15 · Lucy
I don’t see Simon much the next couple of days after our “date,” and I do my best to avoid Ben at the resort. But on Saturday morning I walk into John and Tami’s kitchen and he’s there.
He’s sitting at the table. It’s late—he shouldn’t be here. He should already be out on the lake or mowing the lawn or fixing a dock. Something. He lowers his head. I sit down next to Emily.
“Well,” I say, “what’s in store for today?”
“Boat!” she cries. “Let’s go out in the boat. Can we, Daddy?”
“Sure,” John says.
“Ben, would you mind taking them out?” Tami asks.
I’m not sure how the rest of the conversation goes, because all I hear is the roaring in my ears after Tami asks Ben to take us out fishing.
I don’t want this. I don’t want to spend the morning on a boat in the middle of the lake with Ben. This is the worst thing that could happen. I can’t escape him when we’re out on the lake together.
Tami sets a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of me. “Eat something before you go out.”
“We shouldn’t bother Ben, Emily,” I say, the words scratchy. “I don’t want to keep him from his work.”
“It’s no bother.” I’m surprised to hear Ben’s voice. “I’ll get the boat ready while you finish your breakfast.”
Ben gets up so fast he almost knocks the chair over. I know that the boat’s ready. It’s always ready. He wants to get out of here, alone, before he has to suffer with me.
I take my time with breakfast while Emily finishes the red grapes on her plate. When I’m done, I get a washcloth from the bathroom and clean Emily’s face and hands.
“You’ll need your hair up so it doesn’t blow in your face,” I say, and she brings me her comb and a ponytail holder. Next we put on sunscreen. I drag the process out as long as possible, imagining Ben at the dock, doing whatever he needs to do as slowly as possible, too.
“You’re so patient with her,” Tami says as she loads the dishwasher. “No wonder she adores you so much, Lucy.”
“Thanks,” I say, but my face burns. If she only knew the real reason behind my patience today.
Emily declares herself ready. She has a bag with snacks—a juice box, fruit strips, and cheese crackers shaped like little birds—and two Fancy Nancy books. I grab my sunglasses and my phone, and we walk down the stone pathway to the dock.
My heart does its absurd little flutter when I catch sight of Ben standing on the dock talking to Tom, his dad. I’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding Tom this summer, too. He sees us, and I put my hand up in a tiny wave. Emily skips down the rest of the path and leaps into Ben’s arms.
“Thank you for taking us out on the boat, Ben,” she yells.
I catch up with her on the dock. Tom hands me a life vest and Ben fastens a small one on Emily.
“Hey there,” Ben’s dad says to me, “it’s nice to see you.” He doesn’t call me Lulu.
I nod, but can’t find my voice. I take a deep breath and step off the dock into the boat. I teeter a bit—it’s been almost a year since I’ve gone out on the lake.
Ben reaches out and grabs my elbow to steady me, but I wrench my arm away.
“Please don’t touch me,” I whisper, but he’s already crossed the boat to the driver’s seat. I don’t know if he heard me or not.
This is how I get through a miserable morning on the lake: I talk to Emily. Nonstop. If she isn’t talking, I am. I begin by narrating our surroundings, which sets Emily off on a string of questions about trees and loons and fish and the weather that will easily occupy my time.
I love to be out on the lake. Between my dad’s boat and the Porters’, I spent much of my childhood summers fishing and sunning myself on the pontoon. I love everything about it—the bright sun reflecting off the water, the smell of fish and gasoline, wildflowers and weeds, sweet coconut sunscreen. I love the breeze that cools my baking skin, blows my hair back as we speed across the lake. The coolness of the water, murky with pondweed and coontail. The endless shoreline of jack pines and cabins and docks.
For a few minutes, I close my eyes, feel the warm morning sun on my face. I tip my head back and pretend that this is before. Trixie is here with us, and Clayton maybe, or Guthrie, and Ben is at the helm, like he is now, but it’s the old Ben, before he became so angry and cold. It’s my Ben.
“Lucy,” Emily says, and I open my eyes. “How did Trixie die?”
My breath catches. Ben’s head snaps up.
“Emily, I don’t—I’m not sure that . . . today—” I can’t think straight. I can’t think of a way to talk about this, especially in front of Ben.
And then he’s right next to her, taking her hand. “Hey,” he says, and his voice cracks. “You know this. Trixie’s heart was sick. She went for a swim and her heart stopped working.”
He’s so calm, so gentle, and I can’t speak. I’m not ready for this. She’s too young to really understand. But he told her enough.
Emily turns to me. “Is my heart sick? Will it stop working?”
“Oh, no,” I say. I kneel in front of her and put my arms around her, even though now I’m right next to Ben. “You shouldn’t worry about that, sweetheart. What happened to Trixie doesn’t happen to everyone.”
“Were you there, Lucy?” she says. She pulls away from me and looks at Ben. “Were you?”
I nod, but I don’t look at Ben.
“Hey, I thought you wanted to catch some fish,” he says, and thank God, it distracts her. Her face, so sad a minute before, breaks into a huge smile.
She grabs my hand and pulls me up from my crouching position. “You fish, too.”
“No, that’s okay,” I say, and it’s all I can do to hold back a sob.
“No!” she says with more force. “I want you to fish with me. Ben, tell her that you’ll teach her how to fish.”
Ben doesn’t need to teach me how to fish. I knew how to bait a hook before I could write my own name.
“Okay, I’ll fish with you,” I say.
She scrambles up to a seat in the bow and swings her legs back and forth. To join her I have to pass very close to Ben. I hold my breath. When he steps up to the bow, he hands me a rod and reel and for the briefest second, his fingers touch mine. I don’t mean to, but I jerk away like I’ve been shocked.
He doesn’t move. He’s so close. He must surely hear how loudly my heart pounds against my rib cage.
He leans toward me, and for a split second I have this insane thought that he is going to kiss me, right here, standing in the Crestliner in the middle of Halcyon Lake.
“Lucy?” he says in a low voice. “Are you okay?”
I nod. And then it’s over. He looks away.
“I’ll help Emily if you don’t need me, then.”
She squeals when he hands her a worm, bounces on her toes when her line gets a bite, and Ben helps her reel in a tiny bluegill.
I will always need him.
I sit in the bow and cast again and again, watch the bobber, wait for something. Anything.