The Secret Pond

by Gerri Hill

  “I can work with him, if you want,” she offered.

  “You’re already giving him swimming lessons.”

  “That doesn’t count,” she said with a shake of her head. “Besides, I used to pitch batting practice with my nephews all the time.”

  Hannah stared at her for the longest time, almost making Lindsey uncomfortable. “Tell me about your family,” she finally said. “And I don’t mean about the accident.”

  Lindsey held her gaze, wondering at the request. Hannah must have sensed her hesitation.

  “I just want to know more about them, more about you. About what makes you…you,” she said quietly.

  Lindsey looked over to where the kids were choosing sides for the baseball game. At least Jack didn’t appear to be the youngest one there. She turned her attention back to Hannah, finding her watching.

  “Is it too painful to talk about them?”

  Lindsey shook her head. “Not so much anymore, I guess.” She took a deep breath. “Lorrie was the oldest, but we were all very close in age. My brother Shane was only eighteen months older than me. Lorrie was two years older than he was.”

  “That must have been nice,” Hannah said. “My sister and I are six years apart. Vast difference when you’re kids.”

  Lindsey nodded. “Yeah, it was nice. And we all got along. I don’t remember there being any major fights or anything. We were siblings, but we were also friends.” She moved a little deeper, sitting on another rock, the water now past her waist. “I was closest to Shane, though. I was kind of a tomboy growing up, so I tended to play with him and his friends more than Lorrie.”

  “And coming out here to your grandparents’ place? Was that something you always did?”

  She nodded. “Since we were babies, yes. Even high school, college…we still gravitated back here. When Lorrie and Shane got married, had kids, the cycle continued.”

  “How many kids? You said five?” Hannah asked as she moved closer to her, sitting down on a nearby rock.

  “Yes, there were…there were five kids. Lorrie, my sister, had two. Mark was the oldest…he was twelve. Allison was ten.” She swallowed. “And Shane, my brother, had three. Jett was ten. Eli was seven, and Abby was only five.”

  She wasn’t surprised when Hannah’s hand reached her, circling her forearm under the water. Lindsey met her gaze, making no move to pull away from her touch.

  “And who does Jack remind you of?”

  Lindsey wanted to look away, but Hannah’s eyes held her in place. “You would think Jett since they were about the same age, but Jack is more like Eli.” She shook her head slowly. “I know what you’re thinking. That I’m using Jack to…to fill this empty spot, but…” She let out her breath. “Maybe at first, yeah, I was. But Jack is Jack. I know he’s not…well, I know he’s not one of my nephews, but I love him like he is.” She felt Hannah’s hand tighten. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Jack loves you too,” Hannah said quietly. “I can’t imagine what we would have done this summer if you hadn’t stumbled into our lives. We had an empty spot to fill too.” Hannah’s hand slipped from her arm, but she didn’t move away. She came closer, their shoulders bumping as they shared the same rock. “You’ve righted our world somehow, Lindsey. I hope we’ve helped you in some way too.”

  Lindsey nodded. “You have. Things feel a little more normal now. Today, for instance. Two months ago, I think this holiday—which used to be so filled with family—would have sent me into a very dark place, a place where I would have wanted to curl up and hide from the world.” She let her gaze travel past Hannah to where Jack was playing. “Being here with you two makes today…special.” She looked back to Hannah. “I needed to get away. If we’d stayed at home, stayed and played in the river or the pond, it would have been…too much, I think.”

  “I know. That’s one reason I wanted to do something. With you.”

  “Thank you. You could have easily left me behind and joined your in-laws.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving you behind.” Then she smiled. “Margie is pissed off at me, by the way. She can’t understand why Jack and I would rather be with you than with them.”

  “I know you said that she doesn’t like me just because of my name, but do you think it’s because I’m gay?”

  Hannah frowned. “No. I doubt she even knows you’re gay. If she did, God, I can only imagine what all she’d be saying.”

  “Well, her generation, living out here, I assume she’s old school on that thought.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you worried she might influence me or something?”

