Moonlight on Butternut Lake (15 page)

“Mila, I swear. It won't. You have my word on it.”

“Okay, then.” She tested out a smile on him.

“Okay, ‘what'?”

“Okay, let's get married,” she said, feeling suddenly giddy and lighthearted.

“Really?” he asked, as if not trusting his luck.

“Really.”

“Oh, Mila,” he said, reaching for her. But he didn't kiss her. He couldn't. Her lip was still too sensitive. So he held her instead, and Mila held him back and tried, hard, to tamp down all those uncomfortable thoughts she'd had about their relationship when she was locked in the bathroom.

T
he week after her picnic with Reid, Mila was studying her test prep books when she heard a light tap on her bedroom door.

“Just a second, Lonnie,” she called out, but when she opened the door, she saw that it was Allie.

“Oh, hi,” Mila said, a little uncertainly.

“Hi,” Allie said, smiling. “Do you have a minute? Because if you don't, I can come back another time.”

“Oh, no, it's fine,” Mila said. “Now's as good a time as any,” she added, opening her door wider and gesturing for Allie to come in.

“Thanks,” Allie said, and as she walked past, Mila saw that she was carrying a small shopping bag.

Allie sat down on the chair beside the bed, and Mila perched anxiously on the edge of the bed. She wasn't used to having visitors in her room, and she was worried too that Reid might have told Walker and Allie about what she'd said to him the morning of his doctor's appointment. But no sooner had she considered this thought than she dismissed it. In the days since their picnic, there'd been no more conversations between her and Reid, but
there'd been no more arguments, either, and the old hostility that Reid had exhibited toward her had been replaced by a new reserve. It wasn't a perfect working relationship yet—it was still too formal on his side, and too self-conscious on hers—but it was so much better now than it had been before that Mila couldn't imagine Reid trying to sabotage it.

“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked Allie, trying to relax. She liked Allie. She'd been as good as her word when she'd told Mila that she or Walker would stop by at least once a day to check on things; often, in fact, they stopped by more than once, sometimes separately and sometimes together. But so far, Mila's conversations with Allie had taken place in the kitchen and had been limited either to pleasantries or to the occasional progress report on Reid. And since Mila didn't usually have any progress to report on his behalf, these conversations still tended to be brief.

“Actually,” Allie said now, “I was hoping there was something that
I
could do for you.”

“Me?”

Allie nodded. “I brought you something,” she said, handing Mila the shopping bag, and when Mila hesitated, she said, “It's a present. Open it.”

“It's a present for me?”

“Of course for you,” Allie said, amused.

With some reluctance, Mila reached inside the bag and peeled back the tissue paper inside it. She wasn't accustomed to getting presents. As a child, she'd only gotten them when her mother felt guilty about leaving her alone for too long. And as an adult, she'd only gotten them when Brandon felt contrite about “losing his temper” with her. She shuddered now, unconsciously, as she extracted an article of clothing from the tissue paper. No wonder she didn't like presents.

“Oh, it's a bathing suit,” she said, holding it up.

Allie nodded. “I had to guess your size,” she said. “But I have a pretty good eye for that kind of thing. I think it'll fit you. What do you think?”

Mila studied it. It was a one-piece, red with white polka dots and a jaunty little ruffle at the neckline. It was cute, she thought. And Allie was right. It did look like it would fit her. There was only one problem with it; she didn't need it.

“It's, it's really nice,” she told Allie now, not wanting to seem ungracious. “But I don't know how to swim.”

“I know,” Allie said. “Reid told me.”

“He did?” Mila asked, surprised. She wondered why Reid would tell Allie that.

Allie nodded. “Uh-huh. And he asked me if I could teach you how. For some reason, he remembered that I used to be a swim instructor during my summers off from college. So what do you say? Are you interested in learning?”

Mila hesitated, not sure how she felt about any of this, particularly the part about actually having to be in the water. What she finally said, though, was, “Allie, you can't possibly have the time right now to teach me to swim.”

“Actually, I do,” Allie said. “I just hired someone to work at the gallery two afternoons a week.”

