Lakeside Cottage (21 page)

“You can’t ignore this.”

“Watch me.”

“Callie.” JD’s voice broke in, calm but deeply commanding.

“God, not you, too.” She glared at him. “You can’t make me, either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Kate was about to object but he silenced her with a slight shake of his head.

“Fine,” Callie’s voice was soft now, tremulous. “I’ll just read that book they sent home with me.”

“You do that,” JD said easily.

Kate gritted her teeth. He of all people ought to understand how critical this was.

“I will,” Callie said, setting her chin at a stubborn angle.

“You’re s’posed to go to the class,” Aaron pointed out. “The doctor said.”

“What do you care?” Callie asked him. “This is my problem, not yours or Kate’s or anybody else’s.”

“He cares,” Kate snapped, unable to stay silent any longer. “And I care, and so does JD. We all care, and you’re being selfish by refusing to follow doctor’s orders.”

Callie’s face drained to white. She looked as though Kate had slapped her. “
I’m
being selfish? You think I asked for this? You think I like being a freak?”

“You’re not a freak,” Kate said, inches from losing her temper. “You’re going to this class.”

“I’m not.”

“Come with us, then,” JD suggested. “Aaron and I are going to climb a mountain today. So what’ll it be? The class, or the mountain?”

Callie glared out the window at the sheer mountains that seemed to rear up from the depths of the lake. “I’m sick, remember? I’d keel over.”

“I was going to stop at the Rite-Aid to buy makeup after class today,” Kate said. Then she held out the bright plastic gift cards Callie had received for her birthday. “And don’t you have some shopping to do?”

Callie turned her glare on Kate. “I’ll go to the stupid class, then. I’m going to take a shower.” She stomped from the room.

Kate sent Aaron off to grab the digital camera. “Not even nine o’clock and I’m exhausted,” she said to JD.

He hooked an arm around her. “Let’s go outside. It’s a beautiful morning.”

She marveled at how soothing it was simply to have somebody to lean on. They went out and sat on the dock, facing the gleaming blue-green mountains and their own reflections in the glassy surface of the water. Each time she was around him, she was filled with a shivery sense
of destiny, as though they were meant to be together. But how much of that was wishful thinking? How much of that was sheer gratitude on her part, that she’d finally met someone who was happy to form a bond with her son as well as her?

Rather than putting her at ease with him, the fact that she was falling so hard for him simply intensified the tension. She wondered if he felt that, too, but realized she still didn’t know him well enough to ask.

“You’re quiet,” he commented.

Well, maybe it was time to ask, she decided. “So are you.”

“I have to go away for a while.”

Oh. Now, here was something new. She stayed quiet, expecting him to offer to fill in the blanks. He said nothing, though; simply braced his hands behind him on the dock and leaned back. All right, she thought. You’re a reporter, Kate. Get the guy talking.

“Where are you going?”

“To L.A.”

She felt a beat of excitement, even though he seemed blasé about it. “You must be going for an admissions interview.”

He blinked as though startled, then flashed a smile. “That’s right.”

“Well, I think they’ll be so impressed with you, they’ll want to sign you up right away.”

“I don’t think it works like that, Kate. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It’s not just me. You’ve very good. Seeing you with Callie,” she said, “you were like a different person, working on her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just…I saw a different side of you, one I’ve never
seen before. When you helped Callie, I saw you as the person you are in your real life.”

“I’m just a guy doing my job. Fortunately for Callie, her emergency wasn’t a huge challenge.”

“You’re being modest,” she observed. “Why is that?”

“I’m not being modest and what’s with all the questions?”

“It’s time,” she said. “We’ve put off this conversation long enough.”

“God, Kate. What conversation?”

“The one where we get to know each other on a deeper level.”

He offered a wicked smile. “That doesn’t have to involve talking.”

“This morning it does.” She hugged her knees up to her chest. “I’m not kidding. Here at the lake, we’re all out of our element. After seeing you with Callie…well, now I’m curious about who you are in your real life.”

