Lakeside Cottage (22 page)

K
ate consulted the pedometer hooked to the waistband of her shorts. “How’re you doing?” she asked Callie, who was walking briskly beside her along the road.

“Just peachy.”

“This is mile three,” Kate told her. “Do you need a rest?”

“Heck, no. Let’s keep going.”

They were both sweating profusely in the afternoon sun, but Callie’s attitude was good today. They’d been on an emotional roller coaster as Callie came to terms with her condition. Or railed against the injustice of it, or gave in to despondency. From moment to moment, her outlook seemed to change. She veered from rebellion and despair to commitment and determination, all normal reactions, according to the crash course in diabetes control Kate had taken. She was determined to learn as much about the disease as possible. Without so much as a second thought, she’d assumed a parental role with Callie. Lord knew, the girl needed mothering.

And Kate had an undeniable need to mother her. She
applied herself to the problem like a military strategist, arming herself with knowledge of insulin resistance and type 2 diabetes, then mapping out a battle plan to vanquish the enemy. She created menus designed to maximize glucose metabolism and laid out an exercise regimen worthy of professional triathletes. She stood over Callie while the girl recorded her glucose readings, her weight and progress in a pocket-size journal Kate had bought for her. They walked at least five miles a day, went kayaking and swimming and rewarded themselves with trips to the movies or excursions that always involved more exercise.

Sometimes they locked horns over working Callie’s program, but now, despite the ups and downs, Kate saw glimmers of determination and tangible progress. Callie was already losing weight. It was a blessing of youth that her body responded so quickly to a better diet and exercise. Even after a short time, the loss of fifteen pounds was apparent. Her skin was clearing up, too, thanks to the pills and topical medications the doctor had prescribed. The biggest change of all was in Callie’s attitude. She had been devastated by the diagnosis, but in a strange way, it turned out to be a source of motivation.

Dealing with this filled Kate’s days. And kept her from falling to pieces over JD. Since they’d clashed over her article about Callie, he had left for L.A. and come back, but she hadn’t seen him. It was up to him to make the first move.

Ahead of them, Aaron explored the dunes, glancing back from time to time to see where they were. To vary the daily exercise routine, they had driven to Dungeness Spit, a low, sandy finger jutting out into the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It was spectacularly scenic, a wild and
windswept sanctuary for eighty species of birds, with a historic lighthouse at the very tip.

“I’d like to get a copy of your birth certificate,” Kate said. “That way, we can take the ferry over to Victoria, do some shopping and sightseeing.”

For a moment, yearning shone in Callie’s eyes, but she spoke up quickly. “No way. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself. Next thing I know, I’ll get shoved back into foster care.”

The issue had been troubling Kate. For the short term, Callie had a secure living situation. Still, knowing how very young the girl was, Kate would have to take up the matter with officials before long.

“You can’t fly below the radar forever,” she told her. “At some point—sooner rather than later—the ER report to social services is going to be assigned to a caseworker, who’ll show up on our doorstep. She won’t have to dig too deep to find that you’re classified as a runaway.”

“I didn’t run. I was chased.”

Kate walked along in silence for a few minutes. This was exactly the sort of material she needed for her article, but she was having second thoughts about that, too. She’d been so sure of what she was doing before JD had undermined her confidence.

“You weren’t ragging on me about this before,” Callie pointed out.

“I thought you were nearly eighteen before. The fact that you’ve got three years until you’re a legal adult changes everything.”

On the drive home, Aaron fell asleep in the backseat of the car. Callie felt agreeably fatigued and distinctly pleased with herself. Some days, the hard work paid off. If she scheduled her eating and exercise right, she had
loads of energy, and could feel herself getting stronger. Today was a good day. She had them every so often, which was pretty amazing, considering everything that had happened since her birthday. She’d revealed the lie about her age, and the world hadn’t come to an end. She’d been diagnosed with a really bad condition, yet life went on. Not only that, she was doing all right dealing with the situation. It gave her something to control, at least.

Today. Her attitude, it seemed, was a pendulum on a long, long chain. Some days, she hated everything—her disease, herself, her life, her situation. Others, like now, ranged from not half-bad to pretty okay.

“Another reason to get hold of your birth certificate,” Kate said, picking up the conversation from a couple of hours ago, “is so you can take driver’s ed next year. You want to learn to drive, don’t you?”

