Lake + Manning: Something in the Way, 4

by Jessica Hawkins

“Guess,” he said.

  Manning and I had explored the woods behind the house plenty of times. Usually we went back there for two reasons—to walk Blue, or to go on the lake. Neither of those seemed like great after-dark activities. “I’m stumped,” I said.

  As we crossed from our backyard into the woods, Manning kept me close with an arm around my shoulders. Blue darted through the trees but always sprinted back when we called for her. Perhaps if I’d been anywhere except the place I called home, I might’ve been spooked by the cover of darkness. By the rustling bushes, or the haunting hoots and flapping of wings echoing around us. Instead, I snuggled into the side of the man I knew would kill to protect me or die trying.

  The closer we got to the edge of the forest, the more convinced I was that Manning had lost his mind and decided to recreate the night we’d snuck out of camp, gone for a drive, and wound up in the water.

  The woods spit us out into a clearing that opened up to a tiny lake we’d come to know well. It was shallow, mostly off the map, and small enough for us to drift aimlessly. Manning kept the first dinghy he’d ever made there, tied to a stake in the ground. He’d built other boats—some he’d sold, and with help, a larger one we kept at one of Big Bear Lake’s marinas—but we had this little slice of heaven all to ourselves most of the time.

  “We’re going on the lake?” I asked.

  “Bingo,” he replied. “Go on. Climb on over the starboard side.” Manning winked before he added, “And into my lap.” It was the same thing he’d said to me my first night at the house in Big Bear, and he knew I loved the word, pronounced starbird.

  No matter how endearing his invitation, I stayed where I was. We’d made love in this boat. I’d laughed until my sides had ached watching Manning try and fail to catch a fish with his hands. We’d drifted around in it on hot afternoons eating orange slices as the sun had set. But we’d certainly never taken it out at night.

  Blue whined, probably sensing she was about to get left behind. “Blue and I are going to need a bit of an explanation before we proceed,” I said.

  He squatted to untie the boat, and I heard the smile in his voice. “What’s wrong? Don’t trust me?”

  “To steer this thing in the dark?”

  “The stars are out.” He gestured up at the sky. “They’ll guide us, Birdy.”

  “Actually,” I said, hands on my hips, “it’s a crescent moon and particularly dark tonight.”

  “I know,” he said. “I wish I could say I planned it that way, but we just got lucky.”

  Warily, I climbed over the starboard side and set up both cushions. Once I was seated at the bow, he pushed the boat through the weeds and waded in after it.

  “Stay,” he told Blue.

  She barked once to get her point across but plopped down at the edge of the lake, watching us go as she had many times before.

  “Where are we headed?” I asked once Manning had climbed in.

  “To the middle.” Slowly, he rowed us out on the water. As the night spread around us, complete stillness punctuated by occasional splashes and croaks, I began to wonder if the journey was the destination. Though Manning and I had planned a fairly low-key weekend for the wedding, there was no getting around the chaos that came with having friends and family in one place. Tiffany’s dress had needed last minute altering. Henry’s truck had broken down ten miles from the house. Our washing machine’s hose had begun leaking hours before guests had arrived. It’d been days, maybe even weeks, since I’d experienced this kind of stillness and peace.

  “Okay, this was a good idea,” I admitted, shutting my eyes and relaxing against the back of the boat to enjoy the warm breeze.

  “Yeah?” Manning asked. “How come?”

  “It’s so easy to get caught up in the details of making sure tomorrow goes smoothly. I want to look back and remember everything. It’s good to slow down and take it all in.” Smiling, I opened my eyes. “Feel free to remind me of that throughout the weekend.”

  “Traditionally,” Manning said, “I’m not supposed to see you most of tomorrow, either. At least not until we’ve said ‘I do.’”

  I sighed. “I’m thinking I’ll be doing away with some of these silly rituals at my next wedding.”

  “Your next wedding?” He dropped the paddles and stood, rocking the boat hard enough that I squealed and grabbed the sides. “Take that back.”

