Richard Laymon - The Lake Страница 13

“You don’t have to beg my pardon.”

“I gotta go now.” He gulped down the rest of his soda, put on his strange hat, and stood up. “Thank you for the drink.”

Leigh nudged herself away from the door frame and stood up straight as he came toward her. “I’m glad you came up here, Charlie. It’s been nice talking with you.” He gave the empty can to her, pulling his hand away quickly as if afraid of being touched. Leigh set both cans on a wicker table. She caught the screen door as it swung shut. “Hold up, okay? I’m going back down.”

He waited for Leigh to join him.

“So you’ll be selling baskets the rest of the day?” she asked as they stared down the slope.

“Yeah. I’ll make a stop at Carson’s and then head on away.”

“Do you go to all the lakes in one day?”

“I guess I’ll just get over to Circle today. It’s a full day trip, making Goon and Willow.”

“So they’re on tomorrow’s agenda? How would you like a helper?”

He shook his head.

“I’ve never been to those other lakes.”

“You can’t come.”

They reached the sand, and Charlie took long, quick strides as if wanting to leave her behind. Leigh quickened her pace. “What are you scared of?”

“I ain’t scared.”

“You just don’t want me with you. That’s real nice. It really makes me feel good.”

At the boat, he faced her. “It’s nothing against you.”

“Oh, sure.”

“It just wouldn’t be right.”

“What would be wrong with it? Oh.” Nodding, she pointed at the heart tattoo on his chest. “Your mother wouldn’t approve,” she said softly. Her fingertip touched the tattoo. Charlie flinched but didn’t move away. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your mother.”

She put her open hand on his chest, feeling his smooth skin, his quick heartbeat. Sliding it down over the firm slab of his pectoral, she felt his nipple stiff under her palm. “Maybe you’ll come around again sometime,” she said, and took her hand away. She was trembling. “Maybe I’ll buy another basket.”

“I gotta get going.”

Leigh stood on the warm sand until Charlie had pushed off his boat. Then she walked onto the pier and watched him row past.

She raised a hand in farewell.

Charlie looked at her as he worked the oars, but he said nothing.

FOURTEEN

His boat was beached at Carson’s Camp. Leigh had watched him unload baskets and carry them up the slope.

She could go over there.

But she didn’t want to spook him.

God knows, she had already pushed matters as far as she dared. She’d probably scared him away for good.

Looking back on it, she was shocked by the way she had acted, the way she had felt. What was wrong with her? Never in her life had she come so close to throwing herself at a man.

It might be best, she told herself, if I don’t ever see him again.

Forget about him.

She turned her lounge chair to face Carson’s Camp. Lying back, she rubbed herself with suntan oil, but it was Charlie’s hands spreading the slick fluid over her skin.

After a while, Charlie returned to the boat. He loaded some baskets inside, took out two of the picnic baskets, and hurried back up the slope. Later, he returned empty-handed.

Leigh was glad he’d made sales.

He pushed off his boat.

She thought of the canoe.

Follow him.

No.

Just leave him alone. Forget about him.

All day, she thought about him. That night, in bed, she stared at the ceiling and wondered about tomorrow. She knew where he would be: at Goon and Willow. She had found out from Mike where the channel was. She could intercept Charlie, if she dared. She trembled, thinking about it.

I won’t go over there, she told herself.

You want to bet?

She pictured him gleaming in the sunlight, strong and sleek, the jeans low on his hips.

Fancy meeting you here, Charlie.

He would know, of course, that it was not an accident.

Get out of here and leave me alone.

No, he wouldn’t say that. He would sneak glances at her body. He wanted her, but he was scared.

Stop this, Leigh thought.

Restless, she threw her sheet aside. The breeze from the window cooled her damp nightgown. It smelled wonderful. It felt wonderful. Sitting up, she looked toward the moonlit window. She heard birds and crickets chirping in the night.

Why not go outside and enjoy it, she thought. You’re not going to fall asleep anyway.

She stood up slowly, listening to the quiet squeak of the bedsprings, and crept to her door. Her heart thudded wildly as she eased the door open.

What are you jumpy for? You don’t have to sneak out. Mike and Jenny wouldn’t care.

It’s not them, she realized. It’s this. It’s going out alone, at this hour, in your nightgown.

She wasn’t afraid, she was excited.

It’s no big deal.

Then how come you’re shaking like a leaf?

