Wild Flower (13 page)

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Is Millie sleeping?” I asked, a little disoriented that I'd slept through the whole evening. The windows were currently black as pitch.

“She went home with Jilly and Rae,” he explained, coming to the bed and sitting, gathering me close. He said, “I packed her an overnight bag and we remembered her toothbrush and everything.”

“You're such a good daddy to her,” I whispered.

“That's about the best compliment I can imagine,” he said, kissing my temple. He asked, “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head.

He went on, “I had an idea while you were sleeping.”

“What's that?”

“I thought maybe we could go for a swim. The stars are beautiful out there.”

I drew back so I could see his eyes. My hands on his shoulders, I said, “That sounds wonderful.”

We changed into our swimsuits and Mathias grabbed the last two clean towels from the closet. Outside the air was warm, not a breath of wind, the night alive with the sounds of crickets and frogs and the occasional owl. Barefoot, we made our way down the familiar path to the dock, hands joined. Mathias sat on the glider and collected me onto his lap, and for a sweet while we cuddled, not speaking, our fingers linked atop my bare belly and my head resting on his left shoulder.

“That's why people have babies,” he murmured after a spell, quiet in keeping with the night.

“Why's that?” I whispered, content to be in his arms without moving, for the rest of my life.

“To have part of the other person always with you,” he said, his voice low and soft, and my heart seized, as though I'd been struck hard there. The thought of being apart from him hurt worse than any physical blow. Try as I might, I could not get the image of the breaking branch from my mind.

I turned and pressed my lips to his jaw and he made a low sound in his throat and tightened his arms about me. He whispered, “You have my heart, Camille, and that's always with you, no matter what. I know you know that.” He paused and I could tell he had closed his eyes. He went on, “I've been thinking all evening about what happened today and it makes me feel sick. It happened so fast. I was more shook up than I was letting on. It scared the shit out of me.”

“Thias,” I moaned, turning in his arms to hold fast to him. “It scares me too. I can't bear it…”

“But I'm just fine,” he said, sounding more like himself. “Just fine.”

I slid my palms along his sides, his bare skin warm beneath my hands. I said, “You have my heart too, always with you. My heart is yours, for all time.” I'd echoed the inscription on my ring without even intending to, and a flash of déjà vu struck with enough force to make me reel a little. Mathias took my left hand into both of his and kissed the back of it, then kissed my ring, the one he had found as a boy and just last winter placed upon my finger.

“Then I'm the luckiest man alive,” he whispered. He tipped and kissed my lips, and then asked, “Will you swim with me?”

“I would do anything with you,” I said back, and watched his dimple appear.

Mathias stood, lifting me carefully with. He set me gently on the dock and without ceremony, I unclasped my bikini top and let it fall to my feet.

“So that's the way of it,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. Valiantly he kept his eyes on mine, rather than letting them detour south. I stood unselfconsciously in the starlight; I had long ago lost all inhibitions around him, and slipped free of my bottoms next, stepping delicately from them. The heat in his eyes nearly torched me alive.

“Come on,” I invited, jumping neatly into the lake. It wasn't quite as warm as I'd anticipated, my shriek muffled by the water. I surfaced just as Mathias, now also naked, executed a shallow dive and then swam underwater to me. I felt a burst of welcome laughter as his strong hands closed around my thighs. He surfaced near my breasts, the water lapping at my nipples, rising to his full height and drawing me into his embrace with no words. He hugged me hard, rocking us side to side.

“Let's swim out to the middle,” he murmured.

I nodded agreement, kissing his jaw. He ducked back under and I took a moment to inhale, breathing in the familiar scents of the lakeshore. The air was so still I could almost hear the motion of the brown bats' wings as they flapped above us; as though to highlight the point, the sound of people laughing floated across the lake from downtown Landon, a good half mile away.

Mathias surfaced about twenty feet out, and I leaned backward to re-wet my hair; it was just as I righted myself, about to push off the bottom and swim out to join him that a horrible chill snaked up my spine. I froze, the same way I would have just a split second before swimming for my life, as though a shark or some other equally deadly creature was approaching unseen. I bit back a sharp scream, willing myself to calm down; the last thing either of us needed right now was more drama. I focused on Mathias, his hair sleek in the moonlight, treading water as he waited for me.

“C'mon, honey!” he called, and I swam swiftly after him, the lukewarm water stroking along my naked skin.

It wasn't until we were more than fifty feet from the dock, the black-silk sky magnificent with stars that reflected perfectly in the water, disturbed by nothing more than the ripples of our passage through it, that the realization struck me and I felt another splash of coldness in my gut.

Someone, hidden from view, was watching us.

Instantly I berated myself,
Camille, you're being totally ridiculous. No one is out here except for the two of you.

Still, my gaze flashed at once to Mathias, wondering if I should tell him what I suspected.

