The Lake Season (29 page)

Thirty-One

M
illie met her at the door. “Have you seen Leah yet?” Millie asked Iris in a low whisper.

The morning of the rehearsal dinner had arrived. Iris had rushed from Cooper's house in the early hours, hoping to beat any of her own family to the kitchen breakfast table. But to her dismay, the driveway was already clogged when she pulled in.

Relieved that her mother seemed to be overlooking the fact that Iris was walking through the door in yesterday's clothes, Iris hurried past her. “Uh, no. She's probably sleeping.”

Millie looked at her watch. “I already checked. Her room's empty. And her bed is made.”

Odd for Leah, but still not a reason to panic. Iris shrugged. “Maybe she got up early?”

Millie shook her head. “I left a little gift for her on her pillow last night. Grandma's pearl necklace. I thought she'd like it for tonight.” Millie paused, her voice wavering. “It's still there. Still wrapped.”

Iris glanced warily around the kitchen, teeming with staffers who'd arrived early to set up for tomorrow's ceremony.

From the dining room, Tika waved brightly. “Ladies, I need the bride. We've got some last-minute seating charts to go over.”

Millie tapped her pen on her clipboard. “Something's not right.”

Iris ducked outside, where the kids were working on breakfast. Iris pecked them each on the head. “Morning, loves. Anybody seen Aunty Leah?” She inspected their sleepy expressions for any sign of curiosity about her night away. But they seemed unfazed.

“Grandma won't let us watch cartoons,” Jack mumbled. “The den is full of wedding
stuf
f
.”

“Sorry, buddy. Tomorrow's Aunty Leah's big day. So have you seen her?”

“Uh-uh,” Lily answered through a mouthful of bagel.

“What about Uncle Stephen?”

The three of them shook their heads.

Iris poured herself some coffee and it was then she noticed her cell phone on the table. As if on cue, it buzzed.

“That thing woke us up this morning,” Sadie grumbled. “You left it in our room last night. Who's calling so much?”

“I did?” Iris never left the kids without having her phone. And of all nights.
Mother of the Year Award
. “I'm sorry, honey, I didn't know I'd left it.”

“Well, it's been ringing all morning.”

Iris shaded the screen, hoping it was Leah. Maybe it was she who'd been trying to reach Iris, to tell her what was going on. But the screen said
Paul.

“Who is it?” Sadie asked.

“Nobody,” Iris lied, tucking the phone into her back pocket.

The only reason Iris answered Paul's rare calls that summer was the kids. But now they were with her, and frankly she didn't really care what was bothering Paul at the moment.

Millie poked her head through the screen door. “I still can't locate Leah.”

“What about the farm?” Jack said.

Millie's eyes brightened. “Of course! I'll bet Leah wanted to run over things with Naomi before they take off for the honeymoon. Will you and the kids go fetch her?”

Which still didn't explain her untouched bed, Iris thought. But Millie was insistent. “Tell Leah that the planners are waiting.”

•    •    •

The morning dew was already dry on the grassy rise up to the barn. Around them, the birds chirped loudly, and Iris could tell the weather promised a perfect weekend for a wedding.

Just let them be up here
, she wished silently, trailing the kids up the hill. But the barn was empty, as was the potting shed. They continued up to the gardens, and Iris scanned the flat acreage ahead for any sign of Leah or Stephen. But the carefully tilled rows were empty, the only inhabitant a stray bunny who scampered into taller grass as they approached.

“Where are they?” Sadie asked, and Iris knew she was beginning to pick up on the strangeness of the bride and groom's absence.

“Probably just went for a walk. You know, to get away from all the fuss,” Iris lied.

On the drive ahead there was a low rumble, and they looked up as a truck neared. Iris's heart skipped. Cooper drove into full view and pulled up alongside them.

“You're out early,” she said, stepping up to the window. She was aware of how closely Sadie was watching them.

“Good morning.” His hair was still rumpled and she resisted the urge to touch it. “Figured I'd drop off some supplies and get out of everyone's way before the big day. I'm sure the last thing the bride and groom want is the hum of a power saw over their string quartet.”

