Chapter 38
38
Saturday, August 9
23 Days Left at the Lake
I meet the rising sun on Saturday with a sense of hope and purpose. The reflection from the lake dances on the ceiling of my bedroom, and the living room is cast in deep yellow. Nan is still asleep, so I fix myself coffee and head down to the dock with my notebook. Charlie has been gone for two days, and I’ve missed him like a rib. Too much, maybe. But he’ll be back today, and Heather and Bennett are arriving this afternoon. I’m counting the minutes until they get here.
Steam from my mug curls into the air. I take in the silent stillness of morning for a few minutes before opening my notebook. I’ve spent much of the last forty-eight hours writing down all the strange and surprising and meaningful things that have happened so far this summer. I’m almost up-to-date—recounting the events of Percy and Sam’s baby shower bash. How nervous I was, and how included I felt. The speech Charlie gave before revealing the tree house. I stop, flip back to the bucket list I wrote at the beginning of the summer. It seemed frivolous then, but now I see how I tricked myself into taking risks, into stepping outside of my comfort zone.
I look across the bay at the yellow boat. The one I’ve now spent so much time in. I’m not the girl I was at seventeen. I’m thirty-three-year-old Alice Everly, and I can do hard things. Jump off cliffs. Kiss cute guys. I can’t backflip into the water, but I can say no to opportunities that don’t serve me. And I can make Charlie Florek blush. I can still feel my legs circled around his hips in the water.
My sister and niece pull up to the cottage shortly after two.
“What happened to you?” Heather says, giving me a hug, and I breathe in her perfume. It’s an almost masculine scent—smoky and dark, bold like she is.
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen your hair like this,” she says, holding me out with both arms.
I’ve worn it down and let it air dry after my swim. It’s a tornado of curls.
“It’s my lake look,” I say as Bennett climbs out of the car and bounds over to me.
“I wish I had hair like yours,” Bennett says, giving me a hug. She smells extra sweet, that artificial sugar candy smell of thirteen-year-old girls.
“Ditto,” I say, pushing a strand of her long, dark hair away from her eyes. She’s tall like my sister, but she’s constantly trying to make herself small, crossing her arms over her middle and rounding her shoulders. She reminds me so much of myself at thirteen.
“Come give your great-grandmother a hug,” Nan calls from the door, and Bennett rushes to greet her. Nan is standing straight—no cane in sight.
“I’ll give you the grand tour,” I hear her say as Heather and I carry Bennett’s things inside, including two canvas bags full of her books.
“I’m worried about her,” Heather says to me quietly as Nan takes Bennett out to the deck.
“Really?”
“She’s watching all these makeup tutorials.”
“You were getting into Mom’s makeup when you were four.”
“It’s not just that.” Heather looks at me with horror. “She has a crush on a boy.”
“Oh?” Bennett has been a bit of a late bloomer.
“Anthony. I looked at her diary.”
“Heather!”
“What? She’s become so secretive and even more self-conscious.”
“Do not read her diary,” I hiss. “Don’t you remember what it’s like to be thirteen?”
“Yes! That’s why I’m worried. Thirteen sucks .” My sister is as tough as nails, except when it comes to her daughter. Wherever Bennett goes, she carries a piece of Heather’s heart in her pocket. While the differences between my siblings and me are plentiful, this we have in common: The Everly family loves big, and it loves hard.
“I can try talking to her if you want,” I offer.
“Please do. I need her to turn out like you.”
“You just want her to stay a virgin until she’s twenty-two.”
“Thirty-two, actually.”
“Bennett has a good head and a good mom. She’ll be okay.”
Heather takes a deep breath. “You’re probably right.”
I put my arm around her waist. “You know what you need?”
“A martini.”
“I got you gin, but no.” I kiss her cheek. “You, my dear sister, need a ride on a Pegasus-unicorn.”
Bennett, Heather, and I are drifting on the inflatable loungers while Nan watches from the deck with a cup of tea.
My niece wears a loose T-shirt over her bathing suit, even in the water. It reminds me of the summer I spent here. Mom had taken me on a shopping trip before I left, a rare occasion when it was just the two of us. I was giddy, hopped up on sugar from the milkshakes we’d eaten in the food court, and picked out my first two-piece bathing suit, a tankini that showed the smallest sliver of stomach. By the time I got to Barry’s Bay, my confidence had evaporated. I wore it under a terry cloth dress that I removed a second before I jumped into the lake and shoved back over my head as soon as I was out.