“God, look at those stars,” he said, rolling to float on his back. His skin was silver-white against the ebony surface of the nighttime water, his face lifted to the stars as he relaxed supine, naked and unconcerned.

I treaded water a moment longer, unable to keep myself from peering back towards the café. From this distance and vantage point, submerged to my neck in the lake, everything on shore appeared tiny. I scanned the familiar shoreline, my eyes roving over every detail in effort to seek out something hidden. As though that was even possible in the darkness.

Quit it
, I told myself again.
You're out here under this beautiful sky with your man, and nothing is wrong. No one is there.

And with that thought I mind, I kicked out my toes and maneuvered nearer to Mathias, floating on my back beside him. It was a heady, almost otherworldly sensation, with the distinct thrill of the illicit, skinny-dipping under the starry sky, the lake silent and mysterious, a keeper of secrets, as it never was by day. I felt strangely cradled by it, held as though in a womb, hearing the rhythm of my heart like a steady drumbeat, as my ears were submerged under the water. The stars were so bright, so breathtaking and immediate, that a part of me believed that if I willed it strongly enough, I could somehow rise up there and drift among them, through space and time.

“God, it's beautiful out here,” Mathias whispered. “This is what I missed most when I lived in the Cities.”

“This is the summertime equivalent of the northern lights,” I whispered back. Mathias loved to take us on winter picnics, where we would cuddle in the plow pickup and watch the aurora on long December nights.

“For sure,” he agreed. “Look at that cluster over there. I swear for as much as I've looked at these stars, I still find new ones. I used to swim at night all the time, only on that side of the lake.” And he indicated in the direction of White Oaks.

“Us too, every summer we'd come here,” I said.

“It's so funny to think about all those summers you were over here, just around the lake,” he said, brushing his fingertips against mine, beneath the water.

“It is, isn't it?” I asked and then tears prickled in my eyes. I tilted my head to look over at him and he looked my way at the same time, as we gently linked our fingertips under the lake. If I had never believed in souls before this moment, I would have understood fully, beneath the stars of this sky, that they were real, interconnected in ways I could never comprehend.

And more than that, I recognized that mine and his were one.

July 2006

It had been just over a week since I'd taken out the front headlight on Aubrey's car, and we'd not heard a word from her since the evening of Clint's baseball game. I wasn't even entirely sure if Dodge had found the time to fix her car; it required a new headlight to be ordered, and I cursed myself for not taking better care with Mom's big truck. Though after Clint's first day training with the forest fire crew, all thoughts of Aubrey had been on my back burner; my son had related the story of Mathias's close call at dinner that night, and the sickness of my dream about Camille's wedding came rushing back to me as I listened.

Just a dream
, I reminded myself fiercely.
Not a Notion.

I hadn't slept well the past week, blaming all of the things weighing on my mind as I wandered the darkened house while my family slept peacefully. More often than not I ended up on the porch swing, keeping rhythm with one foot, watching the pines and letting the sounds of the nighttime woods lull me into a state of sleepiness. I was more troubled than I could admit, even to myself; something was wrong. Large and amorphous, this knowledge stalked me, growing ever bolder. More troubling was the fact that I realized something was wrong and could not perceive just what. My senses seemed dulled, altered somehow, and I was terrified. So terrified that I could not even articulate the fear aloud, as though this would be the final nail in the coffin.

Justin could tell I was struggling with something. He treated me even more tenderly than usual, which was saying a lot, and would not be pacified with my response that I was fine, just tired. Gently pushing the swing back and forth, I thought back to the months after my car accident, three years ago now, when I'd moved back in with Mom and Aunt Ellen, unable to navigate the steep, narrow stairs going up to my apartment. Mom rearranged the living room to accommodate my near-invalid status, she and Aunt Ellen taking care of me during the day, while Justin was at work, and then he'd hurry over to Shore Leave to be with me all evening, spending the nights in a sleeping bag on the floor beside the fold-out couch; he'd been so worried to jostle me at first that he'd not dared to sleep beside me on the full-size mattress that Mom had topped with a down slipcover. I'd sustained multiple broken bones and a punctured lung, and was pregnant to boot. Instead, he lay as close as he could, reaching up to rest his hand gently on my leg, or my hip, or curling his fingers around mine.

“I can't sleep unless I feel you beside me,” he'd explained.

Justin, sweetheart
, I thought now, hearing the comforting, low-pitched growl of him snoring through the open window of our bedroom. There were times I thought my heart might just burst apart with the force of my love for him. I pictured the way he had looked on our wedding day, late autumn of 2003, the depth of emotion in his dark eyes striking straight through my center. My recovery from the accident had been gradual, and frustrating, but nothing could dampen my joy that day.

