
ive for my blood…or both.  It’s July so the winter clothes aren’t out yet, but I promise Claire I’ll be a good sport.

We both try on clothes, which actually turns out to be kind of fun. Claire looks good in anything that she puts on, of course. I stick with shorts and skirts since everything is always too long on me. Claire offers to have anything shortened, but I don’t want to be an inconvenience. Gram always shortened my pants for me, so all the pants I have are already exactly the right length. We shop a little more and I settle on a two tops and a skirt. I stopped looking at price tags after the fiftieth time Claire told me to not worry. “I’ve never had a sister…or a teenage daughter. Let me have my fun, ok?” she’d say.

I don’t really need new clothes right now, but I’m grateful. Not for the clothes necessarily, but for the time she’s given me to be alone these last weeks, and for the time she’s giving me now. This month has brought a lot of reflection on the things I had given up over the last five years. I didn’t look at it like a sacrifice at the time because it was what I had to do. I spent the majority of my time with my grandparents so I didn’t do shopping or movie outings with my friends. Maybe shopping
was
my thing and I just didn’t know it. At any rate, I’m allowing myself to enjoy being with Claire.

We grab a late lunch at another place I’ve never heard of. I get a salad with chicken, cranberries, and Gorgonzola cheese. I feel so exotic.

“How’s your salad?” Claire asks. She’s staring at me as I lift the fork to my mouth, excited to hear my answer.

“It’s good. I didn’t know I liked Gorgonzola.”
How could I know that I liked it? Gram never bought it, so I didn’t either. The extent of eating out with Gram and Gramps was limited to the early bird dinner at Denny’s on the occasional Sunday. “How’s yours?” I look at her salad and think I recognize some nuts and berries in hers, too.

“Delicious! I get the same thing every time I come here. I really should try something else, but it’s just so good! Do you want a bite?”

“Oh, no, but thanks,” I pause to take a sip of my Diet Coke. “Do you mind if we go into Borders before we go home? I just want to look around for a little bit.”

“Sure! I could spend hours in a bookstore. How do you think we ended up with so many books in the loft? Luke gives me a hard time because I bring books home and never get around to reading them.” She chuckles
like it’s become an inside joke between the two of them, something I’m sure he now considers cute and quirky about her.

We finish lunch, talk about the clothes we bought, and debate if we should go back so Claire can get one of the tops she put back. It’s almost three o’clock and we both want to go to Borders, so she decides the top can wait until another trip and we head to the bookstore.

There’s something about a bookstore that is so calming. It’s a place where I feel like I belong, like everyone there is part of a special family or fraternity that other people don’t understand. Avid readers are a breed of their own, and we’re often accused of being heady. I don’t care. I love books and can devour one in a whole day if I’m allowed.

Claire and I split up and saunter each in our own direction. The store is laid out well with signs hanging above each section indicating the genre or subject matter for that area. I make my way to the fiction section. I always prefer fiction. Anything else feels like homework.

The first aisle I pick at random is filled with trashy harlequin novels. The covers always make me laugh out loud. As I reach the end of the aisle I turn right to make a U-turn down the next row, but I cut the turn too close and bump into the end-cap, which sends me stumbling headlong toward a table of books displaying celebrity autobiographies. Instead of crashing into the table I’m caught by two strong arms. I get my bearings and look up to see that I’m being cradled in Will’s arms.

“Are you ok?” he asks in his same smooth, unfaltering voice.

“Yeah…thanks…sorry. I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going,” I say, staggering my words and my body into an upright position most ungracefully.

He notices the books in the aisle I’ve just left, gestures to them and asks, “Find anything interesting?”

I’m mortified but do my best to recover. “I visit this aisle for a good laugh. I mean…seriously?” I pick up one of the trashy novels, “Who looks like this?”

We both laugh and Will gives his best smoldering look and puffs his chest out. I’m taken aback. If this is his
fake
smoldering look, I can’t imagine any girl not being putty in his hands with his real one. His eyes are the prettiest blue I have ever seen, and when he puffs his chest out I can see how fit he is. I wonder if he’s an athlete or if Luke has him on retainer for manual labor that keeps him in shape. He’s tall and towers over me, like everyone else. I can’t take my eyes off his bronzed face. His cheekbones and jaw line are in perfect harmony. He is so obviously handsome.