Richard Laymon - The Lake Страница 14

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.

Leigh watched Charlie. He sat with his back arched, legs stretched out, his bare heels planted against the ribs along the inside of the hull. Leaning forward with his arms stiff, he slipped the paddles in. Then he eased back, drawing them through the water, coming forward again as they broke the surface, letting the boat glide as he brought the oar handles toward his belly in a graceful circular motion before extending his arms again and bending far forward to start over.

“You’re very good at this,” Leigh said.

“Thank you.”

She stretched out her legs until her feet met Charlie’s. He kept rowing. He didn’t try to move his feet away.

“It’s beautiful out here at night,” she said. “So peaceful. Have you always lived here?”

“Yeah.”

“It must be nice.”

“Sure. It’s okay.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

“I had a twin, but it was born dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, it don’t bother me. I never knew it, so it weren’t like a loved one going toes up on you.” He rowed a few strokes in silence. “Would’ve been queer, having a brother around that looked the same as me.”

“I know some twins. They pretend to be each other. They’ve put over some good ones.”

“It’s in the lake.”

“What?” Leigh asked, uncertain what Charlie meant.

“My old man, he took it out on the lake and tossed it in with an anchor. Guess it’s still down there.”

Leigh frowned, trying to make sense of what Charlie had said. Suddenly, she realized that “it” was his stillborn twin. Charlie’s father had weighted the body with an anchor and left it in the lake.

She’d been swimming in the lake…

There wouldn’t be much of it left by now, she told herself. That was what, eighteen years ago?

A dead baby down there.

Its bones, anyway.

The lake’s dark water with its silver-moon trail didn’t look quite as tranquil and beautiful as it had a few minutes ago.

“Funny to think about it down there,” Charlie said.

Hilarious.

“You know how sometimes a fish’ll jump and you look real quick but you don’t see it? There’s just the ripples moving around? Well, when I was a kid and that used to happen, I’d think it was ‘it’ coming up.”

“Jesus,” Leigh muttered.

“Didn’t scare me. I just kept looking quick, hoping I’d get a peek at it. I was mostly curious, is all. One time, I jumped in.” He shook his head. Leigh saw the white of his teeth. Was he smiling? “Had it in mind I might dive down and grab the body, get a good look at it.”

Leigh didn’t want to hear any more. “How far’s the high school?” she asked.

“Oh, twenty miles.”

“How do you get there? Do they have a bus?”

“I never gone.”

“You never went to school?” She wasn’t very surprised.

“What do I need school for? Mom teaches me all I need to know.”

“Your mom’s a teacher?

“She was, a long time ago.”

“Well, you’d meet people.”

“Don’t have much use for ’em.”

“You’d meet girls.”

“You gonna start on me about girls again?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Well, I don’t see no point. You’re a girl. You’re here. What’s the point talking about girls I don’t even know?”

“None, I guess.”

“I never seen one, anyhow, as pretty as you.”

“Oh, I bet you have.”

“Nope. And I see plenty of ’em, too, going around the lakes hawking the baskets. None of ’em are as nice, either. Mostly, they act funny like they’re scared of me.”

“Why would they be scared?”

For a few moments, he didn’t answer. He drew back, the oars and leaned forward again. “ ’Cause I’m not the same as them, I guess. Is that why? You’re scared of me, too, so I guess you must know how come.”

“I am not.”

“Sure. Only difference is, you don’t let it stop you.”

“If I were afraid of you, I wouldn’t be out here in your boat in the middle of the night.”

“That so?”

“Yes, that’s so. I’m no idiot.”

“You’re scared, but you’re not scared off. Maybe you got a streak of daredevil in you.”

“I’ve sure got a streak of something, Charlie. And you’re the one who gave it to me.” She drew in her feet. “Move over,” she said. Staying low, she made her way to the center seat, raised the oar handle out of her way, and sat down beside him. “Let’s make this baby fly,” she said, and started to row.

Leigh matched his movements, leaning forward as he did, dipping in her paddle and drawing it back, feeling her body against his—his arm and hip and leg.

He sped up, and so did she.

The boat skimmed along, faster and faster toward its destination known only to Charlie.

FIFTEEN

With a shush of hull against sand, the boat skidded to a stop. Leigh and Charlie swung their oars in, resting them on the stern seat.