  Lindsey shrugged. “Well, she is family. I mean—”

  “No,” Hannah said with a shake of her head. “This sounds terrible, but I don’t feel like she’s family. If James were still alive, then sure. We had that link. But now? The only connection we have is in name only. Jack is her grandson. I don’t feel an emotional connection with her. I know Jack doesn’t.” Hannah moved her hands back and forth under the water, causing ripples on the surface. “That sounds unkind, doesn’t it? I mean, we moved here with the intention of getting closer to Margie and Dennis, not farther away.”

  “You regret moving out here?”

  Hannah smiled. “I was just thinking about that the other night. If I had to do it over again, what would I do?” Her smile softened. “Well, we wouldn’t have met you.”

  Lindsey laughed. “I doubt my existence in your life has a bearing on that decision.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Jack…Jack needed this. You. This summer,” she said. “If we’d stayed in San Antonio—even moving to a new house—it wouldn’t have been a big enough change.” Again, as if she couldn’t help herself, Hannah’s fingers found her arm. “And you needed this too. So I don’t want to play the ‘what if’ game.” Her fingers slipped away. “But I will admit, it’s crossed my mind more than once—staying in San Antonio.” She tilted her head. “Do you wish you’d stayed in Dallas?”

  Lindsey thought back to the first few days when she’d moved out here…dark, dreadful days when she thought her grief would swallow her whole. Lonely, empty days that seemed endless…lifeless. Would it have been any different in Dallas? Would it have been worse? She looked at Hannah. If she’d stayed in Dallas—wallowing in her grief alone—she would have never met Jack, never met Hannah. She wouldn’t have Max. She would be hiding away in her apartment, wishing for her miserable life to be over with.

  “No,” she said honestly. “Moving out here was the best thing I could have done. Even if, at the beginning, it seemed like the worst thing.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Hannah sat next to Lindsey on the blanket, the light starting to fade from the sky. Jack sat in front of them, crossed-legged, waiting on the fireworks to start. After Jack’s baseball game, they’d eaten the chicken she’d brought, then they’d gotten back in the water and spent a lazy couple of hours playing with a Frisbee that Lindsey had produced from her pack. They’d then gone up to the public restrooms and changed into dry clothes. It had been an all-around great day, albeit a long one. She’d seen Jack trying to stifle a yawn on several occasions, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t had thoughts of relaxing on Lindsey’s deck with a glass of wine. As if reading her mind, Lindsey nudged her shoulder.

  “We should have stashed some booze in the picnic basket,” she whispered.

  Hannah smiled at her. “I was just thinking a glass of wine sounded good.” She returned the nudge. “On your deck.”

  “My deck?”

  “It’s bigger and nicer than my little porch.”

  “How about we do burgers tomorrow? I think I have everything except buns.”

  “Okay. But I’ll do the grocery store run. I need some things anyway.”

  “Deal.”

  Jack turned around. “When’s the show gonna start?”

  “It’s almost dark. I imagine very soon.” She rubbed his
hair. “Did you have a good day?”

  “Yeah. It was fun.” Then he turned his gaze to Lindsey. “Do you think you could teach me how to hit?”

  “Baseball?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m not very good.”

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  He grinned. “I figured you could. You can do pretty much everything.”

  Hannah smiled as—even in the waning light—she saw a blush light Lindsey’s face.

  “I don’t know about that, buddy. I can’t cook like your mom can.”

  “Well…no, I guess not,” he conceded. The first firework shot up in the sky and Jack spun around. “Finally! It’s starting!”

  Conversation ceased as the show got underway. Soon, choruses of oohs and ahs were heard as bursts of colors exploded overhead. Hannah followed Lindsey’s lead and leaned back on her elbows, watching the sky above them. She was suddenly aware of their nearness, aware of the arm that was so close to her own…close but not touching. She wasn’t quite sure what was guiding her—wasn’t sure what to make of her sudden need for contact—but she moved her arm ever so slightly. She nearly gasped when their skin touched. It was as if an electric current had passed between them. She didn’t move her arm and neither did Lindsey. She swallowed, not daring to look over at her. She continued to stare overhead, barely registering the fireworks as they shot across the sky.