“Oh, I know how to drive.” When she and her mother had come north to Washington, Callie used to take her mother’s car, just to see if she could get away with it. The idea, of course, was for her mother to catch her and tell her she was grounded, but of course, that never happened. It was dumb, anyway, a ploy for attention that never worked.

“Legally,” Kate said.

“Mmm.” Callie looked out the window as they drove through the little tourist town of Sequim, a sunny place surrounded by acres of lavender fields. The silence between them was pleasant, comfortable. She had made use of her driving skills again when she was living with a family whose driveway resembled a crowded parking lot. The father was always asking the kids to move the cars around to let this one or that one in or out. Callie had become the go-to girl for valet parking. Then one day, while moving a rusty Chevy Malibu from the driveway
to the street, she’d simply kept going. She’d driven down the residential street and onto the highway, going so slow that passing trucks had blasted their horns at her. She got to the next town before the highway patrol and local police surrounded her and made her pull over. The impulsive move marked her last day with
that
family.

Pulling her mind away from the past, she turned to Kate. “So when are you and JD going to get over your fight?”

Kate’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, a dead giveaway. “What fight?”

“Good one,” Callie said, “but I’m not buying it.” She didn’t want to bug Kate or anything, but she was genuinely curious. JD had stopped coming over. He let Aaron visit his place to mess around and help with the boat building, but there were no more suppers together, stories and board games in the evening. No more hearing Kate and JD trying to sneak around, like Callie hadn’t figured out exactly what they were up to. She was dying to know if he’d maybe explained to Kate about his real identity, and if Kate had a problem with that. “So what was the fight about?” she persisted.

“Nothing.” Her knuckles were still white, her face red.

“You wouldn’t take that answer from me or Aaron,” Callie said. “Come on, tell me.”

Kate sighed and looked in the rearview mirror, adjusting it to check on Aaron.

“Out cold,” Callie informed her. “Spill.”

“We didn’t have a fight. It was a…disagreement.”

“How is that not a fight?”

“Things didn’t get ugly or anything. We simply…found a deep difference of opinion about something.”

“About what?”

Kate hesitated, bit her lip as she concentrated on the road ahead.

“About me,” Callie said. It wasn’t a question. All it took was that slight hesitation, and she knew.
Damn it.
“Kate, that’s so stupid. I shouldn’t even matter—”

“Of course you matter.”

“I mean when it comes to you and JD.”

“We’re not a match, and that became apparent. It’s best not to waste time and energy trying to make something work that’ll only last the summer no matter what. And that’s my decision, and mine alone.”

One thing about Kate, she could be totally stubborn. Maybe that’s what came of being a single mother all her adult life. She was used to calling the shots.

“What do you mean, you’re not a match? That’s such bullshit.”

“I don’t like your language.”

“I don’t like you shutting me out. I thought we were friends, Kate. Friends tell each other stuff. Jeez, you know my weight and my glucose level and everything.”

Kate pursed her lips as if she didn’t want to say anything. Then she spoke up. “We quarreled about me making you the subject of an article.”

Classic, thought Callie. Of course JD would object to that, and she knew exactly why. Kate didn’t, though, and Callie wasn’t about to tell her. Or should she? If she let the cat out of the bag, Kate would understand. Or she might get pissed that JD had put one over on her, and blow him off completely. All right, Callie decided. She’d keep her mouth shut. His real identity wasn’t her secret to tell, and besides, she’d made a promise. You idiot, JD, she thought. You freaking idiot.

“Did you tell him I
want
you to do the article?”

“Certainly. I also told him that since you’re a minor, your identity can’t be revealed.”

“I still want to do it. I’ll tell him myself,” Callie said.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. This is between JD and me.”

“But it’s about me.”

Kate flipped on the blinker as she headed through downtown Port Angeles. On First Street, they passed the recruiting office and Callie saw it again, the poster of Jordan Donovan Harris, three feet high in living color outside the shop front. She studied it every time they passed by. He was so hot in that picture. It was amazing how dorky glasses and a baseball cap could conceal so much hotness.

“He thinks I might be exploiting you and your situation,” Kate said. “I don’t want to do that, Callie, I swear.”