“My heart is whole in a way that it has never been before you,” Justin said during our vows. He had been so excited working on those before the wedding, using an old notebook he'd pilfered from the café and teasing me as I lay on the fold-out couch, writing intently but refusing to let me see.

“Well, you are a poet, as I know well,” I teased him right back, as he was fond of creating poems of the impromptu variety when we made love. “Just remember that children will be in attendance.”

From his spot on the armchair angled near the couch, he leaned and kissed my right knee, his beautiful dark eyes holding mine with so much love that my soul seemed to shimmer like water droplets kicked up from the lake, arching in sun-kissed bursts. He said softly, “Including our own,” and then tears swam in my eyes as I immediately cupped my belly, where Rae had been cradled at the time.

Clint and Jo had stood up for us, acting as best man and matron of honor. Justin carried me up the porch steps at the advent of the lovely, golden half-hour of sunset that evening, like we'd planned before the accident, and into the dining room at Shore Leave. We both agreed we wanted everything small and simple, at the café; there was only one church in the Landon area, where each of our first weddings had been conducted, and a ceremony held there had not appealed to either of us.

One of Dodge's cousins was ordained and officiated for us, but even as Ike Miller spoke over us that evening, I was lost in Justin's intent gaze, as though no one else existed in the world. An entirely unspoken set of vows passed between our eyes, an acknowledgment of the importance of the moment, the promise of our lives interconnecting from that day forth. After the ceremony our kiss lasted a good thirty seconds, Justin's tears wet on my cheeks, combining with mine. Then he'd lifted me into his arms and carried me straight back down the porch steps to his waiting silver truck, and we'd gone home and made love (carefully and so sweetly) before joining everyone a little later (amidst much good-natured teasing) at Eddie's Bar for the lively reception, well in progress.

It had been perfect in every sense of the word.

Out in the woods a great gray owl hooted, answered seconds later by its mate, and our baby pressed at my belly.

“Hi, son,” I murmured, patting the little foot. I shifted again, wishing for a smoke, wondering if Jo was still awake and if she would come hang out with me if I called her. I knew she would, but she was tired enough these days too, what with a toddler and two teenagers in her house. I heard the screen door ease open then, just behind me.

“You don't have a pack stashed out here, do you?” Justin teased in a whisper, reading my mind.

I tipped my chin to one shoulder to peer at him, shaking my head. I said wistfully, “I wish.”

“Come to bed, baby,” he told me sleepily, scratching his chest. “I'm lonely in there without you. And besides, I worry about you out here alone.”

“It's peaceful out here,” I said, though I rose to my feet and joined him where he stood holding the screen door propped open, fitting myself against his warm torso. I loved his solid strength, the way I felt so small and precious in his embrace.

Justin rubbed his palms over my bare upper arms, as though to ease a chill, or counteract frostbite. He kissed the top of my head and invited, “I'll rub your back.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I murmured, and he led me to our bed.

***

“Yay, Mama, it's sunny!” Rae
announced the next morning, her little face right at my ear. She rejoiced, “Today's the parade!”

“You're right,” I said without opening my eyes. I could hear Justin in the shower, getting ready for work, though he and Dodge would close up early so we could take the kids to the parade downtown. They did the same for Trout Days, back in June. The Landon parade was always held on the third of July, as the high school band was expected in Bemidji for a larger parade tomorrow. Mom and Aunt Ellen had been planning their annual potluck party for a week now, which would take place tonight at the café.

“Get up, Mama!” Rae insisted, rubbing her little hands on my back. “C'mon!”

“Sweetie, go see if Clint's up,” I cajoled. “Mama's still tired.”

“I'm up!” Clint said cheerfully from the open door. “I have to be at the station in like twenty minutes. Mom, can I borrow your car?”

“Sure,” I muttered, pulling a pillow over my head, though Rae managed to roust me out of bed before too long. I showered and helped my daughter choose a red, white and blue outfit, then sat on the edge of my bed wrapped in a towel, another around my wet hair, holding the comb between my teeth as I worked Rae's silky blond hair into two braids. She was impatient with excited energy and I kept my knees around her torso in attempt to restrain her bouncing.

“Hurry, Mama!” she said.

“Hold still,” I replied around the comb, tying off one of her braids with a sparkly blue rubber band. I finished my styling and she scampered back onto the bed, smiling at me with all of the joy that being two years old and anticipating a parade lent to a kid. Her long-lashed dark eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, just like Justin's, and I smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek, tenderly.

“I love you, stink-bug,” I told her and she giggled at her nickname.

“Mama, get dressed!” she ordered. “Wear a pretty dress!”

I rose and opened the closet, gamely plucking a possible choice from its hanger and asking, “What about this one?”

Rae rolled to her knees and tipped her head critically. She said, “No, I like the pretty red dress, Mama. That's my favorite for Fourth of July.”

