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“Well, you sure aren't in any danger of
soft
-heartedness,” she teased her husband in a different tone, and Matthew had crept back to his room that night to ponder what Erica meant, and why she would worry for him.

He thought he knew a little bit better now. The campground appeared through the trees seconds later, and Matthew slowed to a crawl around the familiar turn, seeing Riley's truck parked beside the two green golf carts the kids used. Bryce smoothed hair behind her ears with both hands, and his heart went all crazy again just seeing that gesture out of the corner of his eye.

Can it
, he warned himself.
You've got to be stronger than this. It's up to you…you're older and wiser, for fuck's sake!
Besides, what sane man felt this way for his half-sister's daughter?
You never knew her before the other night,
he reminded himself.
But that doesn't matter. She is no-man's land for you, Sternhagen
.

Except that she wasn't. Because, goddamn it, he knew how she tasted and how amazingly thick her hair felt clutched in his jealous hands, and sitting there with the sun creeping towards midday a mere 72 hours after he had come inside of her countless times…he would torment himself the rest of his life with this. His heart ached with desire and something far more sobering as Bryce smiled at Riley, coming to open the truck door for her, grinning back at her with a look Matthew recognized. Clenching his jaw, he shouldered open his own door and tamped down the urge to shove Riley, his best friend of nearly 15 years, roughly away from the door handle.

“Hello there, sleeping beauty,” Riley joked, and Bryce rolled her eyes at him. But she flushed a little, and Matthew upgraded his idea to include smashing Riley's freckled face into the hood of the truck.

“We're ready to put you to work,” Riley went on, taking her by the elbow, and then added to Matthew, “Sterno, there's a shitload of people waiting for you to open the boathouse.”

“Great,” he muttered, as Erica met her little brother and Bryce at the entrance, smiling widely, too. Bryce threw a look at him over her shoulder and he gave a little wave, admitted momentary defeat, and then headed off through the woods to the beach, where he had spent every moment of every summer until now content as a cat dozing in the sun.

The hike through the woods to the lake was one he enjoyed with every fiber of his being. The mingling scents of the blue spruces, evergreens, Norway and Jack pines were as sweet and familiar as a longtime lover. His waterproof sandals crunched over the loose gravel, which had, one summer past, been edged with rough-hewn logs by Wilder, Riley and himself, creating a crisp, orderly look to the paths that his father had preferred. Sun warmed his shoulders as he walked, breathing in the early-summer air, catching sparkling glimpses of Rose Lake through the trees as he neared the beach that curved like a clamshell out into the water, a lovely beach covered over with what the kids called “sugar sand” for its pale softness, courtesy of the native limestone ground to powder centuries ago. The lake was shaped roughly like a kidney bean, this eastern side serving the campground's swimming area and two massive docks, while the western swell lapped the Sternhagens' smaller, private dock a half-mile away, where he had taken Bryce just last night at sunset.

A shitload of people were waiting indeed, over-nighters and day-passers, kids screeching and running everywhere, most already out in the water amongst a host of beach balls, inflatable toys, water noodles, and yelping dogs. Although Matthew knew basic first aid and CPR, there was no lifeguard on duty at their beach, which was the same for most of the local campgrounds, and rules were posted but often disobeyed. Riley and Erica's younger sister Debbie worked the beach with Matthew; Debbie sold soda and popsicles from an umbrella stand near the changing rooms, which she also kept clean, while Matthew supervised the canoe and paddle-boat rentals. Together they kept a lid on the major rule-breakers, most of whom commited such crimes as toting glass bottles or not cleaning up after their dogs; little annoying things that could potentially make any beach a shithole. Once a drunk dude threw a punch and started a fight with two other guys, but Matthew had simply walked into the fray and ordered, “STOP,” and even in their inebriated states of mind, the three took one look at the dead-serious face towering above them and stopped almost politely.

Debbie saw him now and waved. He waved back, pulling on his sunglasses and battered army-green sunhat and digging the keys from the right pocket of his swim trunks. He smiled a greeting at the people waiting to rent boats, and in no time had signed off on half of their 10 canoes and two of the five paddle boats. He distributed life vests and waterproof seat cushions, oars and pleasantries, all the while thinking of Bryce, wondering what she must be doing at this moment, if Riley was making her laugh – which made him clench his jaw a little – wondering if her hair was still piled on her head or if little soft strands of it were drifting down her neck…

“Uncle Matty!” he heard behind him, and moments later a body hurled itself against the back of his knees with a jolt.

