A Week at the Lake (30 page)

“Why are you seeing him?” Mackenzie asked.

“And this is your business because?” Serena asked.

“Because we care about you,” Emma said.

“Then be happy for me,” Serena said. “Most people don't get a second chance with someone they loved.”

“You were in love,” Emma said. “He chose to marry someone else. Someone he's lived with for twenty-plus years and with whom he's had children.” She said this gently, but the words still stung. Emma had apparently fallen into the role of “good cop,” but she was a cop nonetheless.

“And a life,” Mackenzie said.

“I've had a life.” Serena stood, angry now. They had no right to talk to her this way. Or to snatch away her pleasure so meanly.

“Of course you have,” Emma said. “And you've been very successful.”

“Professionally,” Mackenzie cut in. “But your personal life has been spent trying to prove that no man is worth marrying. And that all married men cheat.”

“Are any men worth marrying?” She glared directly at Mackenzie. “Are there married men who don't cheat?”

“This is not about us or our choices,” Emma said.

“Isn't it?” Serena asked. “Your marriage barely lasted a year after Zoe was born. And you.” She turned again to Mackenzie. “You dragged a man who only ever wanted to be a success in New York theater or Hollywood films to frickin' Noblesville, Indiana, to run a community theater. And as far as I know this is the first glimpse of him you've had in a month.”

She could see that her jabs had hurt, that her aim was true. But she could also see that if they didn't stop this now, there would be no turning back.

“His marriage is over,” Serena said. Though she was pitifully short on details because she'd been afraid to press. If they hadn't just attacked her, she might have even admitted to the uncertainty that she hadn't been completely able to banish. Too good to be true was almost always too good to be true. “And that's all I'm going to say on the subject.”

Emma's tone softened. “We were there when he first hurt you so badly, Serena. And we've spent the decades since thinking up names vile enough to call him. We don't want you ever to be hurt like that again.”

Jaw tight, Mackenzie nodded her agreement.

If the house hadn't been full of people, they would have undoubtedly gone to their own rooms and, well, Serena didn't know exactly what she would have done in hers other than pack. They stared uneasily at each other. They'd spent the last
month being there for each other. Emma's hair was starting to come in, but at the moment she looked like a really weird cross between GI Jane and a duckling. Two weeks ago she'd barely had the energy to walk or talk. They had almost lost her completely.

The house was filled with guests that they'd invited. Guests they were not about to hurl out into a thunderstorm because they'd exploded at each other.

“I'm not spending the night being pissed off at you, Emma,” Serena said. “I really don't want to. Not after all we've been through.”

“What about me?” Makenzie asked, her tone lighter but her jaw still tight.

“
You
haven't been in a coma and almost died,” Serena said. “But you have had to live in a very small town in Indiana through a lot of mind-numbing winters.” She did not add,
with a man who now seemed primarily preoccupied with himself
, though it was tempting. “So, I say we get back to the people who are probably wondering what the hell is going on up here.”

Emma nodded her head and stood. Stiffly, they moved toward the door.

“But this doesn't mean you're ever again allowed to tell me whom I should or should not see,” Serena said as she reached for the doorknob. “I've got a psychiatrist I pay a lot of money to to do that.”

T
hey managed to squash back their anger in front of the others, but moved carefully around each other, as if venturing too close might spark the explosion they had narrowly avoided.

“Come on over here, Mac,” Adam said as she passed the spot near the stairs where he and Jake had been engaged in conversation. The light citrus scent of his cologne teased her nose as he reached out to her. His pull had always been magnetic, as if she were a planet and he the sun she'd been designed to revolve around. “I was just telling Jake here how sorry I am not to get out on his boat. I was lucky enough to be invited on Michael Gold's boat last weekend after we signed the deal.”

“Michael Gold is the production head at Universal,” Mackenzie said, noting Jake's blank look.

“He's definitely the man,” Adam went on. “And his boat is more of a yacht with a captain and all that. I have to tell you the Pacific Ocean from the deck of a boat—that is a sight to behold.

