A few moments later, she resurfaced and swam toward the water’s edge. Once she reached it, she climbed out and made her way back onto the dock. The dog trailed behind her, tail wagging and stick in her mouth, anxiously waiting for another toss.
I heard Cadence laugh.
“No, Dahlia. That’s enough for tonight.”
It seemed as if their brief visit to the lake was coming to an end, and I knew that was my cue to leave. I didn’t want her to accidentally find me. She’d probably think I was a deranged lurker.
I stepped away from my hiding spot behind the tree and made my way back onto the path. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a faint cry. The cry was quickly followed by a splash, and the dog began to bark. I turned back, but I didn’t see Cadence anywhere. The only thing I saw was the ripples of water rolling in the moonlight.
Did she fall in the lake? Or did she just jump in again?
I waited for her to resurface. Seconds ticked by, but it seemed like minutes.
No Cadence. The dog continued to bark.
Shit.
Without thinking, I ran toward the water. I hastily kicked off my leather sandals and rushed into the shallow edge of the lake. The dog spotted me, her bark becoming mad and protective. She began to chase me into the water, but I ignored her. Once I was waist deep, I dove under and began to swim toward the area where I saw the water rippling.
I began a futile search. I couldn’t see a thing. Only blackness. Shadows danced as moonbeams were interrupted from the current I made with each stroke. I tried to feel my way around the bottom of the lake. My hands weaved through the thick bed of underwater grass and rock. It wasn’t long before I began to get confused, as old images tangled with the present, dotting my vision and causing me to become disoriented.
A swimming pool.
A pair of panicked wide eyes and bloated limbs.
The screams.
The police.
It all came at me in a rush, the memories haunting me until I completely lost my bearings. I wasn’t even sure if I was in the right place anymore, I only knew I had to find her. My lungs began to sting–I needed to get air soon.
I quickly resurfaced to gulp in a breath of air and looked around. I was near the edge of the dock and close to where I saw the splash. Sucking in another deep breath, I plunged back into the water. It was all I could do to keep the panic from overtaking me.
I pushed through the water for what seemed like eons before coming to the surface once more. My heart was pounding, and I was becoming increasingly short of breath as I tried to push back my fears. I treaded in place for a second or two before deciding to swim to a shallower area. Once I felt my feet touch the muddy bottom, I called out through hoarse lungs, “Cadence! Cadence!”
I heard a sharp intake of air above me, and I looked up.
“What are you doing here?” Cadence demanded. She was on the dock above me, her face aghast and full of accusation.
Relief flooded through me before it was quickly replaced by embarrassment. To her–with my arms flailing about in the lake and the way I screamed her name with obvious alarm–I must have looked like a complete idiot. I should have just waited a little longer for her to resurface. Instead, I had acted on impulse, foolishly allowing my fear of the past to take over any sort of rational thought.
Yet there she stood. She was perfectly fine, on the dry dock, and not drowning at the bottom of the lake.
I’m a fucking moron.
Trying to regain some sense of dignity, I looked at her pointedly and tried to come off as nonchalant as possible.
“I went for a walk and ended up here. I thought you fell in,” I told her with a shrug. For added effect, I tossed her a cocky grin even though I felt anything but. When my eyes traveled down to her bare midriff, she gasped again. Crossing her arms over her body, she backed up until she disappeared from my view.
Dammit.
I tried to hurry out of the lake, but the press of the water against my thighs slowed my progress. By the time I made it out, Cadence already had her shorts and t-shirt on and was slipping on her shoes. Her dog, Dahlia, was laying calmly at her heels. They both looked up when I stepped onto the dock.
“It’s not polite to spy on people,” Cadence muttered tersely when I walked up to her.
“I wasn’t spying. Like I said, I was going for a walk and came upon this place,” I told her. She didn’t respond. Instead she bent down to silence the radio that had still been playing. “Wait, that’s a good song. Don’t turn it off.”
Her stiff posture seemed to soften a little as she glanced up at me with curious eyes.
“You like U2?” she asked.
“Who doesn’t?”
She smiled slightly, seeming to relax a bit more before stiffening once again.
“True, but it’s getting late. I should go,” she said.
I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted her to turn the music back on. I wanted to stay on the dock with her, listening together in the quiet night as we stared up at the stars that dotted the sky. And if one thing led to another, I wouldn’t complain.
As much as I wanted to convince her to do just that, I thought better of it. Another day maybe. My pride had just taken a pretty big blow after the foolish search for her potentially drowned body. It needed more time to recover before I made another pass at her. Plus, she was obviously uncomfortable in my presence. I just wasn’t sure if it was from the cheap line I used on her earlier in the day or the fact I was intruding on her privacy here at the lake.
She bent to pick up her Boombox, then signaled a quiet whistle to Dahlia. The dog sprung to her feet. I wasn’t sure what compelled me to do it, but I reached out and wrapped my fingers around her slender arm. Electricity seemed to sizzle under my palm, shocking me so much, I nearly pulled away. Yet I somehow held my grip firm.
“Cadence,” I said, her name coming out more like a question.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry for spying on you. I didn’t mean to.”