“Well,” Charlie said, “here we are.”

Leigh nodded, a little breathless from the rowing.

“You like it?”

“Just fine,” she said. Except for its opening not much wider than their boat, the inlet was surrounded by high trees. It looked totally isolated. It was a far better place than Leigh had hoped for. She smiled at Charlie. “In fact, it’s terrific.” Peering over her shoulder, she saw that they had landed on a dim stretch of sand. “It’s even got a beach,” she whispered.

“That’s ’cause it used to have a house. Still does, only no one lives there.” He got up from his seat and stepped to the bow. There, he lifted the anchor and flung it. The concrete block hit the sand with a quiet thud.

“I’ll be right with you,” Leigh said, still in a whisper. This place made her whisper. She went to the stern. Bending over, she felt the shirttail slide up, felt the soft breeze on her buttocks, wondered if Charlie was watching.

Her nightgown was a damp wad. She shook it open and spread it on the seat to help it dry, then walked the length of the boat and hopped down. The sand felt soft and warm under her bare feet. She moved closer to Charlie. She was breathing hard now, but not so much from the rowing.

Just beyond the small patch of beach, the trees began. She saw a few lightning bugs drifting among them. Her gaze wandered up the wooded slope. The dwelling was barely visible among the trees: squared-off corners of darkness, a cabin or shack.

“You sure nobody lives there?”

“Want to go up and find out?”

“Not especially.”

She stared at Charlie. She wished there were more light so she could see his face. His deep-set eyes were lost in shadow, his lips a blur. For a terrible instant, he was a stranger. Then she touched his face, and he was Charlie again. Her trembling fingers wandered down his cheeks, his jaw. As they settled on his shoulders, Leigh stepped against him, drew him closer, and kissed his mouth.

His lips felt rigid. She slid her tongue along them, and they parted slightly. The tip of his tongue met hers. She flicked at it, then sucked it into her mouth. Moaning, Charlie put his arms around her. He squeezed her tightly and opened his mouth wide, lips pressing, tongue filling her mouth.

Leigh squirmed, caressing his smooth back from shoulder to waist, then clutching him closer. He was tight against her, chest hard against her breasts, flat belly pushing hers as they breathed, the button of his jeans digging into her skin.

Charlie’s hands felt enormous on her back. But they didn’t move. They stayed up, just below her shoulder blades. Leigh wanted them moving, exploring. She wanted them under the shirt, on her skin.

It’s all right, she told herself. He’s new at this. He’s never been with a girl before, doesn’t know what to do, or knows but is frightened.

She slid a hand down Charlie’s back and pushed her fingers under the waistband of his jeans. He didn’t have underwear on. His buttocks were smooth, firm mounds.

“How about if we…take a swim?” he asked.

“Great.” Leigh pulled her hand out. “I didn’t bring my swimming suit. Neither did you.”

“That’s okay,” Charlie said.

“What will I wear?”

“You can wear my shirt if you want.”

“I don’t want to get it wet for you.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. He let go of Leigh. She eased away from him. She put her hands on his sides. “Do you want to help me with the buttons?”

He unfastened the two buttons, spread the shirt open, and stared at her. Leigh closed her eyes. She felt the shirt slip off her shoulders, its sleeves glide down her arms. She stood before Charlie, naked, trembling, waiting for his touch.

“I sure wish it was light out,” he said in a husky voice, “so I could see you better.”

“There’s always Braille,” Leigh whispered. Charlie just stood there. Opening her eyes, she reached for the button of his jeans.

He pushed her hands away. “Go on and get in the lake,” he told her. He didn’t sound annoyed, just nervous.

“You don’t have to be shy,” Leigh said.

“I’ll be right in.”

“Okay.” Turning away, Leigh walked down the sand. The water washed over her feet. She remembered its chill when she dove from the pier. It didn’t seem that way now. It felt as warm as the night air.

“Now, don’t look,” Charlie said.

“Okay, bashful.” The water rose around Leigh with mild caresses. She caught her breath when it lapped the joining of her legs. Then she leaned in, left her feet, and glided forward. When she sought the bottom again, the water was neck high. She let her arms drift to the surface. She stared out at the line of trees ahead, the narrow moonlit mouth of the inlet.

Soft splashing sounds came from behind. She waited for Charlie’s arms to encircle her, his hands to find her breasts. She waited for the feel of his body against her back.