“You’re not. I’m totally cool with it.”

“Do you really want your picture in a national magazine?”

Duh.
It would only be the coolest thing ever to happen to her. But Callie had learned the truth about wanting. The harder you wished for something, the more impossible it was to get. So she tried not to wish too hard. “We’ve already been through this,” she reminded Kate. “I’m not like some cover model or anything, but if the magazine wants pictures, it’s fine with me. God, JD really ticks me off.” She hesitated before she said too much, and cut her gaze away.

“Have you talked to him about this?” Kate asked, frowning at the road.

“No,” Callie said quickly. “It just seems like the sort of thing that would make him freak. He’s like, this really
private person and all.” She realized that she felt weirdly invested in the idea of Kate and JD together. It wasn’t really her business, but there was something between them, some kind of energy in the air. It was sad, actually, to think that she and JD were on the brink of calling it quits. They seemed like a perfect match, Kate the eternal optimist and Harris the dangerous protector. Not to mention that they were so good-looking, their picture ought to be in celebrity magazines. JD would love that, Callie thought.

These days, Kate seemed…diminished. Maybe a little lost. Callie could tell Kate missed him. And then it occurred to her that she wasn’t completely powerless here. If she could just think up a reason to get them together again. Surely Kate’s place had a leaky faucet or something broken JD could fix. He was all about fixing things. Maybe that was the key, Callie decided, mulling it over.

“Anyway,” she said, “I can’t believe the two of you are breaking up over this. You’re making me feel like the bad-karma fairy.”

“You’re not,” Kate said, “and we’re not breaking up. Technically, we weren’t together in the first place, so there’s nothing to break up.”

Callie snorted. “Listen to yourself. Technically? What does that mean?” She waited, but Kate didn’t answer. Callie said, “He saved my life, remember?”

“You don’t need to remind me that he’s a good guy.”

“Hello? It’s not like they grow on trees.”

“You know what?” Kate said with a rare flash of that redheaded temper. “We’re not talking about this anymore. We’ve got a project, and that’s to get you well, so let’s work on that, okay?”

“Only if you promise we’ll get back to work on the article.”

Kate pulled off to the shoulder of the road. She took a deep breath, turned and faced Callie. “If I do, it’s going to involve going to see your mother.”

Callie’s heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

“Because she’s a huge part of your story. It wouldn’t be complete without her.”

Callie was seized by a painful combination of panic and yearning. Her mother had failed her in every possible way, ultimately flinging her to the world like a seed blown into the wind. Yet for all that, they were mother and daughter, and even though she didn’t want it to mean anything to her, it did. It meant everything. “Whatever,” she said. “I don’t care.”

“C
allie thinks we’ve broken up,” Kate said, getting the words out quickly before she lost her nerve. Last night, pacing the floor at 3:00 a.m., wondering how to end the stalemate and clear the air with him, she found no answer. Only exhaustion.

This morning he’d shown up as if he’d read her mind, but his purpose didn’t seem to be to clear the air between them. After a brief greeting, he said, “She told me you have a porch light that needs fixing.”

Didn’t he get it? Kate wondered. That was a transparent ploy to get him over here. However, he seemed to be taking it at face value.

He looked up from the wicker porch table, where he’d been bent over some project that lay dismantled in front of him. “Did you want this on a toggle switch or rheostat?” he asked.

“Do I…what?”

“This light fixture. What kind of switch do you want?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear what I said.”

“I heard.” He rummaged through the canvas carpenter’s apron slung low around his waist. “Toggle’s fine for a porch light,” he concluded.

“You’re avoiding the issue,” she said. Kate was already regretting the conversation. She sounded like a whiny, possessive girlfriend.

“There is no issue.” He set the fixture between two clamps and opened a blister pack of new wire. “I had to go away. Now I’m back.”

Kate held her tongue and waited. For what, she wasn’t sure. Did she want him to say he was sorry, that he had no right to approve or disapprove of anything she chose to do? Or did she want him to say he was wrong, that writing about Callie’s life was a worthy endeavor? That she deserved to know all his comings and goings?

Now that she thought about it, she
was
sure. The answer to all of the above was
yes.