Except for creamy moonlight from the windows, the cabin was dark. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms, then walked silently to the front door. She inched it open and squeezed through the gap, her breath snagging as the edge of the door rubbed her stiff right nipple. Trembling, she pulled the door shut.

The porch floor was cool and smooth under her bare feet. The screen door groaned, but the noise didn’t worry her. She stepped down the wooden stairs.

You’re out. You made it.

When her feet touched the ground, she stopped. She took a deep breath. A lightning bug drifted by, glowing and fading. Closing her eyes, she let herself feel the breeze. It stirred her hair, blew softly against her face, stroked her arms and legs, moved the nightgown against her skin. Its touch was subtle and erotic.

Her legs felt weak as she walked down the steep path to the lake. At the pier, she looked both ways. She saw no one along the shore. Water lapped and sloshed quietly around the pilings. To the right, the moon made a silver path over the lake.

She walked to the end of the pier. The breeze was stronger here. It fluttered her nightgown and slipped beneath it—lover’s hands, gentle, exploring with tentative, intimate caresses.

Leigh wanted to take the nightgown off, to stand naked in the moonlight and feel the breeze all over her.

Not here, at the end of the pier. Someone might be watching.

From over the water came a quiet groan.

It didn’t sound human.

Metallic, almost like an oarlock.

The sound startled Leigh out of her dreamy languor. She stiffened. Her eyes searched the darkness.

The boat was a vague blur on the lake’s black surface. In the center sat an upright shape. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t noticed it at once; the boat was directly ahead, no more than fifty feet beyond the end of the pier.

It went nowhere.

Charlie?

She almost spoke his name, but stopped herself. What if it’s not Charlie?

It might be anyone.

The man from Jody’s.

She felt her skin prickle.

Don’t be silly.

It might be someone night-fishing.

She couldn’t see a pole.

It is Charlie. It has to be.

This is too weird, she thought. Spooky weird.

What’s he doing here?

“Charlie?” she asked. She didn’t raise her voice. In the silence, it wasn’t necessary. She knew the name would carry out to him.

The oarlocks groaned, more loudly this time. She heard the soft swoosh of the blades rising out of the water. The dim silhouette leaned forward and back, beginning to row. The boat turned.

He’s coming for me.

Oh dear God.

Leigh’s heart felt as if it might smash through her rib cage.

This isn’t happening. It’s a dream. A very weird dream. You’re going to wake up any second.

She knew she was not dreaming.

She locked her knees to keep herself upright.

Calm down, she thought. You wanted something like this. Well, it’s happening.

She was a little frightened, but excited. She couldn’t stop trembling.

Then she realized that the boat wasn’t moving closer. It was heading away.

Charlie had lost his nerve.

He’d been drawn here, late at night when she would be sleeping, only to stare at the cabin, to…what, fantasize?

Calling out to him would do no good.

Leigh dove, leaping from the edge of the pier and stretching out, hitting the water and slicing down beneath its surface. The first shock of cold made her flinch. Then the rush of water felt good. She arched upward and broke the surface. Taking a breath, she blinked her eyes clear and spotted the distant shape of the boat. She swam for it.

She knew Charlie must have seen her dive. Rowing away, he would be facing her. He had to see. But would he stop, or row all the harder hoping to get away?

Leigh was a strong, swift swimmer. In a canoe, Charlie would be able to leave her behind, but rowboats were heavy and ungainly. She was sure she could catch up to him, no matter how hard he might row.

She kicked steadily, darting out one arm then the other with smooth, easy strokes, turning her head for a breath on every sixth stroke.

He probably thinks I’m crazy, she thought.

I must be crazy.

I could’ve taken the canoe.

This is better.

A corner of Leigh’s mind, which seemed to be observing her from a distance, was admiring her nerve. And was a little amused. You’ve really gone and done it.

She raised her head.

The boat was broadside to her, not far ahead. So Charlie was no longer trying to get away.

Good for him.

He wasn’t wearing his odd, feathered hat.

She lowered her face into the water and kept on swimming.

What if it’s not Charlie?

She considered taking another look. That wouldn’t solve anything, though. Too dark.

It better be him.

What if it’s not?

She went tight and cold inside.

She told herself not to worry. It had to be Charlie.

But she was very close to the boat, getting closer with every stroke. She saw herself grab the gunnel and pull herself up. A face above her. A stranger’s face. A woman’s. Charlie’s mother. Her hand clutched Leigh’s wrist. Now I gotcha!