Heather, on the other hand, is wearing a magenta-pink one-shouldered suit with cutouts at the waist and has the poise of someone about to board a yacht. Everything about her says, Notice me , though Heather doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of her. Kind of like Charlie.
I haven’t heard from him since he got back today, if he’s back, and my gaze keeps traveling to his house.
“Forget the martini,” Heather says. “I need something with an umbrella in it. This is divine.”
“I wish you could stay for the week, Mom,” Bennett says.
Heather’s face is guilt-stricken. “I wish I could, but I’ve got…”
“I know,” Bennett says. “Work.” She doesn’t sound bitter, just bummed. I’ll remind Heather later what a gift it is that her teenage daughter wants her around.
“I have some news,” I say to change the subject. “I’ve decided not to participate in the show. I pulled my photo.”
Heather looks at me, aghast.
“Give me a second,” I say, before she launches into an opening argument. “I’ve been shooting while I’ve been here. It started out as just for fun, but I think some of what I’ve done might be good.”
Over the last two days, I’ve combed through what I’ve shot digitally. The photos are much more relaxed than my typical work. More natural. There’s one of Nan, a teacup and saucer in her hand, her head thrown back in a laugh, the afternoon sun slanting over her face. She’s utterly captivating. Charlie isn’t in the frame, but he was the one making her smile.
There are dozens, possibly hundreds, of photos of him, too. But I scrolled through them quickly. I was afraid of missing him even more if I lingered too long on the light in his eyes or the way he grins at me through the lens.
“Actually,” I amend, “I think they might be great.”
Heather blinks at me for a moment, and then she claps her hands. “Tell us everything.”
I explain to Heather and Bennett how I feel like my job has become almost entirely about getting someone else’s version of the ideal shot. I tell them I’ve been so focused on pleasing clients and photo editors that I forgot how to please myself along the way.
Heather gives me a look, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. I’m thinking the same thing. An entire conversation passes between us without speaking. The way I’ve approached work is just like how I’ve approached relationships.
“But something’s changed since I’ve been here,” I say. The photos I’ve taken at the lake are so much looser. There’s skill in what I can achieve with a set, a lighting assistant, hair and makeup. But there’s an unscripted kind of magic in shooting from my heart. I follow my instincts, not a meticulously planned brief. And, sure, some of the shots aren’t any good, and they’re far from flawless, but even the mediocre images are rich with emotion. Photos of Nan. The water. Charlie’s yellow boat flying across the bay. Memories of this second golden summer.
It feels like I’ve come full circle.
“Wow,” Bennett says when I finish speaking.
Heather lets out a whoop and gets to her knees, shimmying on the Pegasus-unicorn and clapping her hands over her head. “I haven’t heard you talk so passionately about your work in ages,” she says.
“I wouldn’t have thought she’d be able to do that on there,” I say to Bennett.
“Nothing keeps Mom from her victory dance.”
I laugh, but then I see a familiar figure across the bay, and heat washes over my body. My heart begins to trip over itself. He waves, and I wave back.
Heather follows my line of sight. “Is that him ?”
“Is that who ?” Bennett asks.
“Auntie Ali’s new boyfriend.”
My head snaps in her direction, cheeks flushing. “He is not my boyfriend.”
My sister and niece share a wide-eyed look, and they both begin to giggle.
Heather cups her hands to her mouth and yells, “Come meet the family, Charlie,” then waves her arms over her head.
“Are you as much trouble as Alice?” he calls out.
Heather casts me a look that lets me know she’s going to be asking what that means later.
“So much worse,” she yells back.
I imagine Charlie laughing to himself as he steps into the boat.
“Do not embarrass me, Heather.”
She puts her hand to her chest. “Me? I would never . And especially not in front of your…” She glances at Bennett, and they both sing out, “ Boooooyfriend .”
“He’s just a friend.”
“Sure, sure.”
I look at Bennett. “He’s just a friend.”
“Then why are you so red, Auntie Ali?”
Heather begins to snicker, and the yellow boat’s motor rumbles to life.
“Yeah, Ali,” Heather mimics. “Why are you so red? Is it because your boooooyfriend is coming?”
Bennett laughs.
“Stop,” I say, though I’ve started laughing, too. I can’t remember the last time my sister and I were goofy together.
