A Week at the Lake (28 page)

Emma sat silent for a few long moments not sure how or where to begin. Coward that she was, she began with the part that was most understandable. “Earlier this year I was told I had breast cancer.”

She heard their indrawn breaths. Felt their eyes turn to her. Once again she tasted the fear she'd felt the day the doctor first uttered the C-word. “But they were wrong. And it, it turned out to be a mistake.”

“Jesus,” Serena breathed.

Mackenzie swallowed, set her glass down.

“Yeah. But while I was getting ready for what I thought was going to be a lumpectomy followed by a course of
radiation, I realized that I . . . that the only people I wanted to tell or have with me were you two.”

She took a long sip of wine, waited for it to make its way down her throat. “And then it hit me that I'd given up the right to call and ask you to come and hold my hand. But it wasn't only me I'd left stranded without people who really cared about them. And if the worst happened and I was gone, then . . .” It was her turn to swallow. “Then Zoe would need her fairy godmothers.”

“Good lord,” Serena said. “The threat of cancer, an accident,
and
a coma. This has not been your year.”

“Oh, Em. How awful.” Mackenzie's tears were not for herself this time. “I'm glad you called us. And I'm glad we were here with you and Zoe when you needed us.”

“Me, too,” Serena said. “Although I hope the next time you invite us back to the lake, things will be a little less eventful.”

“I'll drink to that.” Emma raised her glass even as she braced. She was not ready to explain her reasons for distancing herself in the first place. She couldn't. Not yet. Not until after Zoe's birthday. Not until . . . Oh, God, she was beyond pathetic. It wasn't as if there would ever be a “good time” to lose the friends she'd just regained.

Emma was actually trying to think of how she might create a diversion, when Zoe's voice rang out behind them. She stood on the edge of the porch and yelled, “The popcorn's ready! And I've got two movie contenders picked out.” She held up a cell phone in one hand. “And Serena's cell phone rang three times. It was the same Charleston phone number and I was afraid it might be an emergency so I thought she might want to check and see if it was something important.”

I
could definitely get used to this place.” Serena sighed and slid back in the oversized Jacuzzi, tilting her head so that her neck rested against the edge as Brooks brought his lips down on hers.

“And I could get used to you.” He lifted her onto his lap, her back up against his chest. His arms snaked around her, his touch joining the warm jets of water on her bare skin. His large hands splayed across her abdomen and she let her head fall back on his shoulder. His teeth grazed her earlobe and then he bent to trail his lips down her neck.

This time they'd skipped the drink in the bar, the multicourse meal in the formal dining room and even a cozy spot in front of the roaring fire on the patio overlooking the lake. Brooks had simply had a bottle of champagne and a gorgeous cheese and fruit tray sent up to the Montcalm suite, which was every bit as elegant and romantic as he'd promised. Two guest robes lay on the turned-down king-sized bed, which was in fact elegantly draped and bracketed by antique nightstands. A settee sat at the foot of the bed and commanded a view over a private balcony, the patio and grounds and the lake itself. The door had barely closed behind the server before Brooks had turned on the water taps and poured the first glass of champagne. Before they'd consumed the second glass, they were naked.

“God, you feel good.” His hands slid over her. His lips skimmed up her bare shoulder to nibble at her earlobe. Outside,
the night sky had turned an inky black. She could see the Morse code of fireflies flickering between the trees and across the lawn. Stars winked dense and bright. But the most beautiful thing there were Brooks's gray eyes and the way they darkened as she turned in his lap, slipped her arms up around his neck, wrapped her legs around him. She stared up into those eyes that looked at her with a tenderness that cut right through her. Their lips joined and he kissed her almost reverently. As if he'd found some unexpected treasure and couldn't believe his good fortune.

This was what she'd dreamed of; this was what she'd been afraid to ever hope for.

“Are you hungry?” he murmured against her lips. Because I don't know how long the dining room is . . .”

“Only for you.”

“Good,” he said as he stood, lifting her easily and stepping out of the tub with her in his arms. “Because I think I'm ready for the main course.” And then so gently it made her want to weep, he dried her with an oversized Turkish towel, laid her on the bed, and proceeded to consume her.

S
erena awoke the next morning to pinpricks of sunlight stealing in through the gaps in the heavy drapes.

“There you are,” he said. He was dressed in a pair of gym shorts. He carried two cups of freshly brewed coffee. “Take a look at this.” He pulled the drapery back from the eastern wall of windows. Bright shards of sunlight crowned the lush green mountainside that rimmed the lake and sent a bright white arrow across the deep blue water.

“I've seen more than my fair share of sunrises across the Atlantic, but this has an intimacy, an intense beauty I wasn't expecting at all.”

“I know what you mean,” Serena said, cupping the coffee with both hands. “I remember when we first started coming
up to the lake house, when Emma's grandmother was still alive. I think I got up every single morning to watch the sun come up. It was so hopeful, you know?” She winced at the admission of how desperate she'd been for anything positive after she'd lost him. “Of course I was younger then, and getting up after a night of drinking was a whole lot easier.”

He smiled. “It seems like an eternity ago, doesn't it? The college party days? I still remember that first fraternity party you came up for. I thought I was going to have to knock out a couple of the brothers for the way they couldn't stop looking at you.”

A shaft of sadness pierced her happiness as she remembered his jealousy and how important, how secure it had made her feel. But she'd misinterpreted a lot of things about this man. She hadn't been irreplaceable at all. Was she crazy to think she might be now? Was she just setting herself up to be hurt again?

“I see my own boys at Carolina and . . .” His voice trailed off.

“How old are they?” she asked.

