The Lake

The water stirred against her. She heard the muffled sounds of splashes. He was making a getaway.

Seems like he’s always trying to get away.

Leigh surfaced, gasping, her face splashed by Charlie’s kicks. She darted out a hand. Grabbed one of his ankles, pulled. “Gotcha!” Tugging the ankle, she reached higher and clutched his leg. She expected to find skin. Instead, there was denim. “Hey!” She hooked fingers into a rear pocket and yanked. Charlie slipped backward. He twisted around, freeing himself. “What’s the big idea?” Leigh demanded.

“Huh?”

“You’ve got your jeans on.”

“So?”

“Well…for one thing…what makes you think they’ll be dry by morning?”

“Guess they won’t be.”

“You gonna tell your mother…how they got wet?”

Charlie didn’t answer. Obviously, he hadn’t thought about that. Leigh eased herself backward until her feet found the rocky bottom. Charlie moved closer. He stood, the water just lower than his shoulders. “It takes a long time for jeans to dry,” she said. “If you give them to me right now, I’ll wring them out for you and hang them up. Maybe the breeze…”

“I wouldn’t have nothing on.”

“That’d make two of us.”

“You think they’ll dry out in time if they’re hung out?”

“Maybe.”

“All right, but…” He didn’t finish. His shoulders moved slightly, then he ducked beneath the surface. His movements under the water sent currents brushing against Leigh. He was below for a long time. His head finally popped up with a burst of water. He thrust the jeans toward Leigh.

“Don’t go away,” she said, taking them and wading for shore.

That little ploy sure did the trick, she thought. She still felt a little annoyed that he’d kept his jeans on in the first place. It was cheating. It was also pretty damned peculiar. How many guys, in his place, would’ve stayed in their pants with a naked girl waiting in the water? Zip, that’s how many.

So what’s new? He’s been peculiar from the start.

Never been with a girl.

His mother’s got him so screwed up…Well, this time it backfired on her. If Charlie wasn’t so frightened that the wet pants would give him away, he might’ve never taken them off.

Leigh waded out and stood on the beach, her back to the inlet. The breeze made her shiver. She gritted her teeth at the feel of cold droplets trickling down her skin. As quickly as possible, she twisted each leg of the jeans. She wrung the jeans with all her strength. When she shook them open, the fabric was still wet but no longer dripping.

To reach the nearest trees, she had to leave the beach. Twigs hurt her feet. Undergrowth snagged her ankles. She looked up at the dark shape of the cabin, wondering if it really was deserted.

What if somebody…?

Don’t start.

He might be hiding among the trees, watching. A hand inside his overalls…

Don’t worry, Charlie’s here.

Here? Out in the water.

Would he come and help if someone rushed out?

A quiet, crackling sound came from the slope. Leigh stopped. A tree was only a few steps ahead. Her eyes studied the dark woods, but nothing seemed to move. She wanted to glance back and see how far away Charlie was, but she didn’t dare. If she looked away, even for a moment…

What the hell am I doing here?

You’re trying to hang up Charlie’s jeans.

What am I doing here? My God. I swam out to this guy’s boat in the middle of the night and now I’m standing here bare-ass like some kind of maniac. I must be crazy. I should be back at the cabin asleep. I should be home in Marin, asleep. Jesus H. Christ on a rubber crutch, what am I doing here?

Trying to get laid by Charlie, that’s what.

Which he’s afraid to do because his mother wouldn’t like it.

And even if he was eager, you’re nuts to be going for it this way. You don’t even know him. He’s definitely a little weird.

Forgetting about the threat from the woods that had so unnerved her a few moments ago, Leigh stepped close to the tree. She reached up and draped Charlie’s jeans over its lowest branch.

She turned away and started back. Charlie was still in the lake. He looked as if he’d been cut off at the neck.

Leigh’s nightgown was a pale shape spread over the stern seat of the rowboat. She walked toward it.

She pictured herself putting it on.

Game’s over, Charlie, take me home.

He wouldn’t come out of the water without his jeans.

You could go back for them.

You could leave him here and walk back to the cabin. Just follow the shoreline, then make your way up to the dirt road.

Standing by the boat, she stared down at her nightgown.

Do it, she thought.

She bent over and picked up her nightgown. The breeze caught it, lifting and rippling its weightless fabric.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked.

I don’t know, Leigh thought. God, I haven’t the slightest.

She pressed the nightgown to her front and held it there, covering herself.

You’re really going to call it quits?

It never should have gone this far. I was out of my mind.

She heard quiet sloshing sounds. “Leigh?” Charlie was wading closer, the black of the water dropping.

“What’re you doing?” he asked again.

“I think I’m ready to leave,” she said.

You think?