“Hey there, buddy,” he returned, as Cody detached himself and grinned up at his huge uncle. “You find any good snakes today?”

“No, Mom told me I better quit doing that or I'd get spanked.” Cody pouted for an instant, but then brightened again. “You won't tell her if I find one, will you?”

“Hey, I know better than to get on your mama's bad side,” Matthew returned, grinning down at his freckle-faced nephew. Since the kids had turned eight, they'd run wild all over the campground, which comprised a good hundred acres. They surely knew every last little inch of the space, as he knew it from his own childhood. Memories he would not trade for a millon dollars. He asked Cody, “You need more sunblock?”

“Naw, Mom just sprayed me with some a minute ago. I was up at the office looking for Em.”

“Yeah?” Matthew tried for casual, not that Cody would have noticed anyway. “Was Bryce around up there?”

“No, Uncle Riley is showing her all around the campsites in a golf cart—” And here his face turned stormy again. “And Evelyn got the other one, even though I wanted it first!”

Riley, you rat bastard
, Matthew thought uncharitably. To Cody he said, “Why don't you go and grab a popsicle from Auntie Deb?”

“Okay. See ya later, Uncle Matty!” And he bounded off.

“Hey, Sternhagen, you in there?” called a man, coming up to the boathouse from the main path. It was hardly more than three-sided shed, with hooks for the canoes and jacks for the paddle boats behind a crude desk. Matthew had just settled into a lawn chair, but rose immediately to his feet, hearing the familiar voice.

Bartholomew Taylor, Jr., almost as tall as Matthew, ducked under the striped awning and shook Matthew's proffered hand. He clapped the younger man on the back and said, “I sure am damn sorry to hear about Daniel.”

Matthew nodded his thanks and offered Bar a seat.

“Thanks, but I can only stay a minute,” the older man said, though he sat and stretched out his khaki-clad legs in the manner of someone who wants to relax. Bar removed his expensive sunglasses and looked over at Matthew, his expression somber. “I wanted to come out and see you guys, pay my respects. The Lodge is yours for Wednesday, you know. I spoke to Wilder already.”

“Thank you, we appreciate that,” Matthew responded automatically. “It's been a tough week for everyone.”

“Wilder told me he figured that Daniel would have wanted the business to stay up and running, this being such a busy season,” Bar commented. “Knowing Dan, I think that's a pretty damn good assessment.”

Matthew pulled his own sunglasses from his face, let them hang against his bare chest on the green cord around his neck. He leaned forward and braced his forearms against his thighs, letting his hands dangle, and squinted out at the shimmering water where people were living it up the way you're supposed to in the summer. He heard himself admitting, “I miss him, Bar. It all happened so damn fast, and I was…on a route for Marsh. It doesn't seem real yet.”

Bar crossed his ankles, knocked the tips of his loafers together once. He said, “I know what you mean. When Dad died a few years ago, it was real fast, too. Rae almost didn't make it back for the funeral. Ma had kittens over that,” he added with a hint of affectionate malice.

Matthew, uncomfortable discussing his own father any longer, seized on the new topic. “I hear Rae is moving back this summer.”

“Yeah, that's the story. She's been in Chicago for so long now, said she needed a change of pace.” Had Matthew been his usual observant self, he would have detected the over-casual tone of Bar's next question, but he was still studying the rippling blue expanse of Rose Lake and missed it entirely. Bar leaned forward himself, stared out in the same direction as Matthew and asked, “Will Shelly be back for the funeral?”

Matthew shook his head, and Bar refused to acknowledge the sharp disappointment in his gut. “No…she won't be.”

“Erica told me her little girl came up, though. I can't imagine Michelle old enough to have a girl that age.

Matthew's heart pounded very hard for a moment. “She got here yesterday.”

“Well, that's good,” Bar said, and rose reluctantly to his feet. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hello while I was out here. Damn, it's pretty by the water. I can see why so many local girls want to get married on Rose Lake beach.”