  “Or what?” I teased.

  “I tip this boat over. It’d serve you right for antagonizing the bears.”

  In the dark, looming over me, he almost did look like a bear. “You wouldn’t,” I said.

  “I might,” he said, “if we weren’t here.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “Middle of the lake. Best spot to see the show.” He reached for me. “Come.”

  Taking his hand, I let him guide me forward to sit between his legs.

  He enveloped me, hugging my back to his chest. “Look up.”

  I relaxed against him, resting my arms on his as I scanned the countless stars. In the pitch black, they shone especially bright. “They’re beautiful,” I said.

  “You know I’ll always move the stars for you if need be,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”

  Though I appreciated the warmth behind his words, wasn’t it possible some fates couldn’t be rearranged? The vastness of the black sky and the sheer number of stars overhead made me feel small and insignificant—but not in a bad way. Did the universe have plans for us? Or had Manning and I really defined our own destiny? And what did either of those realities mean for our future?

  It’d been many months since Manning and I had thrown out my birth control. Weeks since I’d had to stop making excuses not to get my wedding dress tailored. I supposed most women would’ve been happy not to walk down the aisle with a baby bump, but I’d almost planned on it. Manning wasn’t worried. When it came up, he reminded me we had time. That it would happen. I wished I had the confidence he did, but I hadn’t expected it to take this long.

  Manning bent his mouth to my ear. “Lake?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “Did you hear me?”

  Whatever it takes. It occurred to me as we sat under the glittering stars that Manning would do anything in his power to move them in our favor—but what would it do to him if he couldn’t?

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “No. I just want you to know I don’t take tomorrow lightly. My vows to love and care for you are a promise—always. No matter what comes our way.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Open your hand.”

  I flipped my palm up, and he put something small and cool in it. I lifted it to my face. “I haven’t seen this in months,” I said, admiring the mood ring. “Where’d you find it?”

  “In your jewelry box. I thought you might want it for tomorrow.”

  I slid it on, flexing my hand so we could both see it. “Madison would be standing up there with me if she were still alive,” I said.

  “I know.” He held me a little more tightly, and we sat in silence until light streaked across the sky. “Look,” I said, pointing. “A shooting star.”

  “Not quite,” he said.

  The timing was almost too perfect. As more silver stars sliced the blackness over our heads, I sat up straighter. This really was a show. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Moving stars.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at him. “What?”

  “The Perseid meteor shower. Happens every August.”

  “The night before our wedding?” I asked.

  “Technically, we’re getting married today.”

  Hearing him say that, I got chills. By this time tomorrow night, Manning would be my husband. With happy tears in my eyes, I burrowed deeper into him as more and more meteors painted the sky. “Wait—is that why you insisted on this weekend when I suggested summer?” I asked.

  He shrugged underneath me. “Once in a great while, we get the timing right.”<
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  “You’re such a romantic.”

  “Only for you,” he said, “but that’s no surprise to anyone.”

  I twisted my head up to him. He kissed me slowly, deliberately, without spilling a drop of the overflowing love between us.

  Above our heads, the sky moved and rearranged. It couldn’t have been a more perfect way to start forever together. Perhaps our timing had always been right, and like Manning, I needed to let go and trust that in the end, we’d get everything we were supposed to.

  9

  “You aren’t worried Manning will get cold feet?” Behind me, in my master bathroom, my sister wielded a curling iron in one hand and plucked at my hair with the other. “He could be halfway to Mexico by now. We’d have no idea until you were headed down the aisle.”

  “Tiffany,” Mom scolded, glancing up from where she’d perched on the clawfoot tub. She held up her cell phone. “I just spoke to your father. He’s with Manning, and everyone’s accounted for.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh as Val shook her head the same grave way she did whenever Hollywood announced another Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Halfway down the counter from us, in between applying fake lashes, she said, “Lake is more likely to bolt than Manning.”