“We'll have to make sure Jake here gets however many tickets he wants for the New York premiere of
A Man for Many Reasons
,” Adam concluded. As if this not-to-be-missed event were imminent and not what would likely be several years down the road if at all. Mackenzie watched Adam's face as he spoke. He'd always had charisma, could draw attention simply walking into a room. But this intentional attention seeking was a different thing altogether.

Jake smiled and nodded. “Wouldn't miss it. The plot sounds fascinating.” He turned to include Mackenzie. “You must be very excited that Adam's screenplay is getting made,” he said.

“Oh, I am.”

“Personally, I think my wife is totally shocked that I finally sold something to Hollywood.” Adam smiled when he said this and even added a self-deprecating, “Hell, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little surprised myself.” But she could tell from the look he turned on her that he'd found her level of enthusiasm lacking.

“I've been surprised by a lot of things lately,” she murmured. “But I have never doubted Adam's talent or drive.”

“She's had me in Noblesville directing little children and retirees with the occasional middle-aged drama queen thrown in.” Adam's tone remained teasing, but the things he said about her felt anything but. He had apparently forgotten that Mackenzie had always been his biggest fan and personal cheering section. Even when there had been little to cheer about.

An awkward silence fell. Jake extended his hand to Adam. “It's good to meet you. The rain seems to be over. Ryan and I will be heading out.” He gave Mackenzie a friendly hug. “We'll see you Friday at Zoe's cookout.”

Brooks Anderson came over to say good-bye, too. Serena was tucked under his arm and looked happy to be there. She looked less happy when Mackenzie leaned in to hug her. “Sorry,” Mackenzie said quickly before Serena could draw away. “Apparently you're not the only one who thinks I'm a wet blanket.” Was that really what she'd become? Smothering everybody's good time? Keeping her husband from living the life he really wanted?

Even Emma seemed to be keeping her distance, and Mackenzie had caught her looking oddly at both her and Adam.

“Brooks, my man!” Adam offered a hearty handshake, any dilemma he'd felt earlier over whether to punch or embrace
him clearly resolved. “If you ever come out to LA you just let me know. I've met lots of people through Mike Gold at Universal. He's very well connected in financial circles, not just in the movie business. Maybe we could take a lunch.”

It was Serena who finally stopped him. She did this by putting her arms around him and giving him a hug. “Good to see you, Adam. We're going to run now in case the rain picks up again. Brooks has to head back to the city tomorrow. I'll see you all in the morning.”

When they'd left and Emma and Zoe had walked the Richardses out to the boat, Mackenzie began to straighten up the kitchen. Adam leaned against the counter and watched her, taking his time with his drink.

She puttered, keeping her hands busy, even as she tried to keep her thoughts from traveling down paths from which there might be no return. She snuck a look at her husband as he took a long pull on his drink.

“You could have knocked me over when Serena introduced us to Brooks,” Adam said. “He seems like a nice enough guy, but I never would have figured Serena would ever forgive him or get over what happened.”

“Me either,” Mackenzie admitted. “Not after all those years spent referring to him as ‘The Tool' and worse.”

So many things seemed to be out of kilter: Emma's accident, the coma, even her slow but steady recovery. Serena involved with the man who'd scarred her so badly. Adam finally achieving his closest-held dream. The words she and Emma and Serena had hurled at each other earlier. It was as if the earth had tilted slightly on its axis turning the unimaginable into reality. It seemed to be working in everyone's favor but hers.

“I hate that you think I'm not excited for you,” Mackenzie said, surprising not only Adam but also herself. “Did you mean what you said to Jake?” She stopped short of asking him why he'd been so unavailable all month. There were some things she really didn't want to know.

“Nah,” he said. “I think I may have had one too many of these.” He handed over his empty highball glass. “And I guess I was a little surprised that you didn't look happier to see me when I got here.”

This, she reminded herself, was Adam. The too-charming man she'd loved since she'd first spotted him. The sometimes-unpredictable man she'd nonetheless spun her whole life around. The man who had unaccountably chosen her when he could have had almost any woman he wanted.

