The Lake

Am I in the right place? How do I know for sure this is Goon Lake? Maybe this is Circle, where Charlie went yesterday, and he’s waiting for me at the channel into Goon and wondering where I am.

Mike told me yesterday where to find the channel to Goon.

Maybe Mike was wrong.

Something went wrong, that’s for sure.

Trickles slid down her cheeks. She felt like crying, but these weren’t tears. She rubbed her face with the backs of her hands. The backs of her hands were wet, too, and only smeared the sweat on her face.

Couldn’t there at least be a breeze?

Where is Charlie?

I’m not giving up. I’ll wait here till Hell freezes over.

Fat chance of anything freezing over.

A tickling drop of sweat slid down her neck and between her breasts. She wiped it away.

And remembered her sea-thing necklace.

She didn’t have it on.

Maybe that’s the problem, she thought. Should’ve worn my good-luck charm.

I didn’t wear it last night, though, and had plenty of luck without it.

The necklace has nothing to do with luck.

Still, she wished she were wearing it.

Even if you’re not superstitious, always a good idea to keep the bases covered.

From now on, I’ll wear it.

She kicked her feet, making the cool water splash her legs.

The hell with the necklace, I should’ve worn my bikini.

She’d thought she wouldn’t need it. She’d planned on skinny-dipping at Charlie’s secret place, expecting it to be an inlet similar to the one last night, or maybe a stream or pond.

Here, nobody was nearby. But there was no real privacy. She couldn’t go in naked.

With a shrug, she pushed herself off the trunk. She dropped into the waist-deep water with barely a splash, took a few steps along the slippery rock bottom until she was clear of the trees, then left her feet. The cool engulfed her. It felt wonderful. She glided beneath the surface until she needed air, then came up. She rolled onto her back. Floating, she closed her blouse over her breasts. Then she shut her eyes.

Buoyed up, it felt like she was lying spread-eagled on a cool, liquid mattress. She had to hold her back arched to keep from sinking, but otherwise no effort was needed. The water turned her slowly, toyed with her limp arms and legs.

I should’ve done this a long time ago, she thought.

She felt fine and relaxed and drowsy.

Like this, I could wait all afternoon for Charlie.

He’ll be along…

…pretty soon.

A nose full of water startled Leigh awake. Spluttering, she slapped the surface and kicked. A few quick strokes took her close enough to shore so she could stand. She coughed and blew her nose. Then she was all right except for a burning sensation behind her eyes.

Wonderful, she thought. Drown, why don’t you.

Wiping her eyes, she turned around and scanned the lake.

No Charlie.

It must be four o’clock by now.

He’s not coming.

Goddamn it.

She waded ashore and flopped facedown on her towel.

Come on, Charlie.

Where are you, Charlie?

Goddamn it to hell anyway.

Shit!

Leigh began to sob.

SEVENTEEN

Leigh rolled over, sat up, and knuckled the tears from her eyes. Like a kid at school. Despite her frustration at Charlie’s absence, the idea struck her as a little amusing. Tears welled up again, but she thought better of it. Wouldn’t do for Charlie to catch her like this, eyes all red and puffy from crying.

If Charlie deigned to put in an appearance this side of tomorrow.

Fine. Put it down to experience, Leigh. World’s full of gals who’ve been let down—are being let down at this very moment, she told herself. But she could swear Charlie had been serious last night. Serious enough to come out to look for her, anyhow.

Not today, though.

Must have had second thoughts.

Maybe his mom beat him when she saw his wet pants and he’s stayed home.

Who gives a shit, anyway…

She wasn’t a gal to hang around after some guy who couldn’t stand up to his own mother.

She must be a tough old bitch.

Not like her mom.

Leigh imagined her own mom and dad—if they could see her now. Waiting around for this guy who sells baskets for a living, how would they react? “Don’t tell me,” she muttered. “They’d be all self-righteousness and pursed lips. Accusing eyes. Mom’s would be red with weeping.”

“Pull yourself together, young lady,” Dad would say, with a pleading glance at Mom, like “We got ourselves a situation here, Helen. She’s your daughter, too, y’know. Tell me, what are we going to do with her?” Mom would just shake her head, wring her hands, stem back more despairing tears.

“What are Mike and Jenny doing?” she’d blurt. “Allowing her out on her lonesome like this? Leigh’s so vulnerable just now. What with that showdown with the police and everything. Your brother should have had more sense than to encourage her to meet up with this…this basket-seller!”

“My brother. That’s rich! My brother indeed! I don’t recall you putting forward any of your family to help out with your errant daughter…”

“You mean our errant daughter!”

God, what a mess!