“I’ll be leaving for college at the end of the week,” Jess said, gazing out over the lake toward the horizon.
“I know,” Addie replied, still tracing patterns across the water’s surface with her finger. The sun warmed her.
“Won’t be so bad,” Jess said. “I’m only a few hours away. I’ll come home on weekends. I can take the train.”
But Addie knew that he wouldn’t be back often, or if he did make the trip home initially, it wouldn’t last long. He’d get caught up in college life in the city; anyone would. New things to learn, new people to know. It was a whole new life. She wanted Jess to live it, to experience all there was to do and see. She was not afraid he would be lured away from her permanently. She knew he would come back for her someday. She had seen it.
“When we were kids, you waited patiently until I was old enough to be your friend.” Addie smiled at him. “That took five years. I figure I’ve got less time than that to wait for you now. Don’t worry about coming home on weekends. I’ll be here when you come home to stay.”
Jess rested his chin on the warm rock where they lay. He liked the idea of Addie waiting here for him, the same as she ever was.
“We can write letters to each other,” Jess offered.
“That will be wonderful.” Addie smiled, already anticipating a new sort of relationship, one of sharing letters and private thoughts instead of woodland adventures and lakeside chats.
“You have a way of always finding the positive in any situation.” Jess smiled back at her. “How do you do that?”
Addie shrugged, and the pair looked down at the water from their rock, gazing at each other’s reflections.
“Addie,” Jess murmured to her watery image. “I love you.”
It was the first time he had spoken the words out loud. “I love you, too, Jess,” Addie said, running her fingers across both of their reflections in the water, making them distort and dance and shimmer. Addie imagined them lying there together again when Jess finally returned from college, and wondered how their images would change.
“I suppose we’d better get going,” Jess said, looking up at the sun’s position in the sky. “Meet me outside on Willow Street after dinner?”
Addie saw the devilish look in his eye and suspected he was up to something. “What for?”
“You’ll see,” Jess said, smiling. “I’m going to leave you with something to remember me by.”
Addie laughed. “I have the whole earth to remember you by. The lakeshore, the woods, this cove, our town, the sky.”
“Something other than that,” Jess said.
After dinner, Addie walked around the corner from her house onto Willow Street, so named for a large, ancient weeping willow that stood in the center of a nearby field. There was Jess, holding the handlebars of his bicycle. Addie didn’t have one; she had never been able to master the art of riding. Her father thought it unladylike and refused to teach her, and though Jess tried a number of times, Addie just couldn’t get the hang of it.
“You will ride this bicycle before the sun goes down tonight,” Jess called out, when he saw her. “And then you can ride it home. I’m giving it to you.”
“Truly?”
He smiled. “I can’t take it with me on the train. It’s yours.”
“My parents won’t let me take this, Jess.” She scowled, anticipating their objections.
“Tell them you’re just using it until I get back, then,” he said. “I’m asking you to look after it for me.”
“I don’t know.” Addie eyed the contraption skeptically. “I don’t think . . .”
“That’s right, girl,” he laughed. “Don’t think. Just ride. Now hop on. We’re not stopping until you can do this.”
Gingerly, Addie grasped the handlebars, hiked up her skirt, and sat on the seat, one foot securely on the ground.
“I’m going to hold on until you’ve got it,” Jess said, taking hold of the seat. He began to push. “Put both feet on the pedals,” he instructed.
“Not so fast!” Addie snapped.
“We have to go fast.” Jess was jogging now. “It’s easier that way.”
Addie was pedaling and steering, wobbly and unsure, and as soon as Jess let go, she tumbled in a heap on the side of the road. She turned to look at her teacher, frustration in her eyes.
“Try, try again!” Jess chirped and lifted the bike off the ground. Addie got up, brushing the dirt off her skirt.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she said.
“You absolutely can do this,” he said. “Just think how much fun you’ll have with it when I’m gone.”
And so they tried again, and Addie fell again. And again. And again. Curious faces appeared in windows of nearby houses. Then, people became bolder, walking out of their doors onto the street, calling suggestions to teacher and student.
“Run faster, boy!”
“That seat’s too high for her!”
Jess grasped the bicycle one last time. “Hop on. We’re going to show these people what you’re made of.”
He started running, faster now, and Addie began pedaling, surer this time, and steering more confidently. She didn’t realize he had let go until she was nearly all the way to the willow.
“I’m doing it!” she called out to him. “I’m riding!” And as the crowd erupted in applause, she kept going, down Willow Street and over to Main and around to Poplar Avenue.
Jess simply stood there, watching her go, his stomach twisting into knots. He was the one who was supposed to be leaving.
CHAPTER NINE
After Kate and Simon had finished dinner and cleaned up the dishes, Kate’s heavy eyelids told her it was time to turn in.
She ran a hand through her hair. “I’d love to stay up and chat, but I can’t keep my eyes open.”
“I’m not surprised you’re exhausted,” Simon said.
“You’re not?”
He shook his head. “Listen, you’ve been trying to hold it together for weeks now,” he said. “First the breakup with Kevin and then the ghastly business of this woman’s body washing up on the beach. The secret you’ve been keeping about that . . .” He tsked and let out a sigh. “It would wear on anyone. And now that you’ve told someone and know you’re not alone, you can let down your guard. When that happens, when you finally let go and unclench, you can feel how much work it was to hold everything together. Translation: exhaustion.”
Kate snaked her arms around her cousin’s waist and laid her head on his chest, exhaling. “I knew coming here was the right thing to do.”
“Of course it was,” he said. “Now, where did you leave your bag? I’ll carry it upstairs for you.”
“Oh no—” Kate began, but Simon cut her off.
“Don’t be silly. You head up to your room, and I’ll follow in just a minute with your bag and some hot tea.”
Kate gave him a weak smile. “You’re so good to me.”
“Of course I am.” He grinned, winking at her. “I’m an innkeeper. It’s what I do.”