The Lake Read online

  At the pier’s end, a boy and girl, side by side, dove at the same instant. Leigh heard their splashes. They raced out to the diving raft that floated on metal drums about thirty yards beyond the pier. Leigh waited to see who won. The girl did. “That-a-way,” she whispered.

  Then she straddled the lounge chair, sat down, and leaned back. Drinking coffee in this position, she realized, would be a neat trick. So she sat up straight and folded her legs. She picked up the mug. Steam still drifted off the coffee. The breeze caught it and twisted it away. She took a sip. The coffee tasted rich and good.

  The swimming woman was far out and turning back toward shore. The motorboat with the two fishermen was moving past the point of the nearest island. Far off, near the northern shore, was a rowboat—someone getting his or her morning exercise. Leigh couldn’t tell, at this distance, whether the rower was male or female.

  Nearby, a motor sputtered to life. She didn’t bother turning to look. It had to be from the boat of the family at Carson’s Camp.

  She took another drink, set the mug on the table, and reached for the plastic bottle of suntan oil. Before touching it, however, she stopped. The stuff was messy. It would cling to her hands no matter how hard she might try rubbing it off, and end up on the pages of her book. So she left the oil alone and picked up the paperback.

  It was Boys and Girls Together, a book she’d bought at the City Lights. William Goldman was the author. She’d bought two books by him that day, because she remembered how she’d loved his first one, The Temple of Gold.

  Boys and girls together.

  Don’t you wish.

  At least you’ll be able to read about it.

  A fly settled on her leg. She waved it away, and noticed some hair curling out from the edge of her bikini shorts. Real cute, she thought. She fingered it out of sight, and decided she had better give herself a trim the next time she was in the bathroom. Or shave it off entirely.

  What if you have to go in for a physical before it grows back?

  You already had your annual checkup.

  What if you got in an accident?

  Just explain you didn’t want it sticking out when…Explain? What’s the doctor going to do, tell on you?

  She took another drink of coffee.

  The rowboat was closer now. The person at the oars didn’t seem to be wearing a shirt. Probably a guy, she thought.

  Finishing the coffee, Leigh set the mug aside. She uncrossed her legs, stretched them out, and leaned back. Through her sunglasses, the cloudless sky was a deep blue-green. A mallard flapped by. She opened her book, raised it high enough to block out the sun, and began to read.

  Soon, she was caught up in the story. She was in the story, living it with the characters, though part of her mind was aware of herself enjoying the book, aware of how good she felt with the soft cushion beneath her and the sun hot on her skin, the mild breeze roaming her body. She turned the pages. Her arms, muscles still aching from all the canoeing over the past few days, grew heavy from holding the book high enough to shade her eyes.

  Maybe go back up to the cabin and get a hat. Get a refill of coffee while you’re at it.

  Wait till the end of the chapter.

  She kept on reading.

  “Baskets!”

  The voice made her heart lurch. She lowered the book.

  The rowboat was straight ahead, no more than sixty feet off the pier. It was loaded with baskets, some the size of clothes hampers, others that looked like picnic baskets, fishing creels, bread baskets. The young man in the center seat held the boat broadside, barely moving its oars.

  “Selling them?” Leigh asked.

  “Sure am.”

  He wore a black hat with a high, rounded crown, a wide brim, and a red feather on each side of its headband. The feathers stuck up like horns.

  “Handmade,” he said. “Can’t buy no better.”

  Leigh sat up straight and took off her sunglasses to see him better. His face, shaded by the hat brim, was lean and handsome. He had a slight cleft on his chin. His bare torso was slim and muscled, his sleek skin glossy with sweat. He wore jeans so old and faded they were almost white. Their knees were in shreds.

  “I can show ’em to you,” he said.

  Leigh nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

  “I’ll beach her.”

  She watched him turn the bow. He leaned far forward to start rowing. His back muscles rippled, gleaming. His jeans were low. She glanced at the shadowy crevice between his buttocks and wondered if he wore underpants.