“But don't, don't you want to do something else with that time? Like, take a nap or something?” Mila asked, because as pretty as Allie looked, she looked tired, too. And, really, how could she
not
be tired when you considered all the things she was responsible for?

Allie only shook her head though. “Oh, no. I definitely don't want to take a nap. Do you know what happens when I try to take a nap, Mila? I lie on my bed, and stare up at the ceiling, and
make mental lists of all the things I need to do. By the time I give up on the whole idea of falling asleep, I'm a complete wreck. No, I want to do something fun.”

“And teaching someone how to swim is fun?” Mila asked doubtfully.

“Well, for me it is. I like doing it, and I'm good at it, too. Or at least I used to be good at it. But I think I probably still am. I'll let you be the judge of that, though, if you decide to take me up on my offer.”

But Mila was still unsure. “What about Reid,” she asked. “What will he do while you're teaching me?”

Allie shrugged. “Well, he'll probably do what he always does. Which is, sort of . . . nothing, I guess.”

Mila frowned a little. Not because it wasn't true. Most of the time, it was. But she was remembering, for some reason, the way Reid had smiled as he'd skipped rocks over the sun-dappled water of the lake.

“I'm sorry,” Allie said quickly, misunderstanding Mila's silence. “That was rude of me to say about Reid. I'm sure he does things to keep busy,” she said, though she looked like she couldn't for the life of her imagine what those things were. “I guess what I meant, Mila, is that I think Reid can manage without you for an hour. Especially since the swimming lessons were his idea.” Allie paused then. “Unless you don't want to learn how to swim,” she added. “In which case, that's fine. Really, no pressure. It's just . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Just what?”

“It's just, it seems like a shame, somehow, to spend the summer on this beautiful lake without being able to swim in it,” Allie said. “And there's the safety issue, too. I mean, you can avoid
this
lake
this
summer, I guess. But what about in the
future? What if there was a time you needed to know how to swim, but you couldn't?”

“I don't know,” Mila said honestly. “It's never been an issue before.”

“And it probably won't be. But what if it was?”

“I guess it could be, one day,” Mila conceded. “But I feel like I should spend my time here working. And as it is, I already spend a big part of every day
not
working.” She didn't say that there were days when, between Lonnie's efficiency and Reid's reclusiveness, she not only felt as if she should be getting paid
less,
she felt as if she shouldn't be getting paid
at all
.

But Allie obviously disagreed. “Trust me, Mila. I know Reid. And no matter how little time you're spending with him, the time you do spend with him qualifies as work. Hard work.”

“Oh, it's not that bad,” Mila said. “
He's
not that bad.” And she marveled, once again, that since that day they'd spent together, she'd been feeling . . . feeling differently about Reid. Differently in a way she couldn't explain.

Allie only smiled, though, and tucked a strand of her honey brown hair behind an ear. “Well,
of course
he's not that bad,” she agreed. “Walker and I know that. We just didn't know if
you
knew it yet. So what do you say? To the swimming lessons, I mean?”

“All right,” Mila said, smiling back at her. “But I can't promise I'll be a fast learner,” she warned.

“That's okay,” Allie said, standing up. “The summer isn't even half over yet. So, right here, down at the dock, on Tuesdays and Thursdays from two o'clock to three o'clock, all right?”

“I'll be here,” Mila said, smiling, and feeling a little pulse of excitement. She was afraid of deep water, that was true, but they wouldn't start out in deep water, would they? Besides, even a
nonswimmer like her could appreciate how temptingly cool and refreshing Butternut Lake looked on a warm, sunny day.

“Good,” Allie said now. “I'll speak to Lonnie, too. I'm hoping to coordinate Brooke's nap with the lessons, but Lonnie will still need to watch her here.”

“Lonnie will love that,” Mila said, knowing how much Lonnie was looking forward to being a grandmother one day.

“I'll see you Tuesday, then,” Allie said, standing up.

“Thanks for the bathing suit, Allie,” Mila said, feeling suddenly shy again as she walked her to her bedroom door. “It's really pretty.”