When Charlie’s boat approaches and Heather begins to sing, “Alice and Charlie sitting in a tree,” I lean over the side of the moose, putting my hand in the water to splash her, but I lose my balance and tumble into the lake.
The first thing I see when I poke my head out of the water is Charlie, standing in the boat a few meters from us. He’s in a teal bathing suit and a white shirt, and something in me eases, knowing that he hasn’t returned from the city any different.
“Good to see you, Trouble.”
I stare up at him, my lips curving into a grin that matches his own.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he says back, his eyes softening with his voice.
Behind me, Heather clears her throat.
“Charlie,” I say. “This is my sister Heather and her daughter, Bennett.”
“Good to meet you in person,” he says to Heather. “And nice to meet you, Bennett.”
Bennett looks at him from beneath her eyelashes while Heather mouths, Oh my god , to me.
“I’m taking the boat out,” Charlie says to my niece. “Would you like to come?”
She nods, tongue-tied.
“Heather?”
She grins between Charlie and me. “You couldn’t keep me away.”
“Think we can convince Nan to join us?”
My niece shakes her head.
“She was too tired to do the stairs today,” Heather says.
“I can help with that.” Charlie calls to where my grandmother sits on the deck, “It’s time to get you out on the lake, Nan.”
Even if I didn’t photograph it, the image of Charlie carrying my grandmother down the thirty-two wooden steps to the dock will be permanently etched onto my brain.
Nan sits beside Charlie in the passenger seat, and Heather, Bennett, and I sit up front. Tears stream down Nan’s cheeks as we sail across the water, and I’m not sure if it’s from the wind or whether she’s caught up in the moment.
I commit it all to film, and every so often, I find Charlie looking at me with a smile as lethal and magnificent as the sun.
We travel to the southern end of the lake to the narrow mouth of the river, and when we pass a couple on a Jet Ski, he presses the horn.
Aaaah-whoooo-gaaaaah!
Bennett cracks up, a gasping-for-breath laugh that has Heather smiling at her daughter with wonder. I can almost hear what’s running through her mind—that if her kid can laugh like that, she’s doing okay.
I make my way to the back of the boat and sit behind Charlie. We don’t talk; I just want to be close to him.
“How do the Everly women feel about grabbing a bite?” Charlie asks when we approach the Bent Anchor.
“Pro,” says Heather.
“Alice?” He looks at me over his shoulder.
“I didn’t bring my wallet.”
His gaze dances around my face. I missed that naughty grin. “Then I guess you’ll owe me.”
I take photos of everything. Charlie escorting Nan to the patio, her arm in his. The oversized pours of white wine. The basket of fries and platter of nachos. Charlie listening to Nan describe what Heather and I were like as children. Charlie looking at me. I shoot until Heather confiscates my camera and passes it to him for safekeeping.
Bennett and I sit on the end of the restaurant’s dock when we’re done, waiting as Charlie pays the bill. We’re not saying much of anything, just kicking our toes in the water, watching a group of teenagers jump into the river from the nearby bridge. She leans her head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her. I hear the click of my camera.
Bennett and I both turn around. Charlie is holding my Pentax up to his eye.
“You won’t want to forget this,” he says. “Smile.”
But I’m already smiling. I let Charlie take my picture.
“Bennett, come here for a sec,” Heather calls from the boat, and my niece pops to her feet.
“One more,” Charlie says, crouching beside me. He turns the camera around, an old-fashioned selfie.
“Really?” I ask him.
“Really.”
We’re still looking at each other when he presses the shutter.
Once everyone is piled in to the boat, Charlie steers us toward the bridge. There’s a line of kids waiting to jump.
“Let’s do that another time,” I say to Charlie.
“Why not now?” he asks.
“Well, this I’ve got to see,” Heather says.
Charlie drops the anchor, and we swim to shore, climbing our way up to the bridge and taking our place in line behind two tan girls who are probably eighteen or nineteen.
“You guys go first,” they tell us. “We’ve never jumped before.”
“Me neither,” I say, giving Charlie a nudge.
He shrugs and climbs over the railing to the top of a concrete pillar. I hear one of the girls asking her friend whether she thinks he’s too old for her.
And then Charlie turns around so he’s facing me, winks, and then springs backward off the platform, flipping in the air before slicing into the lake.
“Whoa,” I hear the girl say.
I climb over the railing, and before I jump, I look at her over my shoulder and say, “Sorry, that one’s mine.”