Iris wished Sadie would bore of their conversation and give them a minute alone. But she didn't. “Speaking of the bride and groom, you didn't happen to pass either of them this morning, did you?”

“No, sorry. Didn't pass anyone out on the road.”

“Give us a ride?” Without waiting for his answer, Iris helped the kids into the back of Cooper's truck.

“Cool!” Jack said, settling himself between some lengths of boards.

Sadie was less game. “What are we doing? Aren't we supposed to be looking for Aunty Leah?”

“We are,” Iris said, slamming the tailgate shut. She hurried up to the passenger door and climbed in.

“Long time, no see,” Cooper said, his smile bringing back their early morning hours together. Iris all but blushed.

She glanced behind them into the truck bed. Sadie had one eye on them. She kept her voice low, even though she was sure they couldn't hear. “Listen, I think we've got real trouble.”

Cooper put the truck in drive. “What's that?”

She'd never told Cooper the truth behind Leah's secret. And there wasn't time to explain it now. “A missing bride. No one's seen either one of them since last night.”

Cooper rubbed the bristle on his chin as the truck bumped along the farm road toward the barns. “You think they took off or something?”

“Not together.”

They drove down to the house. A floral delivery truck swung in and around them as Iris stepped out.

“Excuse me. I'm supposed to show these to a Mrs. Standish before we deliver them to the club?” the driver asked.

The kids hopped out of the truck and followed Iris to the back of the florist van, whose doors were swung wide. Tissue-stuffed boxes lay open across the back, each teeming with white lilies. Leah's favorite.

A tiny sigh escaped Iris's lips.

“Whoa,” Sadie said, squeezing in beside her. “Leah's gonna love these.”

“Why don't you kids show the florist inside,” Iris said.

For once they listened, and Iris flopped against the van. Cooper came up behind her. “I checked the dock. The canoe's still there. Does anyone else realize they're gone?”

Iris was about to explain the whole story when a lone figure walking up the drive startled them.

She gasped. “Where the hell have you been?”

Leah paused warily. “Out for a walk.” Iris noted she was still in her dress from the night before, her eye makeup smudged.

“All night?”

“What makes you say that?” She glanced down, and Iris took in her silver ballet flats, which were scuffed and stained with dirt. Leah laughed nervously. “No, no, I just woke up early and threw this on.” She smiled faintly. But Iris wasn't buying it for a second.

“Where's Stephen?” Iris demanded.

Leah glanced around casually, as if expecting him to pop out from behind one of Millie's arborvitae. “Around here somewhere.”

“So, you've seen him this morning?” Iris was aware of Cooper shifting uncomfortably behind her.

“Of course I have.” She looked around the driveway, as if noticing the slew of vehicles for the first time. “Wow, I guess things are in full swing. Where's Mom?”

The florist returned down the walkway and headed for the rear of the van. Leah alighted, standing on tiptoe to peer inside. “Are those mine?”

“Yes, ma'am. If you're the bride.” At which she nodded eagerly. He smiled at her, not seeing the grass stains on the hem of her skirt. The straggly hair, damp with humidity. “Here.” He passed her a box of the lilies, which Leah accepted as gently as if he were passing a baby.

“Oh, Iris. Aren't they lovely?” Leah's voice was breathy, and she closed her eyes. The scent of the lilies rose between them on the thick morning air, and for a moment, Iris, too, was intoxicated.

And just like that Leah fluttered up to the house, where Millie met her at the door with a strange look of relief and worry.

The bride was back. She was here and smiling, and eager to attack those darn seating charts. No matter her muddy feet or tear-stained cheeks. Or the tangled hair that Iris was sure had not seen a pillow all night.

Iris turned to Cooper, who shrugged in equal disbelief. He took her hand, but there was no time to commiserate. The sudden crunch of tires on gravel interrupted them. Iris looked up, fully expecting to see Stephen's Saab, another reminder that, despite all evidence to the contrary, the earth rotated according to Leah's pull.

But instead, she stepped back. Dropped Cooper's hand.

“What's the matter?” he asked, craning his neck toward the car that had stopped abruptly.

“It's him.”

“Stephen?”