  Come off it, she warned herself.

  Her heart continued to pound fast as she watched him bring the boat closer. Her mouth was parched. Standing up, she put her book and sunglasses on the table. She plucked the sweaty seat of her bikini away from her skin. Looked down at herself. Fine. Nothing showing that shouldn’t be.

  With glances over his shoulder, the young man guided the boat around the end of the pier. He headed for the beach area where Leigh kept the canoe.

  She forced her eyes away from him as she walked down the pier. She didn’t hurry. She strolled along, head up, back arched, keeping her belly muscles tight though she knew she was too slim to bother with that.

  For godsake, she thought, calm down.

  He’s gorgeous.

  He’s a local.

  So what?

  So plenty. Maybe.

  Stepping from the pier onto the sand, she watched him ship the oars. As the boat glided silently toward the beach, he hopped out. He grabbed a gunnel and waded, towing the boat beside him. He dragged it onto the sand. Let go. Straightened up. Turned to face Leigh.

  She tried not to let it show. Her shock.

  He had three nipples.

  She looked quickly to his face and walked closer. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” she said. Her voice trembled a bit.

  “Got real fine baskets,” he told her. “All shapes and sizes. Homemade.” Turning away, he lifted out one of the large ones. He set it down in front of her. It held several smaller baskets. Reaching inside, he took out two of them.

  It wasn’t a nipple. Thank God. It was a red, heart-shaped tattoo above and slightly to the right of his left nipple. Scrawled inside the heart design, in small, flowing red letters, was the word Mom.

  Leigh took a deep breath. “Did you make these baskets yourself?” she asked, feeling her shock subside.

  “I just sell ’em,” he said. “Mom makes ’em.”

  “They look very nice.”

  He handed her one. “Can’t get something this fine in no store. My family’s been making ’em going back a hundred years. Maybe longer.”

  The basket in her hands was long and narrow, just the right size for a loaf of sourdough. It was woven of reedlike wooden strips, a deep brown instead of the straw color she was used to seeing. The top edge was neatly rimmed with heavier strips fastened into place by tiny nails. She didn’t know much about baskets, but this one did look a lot nicer than the ones her parents had at home. It would make a nice gift for Mom. “What does something like this cost?”

  “Twelve dollars.”

  Not exactly cheap.

  She had to buy a basket from him, though. At least one.

  “Look at the others before you make up your mind. The smaller ones, they don’t cost as much.” Bending over the boat, he lifted out one with a hooped handle. It looked like an Easter basket. “Something like this, it’s good for candy or nuts.” He nodded toward a picnic basket near the stern. It had double handles and the kind of lid that flaps up from hinges in the center. “That’s the most popular, that picnic basket there. It goes for twenty-five.”

  It was identical to one owned by Mike and Jenny.

  “Have you sold baskets to these people here?” she asked, nodding toward the cabin.

  “Sure, I sold ’em some. There’s not much of anybody on the lake I haven’t sold some to.”

  He looked into Leigh’s eyes.

  She felt a low, pleasant tremor.

&n
bsp; “You a relation?” he asked.

  “I’m their niece. My name’s Leigh.”

  “You were water-skiing Monday.”

  She nodded.

  “I saw you.”

  A blush warmed her face. “I hope you didn’t see me fall down.”

  “You had on a white swimming suit.” He looked at what she was wearing. “Not this one, but it was white like this one. There was more to it.”

  “Oh.”

  “This one here’s better.”

  “Thanks.” She swallowed hard. “About these baskets. I’d like to buy this one.”

  “I’m Charlie. Charlie Payne. That’s P-a-y-n-e, not like a hurt.”

  “Nice to meet you, Charlie.”

  “You said your name was Leigh. What’s your last name?”

  “West. Like the direction.”

  He nodded. He smiled. He had extremely white teeth.