  Tiffany paused in the middle of taking a break from curling my hair to touch up her own. She widened her eyes at me in the mirror. “Are you thinking about ditching him at the altar?”

  “Of course not.” Nothing could stop me from marrying the man of my dreams today. Still, the generally chilly idea of cold feet had me closing the lapels of my satin robe at the base of my throat. “This wedding is such a sure bet that if it doesn’t happen, I’ll move into your basement and do all your cooking and cleaning, like Cinderella.”

  “Really?” Tiffany asked, either missing the fact or not caring about my implication that she was an evil stepsister. She sighed happily as she swept my curls off my back to my shoulders. She looked over my head, studying her work in the mirror. “I mean, I’ll have to check with Robby first. He’s very particular about his space.”

  “Obviously,” I agreed, exchanging a muted giggle with my mom. It wasn’t that my joke was lost on Tiffany—she just always had Robby on the brain. I was glad for it. She’d been so distracted by him the past several months that she’d hardly paid Manning and me any attention. I’d met Doctor Robby with the nice, golden-blond hair to match his nice face. As my mom had promised, he was a stable and patient man who owned his home and was good with kids—at least, he usually had a lollipop on him. More importantly, he was as enamored by Tiffany’s carefree approach to life as she was drawn to his adoration of her. Not long after Manning’s and my visit in January, Robby had proposed.

  And Tiffany never let us forget it.

  “Ugh,” she said. “My ring keeps getting caught in your hair.”

  “Which ring?” Val asked, rummaging through her makeup bag.

  “My engagement ring,” Tiffany said.

  “Oh, right.” Val popped open a blush compact, swiped a brush through it, and blew off the excess powder—all while managing a smirk. “I guess I forgot. Thanks for clarifying.”

  Tiffany shot Val a daggered look. How dare she forget such big news? I held in a laugh so I wouldn’t further anger my sister. She was not only in charge of my wedding day hair, of which she currently had handfuls, but my makeup, too. I didn’t want to walk down the aisle looking like a hairless blowup doll.

  Once Val had finished applying her makeup, she disappeared and returned with her hands behind her back. “I finished your bouquet last night,” she said. “I also tied together some lavender bunches for Tiffany, me, and the other bridesmaids to carry.”

  I tried to look around her. “Let me see.”

  She kept one hand behind her back as she passed me a blossoming bouquet of lilac, lavender, and greenery with cream and blush-colored roses. I inhaled the arrangement that complemented the plum color of their dresses. “I love it.”

  “And I made this,” she said, placing a simple crown with the same flowers on my head. “Last night you said you needed something blue. I figured purple would work, but I added in some delphinium for good measure.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hugging her.

  Tiffany inspected the crown as well as the top of my head. “Do you even have anything borrowed?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, frowning. Manning had handled most of the small details for today. I’d been more concerned with making our houseguests comfortable and handling any last-minute arrangements.

  “Your dress could be considered borrowed,” Val suggested.

  “True,” Tiffany said. “It’s looks like it’s from the seventies. I don’t know why you guys like that old stuff.”

  “And I don’t know why you shop at Hollister when you’re thirty-five,” Val shot back.

  “Girls,” Mom said. “Try to remember it’s Lake’s day.”

  “I’d rather look too young than too old,” Tiffany muttered as she gave Val’s bridesmaid dress a disdainful onceover—even though it was the same one Tiffany wore. She slow-blinked at Val’s Birkenstocks. “Are you a lesbian?”

  “I don’t identify with labels,” Val said. “Or give life to stereotypes, unlike some people.”

  “So that’s a yes. Are you in love with my sister?” Tiffany gasped. “Or with me?”

  Val rolled her eyes and turned away, muttering, “I’m changing into heels before the ceremony.”

  No signature snippy comeback from Val? “Look, for the sake of getting through today,” I said, “let’s all agree to keep you two apart as much as possible. Tiffany has a very contemporary sense of style, and Val isn’t in love with me or anyone else.”

