One Golden Summer(70)

“I have an appointment.”

“How mysterious.”

Charlie taps his foot against mine, and I straighten, looking into his eyes. They’re like gemstones, sparkling in the bright afternoon sun.

“It’s a doctor’s appointment, and I’m going to have dinner with some people from work.”

I stare out at the lake, the sun glittering on its surface, the water-skier who’s zigging and zagging across the wake of a speedboat, the break in the bush around the bay, where the Florek house sits perched on top of a hill. I look at Charlie’s feet in the water next to mine.

There are only three weeks of August left—our time at the lake is running out. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss this.

“Give it to me,” Charlie says.

I squint at him. “What?”

“Whatever it is that’s on your mind.”

“I’m going to miss you when you’re gone. That’s all. I’m getting used to having you around.”

He gives me his sad-boy smile. “I’m going to miss you, too.”



* * *





    Charlie shows up the next evening to take Nan to euchre. I watch them pull away in my car, a sinking feeling settling in my chest again. He’s leaving for Toronto tomorrow morning, and while he’ll only be gone two days, I’m dreading the time without him. I can feel summer slipping away, and there will never be one like it again. John has decided to put the cottage up for sale next spring.

Even if Charlie and I stay in touch in the city, it won’t be the same. It can’t be. Our relationship is defined by warmth and water. We’ll be busy with work, living in different neighborhoods. I’ve filled roll after roll of film, as if I can keep time from its forward march. But the days will soon grow short, and the snow will come.

I sit on the deck with my notebook. I’m not much of a writer, but I want to capture more than images this summer. I want to remember how it’s felt to be here with Nan and Charlie. I want to remember the raccoons in the outhouse, and Charlie’s letter, and the way he and Nan became fast friends. I want to remember what it feels like to let loose.

I’ve written a couple of paragraphs when I hear a car in the driveway. I rush around the cottage, worried that something has happened to Nan. But the passenger seat is empty.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as Charlie climbs out and strides toward me. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt and a look that robs me of breath. He wraps one hand around the back of my head and another around my waist and brings his lips to mine. The kiss is a demand, a claiming, a brand. His tongue is hot on mine, his grip firm on my middle, flattening me to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says against my mouth. “I wanted you too much.”

I don’t know if he lifts me off the ground or if I climb him like a tree.

“No such thing,” I tell him, biting his bottom lip. “Although I hope you didn’t leave my grandmother on the side of the road,” I say. “I’m somewhat attached to her.”

“She’s playing cards. I’ll pick her up in a few hours.”

“And do you have any ideas for how we should spend that time?”

“I just wanted to hang out with you,” he says. “Before I go.”

Putting on a movie and making out like teenagers on the couch would be fun enough, but tonight I want to behave like the thirty-three-year-old woman I am. I unwind myself from Charlie, thrill bubbling beneath my skin. “I have a better idea,” I tell him, taking his hand.

I’m going to see if I can find the limits of Charlie’s self-control.



* * *





I pull my shirt over my head as I walk down the stairs to the lake. The water is quiet. The sun has dropped beneath the hill. There’s no one around to see what I’m about to do, but my heart is hammering in my chest.

I reach around my back to unhook my bra.

“What are you doing?” Charlie says from behind me.

I look over my shoulder instead of responding and drop it on the dock.

“Number ten?” he asks, his voice thick.

“Number ten,” I say, turning back to the water. “And twelve.” If this isn’t reckless, I don’t know what is. I slide my sweatpants down my legs. I hear Charlie suck in a breath. We haven’t seen each other undressed.

I walk to the end of the dock, slip off my underwear, and stand, naked, at the edge. Somewhere behind me, Charlie swears.

I take a moment to look back at him. His chest rises and falls as his gaze journeys from my shoulders, down past the flare of my hips, lower, lapping up every inch.

“Eyes up,” I tell him.

“You’re playing dirty.” He looks to the sky and whispers a few words I cannot hear.

I turn back to the water and breathe in the crisp evening air, letting it caress my skin, and then I dive in. I’ve never gone skinny-dipping before, and I can’t believe how good it feels. I swim beneath the surface as far as I can before coming up for air, and then turn to find Charlie on the dock, staring at me in wonder.

“Are you coming?” I ask.

I see the flash of hesitation.

“I thought you were supposed to be shy,” he says.

“I thought you were supposed to be bad,” I fire back.