“Cole is twenty-one. He's a finance major and he'll be going for an MBA. Brett is nineteen. I don't think he's committed to much besides drinking and Gamecock football.” He smiled, his pride evident despite the rueful tone. “But they're both good boys.”

She had no idea what to say to that. Not after she'd spent the last decades trying to pretend that Brooks's wife and children didn't exist. “Are y'all close?”

“Always have been,” he said, his eyes trained out the window. “Diana used to refer to the boys and me as the Three Musketeers.” He stumbled briefly on his wife's name. “Sorry,” he said when Serena flinched. “But they're pretty upset about what's happening with their mom and me.”

She wanted to ask exactly what it was that was happening, but couldn't quite form the words. Already she could feel his
other life intruding into what they'd begun to carve out for themselves, whatever that was. She'd always kept the lives of the married men she'd seen separate from what she shared with them. She'd never wanted to be that woman who listened to or commiserated about a man's marital troubles; their time with her was meant to be something enjoyable for both of them, not a therapy session. And so she did now what she'd always done, what she'd learned to do because of Brooks Anderson the second. She changed the subject.

When their stomachs' growls became too loud to ignore, they breakfasted on eggs and bacon cooked to order down in the formal dining room then went back upstairs, shed the clothes they'd pulled on, and hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door once again.

A number of texts and emails dinged into both of their phones but it was several hours before Serena, pleasantly numb and ready for a shower, reached for hers. Propped against a pile of pillows they checked their messages.

“Do you have anywhere you need to be tonight?” Serena asked, scrolling through a text that had come from Emma.

“Nope,” he said drowsily. “I'm all yours if you'll have me.”

She stilled at his words and thought how desperately she'd once wanted to hear them. How different her life would have been if he had remained hers and if they'd built the life they'd once envisioned.

“Good answer.” She pushed the thought aside and stretched luxuriously, her thigh pressed against his. She would not ask him his “intentions” or ask for details of his separation. This was not the time to question. This was a time to be enjoyed as thoroughly as possible. “Because we've been invited to join Emma and her friend Jake along with Mackenzie. We're going to go out on the boat for drinks and dinner.”

“Perfect.” He set his coffee and phone on the nightstand then turned onto his side, propping his head in one hand. “I'll finally get to meet the infamous Emma and Mackenzie.”
He traced a finger up her inner thigh, which drew a small gasp from her. “What do they think about us reconnecting?”

“Oh, I'm sure they'll be good with it once they meet you. You know, once the shock and horror wear off.”

“You haven't told them?” He moved closer and trailed his finger upward.

“No.” She turned on her side and wiggled closer, reaching out for that part of him she'd already claimed. The truth was she might not have told them even now if there'd been an easy way to avoid it. She wasn't at all sure she was ready to let the women who had watched her deconstruct when she'd lost him know just how quickly she'd allowed him back into her life.

“Not yet.” She held on as he slid onto his back and settled her on top of him. “But I'm sure it will be fine. As long as you're prepared for the Inquisition.”

M
ackenzie sat on the side porch, her legs crossed on the nearest chair, her sketchpad in her lap, trying to envision exactly what Nadia might have meant when she'd asked her to design her “sometink girlie.”

Serena had not yet come back from meeting her current “friend,” who had apparently once again made the trip up from the city, no doubt to evade the wife Serena insisted he didn't have. Through the porch screen she could see Zoe and Emma lying side by side on the swim platform, which bobbed gently on the occasional wake from a passing boat. Periodically they sat up, slathered lotion on each other, then flipped over like self-basting turkeys who'd placed themselves in the oven and turned it on, but were determined not to get brown. Emma had seemed oddly distracted lately, as if something troubled her, but each time Mackenzie had questioned her she'd shrugged it off and made some joke about her brain not yet being up to speed.

It was a spectacular July afternoon filled with blue skies, towering white clouds, and an armada of boats gliding past Hemlock Point. The hum of insects and the thrum of boat motors floated on the warm breeze. Her breathing slowed. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her chin had come to rest on her chest, when the sound of a door slamming inside the house pierced her consciousness. Nadia was off today and Martha was not expected. Heavy footsteps sounded somewhere in the dining room, headed toward the kitchen.

“Mac?” She'd been expecting Serena but the voice was not southern or female. Mackenzie sat up straight, pulled her legs off the nearby chair. “Adam?”

He must have followed her voice. Lord knew she was too surprised to do much more than register his. The sketchpad dropped from her hands as she attempted to stand.

“I'm out on the porch,” she called as she bent to pick it up. She couldn't seem to decide whether to stay seated or stand. Which left her in an odd sort of crouch.

She struggled to banish the nerves that had turned her mouth dry and her hands clumsy. This was Adam. Her husband. She stood, but her legs had turned rubbery and her thoughts weren't thoughts so much as worries. That they'd been apart too long, communicated too little. That maybe he'd enjoyed himself too much without her.

He stepped out onto the porch with an added cockiness. His dark blond hair appeared freshly cut and styled. It swept back off his forehead and fell to one side. Feathery layers touched his shoulders. The neatly trimmed mustache that framed his lips and the narrow beard that hugged the line of his jaw were new. He looked even more sophisticated than she remembered in the low-slung jeans and the plain white tee that showed off his abs. Dropping an overnight bag on the nearest chair, he leaned forward and opened his arms.

She walked into them.

He kissed her on the cheek. She kissed him back, but
everything felt off. If only she'd had warning, she could have prepared herself.

“I thought you were going to let me know when to expect you,” she said. It was not what she'd meant to lead with, but they were the first words that presented themselves.

“I caught a ride up from the city at the last minute and I wasn't really sure what time I'd get here.”