One Golden Summer(86)

He’s leaning against his car, watching a flag flap in the breeze. When he sees me, his face tilts in my direction, and even from this distance, I can see his eyes flash. A smile grows on his lips, mirroring my own.

This, I think. This is worth something, too.

“I’m going to come back tomorrow,” I tell him on the drive to the cottage.

“I’ll give you the key.” He glances at me. “Olive asked if you’d consider coming back to talk to her students in the school year.”

“Tell her I’ll think about it. Would you want to come with me? Make a road trip out of it?”

Charlie stares at the road ahead. He takes a deep breath. “I’d like that,” he says slowly. “If I can make it work, I’ll be there.”

“I’d love to see it here in the winter.”

“It’s beautiful. Sam and I usually try to get a rink going.” He sounds wistful.

I picture us having hot chocolate by a fire. Skating on the lake. Cold pink noses. Bright blue skies and evergreen branches crusted in glittering white. Charlie and me. Sam and Percy and a newborn baby.

“Stay for lunch?” I ask when we turn onto Bare Rock Lane.

“Boat ride after?”

“How about the Jet Ski? Let’s go jump off the rock.”

I know I need to tell Charlie I have feelings for him, even if it ruins everything. Just not yet. I want to wrap my hand around the last strands of summer, to enjoy what we have for a little longer.

But the next day, as I stand in the darkroom looking at the print I’ve spent the morning developing, I realize my time is up.

It’s the second photograph that will change my life.





45


Thursday, August 21

11 Days Left at the Lake

Charlie stares straight at me in the photo. His cheeks are dimpled, his smile lit with wonder. But it’s the look in his eyes that leaves me breathless. It’s one I’ve seen before. It’s how Nan looked at Grandpa. It’s how my parents used to look at each other. It’s how Sam and Percy gaze at one another. I know the expression in my bones.

My heart hasn’t slowed since I examined the negative. I don’t know how I’ve failed to notice it, because the same look appears on Charlie’s face in at least half a dozen of the images. Maybe it was so fleeting I missed it, or maybe the camera kept the truth hidden from me.

I took this photo the day we made pickles with Nan. She’s in the background of the shot, an unfocused figure at the sink, and Charlie is in the fore. I think I’d just made a joke—something juvenile about his expert handling of cucumbers. He’d glanced up at me with what I thought was surprise.

Click.

But it’s not surprise on his face. Or that’s not all it is.

I press my palm to my cheek, feeling how hot it is, while I wait. I texted Charlie ten minutes ago. When I hear his knock, I jump. Slowly, I tear my gaze away from the photograph and go to the door.

Charlie’s smile drops as soon as he sees me. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing…you just startled me.” God, I’m nervous. “I thought you might like to see what I developed.”

“Absolutely.”

I lead Charlie to the darkroom and stand beside him.

“It’s a really good shot, Alice.”

“There are better ones,” I say. Some might even be great.

Charlie looks down at me, his mouth hooking upward. “Then why did you choose this one?”

I’m not sure whether he can’t see what I do, or if he’s in denial like I was. I straighten, hoping that standing tall like Nan will trick me into being brave.

“We met over the cucumbers,” I say.

His gaze melts—the same as in the photo. Just like it did yesterday afternoon before we jumped off that granite cliff into the lake, and again when we sat on his floating raft after we’d returned, feet dangling in the water. A monarch butterfly had landed on my finger. I raised it to my eye, telling it how pretty it was, then looked at Charlie, who was staring at me with the same bare adoration.

“So sentimental,” Charlie says now, but his voice is thick.

I meet his eyes, my pulse thundering. “This has been the best summer of my life,” I tell him. “These last two months have meant everything to me. I want to show you how much they’ve meant. How much you mean.”

His fingers brush against mine. “Alice.” My name falls from his lips like a plea. I see the tension in his neck, his shoulders.

“I want you,” I whisper. Charlie’s gaze darkens, not moving an inch as I rise on my toes and lean into his ear. “I want all of you.”

His face turns to me, green lightning flashing in his eyes. Before I’ve even set my heels back on the floor, Charlie’s hands are on me, lifting me clean off the ground. His mouth finds mine, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. His tongue is wanting, his sounds as desperate as my own.

“You have no idea,” he says, his lips skating down to my neck, “what you’re asking for.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” I say, tilting my chin back as he tastes my skin. Charlie flicks a switch, and the room goes dark except for the red light glowing over his face. Our lips collide again, frantic.