“So this isn’t real?” he asked her, a bemused smile on his lips.

“This is the lake,” she said. “When you’re not here, what’s your life like? Who’s in it? I want to know what’s important to you.”

“You’re important to me,” he said. “So what are you when you go back to civilization? An amped-up city slicker in stiletto heels?”

She laughed, then bit her lip. “An unemployed city slicker, though I do love my stiletto heels.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “I’ll be okay. I wasn’t exactly a happy camper at the paper, anyway.”

The warmth seemed to leave his eyes. “The paper,” he said.

She nodded. “
Seattle News.
Not exactly the
New York Times,
but…it was who I am—a writer. A reporter.” He didn’t reply, and his silence unsettled her. “So I’m not exactly Brenda Starr,” she said. “Don’t look so disappointed. They didn’t want me to be Brenda Starr at the paper, either.”

“I thought you said you were a nature writer, doing something for
National Geographic.
”

“You should listen better. I told you I did a piece for
Smithsonian,
” she said. “I’m working on a freelance basis.”

“How come you never told me you were a newspaper reporter?”

She was taken aback by his tone. “Because I’m not. I used to be.” She took a deep breath. “All right, I have nothing to hide from you. I worked at the paper for five years, and at the beginning of the summer I was fired.” No point in equivocating. “My boss was the mother of two, divorced. She had no trouble juggling work and family. She was the working-mother poster girl. I, on the other hand, looked like the ultimate screwup. There were a bunch of warnings and citations when I missed deadlines.” She saw the question in his eyes. “Call me crazy, but I tended to drop everything when Aaron needed me. Each time a babysitter or his aunt or the school called, I’d stop what I was doing and focus on him. It’s a wonder this didn’t happen years ago, actually.”

“Do you miss your job?” he asked.

“Of course. But when I had to choose between focusing on my son or on work, I chose Aaron. I don’t regret it, either, but my priorities did get me fired.”

He let out a breath. “So you’re not a reporter.”

“Not anymore.”

He nodded, and she saw his posture relax a little. “I’ll be all right,” she explained. She wondered briefly if he’d be put off by the prospect of an unemployed girlfriend. “This is a chance for me to try my hand at freelance journalism. I studied it in school but never had the nerve to actually do it. I suppose getting fired is the universe’s way of taking all my excuses away from me.” She felt a subtle warmth growing inside her, a sense of intimacy at sharing her dream with him. “The
Smithsonian
piece will be published next year, and I’ve had a stroke of luck with my editor. She got her dream job at
Vanity Fair,
and she’s interested in my next project.”

“Which is…?”

“Callie’s story. The idea’s still in the formative stages, and after last night, I realize I have a lot more work to do. But if it goes, the magazine will send a photographer from Seattle to take pictures.”

“Does Callie know about that?”

“Of course. I can’t very well tell her story without her cooperation.”

“And she’s okay with this?”

“She’s more than okay. She seems completely intrigued. I have the feeling she wants to tell her story. Maybe to get rid of the burden, maybe to boost her self-esteem. She has a lot of healing to do.”

“In the national press?” he asked.

“Why are you being so weird about this?”

His reaction was subtle. Perhaps again she was imagining it, but she sensed him stiffening, pulling away, though he didn’t move at all. “I’m not being weird. Just wondering if it’s the best idea for Callie.”

“It’s fine. She’s all excited. Why wouldn’t it be all right?”

“Some people don’t want their lives smeared all over the papers.”

“This is not going to be a smear job.” She bristled, mystified and disturbed by his disapproval. “It might even do some good.” She eyed him sideways. “You sound like a skeptic.”

“I
am
a skeptic.”

“Why?”

“Because she might be flattered by all the attention, but what good will it do her, really?”

“It’s going to validate her.” Kate’s voice sharpened. “It’s going to make her believe she matters. How can that be a bad thing?”