I replaced the first dress and found the red one Rae meant; I was fond of it too, and had worn it a couple of times when pregnant with her. It was a gorgeous geranium-red, casually styled like a tank top with a long skirt.

“This one?” I asked.

Rae clapped. She raced to her room and found a few strands of plastic-bead necklaces, blue and silver, for me to accessorize with. I brushed out my hair and let her drape the beads over my neck; I discreetly adjusted the first necklace so that it wasn't lassoing my right breast. I giggled a little, thinking I'd have to keep watch for that all day, as my breasts, normally a basic C-cup, had swelled with pregnancy a good two sizes.

After getting ready, Rae and I walked over to the café; the shimmering sunlight decorating Flickertail made me smile as we approached. Mom, Aunt Ellen, Jo, Matthew, Tish, Ruthie, Clint, Camille and Mille Jo were all eating breakfast when Rae and I clacked through the screen door and I reflected, observing my extended family – Clint and Tish bickering, Jo trying to have a conversation with Camille and Ruthie that kept getting interrupted by the kids, Mom and Aunt Ellen poring over an order sheet, coffee cups at their elbows – that I was pretty damn fortunate. We weren't wealthy, we lived in modest homes and drove mostly old cars. Modern technology still had a long way to go to reach Landon; the nightlife here was basically non-existent; my son would probably never know that there was such a thing as jeans that cost more than twenty dollars. Would I ever want to live anywhere else? Not for all the riches in the world. I had long ago learned the value of a simple life.

Besides, we had each other. And that was a lot.

***

“C'mere, baby,” Justin said contentedly,
snuggling me against his chest. We had walked over from the café after lunch and were currently situated at the far end of Fisherman's Street, under the shade of an enormous sunburst locust. Our town spread out before us under the lazy afternoon sunlight, people we knew milling all about everywhere, talking and side-stepping excited kids, sipping lemonade and beer, the scent of black powder and mini-donuts, diesel from the trucks hauling the parade floats, all intermingling in the still, hot air.

I curled deliciously into my husband's embrace, lifting my face to kiss his jaw. He was wearing his swim trunks and a t-shirt from his baseball league, which would start up again in late July, gray and with the word MILLER written across the back in blue letters. I felt a swell of belonging and happiness, infinitely more precious than gold, as Justin kissed the side of my forehead and our kids sprawled on the curb near our row of lawn chairs. Rae, one of her braids coming unraveled, was crouched with determination, watching the far end of the street, where the parade would start, clutching her candy bag like a trooper. Clint was wearing his bathing suit too, along with a faded Landon Rebels t-shirt from his high school days, leaning on one elbow, appearing half-asleep behind his aviator sunglasses, one leg angled protectively behind Rae. He was barefoot, but I didn't pester him about it, as I had kicked off my own flip-flops too.

“Life is pretty damn good,” Justin murmured, his lashes lowered to study my face, a smile lifting his lips as he rubbed his palms over my belly. He added, “Sitting here with you like this, my sweet little woman, is such a blessing. You know how many times I used to watch you bring Clint to this same parade and wish I was sitting with you guys?”

“Sweetheart,” I said softly, cupping his right cheek and stroking the scarring on that side of his face. I did know, as he'd told me before, but still his gentle words struck me every time. I said, “I would have welcomed you with open arms, just so you know.”

He grinned a little more at my heartfelt words, kissing my nose. He patted my belly and said with such sweet anticipation, “Next year the boy will be here too.” He nodded at our daughter and added quietly, “You think Rae will like being a big sister?”

“She won't even remember a time before him, after too long,” I said. “Can you remember a time before Liz?”

He shook his head. “No, and speaking of the devil, here comes my sis…”

I giggled, waving to Liz, who had her triplets in tow. Ruthie and Tish were with them, along with Jeff and Liam. Within a few minutes our whole clan had joined us. Joelle, Camille and Liz settled on lawn chairs, along with Mom, Rich, Aunt Ellen and Dodge, while the kids flopped all over the threadbare blankets we'd spread on the sidewalk. Mathias and Blythe joined the kids on the curb, Bly with little Matthew on his lap. Matthew snuggled against his daddy's broad chest and stuck a thumb in his mouth, eyelashes fluttering. Mathias pointed out a team of quarter horses with sparkly blue ribbons on their harnesses to Millie Jo, who was listening raptly to him as he explained why the animals were wearing blinders.

“Good thing we came early to get seats,” Clint said, resting his forearm on my knee for a moment, as though he was little again. We took up almost an entire half-block. I cupped my oldest's face, smiling fondly at him; he had been reminding me so much of his younger self lately, as though my mind could not reconcile the fact that he was actually almost grown-up and on the precipice of leaving me for good. I knew he'd be back to visit, but it would never be the same after he went away to college, and my heart shrank at the very thought.