It was a crazy thought, but she couldn’t get rid of it. She stopped. Treading water, she wiped her eyes.

The boat was two yards away.

The man in its center had Charlie’s shape, but the face, a dim blur, could have belonged to anyone.

“Charlie?” she asked.

“Might as well grab an oar,” he said. The hushed voice was Charlie’s. He didn’t sound overjoyed.

Leigh kicked closer, caught hold of the slippery oar blade, and pulled herself along its shaft. Then she clutched the gunnel with both hands. “Thanks for stopping.”

“What am I gonna do, let you drown?”

“I wouldn’t have drowned.”

“Well, you gonna climb in, or what?”

“I haven’t decided.” She thought about her nightgown. Wet, it would be transparent. “What were you doing out here, Charlie?”

“Nothing.”

The boat was empty except for an anchor on the deck near the bow. “Not selling baskets, I see.”

“I just come out for some fresh air. Too hot in the cabin.”

“You rowed all the way over here for some fresh air?”

“Think I come by to spy on you?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, you’re full of it.”

“It’s all right, Charlie. I don’t mind. I was thinking about you, too. That’s why I couldn’t sleep and came down to the lake. I missed you. I was afraid we wouldn’t see each other again.”

“How come you were thinking about me, and not that boyfriend of yours?”

“There isn’t any boyfriend. I just made him up. Comin’ aboard,” she said.

Charlie scooted away to balance the boat, and Leigh thrust herself up. Bracing herself on stiff arms, she waited for the boat to stop its wild rocking. Then she swung a leg over the side and tumbled in. She landed on her back, grunting with the impact. Her knees were in the air, parted, so she quickly rolled to her side.

“Hurt yourself?” Charlie asked.

“I’ll live.” She ran a hand down her rump and leg. The clinging fabric didn’t end until just above her knee. She sat up, then scuttled backward to the edge of the stern seat. She boosted herself onto it. “Graceful entrance, huh?”

Charlie moved to the center of his seat and caught the handle of the oar he’d left dangling. He lowered both handles to his thighs. The oars jutted out like strange, uptilted wings.

Shivering with cold and excitement, Leigh looked down at herself. As she’d expected, the nightgown was glued to her skin and she could see right through it. She folded her arms tightly across her breasts. She hunched over. “You wouldn’t have a towel?”

“You can have my shirt,” he said.

“Thanks.”

He shipped the oars, swinging them toward Leigh and inward, resting their paddles on the sides of her seat. Then he took off his shirt and tossed it to her.

Leigh draped his shirt across the seat beside her. “Shut your eyes,” she said.

“What for?”

“Because I’d like you to.”

“Okay.”

“They shut?”

He nodded.

Leigh couldn’t see whether they were shut. Half expecting him to peek, half wanting him to, she raised herself off the seat and peeled the nightgown over her head.

She wadded it into a tight club and wrung it out into the lake. She set it aside and lowered her gaze. Her skin looked dusky where she was tanned. Her breasts were pale, her jutting nipples almost black in the darkness. Taking a deep, tremulous breath, she picked up Charlie’s shirt and put it on. It clung to her damp skin but took away the cold. She fastened the two lower buttons and arranged the hanging front to cover her lap.

Even with the shirt on, she felt naked. It was the painted plank seat, wet and slick against her buttocks.

“Okay,” she said. “You can open your eyes.” Charlie nodded.

“You didn’t peek, did you?”

“No.” He fidgeted a bit. “You asked me not to.”

“Well, good. Thanks for the shirt. It feels good. I was freezing. Are you cold without it?”

“No. I’m not wet.”

“How long have you been out here?”

He shrugged a bare shoulder. “Not real long.”

“Does your mother know?”

“She was sleeping.”

“What if she wakes up and finds you gone?”

“Well, I guess she’ll whale on me pretty good when I get back.”

“But you came anyway.”

“I didn’t…I just got in the boat and ended up here. I didn’t mean to. It just sort of happened.”

“I’m glad.”

“You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Take me someplace, Charlie.”

He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “I oughta take you back to your pier.”

“You won’t, will you?”

Shaking his head, he raised the oars over the sides and lowered them into the water. He held one oar motionless under the surface and stroked with the other until the bow swung around to the opposite direction, then rowed northward. The boat swept along, oarlocks squawking, blades making quiet slurps as they came out. They left straight trails of droplets on the surface until they dipped in again. They stroked back smoothly, silently.