This was getting complicated. Her feelings for him were getting complicated. If she knew where she stood with him, she’d push the issue, talk it out, argue if necessary. That was what people did when they cared about each other. Yet she and JD weren’t arguing; they were avoiding and acting as though whatever it was they had between them wasn’t worth fighting over.

Maybe she’d read too much into this. Maybe their relationship worked better as a summer romance, one that would simply fade away on its own at the end of the season.

“Hand me that wire stripper, will you?” he asked.

All right, so he didn’t want to talk about it. It was better that way. From day one, they’d gotten along so well it was almost scary. She realized it was because they never dealt with issues bigger than whether to have hamburgers or hot dogs for dinner, or which CD to put on.
They should have been content to go on like that through the summer, never reaching deep enough to truly take hold of one another.

She passed him the strippers, pretending she wasn’t troubled by her thoughts. “The electrician in town said he couldn’t get out here for a couple of weeks.”

“I’m your love slave, remember?” he said, laying a copper wire bare.

Kate flushed and automatically scanned the yard for Aaron. He was over by the shed with Luke Newman, helping blow up an air mattress, while Callie sat in an Adirondack chair nearby. Kate watched the kids for a minute, laughing and talking together in the yard. Aaron thought it was awesome to hang out with Luke. And Luke, a big kid himself, showed a remarkable tolerance for Aaron.

“Right,” Kate said to JD, flashing a smile. “If I believed that, I’d think up harder stuff for you to do.”

Though she spoke lightly, she wondered if he did this on purpose, if he brought up the idea of love without actually going the distance. They had slept together, but instead of clarifying things, she felt more confused than ever. He talked about being crazy about her, but they never had a direct discussion of exactly how they felt about one another.

She wanted to ask him, but held off because Callie and Luke were coming toward them. The teenager’s transformation was remarkable, and Kate glanced over at JD to see if he noticed the changes, but his expression was unreadable.

True to her word, Callie was sticking to her program of glucose monitoring, diet and exercise. Kate used to see her as an overweight, fashion-challenged teen. Now the
girl looked as fragile and spiritual as a Charlotte Brontë heroine. Context was everything, Kate reflected.

“We’re heading to town,” Callie said. “Luke’s giving me a ride. I’ve got class and then we’re going to rent a video and watch it at the Newmans’.”

“I’ll be careful,” Luke said, correctly anticipating her next remark. “We’ll be home by ten o’clock.”

After they left, she said, “It’s hard letting them go off on their own like this.”

“His car has air bags, and I know where he lives,” JD said, as if that explained everything.

She went back to her confused thoughts, and he went back to work. She wondered if he sensed the turbulence in the air between them. They were so new together that she didn’t know how to categorize this…discussion. They weren’t fighting. No one had spoken in a raised voice and they hadn’t even broken their rhythm as she handed him tools and he worked on the light.

“We never really talk about how we feel about each other,” she blurted out.

He tinkered with the neck of the fixture. “Sure we do.” He held out his hand without looking at her. “Clamp.”

She gritted her teeth and passed him a clamp. “When?” she asked. “When have we told each other how we feel?”

He held out his hand again. “Phillips-head screwdriver.”

She handed it over. “I said, when—”

“I know what you said. You asked me when we ever told each other how we feel. If you need hearts and flowers and deathless soliloquies, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“How romantic,” she retorted, feeling a flash of temper.
It was stupid to expect anything from this man. From any man. She knew that.

“You want romance,” he said, “read a fairy tale.”

“I just don’t see why it’s such a huge problem to talk. I believe in talking. I’m a very verbal person.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” He put the cover on the light fixture. “And I don’t know about you, Kate, but I tell you how I feel every time I touch you. If you don’t realize that, maybe you need to listen better.”

Was there any possible response to that besides sitting there with her mouth hanging open? You don’t do that anymore, she wanted to say. You don’t touch me.

He fitted the fixture in place on the wall and held out a hand for the screws.

She handed them over, wondering at his attitude. He put everything back together with almost surgical precision. When he flipped the breaker and tested the light, she wasn’t at all surprised to find it working perfectly.

“I guess that’s got it,” he said, closing the breaker box.

“Thanks to you, we won’t be stumbling around in the dark anymore.” She was trying to be civil, but everything felt awry between them. Weird and off kilter.

“No problem.” While taking off the carpenter’s apron, he studied her. “What’s that look?”