  Val jerked her head over her shoulder, as if I’d surprised her, but her expression eased quickly. “It’s almost time,” she said, packing up her makeup bag. “Where are your boots?”

  “Shoebox in my closet.”

  “I’ll get them ready,” she said on her way out.

  Tiffany whipped a mascara wand from its tube like a sword from a sheath. She nodded at me. “Look at the ceiling.”

  As Tiffany attacked my bare lashes and my mother fluffed my generally unfluffable-able dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door, I wondered what was going on with Val. She wasn’t a lesbian, even if she sometimes pretended to be to mess with people, but she definitely had a secret. She’d planned my bachelorette party, a trip to Napa Valley with our friends from each coast, and she’d been available to help with anything wedding-related—but I’d noticed her withdrawing from me the past year. I’d thought maybe I’d been ignoring her too much for Manning, but when I’d asked to come spend a weekend at her house in Los Angeles recently, she’d made up some excuse about getting it fumigated. Val could charm and convince and deflect like a pro, but when it came to the people she cared about, she was a shit liar. In the flurry of wedding activity, I hadn’t had a chance to get to the bottom of her behavior, though.

  “I’ll make sure everyone’s getting seated,” Mom said, leaving me alone with Tiffany.

  And her boobs.

  They nearly spilled out of her strapless dress and into my lap as she put the final touches on my makeup. Most likely, she’d picked a size smaller than she needed. “I think you hurt Val’s feelings,” I said.

  “She doesn’t have any,” Tiffany replied. “Part your lips.”

  I slackened my jaw as she finished off my makeup with a pale pink gloss. She stepped aside to give me the mirror. For all her extravagance, she’d always been good at keeping my look natural. I angled my head, rounding my cheeks as they glowed and shimmered.

  Tiffany held out a hand mirror. “For the back.”

  I stood and turned. Topped by Val’s crown of flowers, my hair fell—nay, cascaded—in long loose curls. “You should’ve been a cosmetologist, Tiff.”

  “I know.” She circled me as if I were a science project. “I’m so glad you let your hair grow out a little. Anything above the
shoulders doesn’t suit you.” She cocked her head. “But I think you need more makeup for pictures.”

  Whenever I dressed up for a night out with Manning, he’d treat me like a princess—but once we got home and he unhooked my jewelry, slid off my heels, unzipped my dress, and unpinned my hair, I became a goddess under his worship. For him, less would always be more. “It’s perfect,” I said.

  “Fine, but come see me between the ceremony and pictures for a touch-up. And try not to cry.”

  I turned to my sister. She’d pulled her hair back into a chignon, and her icy blue eyes warmed against shimmery skin and long, jet-black lashes. She looked different—from me and from herself. Today of all days, there was a stillness in her I’d rarely seen. It made little sense considering she’d have every reason to be upset, or to have blown off the wedding entirely. I grabbed her for a hug. “Thank you,” I said.

  It took her a moment, but she patted me on the back. “Okay, okay. I can’t have my sister looking sloppy on her wedding day.”

  “I meant thank you for being here,” I said with a laugh as I pulled back to look her in the face. “Are you okay with all of this, or are you pretending?”

  She blinked at me. “You’ve seen me and Robby together, right? He loves me so much that the little stuff doesn’t matter anymore.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that your wedding is little—geez. Sorry. Robby says people are intimidated by me, and I should be more careful with my words.”

  Oh, my sister. She hadn’t changed, but she was trying—I supposed I had to give her some credit for that. At this point, aside from developing a little empathy, I wasn’t sure I even wanted her to change that much. When she was no longer a threat to me, her behavior was kind of entertaining. “I’m not intimidated by you,” I said, “but I used to be.”

  “Really? I could see that. Big sister and all.” She grinned. “Anyway, I’m not sure I’d be here today if I hadn’t met Robby, but I did, so I’m glad I came.”

  “I would’ve understood if you hadn’t, but honestly, something huge would’ve been missing without you here.”

  “Do you really feel that way?” she asked.