“You're welcome,” Allie said, and she was leaving when she stopped and turned around. “By the way, Mila, that red will look great with your coloring,” she said, and then she was gone. And Mila took the bathing suit over to the mirror above the dresser and held it up to herself, studying it thoughtfully. Allie was right, she realized with surprise. It
did
look good with her coloring. And she remembered now how badly she'd wanted a bathing suit as a child. Funny, though, she hadn't known how badly she'd
still
wanted one. Until now.

O
ne minute, Reid was lying in his bed, willing himself to stay awake, and the next he was back in his car, after the accident, and night was coming on, and coming on fast.
I have to get help,
he thought, as he fought to keep the panic at bay.
I won't survive another night like this
. But he didn't know if he could trust his voice to call for help; the last time he'd done it he'd sounded like a croaking frog. He tried to swallow, but there was no saliva left in his mouth and his throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. The thirst, in some ways, was worse than the pain. It consumed him in a way the pain did not, especially since
he could hear a stream running nearby, and he could imagine its clear water gathering in drinkable pools.

But now he pushed the thought of water out of his mind. He needed to stay focused. He took a deep breath—as deep a breath as he could, given that the steering wheel was digging into his chest and several of his ribs, he knew, were broken—and then he called out, “Help me, please. Somebody help me!”
Christ,
his voice was barely audible, even to him. He tried again, louder this time, as loud as he possibly could. “Help me,” he screamed, and still the words sounded no louder than a whisper. He couldn't give up, though. Not now. Not when he still had a little fight left in him. So he kept calling, over and over again, for what felt like an eternity, “Help me, help me.
Please, help me!
”

And this time, miraculously, somebody heard him. He knew they'd heard him because they answered him.

“
Reid?
Reid. It's okay. I'm here.”

“You know my name?” he murmured, in amazement. He opened his eyes, but he couldn't see anything yet.

“Of course I know your name,” the voice said gently. “I was worried about you.”

And then, “You're all sweaty, Reid. Could I . . . could we take off your pajama top?”

Pajama top?
He blinked and looked around as his bedroom, and then Mila, came into focus.

“Oh, it's you,” he said, his heart still pounding.

“It's me,” she said, a little warily. “Look, I know you told me not to come in here uninvited. But tonight, your dream . . . it was worse than the others. It went on for so long, and you were thrashing around so much, I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself. Or hurt yourself more than you're already hurt.”

He nodded but said nothing. He was trying to breathe normally.
Strangely enough, the dream still felt more real to him than this room, which seemed somehow watery and insubstantial. Mila, he decided then, was the most concrete thing here, and he tried to concentrate on her now. She'd turned on the lamp on his bedside table, and he saw in its light that she was dressed in a T-shirt and blue jeans, her auburn hair pulled back in a slightly messy ponytail.

“What . . . what time is it?” he asked.

She glanced at the clock on his bedside table. “It's three
A.M.,
” she said.

“You're dressed,” he pointed out.

“I got dressed before I came in here,” she said. “Now, why don't we get you out of this, okay?” She gestured at his pajama top and Reid realized, for the first time, that it was damp with perspiration.

He didn't answer, but he didn't protest, either, when she started unbuttoning his pajama top. And then he watched, strangely detached, as she slid it off his shoulders and down his arms. It was such an intimate gesture, but Mila did it without any intimacy, her fingers moving with such lightness and sureness that their touch barely registered on his skin.

“Do you mind if I open the window?” she asked, laying his pajama top on the chair beside the bed. “It's a little stuffy in here,” she added, almost apologetically.

“No, go ahead,” he said, realizing she was wrong about the room being a little stuffy; it was actually swelteringly hot. But he'd gotten into the habit of keeping his window closed, whatever the temperature outside.

“It's such a nice night,” Mila said, opening the window. “You should see the moon, too,” she continued, almost conversationally, as she came back to his bedside. “It's absolutely enormous. And it's so bright. The lake looks like it has floodlights on it.”

“When were you looking at the moon?” Reid asked. “I mean, weren't you asleep before . . .”
Before my screaming woke you up.

Mila shook her head. “No, I couldn't sleep. I was studying my test prep books, and when I couldn't study anymore, I was looking at the moon.”