The Broken Lake (5 page)

Mom was laughing, and then I heard Tom’s voice.
If they are in their pajamas, I am going to be ill.
I turned the corner. Fully dressed, the pair were making breakfast.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” my mom chirped. “We thought you’d never wake up. Come on. Tom came over to eat breakfast with us.”

“Hi, Tom.”

“Hey, Sophie. You look good. It’s nice to see you feeling better.”

Tom and my mom had been dating for almost as long as Wes and I. She met him on the Berkeley campus where she worked in one of the medical centers, and although he was 17 years older, he had enough energy to keep up with a toddler if he needed to. And he had a full head of hair. I wasn’t into the salt-and-pepper thing, personally, but I was happy for her. I just didn’t want to imagine them sharing a room. I was definitely glad he was still sleeping at his own house.

I sat at the table which was already set. “Thanks, Tom.”

“You have perfect timing, sweetheart.” My mom came over to the table, juggling platters of food. Tom freed one of her hands.

“Wow.” I wanted to ask if all of this was for me, but I knew it wasn’t, and that was okay.

I liked the idea of Tom hanging out here. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I still worried about Mom being alone. I couldn’t shake the thought of my leaving, and then realized why I was so ready to go away with Wes.

I sensed I was leaving, and it was better to think of it in terms of “leaving” rather than “dying.” If I only had a year left, why shouldn’t I want to spend it with the one I loved?

“Sophie, honey, what would you like?” She was standing over me with a spatula. My eyes surveyed the spread. Eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits, grapefruit, pancakes, hash browns.

“I’ll take some of everything.”

“Wow. Hungry, are we?”

Once we had our plates full, Tom offered to say a blessing. It wasn’t something we normally did with breakfast, but we weren’t going to object. We both felt comfortable with him around, but I noticed my mom looked extra perky.

“You’re in a good mood.” I took a bite.

“Me?” she asked.

“Uh-huh. Seems like you’re back to normal.”

“Well, I thought about what you said, and you’re right. Wes is a nice young man, and it’s not
his
fault some lunatic went nuts.” I was about to say exactly, when she continued. “Plus, Tom helped me see things a little clearer. He remembered his father and knows how much Wes’ uncle’s research means.”

My gaze diverted to Tom. “Really? That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I’m just glad to see things worked out. Honey, did you show her the paper?”

My mom dropped her fork and hopped up. “No, I almost forgot! I’ll go get it.”

She returned with a folded
California Chronicle
and a huge smile on her face. Curious, I opened it to big, bold letters.

Case Closed in Kidnapper’s Death

I read further, unsure whether or not I wanted the recap. I felt both sets of eyes fixed on me as I read, so I was sure to not give way to my reaction.

Police have determined the death of 61-year-old Andrew Walters of Orinda, California, to be an accidental drug overdose. It is unclear as to what type of drug was used, but it is speculated that it was related to stolen lab samples from several well-known research labs, including the California Blood Research Lab owned by 19-year-old heir Weston Wilson III.

Further reports confirmed that Wilson knew the unidentified victim whom Mr. Walters allegedly abducted in exchange for drugs, but no reports as to Wilson’s connection with the deceased have been released.

Police will not confirm if there was ransom involved, but they did state that Mr. Walters had been in search of a cure for a possible illness he may have had.

Wilson, lab owner and heir, is expected to make a public statement regarding this incident.

At that point there was no hiding my expression. My mouth dropped open.

My mom reacted. “What? It’s great news isn’t it?”

I looked at her like she was speaking another language, then I blinked and cleared my throat. “Um, yes. It is.”

“What’s wrong? You don’t seem happy about it. I thought you’d be ecstatic. The police have closed the case.”

“I know. I am. It’s just that Wes doesn’t like a lot of attention, and I’m not sure he’ll like it now.”

“Oh, he’ll be okay.”

I forced a smile. “You’re right.”

Only she wasn’t. This was
not
okay. Wes spent his life trying not to be noticed. He was literally the one and only walking medical phenomenon, and if people found out who he truly was, society would go cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Media attention was one hundred percent the last thing he wanted, or needed, and I brought it right to him. I was so stupid.