He swam past her, only his head above the surface, then turned to face her six feet away. “This sure feels good,” he said. “Nothing like a night swim.”

“Come here, Charlie Payne.”

He laughed softly. “Betcha can’t catch me.”

Leigh didn’t feel like playing games. “What are you scared of?”

“Not it! You’re it!” His head turned away and he started to swim.

“Damn it, Charlie.”

“You ca-an’t catch me,” he chanted over his shoulder.

“Don’t think so, huh?” Muttering, “Shit,” she lunged forward, dropped beneath the surface, and swam underwater. She passed through a chilly current. She went deeper. Her lungs hurt, but she kept going.

She pictured Charlie treading water. His long legs. His penis.

She should almost be to him.

The water stirred against her. She heard the muffled sounds of splashes. He was making a getaway.

Seems like he’s always trying to get away.

Leigh surfaced, gasping, her face splashed by Charlie’s kicks. She darted out a hand. Grabbed one of his ankles, pulled. “Gotcha!” Tugging the ankle, she reached higher and clutched his leg. She expected to find skin. Instead, there was denim. “Hey!” She hooked fingers into a rear pocket and yanked. Charlie slipped backward. He twisted around, freeing himself. “What’s the big idea?” Leigh demanded.

“Huh?”

“You’ve got your jeans on.”

“So?”

“Well…for one thing…what makes you think they’ll be dry by morning?”

“Guess they won’t be.”

“You gonna tell your mother…how they got wet?”

Charlie didn’t answer. Obviously, he hadn’t thought about that. Leigh eased herself backward until her feet found the rocky bottom. Charlie moved closer. He stood, the water just lower than his shoulders. “It takes a long time for jeans to dry,” she said. “If you give them to me right now, I’ll wring them out for you and hang them up. Maybe the breeze…”

“I wouldn’t have nothing on.”

“That’d make two of us.”

“You think they’ll dry out in time if they’re hung out?”

“Maybe.”

“All right, but…” He didn’t finish. His shoulders moved slightly, then he ducked beneath the surface. His movements under the water sent currents brushing against Leigh. He was below for a long time. His head finally popped up with a burst of water. He thrust the jeans toward Leigh.

“Don’t go away,” she said, taking them and wading for shore.

That little ploy sure did the trick, she thought. She still felt a little annoyed that he’d kept his jeans on in the first place. It was cheating. It was also pretty damned peculiar. How many guys, in his place, would’ve stayed in their pants with a naked girl waiting in the water? Zip, that’s how many.

So what’s new? He’s been peculiar from the start.

Never been with a girl.

His mother’s got him so screwed up…Well, this time it backfired on her. If Charlie wasn’t so frightened that the wet pants would give him away, he might’ve never taken them off.

Leigh waded out and stood on the beach, her back to the inlet. The breeze made her shiver. She gritted her teeth at the feel of cold droplets trickling down her skin. As quickly as possible, she twisted each leg of the jeans. She wrung the jeans with all her strength. When she shook them open, the fabric was still wet but no longer dripping.

To reach the nearest trees, she had to leave the beach. Twigs hurt her feet. Undergrowth snagged her ankles. She looked up at the dark shape of the cabin, wondering if it really was deserted.

What if somebody…?

Don’t start.

He might be hiding among the trees, watching. A hand inside his overalls…

Don’t worry, Charlie’s here.

Here? Out in the water.

Would he come and help if someone rushed out?

A quiet, crackling sound came from the slope. Leigh stopped. A tree was only a few steps ahead. Her eyes studied the dark woods, but nothing seemed to move. She wanted to glance back and see how far away Charlie was, but she didn’t dare. If she looked away, even for a moment…

What the hell am I doing here?

You’re trying to hang up Charlie’s jeans.

What am I doing here? My God. I swam out to this guy’s boat in the middle of the night and now I’m standing here bare-ass like some kind of maniac. I must be crazy. I should be back at the cabin asleep. I should be home in Marin, asleep. Jesus H. Christ on a rubber crutch, what am I doing here?

Trying to get laid by Charlie, that’s what.

Which he’s afraid to do because his mother wouldn’t like it.

And even if he was eager, you’re nuts to be going for it this way. You don’t even know him. He’s definitely a little weird.