Down By The Water

by Cruise, Anna

  “Sheila,” she told me. “You can call me Sheila. Mrs. Reilly doesn't work for me. Sounds like you're talking to my mother-in-law.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Sheila.”

  She nodded again, her hair slipping a little from her bun, and returned to the kitchen.

  There was the sound of footsteps in the hall and I turned my head toward the door, expecting to meet Mary, the girl whose clothes I was wearing. But a man dressed in jeans and a pressed, plaid shirt walked in, a man who looked like an older version of Ty. Same hair, same crooked smile as he looked at me and greeted me with a hello.

  “You must be the girl Ty rescued,” he said, his voice rich and deep. He slid into the chair at the head of the table.

  Ty rolled his eyes. “Didn't rescue her, Dad.”

  His father's smile deepened and I could make out the matching dimple in his cheek. “No? That's not what your mother told me.” He reached for the pitcher of ice water and poured himself a glass. “I'm Colin Reilly. Nice to meet you, Lily.”

  I nodded. “Thanks for having me here.”

  Sheila returned, carrying a crystal bowl filled with Jello and whipped cream. She set it down next to the casserole and took her place opposite of Ty's dad.

  She leaned back in her chair. “Dig in, everyone.”

  Ty scooped a big helping of taco casserole on my plate.

  “I don't need that much,” I protested.

  “It tastes better than it looks,” he said under his breath. “But avoid the Jello. She puts fruit cocktail in it.” He made a gagging sound.

  I bit back a smile.

  “So,” Colin said as he dropped spoonfuls of casserole and salad on to his plate. “Sheila tells me you were on your way to Madison. A job?”

  I swallowed a bite of casserole. It was good. “No,” I said. “School.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “School?”

  I poured a glass of water and took a sip. “The University of Wisconsin.”

  Ty stared at me. “So you just graduated high school?” His voice held a thread of doubt.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I did a couple years at the local junior college. I'm finishing my degree at the U.”

  He nodded and I swore I saw a flash of relief flit through his eyes. “Gotcha.”

  I realized then that I had no idea how old he was. At a glance, I pegged him close to my age, maybe a couple of years older. But, like his father's, his own face was youthful. His dad didn't look much older than thirty but that was impossible, considering his grown son was sitting next to me at the table.

  “How old are you?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

  Ty grinned. “Older than you.” I waited and he said, “Twenty-two.”

  Only two years older than me. I didn't know why it mattered but it did.

  His mother spoke. “And where do you live, Lily? Some place close by?”

  “No. North Dakota.”

  His dad's eyes were on me, his expression thoughtful. “You look so familiar, “ he said. “I could have sworn you were local. Tipton or Alexandria.” I wasn't sure but I guessed those were the names of neighboring cities.

  “Nope,” I said, swallowing a mouthful of water.

  He frowned. “So odd. I swear I've seen you before.”

  I wasn't going to tell him that he had. That, ten years ago, even though I didn't remember him, he had seen me. Probably talked to me. Numerous times. The more I stared at his face, the more vague memories I had of it. Of me standing behind my father, clinging to his shirttails, listening as they spoke in hushed, panic-laced voices, watching the pained expression on the resort owner's face as their conversation intensified. And I remembered seeing him on the doorstep as we pulled out of the driveway that final time, grief an uninvited passenger in our car.

  I wasn't going to tell him any of this, about the past and about my connection to Minnesota. To this particular place in Minnesota.

  Because he already knew it, even if he didn't remember me.

  “We,, it doesn't matter where you're from,” Sheila said, turning to look at me. “We have an extra bedroom. You can stay as long as you need to.”

  I opened my mouth to decline her offer but quickly closed it. I absolutely didn't want to stay, but my options were nonexistent. So I took a deep breath and said instead, “Thank you.” And I meant it.

  The table was quiet for a few minutes, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Ty's dad asked a couple of questions about some guests and Sheila answered him and soon they were immersed in their own conversation.