Tom interjected, “He does seem like a shy kid, and he has a lot on his shoulders. There aren’t many veteran doctors worthy to sit in the same room as Dr. Thomas, including me. I can’t imagine the pressure that boy feels.”

My mom gave him an evil look. “I don’t think that’s helping matters, dear.”

He casually kept eating. “I’m just saying he shouldn’t have to address anyone regarding matters like that. He should leave that to one of the lab reps. Surely he has a spokesperson.”

My head was starting to spin. Information overload. All I wanted was to speak to Wes and not on the phone. “Mom, I’m done. This was good. Thanks.” I started to grab my plate but she took it.

“No, no, honey, you go rest. I’ll get it.”

I didn’t want to rest. I needed to get out of the house. “Okay, I will,” I lied. “But, in a little while, I want to visit Wes.”

“But your hand. I don’t want you to drive. He can come here, right?”

“No, I really want to surprise him. He’s done so much for me, and I’m sure he’s not admitting how much this attention really affects him. I’d like to go see him. I can drive. Really.”

She looked at me, contemplating.

Tom came to my rescue. “Gayle, we’re both medical people here, and I think we can attest that people drive with broken hands all the time.”

She dropped her shoulders and exhaled before submitting, “Okay. But please be careful and rest first.”

“I will! Thanks.”

I kissed her on the cheek and went to my room, clearly not about to rest. Something awful was picking away at my insides. I couldn’t identify exactly what I feared at that moment, but I was terrified. There was just an awful feeling that things were going to get real crazy, real fast, and it was all my fault. If only I had let Wes ride with me to see Lenny’s still-living mother at that nursing home, then none of this would be happening. Andy wouldn’t have been able to take me, Wes wouldn’t have had to come rescue me, and there would be no police or media involved.

Ugh, I just wanted the nightmare to be over. Frus-trated, I shifted to thoughts of getting out of there. My closet was in disarray. I hadn’t had a chance to do laundry since before I was in the hospital and I hadn’t asked my mom to do it, so my choices were limited.

After scrounging around, I found some jeans and a three-quarter sleeved pink sweater that was appropriate for January weather in California. The soft color also made me feel calmer. I eyed my black-and-white Converse sneakers and decided tying them wouldn’t be fun, so I settled on my handy-dandy flip-flops instead.

After about an hour of pretend rest, I went downstairs and assured my way out the door, promising to call her when I got there. My mother’s eyes were burning a hole in my back as I walked to my Jeep.

Feeling her stare, I tried to swiftly and smoothly slide into my seat. That part was easy. It was inserting and turning the key in the ignition with my left hand that tripped me up. I dropped the keys and felt the clock count down to the moment my mom would come bursting out of the house and tell me it was too dangerous.
Come on, Sophie
.
Get it together
.

Determined not to appear incapable, I shoved the key in and turned it. My baby roared to life. Within seconds, I was driving away, happy to be a free bird and anxious to get to my destination.

About halfway there, I realized that I’d done it again.
Darn it. I am truly an idiot. What was I thinking?
I had just left my house to go to Wes’ without telling him, placing myself in the same position my overconfidence had put me in before—alone and vulnerable. He was going to be so mad.

I couldn’t help it. I’ve always been a person who knows what I want. I set my sights on something and go get it, and right then my sights were on Wes.
Okay, who am I kidding?
I could convince myself that I was right to take my spontaneous solo trip, but the fact was, he was still going to be mad. I drove like a granny the whole way there, just hoping to earn some brownie points for safety. I rang his bell at about noon.

He practically yanked me inside and spun me around to see if I had any limbs missing. “Sophie, what are you doing?” he pressed, cornering me in his foyer.

“What does it look like?” I kicked off my flip-flops and brushed past him. “I’m visiting you.”

He was hot on my heels.
Who was I kidding?
“All right, all right. I’m sorry.
Really
sorry. I should’ve called, but I just wanted to see you.”

