Chapter 25
It takes a while for me to fall asleep. The night-before jitters mix with that undeniable want of something I can’t have, leaving sleep more of a theoretical concept than something I’ll be drifting off to anytime soon.
More than once, I consider knocking on Reeve’s door, wondering if he’d be so quick to turn me away if I kissed him in the oversized tee I use as a nightgown. Instead, I open Kitty’s diary, needing the distraction of problems that aren’t mine. I flip to where I last left off.
Dear Diary,
What does sex feel like?
I slam the diary shut, immediately regretting my decision to read it in the first place.
The last thing I need tonight is to wake up in a dream where Kitty wants to have “the talk.” I revert to my tried-and-true sheep counting, eventually succumbing to Reeve’s sheets, which feel like silk, and drifting off into a deep sleep.
Or so I think.
My eyes open, and I’m in a strange room again. There’s no panic this time. I’m used to the discombobulated feeling.
I should have known better.
“Okay, Kitty. What are we up to this time?”
There’s no answer at all, and I sit up and gaze around what appears to be Dot’s darkened bedroom.
It’s empty, but the bedsheets are crinkled beside me, and as I smooth my hand over the empty space, I find it warm.
“Kitty?” I call again, but the only sounds in the otherwise quiet night are a loon calling somewhere out on the lake and the soft flutter of leaves blowing in the breeze coming in through the open window.
I slip out of bed. The floor is cold on my bare feet, but the full moon gives me enough light to find my way to the window. However, as I reach up to shut it, I catch a flash of movement crossing the yard.
Kitty.
Unlike me, who is in a nightgown, she is dressed. I wonder momentarily if she’s sneaking out to the dance hall again. But her dress is plain and dark, and for no reason other than a sixth sense in my gut, I don’t think that’s where she is headed.
She opens the front gate slowly, but the hinges emit a low, rusty groan despite her efforts. She freezes. Then, her head turns toward the still-open window. I swear she’s looking right at me for a moment, but before I can call out to her, she turns and darts across the street.
My role in these dreams has never been clearly defined, but I get the strong sense that I was not brought here tonight to hang out alone in Dot’s bedroom.
With a groan, I follow her out of the house, across the yard, and to the street.
I catch another glimpse of her blond head running toward the water just before she disappears behind a grass-covered dune.
I doubt when Reeve sent me to bed for a full night’s rest tonight he had any idea that I’d be playing hide-and-seek with a teenage Kitty St. Clair. But here I am, feet sinking into the cool sand, hair blown by the gentle summer breeze, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark.
I scan the beach, grateful for the moonlight reflecting off the softly rolling waves. Everything to my left is dark, but when I turn to my right, I can make out the dancing orange flames of a bonfire up ahead and the outline of Kitty standing in front of it.
“Got you!” I whisper as I walk toward her, but I stop just before I reach the circle of light cast by the fire.
Maybe it’s instinct.
Or my brain slowly putting together why Kitty might be headed to a half-hidden late-night bonfire.
“Oh, god.” My brain connects the diary entry with the scene before me just as a second body comes into view.
He’s taller than Kitty, but the shadows obscure his identity.
He opens his arms, and she steps toward him. Their two bodies become a single, indistinguishable form backlit by firelight.
I watch them for a moment, trying to make sense of it.
Beau or Knots?
Her rich city boy or her sweet country love?
There’s no denying that I’m rooting for someone in this story. My loyalties lie with my West Lake brethren—team Knots—despite knowing it’s a losing one.
So when they finally pull away, and he turns his face just so, his profile catching in the light, I let out a deep exhale.
“Good choice, Kitty,” I whisper.
Knots sinks to his knees, and only then do I notice the blanket spread around his feet. When he holds out his hand to Kitty, and she takes it, sinking down next to him, I get an even clearer picture of the scene in front of me.
“I don’t think I need to be here for this,” I say to no one but the night as a shirt comes flying toward me. “I can figure this part of the story out alone.”
I begin to walk backward toward the road.
Although I’m feeling a small solace that at least one of us is having sex tonight.
When my feet are safely on the pavement again, I hear Kitty cry out.
I can’t help the smile that curves my lips.
She always did have the best stories.