  Ty reached for the serving spoon and helped himself to another serving of casserole. He motioned to my plate. “More?”

  I shook my head. My stomach still felt unsettled. “No, I'm good.”

  He brought a forkful of food to his mouth and chewed. “I need to make some rounds after dinner,” he said. “Just around the resort. I'm sort of like security. Which sounds incredibly lame, considering this is like the safest place on the planet.”

  I stiffened in my chair. It wasn't the safest place. I knew that from experience. It had been deadly for me. For my family.

  “Anyway, thought you might want to tag along,” he said. “Instead of just hanging out here at the house.”

  I shook my head hard. “No.” I tried to sound calm, nonchalant, but his eyes flew to me, his expression puzzled and I thought frantically for an excuse. “I mean, I'm still a little beat. I think the heat really got to me, you know?”

  Ty nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on mine. “Yeah. You were out there for a while.”

  “Uh huh,” I agreed. “So I think I'll just hang out here. If that's okay, I mean.”

  “Sure,” he said. He scraped his fork across the plate, finishing off the second helping. He stood up, grabbing his plate and glass, and I followed suit. “You don't have to clear.”

  “Why wouldn't I?”

  “Because you're the guest.”

  He walked into the kitchen and I followed behind him, dishes in hand. “An unexpected guest. The least I can do is grab my dishes.”

  The kitchen was a disaster. Bowls and utensils cluttered the butcher block island in the center of the room. A cutting board filled with unused chopped onions and tomatoes sat next to the stainless steel sink and shredded cheese littered the terra cotta tile floor.

  “Mom's a bit of a wreck in the kitchen,” Ty said. He opened the dishwasher and slid his plate into the lower rack. He held out his hand and I handed him mine. “She tries, but...”

  “Dinner was good.” I wasn't lying. It had been.

  “Yeah, that's something she actually makes well.” He deposited the glasses on the top rack. “But meatloaf? Dear God. Don't ever eat that.”

  I smiled. If someone had walked into the kitchen and seen us interacting, they would never have guessed we'd met only a few hours ago. Ty was easy-going and friendly and made me feel like I'd known him forever. Or at least for longer than a day.

  “I'll keep that in mind.”

  He wiped his hands on the gingham towel hanging from the stove. “I can show you to the guest room. Since you're gonna hang out here.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Or you could just hang out with my parents, if you want.”

  As nice as they had been to me, it was the last thing I wanted to do, especially with his dad looking me over, trying to place where he might remember me from. I didn't need him to fit pieces from the past with the present.

  “Room, please,” I said and he laughed.

  We wove back through the dining room and into the hallway and Ty motioned to the stairs. “All the bedrooms are up here. Except for my parents. Their bedroom is off the kitchen.”

  I'd noticed a closed door when we were putting dishes away and had just assumed it was a pantry or closet. “Off the kitchen?”

  He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Yeah. An addition. Mom wanted a master suite and, as you'll see, there isn't exactly room for something like that up here. So they just decided to add on.”r />
  We stood at the landing and Ty pointed. “My room is there,” he said, motioning to the back left corner. The door was closed and I felt a flicker of disappointment. I wanted to be able to peek inside, see what his room looked like. “Mary's is across from me. This is the upstairs bath,” he said, nodding his head to an open door on the right. He opened the last door. “And this is the guest room.”

  I poked my head inside. My purse and bag were already on the bed, a pretty white daybed covered with a rose-colored lace coverlet. The room was soft and feminine, the walls painted a pale pink, the furniture painted white. It was shabby chic to the extreme.

  “Where is your sister?” I asked.

  “Gymnastics camp.” He rolled his eyes. “She's gone every year since fourth grade.”

  “How old is she now?” I asked.

  “Fifteen,” he said. “And a huge pain in the ass.”

  I tried to smile but I couldn't. Fifteen. I knew a girl who was fifteen. Who would have been fifteen, I amended.