In the light of the moon, I was able to see her face flush at my words, and her skin grew warm under my hand.
“It’s okay,” she said somewhat shyly, taking me by surprise. “Thank you for trying to…um, save me.”
My hand lingered on her arm for a moment longer before she slowly backed away and was out of my reach. Left alone on the dock, I watched as Cadence and Dahlia disappear into the cover of the forest.
4
CADENCE
I climbed the front steps to the cottage I shared with my parents with Dahlia at my heels. Dumping my knapsack and radio at my feet, I lowered myself onto the porch swing and sat back to stare out at the campground.
It was quiet now, all the new students probably already asleep. Opening day at Camp Riley was always exciting. I looked forward to it every year, but it was exhausting. Combine that with the abnormally hot temperatures Virginia was experiencing, it was also physically draining. I understood why my parents handed me the responsibility of organizing the students on arrival day this year. At their age, they never would have been able to stand out there in this heat, waiting to greet the busloads of students.
Pulling a water bottle from my knapsack, I opened it and took a swig. The water was tepid since it hadn’t been on ice since that morning, but at least it was hydrating. Despite my recent swim, the relief of the cool lake had been short-lived. My body was already overheated from the walk back to the cottage. On impulse, I cupped one of my hands, poured a bit of water into it, and then splashed it over my face in an attempt to cool off. Dahlia looked up at me curiously, then licked the droplets that rained down in front of her paws.
I could hear the voices of my parents coming through the open windows of the cottage. My mother was chatting on excitedly about the plans she had for the students the following day. My father, always so encouraging, agreed with her plans and made a few more suggestions.
“Come on, girl. Let’s go inside and hear all about what Momma’s planning,”
I said and reached down to ruffle one of Dahlia’s ears. Her tail wagged as she sprang to her feet. Following her lead, I walked up to the wood-framed screen door, and we went inside.
I found my father sitting at the age-worn oak kitchen table with a bourbon nightcap, listening to my mother with rapt attention. He was the epitome of everything good–a faithful and hardworking husband, and an ever-present father. My mother, always steadfast and energetic, was pacing and waving her arms about in excitement. Her graying hair was swept up into the usual tight knot on top of her head, and her tiny figure seemed lost under the long nightshirt she wore. My father nodded his head in agreement to whatever she had just said, both of them turning to look in my direction when I came in.
“Oh, Cadence! You’re finally back! How did things go today?” my mother asked enthusiastically.
“Pretty good, especially considering this was my first time running solo. A few glitches, but I handled it.”
“Oh? Such as?” She raised a brow curiously.
“I didn’t know what to do with the new boys who were added to the camp roster at the last minute. I decided to set them up to work camp maintenance with daddy.”
“I put them right to task tonight too,” my father chimed in. “They seem like good, hardworking boys. They did as I asked them to, no questions asked. I think they’ll work out just fine this summer.”
“Yeah, right. I think they’re going to be trouble,” I muttered. “I doubt boys from USC are capable of being hardworking.”
“USC?” my parents said in unison.
“University of Spoiled Children,” I clarified.
My mother laughed, a long melodious sound, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh, Cadence, give them time. How many times have I told you not to judge a book by its cover?”
“Trust me, Momma, they’re a couple of jokesters. These boys are no good.”
“Well, try to keep an open mind. If you have any problems, make sure to let us know.”
“I will,” I promised. “So, tell me about your meeting with the camp leaders. Were you able to finalize your plans for the summer? Have you decided on a production?”
My mother clapped her hands together, her excitement evident.
“The meeting was wonderful! It was probably the most productive one I’ve had to date! We have some creative geniuses with us this year, and I can’t wait to start! I was just telling your father about it. Sit down, and I’ll fill you in.”
Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, I settled in to listen to my mother explain the musical production for the current year. She had given the leaders a choice between West Side Story and Singin’ in the Rain, and they decided on the latter for its comedic attributes. While one of the leaders was ecstatic about who they would choose to play the roles of Don Lockwood, Kathy Sheldon, and Cosmo Brown, another one of the leaders couldn’t wait to start teaching the Academy Award-nominated musical score.
Enraptured by her excitement, I couldn’t help but be in awe over her many accomplishments. It wasn’t just the music camp. My mother was successful at everything she set out to do. My parents were originally from New York. My mother had been an actress on Broadway and a fairly famous one too. My father wasn’t one for acting, but he was good with his hands. He had worked his way up the ladder at Imperial Theatre and managed the stage crew for the production of Minnie’s Boys. My mother starred as Minnie and the rest, as they say, was history.
Their engagement was short by modern standards–they were married within three months of their first meeting. With young, romantic ideas, they took a road trip to Virginia, wanting their honeymoon to be far away from the fast life of New York. I smiled wistfully as I recalled the many times they spoke about the long walks they would take amongst the vast green trees, watching the beautiful sunsets. They had been on one of their walks when they stumbled across an abandoned mining town. My mother fell in love with its quaintness and was saddened to see it had been left to ruin.
