The Lake

The fresh air. The heat. The woods. The lake. The balmy nights. The moonlight on the water. It’s this place. Must be.

I’d better get myself under control, is what I’d better do.

Blinking sweat out of her eyes, she stopped paddling. As the canoe glided along, turning slowly with the current, she scooped up water with her hands and splashed her face. It felt icy on her heated skin. She flung water onto her shoulders, squirming as it streamed down her back and chest.

She was across from Carson’s Camp. Of course.

Anybody watching?

Where are you, pal?

She arched her back, stretched her tightening muscles, then lifted the paddle and continued along her way.

She didn’t turn in at Mike and Jenny’s place. Instead, she continued northward past the neighboring homes. A woman in a red halter waved at her from a pier. She waved back. A motorboat with a couple of middle-aged fishermen crossed her path. She waved at them, too, and wished she had her blouse on. Her canoe bobbed as the wake washed beneath it.

After passing the boathouse that marked the end of the populated western shore, she did put on her blouse. With a feeling of disappointment, she headed home.

That evening, after supper, she took a walk along the dirt road behind the cabin. It led through the woods along the rear of Carson’s Camp. A family with three small kids was having a barbecue beside one of the cabins. The smoke and grilling hamburgers smelled wonderful. Leigh walked by, smiling at the wife, who looked up from setting a picnic table.

She felt good, but a little jittery. She had bathed and shampooed her hair before supper. She wore the orange blouse from Macy’s and her legs looked sleek and tawny between the white of her new shorts and the white of her socks. Her skin glowed with the heat of a mild sunburn.

She had considered using makeup, but her reflection in the bathroom mirror had convinced her to leave it alone. A couple of dabs of cologne, and she’d been ready.

Ready for her big night out.

Ready to venture to the source.

If this fails, she thought as she strolled past another cabin, I’m out of luck. Well, maybe not. Most people probably only spent a week or two at Carson’s Camp before heading home. Then new vacationers would arrive. She could take some consolation in the steady turnover.

Leaving the dirt road, she took a footpath toward the lodge. The trees opened up. She gazed out at the lake. Though she was in shadow, the early-evening sun still fell on the water, and trees on the nearest island looked dusted with gold. A few boats were out, people fishing in the calm. The peaceful beauty of it all made Leigh stop. She stood there, saddened, wanting somehow to be part of it, not just a spectator.

Well, she thought, go for it.

She turned away, walked the final distance to the lodge, and opened one of its heavy doors. The lobby was deserted except for a lone boy in a wicker chair. He glanced at Leigh, then returned his gaze to the television. She followed the sounds of conversation and clinking silverware to the dining-room entryway.

Only about half the tables were occupied, mostly those near the windows, the ones with the best view of the lake. Her eyes wandered from group to group, starting with the closest table and moving down the room until she had seen everyone.

Maybe she’d missed him.

She had missed no one.

So damn much for summer romance.

Lower lip clamped between her teeth, she turned away and hurried outside.

It was too much to hope for. She was being silly.

But it hurt.

Hell, who wants to get involved anyway? If you did meet a guy, it’d all be over in about three weeks and you’d probably never see him again. Who needs that?

The next day, she met Charlie.

THIRTEEN

Quiet knocking aroused Leigh from her sleep. She raised her head as Jenny called through the door. “Time to rise and shine, if you want to go after the big ones.”

“I don’t know,” Leigh told her. “I didn’t sleep very well.”

“That’s fine if you’d rather catch some extra z’s. If you change your mind, though, we won’t be leaving for fifteen or twenty minutes. Either way’s fine.”

“Thanks,” she said, and lowered her face into the pillow.

She felt bad about lying to Jenny. She had slept well. She just didn’t want to go out with them. Not this morning. She didn’t want to do anything.

I should go along, she thought. What’s wrong with me? It’ll be great out on the boat. I don’t really want to stay behind. Once they’ve gone, I’ll probably wish I was with them.

You’d better get a move on, then.

What for? I’m not going.

She rolled onto her back. The window was open, the gauzy curtains billowing inward and flapping. The breeze brought a mild scent that reminded her of Christmas trees. From the feel of it, she guessed the sun hadn’t been out for long. Drawing the sheet aside, she felt it stir over her nightgown and bare skin.