“She doesn’t need to get her picture in a stupid magazine to do that,” he said.

She felt both admiration and annoyance. Admiration, because he had so skillfully turned a question about him into an indictment of her, and annoyance because she’d allowed it to happen. “So what are you saying? That I should back off?”

“Yeah, you should back off,” he said.

“She doesn’t need protecting from me, for heaven’s sake.” Kate couldn’t believe her ears. “This is the way I make my living. I have a son to support. Who are you to criticize—”

“I’m ready,” Callie said, coming out of the house, her hair freshly washed and her purse slung over her shoulder.

Kate shot JD a look. “We have to go,” she said. “Listen, I’d planned on bringing Aaron with us, so if you’d rather not—”

“I want to spend the day with him,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”

“All right.” Kate got up and brushed herself off. No
point in ruining Aaron’s day just because JD was being an ass to her. And perhaps, she thought, it was fortunate he was going away for a while. He’d just given her plenty to think about in his absence.

JD
hated what he had learned about Kate. Based on what she’d told him before today, he’d pictured her as a dreamy nature writer, doing puff pieces about long-dead tribal elders or the nesting habits of sandhill cranes. Now he realized how wrong he was. She was a goddamn journalist. A reporter. Someone who stripped people naked in public, with or without their permission. She was a member of the same club as the guy who had hidden behind a Dumpster at JD’s apartment, or the woman who had called 911 with a phony complaint and then, when his crew showed up, proceeded to ask him to pose for a picture with her.

He had been contacted by publications from the
National Review
to
Rolling Stone,
from
Atlantic Monthly
to
The Star,
and he understood what reporters were like. They pretended to be your best friend, your advocate, a sympathetic ally, and then they made you or people you care about bleed in public, not even staying to watch as they moved on to their next victim.

Was that Kate?

“Hey, JD, check this out.” On the trail ahead of him, Aaron and Bandit scrambled atop a rock overhang shaped like an anvil. “Hurry up, come on.”

“Why do I need to hurry?”

“Because. Jeez, JD.”

Since it was a weekday, the trail to the summit was deserted. It was a relatively easy climb, the steep stretches and switchbacks interspersed with long, sloping traverses and rock formations.

Aaron was a champ at climbing, as JD had suspected he’d be. Even laden with two canteens and a digital camera, the kid marched purposefully, like a member of a stealth mountain commando. He didn’t get winded, either, JD observed, but kept up a steady stream of chatter.

Their progress startled chipmunks and a dozen kinds of birds. They passed trees so tall that Aaron insisted on taking a picture, and through the foliage the lake was visible, sinuous and sapphire blue, so far below that it looked utterly uninhabited.

“If we get lost here,” Aaron observed, “they’d never find us.”

JD didn’t tell the boy how deeply that notion appealed to him. “According to this map, we’re at the highest point of elevation around the lake.” He showed Aaron the topographical hiking map from the ranger station.

“Nope,” Aaron said, racing a few yards away. “That’s right here, at the marker.”

Sure enough, there was a chiseled marker with the elevation in a small plaque. Neither of them was interested in the marker or the plaque, though. They sat together on a huge boulder and looked around at the majestic, breath-stealing scenery. JD took it all in with a sense of awe and privilege. Back East, people didn’t think about
the fact that there were forests and lakes so remote, that there was air this clear.

Aaron didn’t sit still for long, but found a stick to toss for the dog. Watching them, JD wondered how much the place a person grew up mattered in forming his character. If he’d been raised in a small wilderness town rather than a Baltimore tenement, would he have become a different person?

Maybe not. Drug addicts were everywhere, and his mother would have been just as troubled out here as in the inner city. The thought of Janet brought a scowl to his face. She was the reason for his trip to L.A., not a medical school admissions interview as Kate had guessed. Part of Janet’s therapy was a family visit and he was her only family. He just hoped he wouldn’t be recognized when he visited her.