His face was conflicted. I’d seen it like that before but couldn’t pinpoint where. Regardless, I didn’t like it.

I stepped closer. “Come on, Wes, I’m here. I’m fine. I’m sorry. I’ll call next time.”

He turned one corner of his mouth up to acknowledge the apology, but the lines of his face were still hard and heavy. I reached up to touch his face with my palm and he turned his cheek into it.

“I just wanted to be with you. I wasn’t thinking about you worrying. I saw the paper and I—”

“I don’t care about the paper. I care about you.”

Yep. This is why I came.
I needed to see him, to see his genuine, loving expression that made me feel warm and fuzzy, but I was about to ruin the mood with some business to handle.

“Yeah, me too,” I said. “Now can you tell me why in the blazin’ inferno you’re going in front of the media? Wait, don’t answer that. No, I mean, do answer that. What the—?”

“Sophie.”

He stepped closer to me, and I stepped around and to the side. He followed suit, and before I knew it, we were practically dancing around each other.

“Stop it.”

He smiled. “Well, if you’d stop running away from me, I wouldn’t need to chase you. Now come here.”

“No, I don’t want you to distract me. I need to know what you’re thinking.”

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means if you’re going to be difficult, then I’m going to have to take you there by force.”

I opened my mouth to speak and was shocked to see him lean over like he was going to tackle me—then swiftly put me over his shoulder.

“Wes! What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to relax. Don’t worry, we’re not going far.”

I wanted to demand that he put me down, but the words wouldn’t come out. My laughter betrayed me. Then I thought about taking my good hand and beating on his back, except I had seen damsels in distress do that in a zillion movies. I decided to let myself dangle instead. The view, upside down, was good enough for me to note we were headed to the basement.

“I don’t want to play, Wes.”

“We’re not playing any games.” He set me down.

“Then what are we doing?” I shook my bangs out of my eyes as I stood upright.

“We’re going to swim.”

I turned my eyes toward the metal door with the small square window at the top then I looked back at him. Seeing him standing there so confident and relaxed, I couldn’t help but buy into it.

“Okay. I’ll just go grab my bathing suit. Oh, wait. That’s right. I don’t have one.”

“Sophie, I’m serious. That’s what I was planning to do before you came.” His adorable half smile returned.

“Well, I came over to talk to you. I want to know what you’re going to do.” He traced his finger along my forehead to slide stray bangs away from my eyes. “Stop distracting me, Wes. I’ve been a wreck all morning about the article. Please.”

“Which is why,” he interrupted, “you need to swim.”

“Wes.”

“Sophie.” He crossed his arms now. “I was planning to swim to clear my head, and would very much appreciate it if you joined me, because dancing around the foyer with you was not helping.” He tilted his head and brought in those dark eyelashes. “Please?”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“Yes, you do.”

I looked down at myself. “No, I don’t.”

He bit his lip, which was way unusual. “Remember when I told you that cars were the best way to keep memories alive?”

“Yes,” I said slowly.

“Well, they’re not the only things.”

“Okay.” That word lingered even longer.

“Lenny left some things at my house, and I’ve always kept them.”

“Shut up.” I smacked his arm. “Let me see.”

He smiled slightly and walked past me toward a basement door I hadn’t noticed before. I followed so closely that I almost bumped into his back as he paused to open the door.

He turned, as if having second thoughts. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I need to relax. I want to swim, now come on.”

He turned the knob, opening the door to a wine cellar. Only the space was filled with boxes. I shuddered a little because it gave me the impression of what a cold-case file room would look like. I stepped closer to him instinctively as we hovered over one particular box which was sitting right on top.

“What’s in all of these?”

He shrugged. “Some things of Dr. Thomas’, some of my mother’s belongings, and this one is yours.”

Remembering my hasty mistake of previously jumping into his 1963 Mustang, I decided on a more subtle approach. “What’s in there?” I asked.

“Just some things you used to keep at my house.”

Now my curiosity was killing me. “Let me see.”

Without further delay, he lifted the top to reveal a combination of yellow, pink, red, and pale blue fabrics.