  “My money’s up in the cabin. Why don’t you come along and get out of the sun?”

  He nodded.

  Leigh turned away and started walking. She glanced back. He was following, but staying a distance behind her as if wary of getting too close. “Do you live on the lake?” she asked.

  “Over at the other side.”

  The eastern shore, where the only homes were those creepy-looking shacks.

  And not many of them. Leigh had suspected that he came from there. Still, having it confirmed made him seem even more alien. He was from a different world, a place that seemed both mysterious and somewhat sinister.

  She didn’t feel threatened, though. Nervous, excited, but not threatened.

  She climbed the shaded path, the breeze cool on her damp skin. Though she didn’t look back again, she was certain that Charlie must be studying her. The feel of the fabric taut across her moving buttocks kept her aware that she was nearly naked.

  Maybe he was getting turned on.

  Or maybe his people didn’t dress this way and he found it offensive.

  No, he’d said that he liked the bikini.

  At the top of the slope, she followed an offshoot of the path to the cabin. Charlie’s footfalls stayed behind her. She climbed the wooden stairs, opened the screen door of the porch, and held it wide.

  Charlie stopped.

  “You coming?”

  “I better wait here.”

  She thought of her parents’ strict rule about not having boys in the house while they weren’t home. Well, this isn’t their house. Mike and Jenny had imposed no such restriction.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Nobody’s home.”

  “Mom, she don’t want me going in folks’ places.”

  “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  He doesn’t trust me, Leigh thought, annoyed. “Suit yourself.” She turned away.

  “Guess I can wait on the porch,” Charlie said.

  She held the door open for him and watched him approach. He had brown, curly hair starting at his navel and spreading downward like a triangle to the waistband of his low jeans. Leigh stayed in the doorway while he climbed the stairs. He turned sideways to avoid touching her as he stepped by.

  He looked around the porch.

  Leigh gestured toward the swing suspended by chains from the ceiling. Obediently, he went over to it and sat down. The chains groaned and creaked quietly.

  “Back in a second.”

  Leigh carried the basket into her bedroom and tossed it onto the bed. With trembling fingers, she opened her shoulder bag and found her billfold. She took out a ten and two ones. Then she hurried into the kitchen. The lower shelves of the refrigerator were loaded with cans of soda and beer. She hesitated, then folded the bills, tucked them under the elastic at her hip, and took out two cans of beer.

  She had swung the refrigerator door shut and started out of the kitchen before she changed her mind. Mike and Jenny might not approve of her serving beer to Charlie. On top of that, she didn’t want Charlie getting the wrong idea. So she put the beer away and took out cans of black cherry soda instead.

  She opened them and carried them out to the porch. Charlie’s hat was on his lap. His brown hair was plastered to the top of his head and stuck out, unkempt and shaggy, around the ears.

  “Would you like a cold drink before you go?” she asked.

  “Don’t want to put you out none.”

  “You’d better take one,” she said. “They’re already open, and I can’t drink them both.” She handed one of the cans to him.

  “Thank you.”

  He was sitting near the middle of the swing, an arm draped over its back. Leigh considered asking him to move over, but that seemed a bit too pushy. Besides, if she joined him on the swing, it would make looking at him awkward. So she stepped away and leaned sideways, shoulder against the door frame.

  “Your mother makes the baskets, and you sell them to people around the lake?”

  He took a drink and nodded.

  “Are there enough people around to make it worthwhile?”

  “Don’t need much.” His gaze flicked downward, then back up to Leigh’s face. “There’s four lakes. Did you know there’s four of ’em?”

  “No.”

  “Wahconda, Circle, Goon, and Willow. There’s channels. You can get from one to the other. I sell on all of ’em. There’s places like Carson’s where you’ve got folks coming and going all summer. That’s where I sell the most.

  “New folks all the time, and they like Mom’s baskets. They got money, too, a lot of ’em. Made sixty-five dollars off just one lady a couple weeks back.”