He wondered what it would be like, telling Kate the truth. “I have a meeting with my mother’s drug-addiction recovery team” just didn’t sound like the kind of thing that would win a girl’s heart. And what was the point, anyway? If she wanted to think he was interviewing for med school, that was her prerogative. And of course, after the things he’d said to her this morning, it was her prerogative to tell him to take a hike for good.

“Smile!” Aaron’s voice caught him off guard, and the digital camera recorded his startled expression.

JD fought a sense of paranoia. This was a kid, he told himself. A kid taking a snapshot.

The kid whose mother was a hungry freelance journalist.

“Hand me the camera and I’ll get a shot of you,” he suggested, “right here at the mountaintop.”

Aaron handed it over. It was a high-end digital model,
not at all a child’s toy. JD wondered if he could find a delete button.

Aaron posed like a conqueror, one foot propped on the stone marker, his walking stick planted in the ground, Bandit prancing at his feet. The breeze plucked at his carroty hair and sunlight danced in his eyes, and suddenly the most extraordinary emotion came over JD. It was an unexpected mixture of pride and affectionate amusement, deepened and sharpened by something else, something he’d never felt before and scarcely recognized.

JD had never been a father, but now he realized he knew what a father could feel for his son. It was a deep tenderness that touched him when he watched Aaron do the simplest things—drink a glassful of milk, play with a dog, run and jump off the dock. It was devastating and overwhelming, yet at the same time tinged with quiet joy. He thought about Kate, loving this boy with all that she was, and wondered how the guy who had fathered him managed to stay out of the picture.

“Let’s see it,” Aaron said. “Set the dial on Back and press the arrow.”

The shot of Aaron materialized in the LCD screen. JD wasn’t a professional photographer but he had captured perfectly the expression of boyish bravado, the shining innocence and innate sense of pride.

Curious, he hit the Back button again. There he was in living color. He looked at several more and discovered a series of shots of him climbing the mountain. He looked relaxed and content, unaware that his picture was being taken.

“Hey,” he said to Aaron, “what are you, a secret agent?”

Aaron grinned. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Where’s the Delete button?”

“No way. You’re not deleting anything.”

“You don’t need all these pictures of me. They’re just taking up space.”

He grabbed the camera from JD. “I do, too.” His ears and cheeks turned an ominous shade of red.

Great, thought JD. He was probably winding up for one of his tantrums. Kate had warned him about Aaron’s temper, but she hadn’t really said what to do about it. “Hey, take it easy,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even. “We’re buddies.”

Aaron backed up, unraveling by inches. “After this summer, I’ll never see you again.”

So that was what was bothering him. JD didn’t tell him otherwise. “I’m not going to lie to you. At the end of the summer, I have to leave the lake, just like you and your mom.”

“And Callie,” Aaron said.

“Her, too. So why are you letting this bother you now?”

“Because I hate it.” With that, he wound up and hurled the camera with all his might.

There was no forethought; JD lunged and caught the thing in both hands. The power was still on; he flipped it off.

“Call your dog, kid,” he said. “We’re going back down.”

“No, not yet.” Aaron’s rage dissolved into acute distress. “Come on, JD, I didn’t mean to throw the camera, I swear I didn’t.”

“Right. Looked like a complete accident to me.” JD reconnoitered the area, anticipating all the ways Aaron could harm himself. There were sharp sticks and rocks, a steep mountain girded by cliffs, rocky ravines and fallen
trees…the possibilities were endless. He knew what he was risking here.

“Look, I’m not going to put up with your tantrums,” he said. “You’re old enough to know better. So let’s hit the trail.”

“I won’t go.” His face was almost purple now.

“Fine. I’ll go.” He put two fingers to his lips and whistled for Bandit. Shit, he thought, now I’m committed. I have to walk away from the kid or look like a pushover.

The dog came running, and JD headed down the mountain. He didn’t look back to see if Aaron followed. He just kept walking deliberately, the dog scampering ahead. This could be a bad move, JD reflected. He knew that. Aaron could run off, disappear, get lost in the vast wilderness.