Iris shook her head. “No. My husband.”

•    •    •

“What did you expect me to do, Iris? You never answer your damned phone.” Paul's voice was pleading, desperate. He flopped down on her bed, and Iris scowled at his khaki pants, which were as rumpled as his brow.

“So you just drove up here? On the eve of my sister's wedding?” She kept her distance, standing at the window, where she could focus on the staff setting up in the distant field. The white tent was up, a mystical sail against the sea of rolling green hillside.

“You left me no choice.” Paul looked exhausted. Terrible. She wanted him very far away from her, and she moved quickly to the door, hoping he'd take the hint and see himself through it.

“Paul, this is not a good time. Can we do this later?”

“Didn't you get my messages?” he asked.

Iris shook her head. She'd seen his calls from the previous day and ignored them. “I've sort of been busy,” she said, glancing impatiently at the window. The kids had not seen their father yet. She'd whisked him inside, too startled to offer any words of explanation to Cooper, who'd just as abruptly excused himself. What was she to say? She'd no idea why he was here.

“Iris, I've made a mistake.”

She allowed herself to really look at him for the first time. The hair askew. The smudged glasses. “Have you lost weight?”

“Iris. Are you listening to me?”

She moved forward, reaching for his glasses, a terrible reflex of memory, then caught herself and crossed her arms between them. Paul's smudged lenses were not hers to worry about anymore.

“Mom?” Lily's voice called up from outside and she strode to the window and peered down.

“What?”

“Can we go for a swim? It's
sooo
hot.”

Iris shook her head. “Just a sec, I'll be right down.”

“Is that Lily?” Paul peeled himself from the bed and stood, but Iris put her hand up, touching his chest lightly as he moved into it. She looked at it, then up at him. “No,” she warned. “Sit down.”

Paul frowned. “Why can't I see her?”

“You can. Just not now.” She pointed at the bed. “Will you just sit?”

And to her surprise, he obliged.

“Why do I need to sit?” Lily shouted from outside. She'd heard them.

“Not you,” Iris shouted back down. This was getting ridiculous. “I meant, wait. I'll be right down.”

“So, we can swim?”

“Yes,” Iris shouted, frustration rising in her voice. “But wait for me.”

She turned to Paul. “Do you see? Do you see how crazy things are right now? This is not a good time.”

Paul rose from the bed and moved toward her. He reached both hands out, and Iris stared at them as if they were foreign. She stepped back.

“Iris, I'm trying to tell you.” He paused, his eyes watering, and Iris was transported. She'd not seen Paul cry, as far as she could remember. Not since Lily's birth, all those years ago. Some hard rock inside her stomach shifted, and she felt . . . what was it? Sympathy? Regret? She shook her head.

“The papers I sent you. We need to talk.”

The rock shifted again. “Damn it, Paul. Can the papers wait one more day? Until after the wedding?”

He took her hands in his own, and she stiffened. “It's not that,” he said urgently. “What I'm trying to say is, don't sign them. There's been a mistake.”

Iris tugged her hands, but his grip was firm. “What? Some kind of clerical error?”

Paul smiled. Began to laugh, and it unnerved her. “No, Iris. I've made a mistake. I don't want you to sign.” He looked at her deeply. “I don't want a divorce.”

The thudding in Iris's chest was so loud her ears roared. She pulled her hands away, and this time he let her. She turned to the window. Below, Lily sat patiently, her swim towel across her lap. The tents in the upper field were going up, a glaring white that caused her to shade her eyes.

“Paul. I don't understand.”

There was a knock at the door. Without waiting, Millie opened it. Her face froze. She looked from one to the other, and Iris couldn't be sure if it was relief or disgust she was seeing.

“Mom.” Iris stood awkwardly between them, as if she were a teen caught hiding a boy in her room. “Paul just showed up.”

“I can see that.” For once, Millie was speechless.

“And he's just leaving.”

“I am?” Paul asked.

“He is?” Millie said.

“Yes.” Iris put a firm hand on Paul's back, guiding him toward her mother, whom he gave a wide berth, and through the door. “We'll talk. Later.” It felt good to say the words. And even better that she meant them.