  “I went ahead and brought your stuff in while you were changing,” Ty said. “Hope that was okay.”

  “Yeah, of course.” I took a step closer to the bed. “Thank you.”

  There was something next to my stuff. Something tiny. Black. A charger. I glanced behind me at Ty. He stood in the door, leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Figured you might want to borrow that,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “Your phone fell out of your purse. I shoved it back inside but I noticed your battery was low. Didn't know if you had a charger with you. And, well, we have the same kind of phone so I just thought...”

  “Thank you.”

  I did have my phone charger. Not my car charger, but I did have the wall charger tucked away in my bag. Still, I felt a twinge in my stomach. Gratitude? I didn't know. All I knew was that Ty Reilly was going above and beyond for someone he'd just met.

  And I didn't deserve one tiny bit of it.

  SIX

  I didn't expect to sleep well that night. I hadn't expected to sleep at all. But the events of the day must have destroyed me because, after trying to call Jenna, I'd collapsed on to the bed, exhausted. The next thing I knew, the sun was streaming in through the lace curtains mounted above the bedroom window. I fumbled for my phone and hit the power button. Seven-thirty.

  I shifted on the bed and groped around, searching for the coverlet. I'd slept on top of it and the air-conditioned chill had me covered in goosebumps. I pulled it up over me and closed my eyes, hoping sleep would find me again.

  But a voice in the hallway startled me. It was low, almost a whisper. Ty. I strained to hear who he was talking to but I didn't hear another person. Maybe he was on the phone, I thought. I stayed still, my head cocked as I tried to pick up pieces of the conversation.

  “No,” I heard him say. “Not tonight.”

  There was a pause and the sound of water running. He was in the bathroom.

  “I just can't, okay?” His voice was a little louder, a little more agitated. Then, “I'm not doing this. Good bye.” He let out a long, loud sigh.

  I wondered what had him so rattled that early in the morning. A job? Was he being asked to go somewhere he didn't want to be?

  I heard his footsteps as he returned to his room and then, a moment later, he was back in the hallway. He slowed as he got to my door and a pause, as if he was standing out in front of it. Then a knock, whisper-soft.

  I sat up. “Yeah?”

  He cracked the door open and poked his head inside. His hair was wet, slicked back a little, his face freshly shaved. My hand instantly flew to my hair and I ran my fingers through the tangled strands, hoping I didn't look like as big of a mess as I felt.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. I was awake.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I'm heading out for a bit—didn't want to leave without letting you know.”

  “Where are you going?” I had no right to ask but I was curious, especially because it meant that I was going to be spending my morning alone.

  “I need to run into town.” He raised his eyebrows. “You wanna come?” I knew what he was thinking. I hadn't wanted to go anywhere with him last night so how was this morning any different?

  I practically leaped out of the bed. “Yes.” I'd take whatever opportunity I could to leave the resort and the memories that I was trying to keep at bay.

  He laughed. “Well, alright then. Guess I'll wait a little bit.”

  “Five minutes,” I told him. “Let me just brush my teeth and change.”

  “No problem.” He motioned to the wood rocking chair in the corner. “Want me to wait here or downstairs?”

  I was already up, rummaging through my bag. “Here is fine.” I grabbed my cosmetic bag and a change of clothes and hurried into the bathroom.

  I slipped out of the borrowed clothes I'd slept in and changed into a pair of denim shorts and a blue tank top. I pulled my brush through my hair, wincing as the bristles caught in the tangles, and pulled the mess of it into a pony tail. I brushed my teeth and rinsed, and then stole a quick look at my reflection. I didn't want to keep Ty waiting but I took a few extra seconds and added a coat of lip gloss and dusted my eyelids with shadow.

  I hurried back into the guest bedroom. Ty was waiting where I'd left him, sitting on the rocker, his feet flat on the floor.

  “That was fast,” he said. His eyes drifted from my legs upward, lingering on the cleavage the cami tank top exposed, but his expression was unreadable.