“Listen,” he said. “We can sit down tomorrow and figure out our next steps. For now . . .” He gave her the sexy, impish smile that had always melted her. “Well, I haven't seen my wife for an awfully long time.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers, turned her into his arms. “And I can't think of a better way to celebrate than to make love to her.”

By the time he'd finished kissing her, Mackenzie's worries had been pushed under the rug of her desire for him. That desire was a sharp keening thing that had always both shocked and delighted her. It went hand in hand with the never-spoken-of “love at first sight” that she'd discovered for herself at that first party in the ratty apartment in the Village so many years ago.

Her hand was warm in his. Her legs trembled on the way up the stairs. Her skin tingled to his touch. By the time he'd undressed her and pushed her down onto the bed, she'd ceased to think at all.

T
he rain had stopped. The dark sky had cleared and the moon shone bright and full. Its beams arrowed onto the lake's surface and disappeared into the still-wet trees.

“Thanks for coming.” Emma and Zoe stood in the boathouse, its doors flung open.

Jake started the engine and let it warm up while Ryan untied the lines. “Thanks for having us. I can come early on Friday to get the ribs cooking.”

“Sounds good,” Emma said. “I have my follow-up at Mount Sinai this week. I'm not sure who all's going into the city but Zoe and I will be back on Thursday. Martha's going to do the grocery shopping. I told her you'd let her know if you needed anything special to go along with the ribs.”

“Will do.”

Emma and Zoe stood on the dock and watched
The Mohican
back out of the boathouse. With a last wave Jake and Ryan headed out and rounded the shoals off Hemlock Point. The boat accelerated as it hit open water.

“Have a good time?” she asked Zoe.

“Yeah. I like it here. Ryan's, you know, cool.”

“He is,” Emma agreed. “It's okay to have a good time without worrying too much what it might mean or develop into. That's part of what being sixteen's all about.”

Zoe smiled. “And I'm really glad Serena and Mackenzie are here, too. How come we haven't seen them in so long?”

“Oh, you know, people get busy. Everybody's running at such a hectic pace. Sometimes we just kind of let things slide.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” The lie stuck slightly in Emma's throat. But she wasn't ready for Zoe to hear what she had to share with Mackenzie and Serena. Nor did she need to know that Emma was making arrangements for her in the event of Emma's death—not given their too-recent brush with it. Emma had given herself until after Zoe's birthday celebration on Friday before she would come clean to Mackenzie and Serena. Something she still wasn't quite sure how to handle. She stumbled slightly on a nail that wasn't quite flush with a board. Zoe reached out a hand to steady her. Once she'd squared things with them, she'd find a way to explain to Zoe.

“Thanks.” Emma laced her arm through Zoe's.

“You're feeling okay, right?” Zoe asked as they neared the end of the dock. “I mean, you'd tell me if you weren't?”

“I do. And I would.” She'd heard the tremor in Zoe's voice. All the more reason to get things settled.

They walked through the wet grass toward the front porch, where the light twinkled like a beacon. Upstairs, Emma noticed that Mackenzie's bedroom door was closed. She kissed Zoe good night, her thoughts once again turning to all that lay ahead.

Nadia was waiting for her in her bedroom, the bed turned down, the drapes pulled closed. “Come,” she said. “I tuck you in.” The nurse's gruffness no longer hid the warmth at the woman's center. Her large solid presence radiated comfort. Nadia yawned. “Head hurt from so many words. That Tolstoy need editing.”

Emma's dreams could have used some editing, too. They were long and drawn out. Each image overflowed with foreboding. In one she lay in a small wooden boat that was taking on water. Heavy winds howled overhead. Waves smacked against the hull and spilled inside. She cowered in the boat, drenched and weeping.

Really, darling. These drowning metaphors are exhausting.

Gran.

You are lucky to be alive. You do not need to explain. Just change the paperwork and be done.

The boat began to sink taking her with it.

But the truth. It's important.

In my experience,
Gran's voice said
, the truth is highly overrated
.

The boat settled on the bottom. Emma did not turn into a fish. She did not sprout gills. As she opened her mouth to protest, her lungs slowly began to fill with water.