JD made as much noise as he could, hoping the kid would surrender and join him. He had no idea if this ploy would work, though. His experience with kids was so limited. Generally he met them at the worst times of their lives, when they’d injured themselves or swallowed poison or spiked a fever scary enough to warrant a call to 911. Even healthy kids were a mystery to him, their minds operating on a different wavelength. He didn’t get them. He didn’t know how to be a parent. For all his special training, for all his experience in the field, JD was lost when it came to understanding a child. The one thing he would not do was give up on Aaron or give in to his temper. That was all he knew.

A kid was the ultimate challenge, and this was proof. Forget dodging bullets and saving lives. Compared to raising a child, everything else was a cakewalk.

And yet people did it every day, he reminded him
self. They gave their whole heart to a child in an act of faith.

It took all JD’s willpower to resist rushing back to where he had ditched the kid and make sure he was okay. If he did that, Aaron would learn that throwing a tantrum was a good way to bring people to your beck and call.

He went around a curve in the trail. Still no Aaron. His stomach clenched. He was ditching Kate’s boy. Abandoning a child in the wilderness.

This was a bad idea, and it was getting worse by the minute.

The dog picked up speed, scampering around the next curve of the steep pathway. For a hound, he wasn’t very focused on sniffing out his kid.

Come on, Aaron, JD thought. Quit being a little shit.

He decided to pause by the anvil-shaped rock and take a break. Have a drink of water from the canteen. Did Aaron have enough water? The boy was so little; in the heat of a summer day, dehydration could set in fast.

He tried to act casual as he opened the canteen and put it to his lips. Tipping back his head, he allowed himself to scan the area.

No Aaron.

JD took his time putting the canteen away. Bandit was rooting around somewhere below, but there was no sign of the boy. JD calculated that he’d come just a few hundred yards. Only a short time had passed.

He heaved a sigh and kept going, noisily, hoping the kid would track his progress. But with every step he took, his doubts intensified. This wasn’t working. Aaron was just a little kid.

The path split off into two branches, and JD hesitated. Seconds later, he made up his mind. He had to go back
the way he came. He couldn’t risk losing Aaron just to make a point. All right, kid, he thought. You win. I’ll come running back to you.

Defeated by a willful kid who had thrown a camera at him.

He didn’t know what else to do. He’d taken a huge risk and it had been a mistake. He whistled for the dog. Then he turned and started back up the mountain. Running. Once the decision was made, he gave in to the sick, pounding urgency of full-blown worry. With the dog now following him, he came around the first switchback. He’d managed to work himself nearly into a panic now. He gathered breath in his lungs to call out for Aaron.

A second later, he was hit by a whirlwind. The boy ran straight to him, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

“Whoa, there,” JD said. “Take it easy.”

Aaron’s face was sweaty and deep red, but when JD looked into his eyes, there was no rage. No fear or distress, either.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said with a curious sober dignity. “I threw the camera on purpose, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry about the stuff I said to you, too. I don’t hate you, not one bit, and I never have.”

Judging by the tremor in the boy’s voice, JD suspected that this speech was exceedingly difficult for him. He knew his reply mattered a lot and hoped he’d get it right. “I’m impressed by your honesty.”

“Do you accept my apology?”

There was a lot to talk about here. JD knew this was something Kate would call a teachable moment, a time to discuss the incident in depth. He ought to talk with Aaron about recognizing anger coming on and discuss ways to deal with his temper before it got away from
him. He ought to discuss alternatives and options for managing this strange inner force that took over.

He studied the small face, now soft and vulnerable with remorse, and he thought,
Some other time.

“Yeah,” he said, and held out his right hand. “I accept.”

Aaron solemnly shook on it, his hand lingering for a few beats. “Were you really going to take off and leave me behind?” he asked.

“No way,” JD said. “I’d never leave you.”