Years later, after struggling to get pregnant, my mother decided she was done with her stage career. She blamed her many miscarriages on the rigorousness of the theatre. Leaving everything behind, they went back to Virginia and purchased the old town they fell in love with so many years before. Nevertheless, theatre was still in their blood, so they converted the town into a summer camp for creatively gifted youth. With my mother’s notoriety, students poured in every summer, itching for their chance to learn from the great Claudine Benton-Riley. The impression she left on many was great. While I didn’t share her musical or stage talents, I did hope one day I would be able to impact as many as she did.
After listening to my mother carry on for close to an hour, I glanced at the wall clock in the kitchen. It was nearing eleven. My father had already gone to bed thirty minutes ago. As much as my mother’s enthusiasm was contagious, six-thirty was going to come very early. She seemed to notice I was running out of steam when I surrendered myself over to a yawn.
“I think it’s time for you to head on to bed, Cadence. You seem tired, and I’ve talked enough for one night.” She smiled softly at me.
“I’m sorry, Momma. You know I love to listen to you chatter on about the happenings at the camp, but I was up really early this morning.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she waved off with a flip of her small hand. “I know you’ve had a long day.”
I stood up and walked over to where my mother was sitting. Wrapping my arms around her, I gave her a brief hug and kissed her on the forehead.
“Night, Momma.”
“Good night, sweetie.”
Entering my bedroom, cold air from the window a/c unit assaulted me. As I began to strip out of my clothes, I realized how slimy my skin felt. Between sweat and the lake water, I definitely needed a shower before I could climb under the clean sheets on my bed. I looked at the comfortable twin mattress with longing, knowing I wouldn’t have time to launder the sheets tomorrow. With a sigh, I grabbed a towel and my pajamas and headed to the bathroom in our cottage. At that moment, I didn’t think I’d ever been so grateful to my father for adding a shower to our private residence. Just the thought of walking to the bathhouse made me feel even sweatier.
Fatigue seemed to make my bones physically ache, but I felt more like a human being again after the shower. I towel dried my hair and then quickly secured it back into a loose French braid. Slipping into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, I shuffled back to the kitchen to turn off the lights. Just as I was about to go back to my bedroom, I noticed Dahlia standing by the front door. Normally she would be curled up on her pile of blankets in the corner of my room at this time of night.
“Do you need to go out, girl? Drink too much lake water?” Her tail wagged and she nudged her nose at the door. “Alright, let’s go. But be quick about it.”
I unlatched the lock for the front door, opened it, and Dahlia pranced around to the back of the cottage. Knowing she would take a few minutes to find the perfect place to do her business, I sat on the top step of the front porch and waited.
After a few moments, I heard a rustle near the side of the porch and looked to see what it was. Dahlia must have heard it too because she came bounding from the back of the cottage and was off like a shot.
“Dahlia!” I called out in a loud whisper. Then I saw what caused the rustle. A rabbit.
Damn!
I chased after her, afraid to call her name too loudly because I didn’t want to wake my parents or anyone else.
It was useless.
In and out of the brush she went, sniffing around at a rapid pace, determined to catch her prey. I loved her, but as the sweat began to run down my back, I wanted to strangle her.
“So much for the shower,” I muttered to myself.
When I finally caught up to her, I grabbed her by the collar and scolded her. Her head drooped, and her tail went between her legs. I instantly felt guilty for chastising her even though I shouldn’t have. After all, she was the one w
ho ran from me.
I shook my head.
“Pup, when will you ever learn. Rabbits are way faster than you!”
Her tail wagged. Clearly, all was forgiven. I chuckled and motioned for her to follow me back toward home–to my bed. Sleep was calling my name.
A flicker of light caught the corner of my eye, and I turned to see where it was coming from. Someone had turned the light on in the barn. It would be odd if it was Fitz just getting in. He should have returned from his little spy adventure some time ago.
Where would he have gone after leaving the lake?
I had seen Devon chatting it up with one of the camps music instructors, so perhaps it wasn’t Fitz at all. Maybe it was his sidekick returning late.
Or, what if there was something wrong? Like, seriously wrong.
A twinge of guilt hit me for making them sleep in the barn. The night air was like a sauna, and unlike all the cottages, there were no window air-conditioning units in the barn to cool them down.
What if one of them had a heat stroke? Or worse. What if one of them fell faint from the heat and stumbled off the ladder to the loft?
The barn wasn’t that far of a walk from my cottage.
I’ll just go make sure everything is okay, then I’ll go to bed.
At least–that’s what I told myself.
Drawn like a moth to a flame, I slowly turned away from the bed that had been beckoning to me just seconds before and headed toward the light. The curiosity I felt was almost a compulsion. In a matter of a few minutes, I found myself just outside the barn, peering up at the window where I had seen the light come on. I wasn’t sure if I felt guilty for spying or if checking on a guest was somehow my duty. I only knew I was unable to look away.
I saw Fitz move into view, his back was to me, the bulk of him filling almost the entire frame of the window. His short hair was in complete disarray, the top sticking up wildly as if he had been violently running his hands through it. Suddenly, he turned to face out the window. Panicked, I skirted behind a nearby tree.
Cadence Untouched: A Dahlia Project Novel Page 4