  No…the only thing that registered was the quiet darkness, the woman sitting next to her, the arm pressed against her own. The crowd around her seemed to disappear, the voices fading into the background as Lindsey shifted, moving enough so that their legs now touched, however slight.

  Hannah hadn’t realized she’d stopped breathing until Jack turned around, a grin on his face.

  “That one was awesome! It covered the whole sky!”

  Hannah nodded, although she’d apparently missed the burst. She blinked several times, bringing herself back to the here and now, forcing her gaze up to the sky, trying to focus on the fireworks—and not on the woman sitting beside her.

  Before long, the grand finale started and “wows” erupted as multitudes of bursts flashed across the sky simultaneously. Again, her breath held as Lindsey leaned closer, her voice whispering against her ear.

  “Damn good fireworks for a town this small.”

  Hannah nodded, afraid to turn her head, afraid to look at Lindsey. She kept her eyes glued to the sky as the last few bursts of color exploded overhead. It wasn’t until she felt Lindsey sit up that she dared to move. Jack had spun around, facing them now.

  “That was great,” he said. “But it didn’t last very long.”

  “I think we’d all be shocked at how much it costs to put on a show like this,” Lindsey said.

  People were stirring around them, packing up chairs and blankets. She let Lindsey pull her to her feet and they began gathering their own belongings. Before long, they were following the crowd across the park. Jack was between them, holding on to Lindsey’s shorts as she snaked her way through the throng and back to where they were parked. A small traffic jam ensued as everyone tried to leave at once. She finally inched the car out into the steady stream of vehicles, and before too long they were heading out of town.

  It was unusually quiet on the ride back. Jack’s normal chatter was absent, and she looked in the mirror, seeing him leaning against the window, his eyes closed. She smiled, then glanced over at Lindsey, not surprised to find Lindsey watching her. It was too dark to read her expression, and she gave up trying, instead, turning her attention back to the road.

  She blocked out the thoughts that were trying to settle in her mind. She pushed them away, leaving her mind blank as she drove them home. Her mind was blank, yes, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of the quiet woman sitting next to her in the car.

  Her mind was blank. She wondered if Lindsey’s was.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lindsey had no idea what time it was. The sun was over the cedars behind the garden. Her coffee was long cold. Max and Barney were wrestling beside the table, but still she sat, staring out at the woods, seeing nothing.

  Seeing nothing, that is, except Hannah lying beside her on the blanket. It had been Hannah who had moved…moved so that they were touching. At first, she thought it had been an accident, that Hannah had simply shifted, inadvertently touching her. But no. Hannah didn’t move away. She didn’t change positions. She stayed there, letting the contact continue.

  Lindsey had been nearly paralyzed. She had frozen in place, afraid to move…afraid not to move. She finally told herself to relax. It didn’t mean anything. Hannah was Jack’s mother, for god’s sake. It didn’t mean anything. They were friends. They were watching the fireworks. Jack was there. It didn’t mean anything. She relaxed.

  Oh, hell…she didn’t relax. She moved closer. She relished the contact. A mistake, sure, but that didn’t stop her. She’d been disappointed when the show had come to an end and she’d made some lame comment to Hannah about the quality of the fireworks, anything to let Hannah know that she was thinking nothing of their positions on the blanket…anything to let Hannah know that she wasn’t affected by it in the least.

  The show had come to an end, they’d packed up, they’d gone back to the car, they’d come home…all with only a handful of words exchanged.

  She reached down, absently rubbing Max’s head, her stare fixed on the trees across from the deck. It was the hug at the end that had been her undoing. She should have left. Jack had already said his sleepy goodbyes and had shuffled off to bed, so she should have left. But Hannah had offered a glass of wine and they’d sat out on the porch, neither talking. Then the whirling sound of a screech owl broke the silence and she’d found herself telling Hannah about the nighttime birds, the sounds that her grandmother had taught her. The awkwardness between them had disappeared, replaced with the easy conversation—the easy friendship—that they normally shared.