Matthew stood too, shook Bar's hand one more time, and said, “Hey, thanks again.”

“You know it, Sternhagen. Listen, you take care and we'll see you on Wednesday.”

Matthew watched as Bar retreated back the way he'd come, thinking for a moment that his shoulders seemed a little slumped, but probably it was just his imagination. It was a hot day.

Debbie came wandering over two hours later, fanning herself with a glossy magazine. “Hey there. You about ready to head up for lunch?”

Matthew nodded, catching sight of the twins on the far edge of the beach. He cupped his mouth and yelled, “Emma, Cody! Lunchtime!”

“Look at all those girls checking you out,” Debbie teased him as they made their way across the hot sand. “Angie Stickland better watch out.”

Matthew threw his hands in the air in a gesture of defeat. “Ange and I haven't been together since last Christmas!”

“Whatever you say,” Debbie said, reaching to tousle Emma's curls as the two of them came flying up, breathless and fighting about something. Cody landed a punch on Emma's bare shoulder, and she howled, going at him with both fists. Debbie grabbed for her as Matthew caught Cody around the waist and hauled him up onto his left shoulder, where Cody flailed and knocked the hat from Matthew's head.

“Hey, simmer down, buddy,” he warned his little nephew, stooping to retrieve his favorite piece of clothing. “It isn't nice to hit girls, you know.”

“Bet God didn't know about Emma when he made that stupid rule!” Cody blurted, and Matthew almost laughed, but bit it back, knowing it had been a hard week for the kids especially. They had loved their grandpa tremendously, and there would be a huge hole in their lives now. Matthew breathed in sharply as he understood that, the realization slowly sinking into his own soul. He hadn't allowed himself much of a chance to think about it since he'd arrived home in a state of grieving exhaustion on Sunday. Now, walking the path he'd walked with his father a millon times in years past, his throat felt jagged. He wrapped one big hand more securely around Cody's skinny legs; the little boy now perched more or less motionless, and Matthew found himself imagining all the times he had followed in his father's wake, how many times he'd seen the light in Daniel's sky-blue eyes as he told a story or taught a lesson, or helped his youngest son better perform some task. The loss seemed incredible, impossible. Hell, Daniel had barely even been 60 years old.

The main lodge came into view through the trees. Matthew pulled himself together and lowered Cody to the ground. Debbie was carrying Emma braced on one ample hip as though Emma were a baby and not almost as tall as Debbie herself. Emma clung to her auntie's neck, her forehead bent on Debbie's plump shoulder, and Matthew felt a renewed surge of anguish. He wished for a moment that they'd taken the funeral director's advice and closed the campground for the week. What the hell were they thinking, anyway, with all this false bravado? It was fucking stupid to carry on as usual, when things couldn't be farther from.

Matthew entered the main lodge, with its stacks of brochures, maps, lot rental forms, vending machines and Minnesota souvenirs, his gaze immediately finding Bryce among the others. His entire body flushed at the sight of her and she looked up from far across the space suddenly, her dark eyes landing on him with a warmth that made his lips curve in a small smile. He wanted nothing more in the wide world than to shove aside the racks of sweatshirts between them and sweep her into his arms, and then run. Just run, anywhere. Dangerous game…that was exactly what he was playing.

“Hi, honey,” Erica said to Cody, and then to Matthew, “Would you mind swinging into town and getting the kids some lunch? I just haven't had a chance to make anything here. Take Riley with you…he's been making a fool of himself, fawning all over poor Bryce all morning.” Erica rolled her eyes heavenward. “Ev! Emma! Uncle Matty and Uncle Riley are going to take you guys for burgers, and Deb, would you mind sticking around here while I drive over to the cemetary with Bryce?”

“No, of course not,” said Deb, and then brightly to Bryce, “Hi, you must be the niece.”

Matthew tried to breathe normally as Bryce came within a few feet of them. He had been right about her hair: it had come down her neck over the past few hours, and she looked lovely, soft…for a moment he couldn't tear his gaze from the spot where he'd pressed his lips so many times that night, where he'd licked the salt from their lovemaking…