“What look?” She pretended not to understand, even though the feeling that something was not right hung between them, a palpable entity, making her feel defensive.

“You’re pissed off about something.”

“That wouldn’t be very neighborly of me, to get mad at the person fixing my porch light.”

“You’re pissed off,” he repeated.

“Don’t tell me how I feel.” She sat down on the steps, and he sat beside her.

She was torn by the desire to lean against him and the urge to push him away, and her heart sank. So it began, the beginning of the end. This always happened with a guy she liked. Always. She was nuts to think JD would be any different.

Ah, but she had wanted him to be. Like a schoolgirl with a crush, she had yearned for it.

She should have known better. Should have recognized the pattern, which had become such a familiar rhythm in her life. Whenever she liked a guy, things went well for a time. Then something—anything—occurred.

It might be a comment. Maybe just a look. She was always amazed at how little it took for something to undo a fragile bond.

She felt JD’s stare and the weight of his expectations. This was it, then. The relationship talk. And so far, it wasn’t going well.

She took a deep breath. “Ever find a broken thread on a sweater,” she asked him, “and when you pull it, the entire garment unravels?”

He nodded. “I usually quit pulling once I realize it’s unraveling.”

“Sometimes it unravels on its own,” she said, “whether you pull on it or not.”

“I don’t get your point.”

“I do have one. I’m not mad. It’s just…we’re unraveling.” Her face heated, and she looked away from him. Spoken aloud, her words sounded silly. And it was stupid of her to feel disappointed. This was the normal course of a relationship for her. She ought to be used to it. “So anyway,” she said, “that’s my observation, based on my experience.”

“What’s the broken thread?” he asked.

“You really don’t know?”

He didn’t answer but simply looked at her, waiting.

This was what men did, she reminded herself. They let the woman do all the emotional work, and they got to walk away intact. “I told you I was writing about Callie,” she reminded him, “and your reaction was to question my choice.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he said, “I just wonder if exposing other people’s lives on paper is going to bring you happiness.”

Ouch. “This is not about my happiness. And I am not going to defend myself to you. This is something I want, something I intend to work for and you have no right to question me.”

“Then we should change the subject.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t support my dreams and ambitions. That’s one of the most basic, unbreakable rules of relationships.”

Oh, God, she thought, she had just drawn a line in the sand.

He was quiet. She didn’t know what he was thinking.

“Kate—”

“JD—”

They both spoke at once.

“Hey!” Aaron yelled to get their attention. “Watch this!” He was perched on his bike at the top of a steep slope leading down into the yard. As soon as they looked up at him, he leaned down over the handlebars and pushed off. The bike sped downhill, out of control in seconds.

She was on her feet in an instant. JD ran, but they were too far away to intercept him. Even as they yelled
at him to stop, he headed flat out down the bumpy hill toward the dock.

Helpless, terrified, she watched her son ride along the dock and off the end, shouting with glee as he launched into the air, then separated from the bike and jumped in with a splash.

The moment he bobbed to the surface and gave a triumphant war whoop, Kate’s terror crystallized into fury. Rushing past JD, she went to the end of the dock. The bike floated up, buoyed by a pair of life vests Aaron had strapped to it. He swam over to the ladder, pulling the floating contraption behind him.

“What on earth are you doing?” demanded Kate.

“Nothing.”

It was the age-old exchange of angry mothers and naughty sons everywhere.

Aaron focused on JD, who now stood at the edge of the dock, hands on hips, looking down into the water.

“Did you see, JD?” Aaron asked. “Did you? Did you see?”

“I saw. How do you plan on getting that bike out of the water?”

“I got a system all figured out. But did you see how awesome that was?” Grinning even as he shivered with cold, Aaron pulled the bike over to the boat ramp.

Kate glared at JD. She hated that he and Aaron had sided together against her. “You shouldn’t have told him it was awesome.”

“But it was.”

The residue of their quarrel still hung between them. “It’s a bad idea to encourage dangerous behavior.”

“He doesn’t need any encouragement,” JD pointed out. “He thought that up on his own.”

They walked to the boat ramp and stood waiting while
Aaron dragged the bike into the shallows, set it upright, then wheeled it up the ramp.

“You are so grounded,” said Kate.

“It was so worth it,” replied Aaron.