  “Told you I needed five minutes.”

  He stood up and stretched. “I know. That's what Mary says all the time. But five minutes in girl-ese usually means thirty.”

  I smiled. “Not this girl.” I folded up the borrowed clothes and set them on the edge of the bed. I adjusted the coverlet so it lay flat and smooth on the mattress before grabbing my purse and fully-charged phone. I'd plugged it in and set it on the nightstand as soon as Ty had left the room last night.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready.”

  The house was quiet as we crept down the stairs. I wondered if his parents were still asleep.

  As if he knew I'd ask, Ty turned to me and said, “Mom's at church. She always goes to early Mass.”

  “Alone?”

  He grabbed the keys to the truck and opened the front door of the house. “Yeah. She can't make me or Mary go anymore and my dad has never gone. Always says we need to have someone here at the resort. You know, in case of emergency.”

  I did know.

  The morning air was cool and moist and dew beaded the lush green lawn as we made our way toward his truck. Birds chirped in the trees, a symphony of sounds, and a squirrel scampered across the driveway.

  Ty opened the truck's passenger door and I stood there awkwardly. No guy had ever opened a car door and waited for me to get inside. I lifted my purse off my shoulder and tossed it on the bench seat before climbing in. He closed the door behind me and circled the front of the truck to the driver's side.

  “So, where are we going?”

  He jammed the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. “Promise not to laugh?” he asked as he shifted the truck into drive.

  “No.”

  He laughed. “Then maybe I should blindfold you so you don't see. Although I'm pretty sure the sound will give it away.”

  I raised my eyebrows and frowned. “Sound?”

  He pulled on to the highway, back in the direction of Pelican Lake. “Yep. Totally unmistakable.”

  I thought for a minute. What the hell was he talking about? “I have no idea,” I finally said. “Tell me.”

  “I'm still waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  He turned to look at me. “Your promise.”

  “Oh, please,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Why the hell would you care what I think?”

  Ty started to say something, then stopped. “You're right,” he sa
id, his voice light. “But I have a reputation to protect.”

  We came to a four-way stop and he turned left, down a street lined with quaint, two-story homes. They were older, probably built in the 50s, with dormer roofs and tiny stoops for front porches. The lawns were perfectly manicured, resin-painted deer and ceramic bird baths and other gaudy décor parked in nearly every single one. It reminded me of home and I felt an ache in my chest for what I'd left behind in North Dakota. And for what we'd all lost ten years earlier. Our home had never felt the same.

  He pulled up to the curb in front of a white two-story house and killed the engine. He looked at me. “You coming with?”

  “Inside?”

  He nodded.

  I wondered again what he was there to do. I could just stay in the truck. Text my sister while I waited for him. But my curiosity got the better of me. I grabbed my purse and hooked it over my shoulder and he smiled.

  We stepped to the curb and on to the sidewalk but Ty didn't go to the front door. Instead, he followed the cement walk to the fenced-in backyard. He reached for the inside latch and unhooked it.

  “Do you know the people who live here?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “No? You don't?”

  He shook his head very slowly, back and forth. “See?” he said. “This movement means no.” He started bobbing his head up and down. “This means yes.”

  I swatted at his arm. “Shut up.” He held open the gate and motioned me into the back yard.

  I hesitated. It wasn't like me to just follow along blindly. “Are we supposed to be here?”

  He rolled his eyes. “No. We're breaking in. I like to hit all the local houses while people are at church.”

  I gaped at him and he rolled his eyes again. “Jesus,” he muttered. Then louder, “Of course we're supposed to be here. You'll see in a minute.”

  He waited for me to step into the backyard. I took my time, almost tip-toeing as I crossed the threshold. The backyard was as neatly manicured as the front, with trimmed green grass and pink and white annuals that bordered the edge of the house. He closed the gate behind me and strode across the lawn, heading toward a massive lilac bush along the back fence line.