  While he talked, his eyes kept straying down Leigh’s body. Then he would look elsewhere fast as if he feared being caught.

  “It sounds lucrative,” she said.

  He lowered his gaze to the top of his soda can. “That lady didn’t want just baskets.”

  “What else did she want?”

  “Well, she liquored me up.”

  Leigh was suddenly very glad she’d decided against the beers.

  “Then she went grabbing at me, but I made her quit. Mom, she give me a good switching.”

  “How did your mother find out?”

  He shrugged. “Smelled the liquor on me. I told her I made the lady quit, but she hided me anyhow. It didn’t count I sold five baskets. See, I went in her place and got a snoutful and put myself in the path of temptation.” He didn’t sound resentful against his mother, more as if he had strayed and deserved the punishment. “She’d likely switch me,” he added, “if she found out I was here.”

  “Well, I hope you’re not planning to tell her.”

  “I don’t guess I will,” he said, and looked up at Leigh with wary eyes.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t liquor you up and grab you.”

  The red of a blush showed through his tan.

  “Your mother sounds pretty strict.” Sounds like a regular bitch, Leigh thought.

  “She just don’t want me doing wrong.”

  “Does she let you date?”

  Charlie looked confused.

  “You know, go around with girls.”

  He shook his head, looked back down at his can of soda, and took a drink.

  “You mean you never had a girlfriend?”

  “Just never mind,” he muttered.

  “Okay. Sorry.” She sipped her black cherry soda. As she tilted the can down, a cold drop fell to her breast. It trickled down. She saw Charlie look up in time to watch her brush it away. “What about your father?” she asked.

  “He run off with a tramp. I was just a kid. I don’t remember him at all.”

  “That’s rough,” Leigh said.

  “He was no good.”

  “Maybe your mother’s afraid you’ll run off with a tramp.”

  “Not me.”

  “That would explain why she doesn’t like you seeing girls.”

  “You shouldn’t talk that way about her.”

  “I’m sure she’s a fine person.”


  “That’s right.”

  “I just think maybe you’re missing out on a lot, that’s all. Most guys your age—What are you, nineteen or twenty?”

  “Eighteen,” he said.

  “Okay, eighteen. Guys your age, that’s about all they ever think about, is girls. Don’t you feel like you might be missing out on something?”

  “I know what you’re up to.”

  “I’m not up to anything,” she protested.

  “Oh no? How come you keep talking about me and girls?”

  “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

  “You want me to do things to you.” There was a challenge in his eyes. Leigh felt caught. She wanted to snap out a denial. But Charlie wouldn’t believe her anyway. He knew what he knew. “It’s crossed my mind,” she admitted. “Don’t get any ideas, though. I’m not about to let you try anything with me. It’s not that I don’t like you. I’m glad we met, and I think you and I could be friends if we got to know each other better. The thing is, I’ve already got a boyfriend. He’s back in California, but I’m not the kind of person to fool around behind his back. So we could be friends, you and I, but it would have to be strictly hands off.”

  “Well, how come you brought me up here, then?”

  “I came up to get the money, remember?” She pressed on, confident now that he seemed to be buying her story. “Just because you had one bad experience, Charlie, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Everyone isn’t like that woman who tried to grab you. And you shouldn’t go putting all the blame on her, either. If you were looking at her the same way you’ve been looking at me, it’s no wonder she got ideas.”

  Charlie’s eyes widened. His mouth fell open.

  “She probably thought you were asking for it.”

  “I didn’t look at her that way.”

  “Well, you’ve sure been looking at me that way.”

  “She weren’t near as…” He stopped himself and scowled down at his soda can.

  “Near as what, Charlie?” Leigh asked in a soft voice.

  “You know.”

  “Mean and ugly?”

  He shook his head.

  “Fat and stinky?”

  He smiled, fought it away, and raised his eyes to her.

  “She weren’t near as pretty,” he said.

  “Probably not near as naked, either.”