  She sighed. Maybe it was her fault. She’d hesitated. They’d finished their wine, she was taking her leave…and she’d hesitated.

  “I had a good time today. Thanks for including me.”

  “It was a great day, Lindsey. Jack had a wonderful time. So did I.”

  That should have been enough. But she hesitated. And their eyes met. And suddenly, everything was…unclear. She wasn’t sure who initiated the hug. She’d like to think that it was Hannah, but hell, maybe she did. Regardless, she found herself being pulled close to Hannah, felt her arms go around Hannah…felt Hannah’s arms around her. She completely forgot to breathe in the confusion. She forgot to breathe because Hannah was too close and the hug was too intimate. How many seconds it lasted, she didn’t know. Too long? Yes, but not nearly long enough.

  Hannah had seemed embarrassed as she slowly pulled away. Lindsey, too, had averted her eyes. She’d mumbled a quick good night and had spun on her heels, bounding off the porch and into the woods before her jumbled mind could make sense of it all.

  And now here she sat—after a nearly sleepless night—still trying to make sense of it all.

  Because it made no sense whatsoever.

  Hannah was a straight woman. A recently widowed straight woman. A mother. Lindsey leaned back in her chair. She was obviously reading too much into it all. She had overreacted. Hannah was just being Hannah.

  Lindsey sighed. “And I’m attracted to her,” she mumbled.

  Jack’s mother. I’m attracted to Jack’s mother.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  The ringing of her phone brought her out of her self-loathing, but the name that popped up on the screen didn’t alleviate her anxiety. She cleared her throat before answering, trying to sound as normal as possible.

  “Good morning.”

  “Hey. We’re on our way to the grocery store. Wanted to see if you needed anything besides buns.”

  She got up, going back inside. “Yeah…let me check. I think a tomato.” She opened the fridge and looked inside the drawer, finding the lone tomato th
at had seen better days. “Yeah…this one’s a little on the ripe side. I have lettuce, though.”

  “Okay. I’ll bring a jar of pickles too. Margie brought us three,” Hannah said. “I also have some tomatoes from her garden.”

  “Okay, fresh tomatoes. Great.” She paused. Hannah sounded perfectly normal. There was no awkwardness at all in her voice. So Lindsey tried to match it. “Ask Jack what he wants to do today…river or pond?”

  Hannah laughed. “I decided it was my day. And I vote for the pond. I feel like a lazy day.”

  Lindsey smiled, feeling some of the tension leave her. “The pond it is.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Hannah was having a hard time keeping her eyes open as she floated near the waterfall. The afternoon was sizzling hot and the cold water of the pond was refreshing. She cracked her eyelids open enough to see Jack and Lindsey standing on the pier. Diving lessons again today. She smiled, then let her eyes close once more as Jack fell into the water, sending waves rippling across the surface, rocking her float.

  A lazy day indeed, she thought. She’d done absolutely nothing other than perch on the float, alternating between the shade and the sun. She was way past mellow, and she wondered if it was the two beers she’d had that had her feeling so relaxed. Lindsey had joined her a couple of times, but for the most part, she’d been entertaining Jack and the dogs.

  Clapping and an exuberant “yay” from Lindsey forced her eyes open again. Jack was in the water, grinning from ear to ear. Had he executed a dive finally and she’d missed it?

  “Mom…did you see me?”

  “No, honey. Can you do it again?”

  “Oh, Mom…why weren’t you watching?”

  Lindsey laughed. “I think she was sleeping. Come on, let’s try it again.”

  Hannah spun the float around, facing the pier. She tried to keep her focus on Jack as he got out of the water, but she found her gaze drifting over to Lindsey. She was such an attractive woman. She wondered what—before her family’s accident—her social life had been like. Lindsey had told her that she’d been seeing someone. Was it serious? Was it someone Lindsey had been in love with and, in her grief, had pushed away?