by Robin Brande
And then Eliza would have to shush him before he went off on some colorful explanation of how he wouldn’t be doing that with this no matter what Livia tried. And the two of them would agree they didn’t understand a woman like that—“How does she even survive in this world?”—and then Jamey Shepherd would kiss his wife and tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, and he’d tell her how much he loved her and how lucky he was, and “Come on, we’ll be quiet,” and then his warm touch and his hot mouth and his expert hands—
“Search party,” shouted a voice in the distance.
Eliza looked up. She could see two kayaks coming toward her. Ted and one of the nephews—Danny, she thought.
“Come on, Liz, we’ll be quiet.”
“Shh.”
“Everybody’s probably passed out anyway. Did you see how fast that tequila went? Come on, El, I dare you.”
“Ooh, you dare me, huh?”
“Knew that would get your shirt off.”
“You think you know me, huh.”
“’Course I do. But isn’t it nice that someone who knows you so well loves you so much?”
Yes, Jamey. That was nice—so very nice. Every single day.
She had time. If she stopped paddling, just drifted there, they wouldn’t reach her for a while. Eliza closed her eyes and replayed the scene one more time. Start to finish, first line to last, and the slow, quiet lovemaking that followed.
“Come on, El, I dare you.”
I could never say no to you.
16
Eliza read a quiz in a magazine once about how to tell if you’re an extrovert or an introvert. The test was whether you draw energy from being around other people, or feel depleted by them afterward.
Eliza was definitely feeling depleted.
It started with the gamesmanship before the game. Sue and her boys had recruited most of the group—excluding John, who had a baseball game to watch on the enormous flat-screen TV, and David, who said he had work to do—to play one of the games they’d brought along. It involved categories of drawing, acting, singing, and word play. Something Eliza thought she might actually enjoy.
The six of them divided into two teams: Ted and the nephews against Sue, Eliza, and Livia.
“I have to warn you,” Livia told the men, “I’m unbeatable.”
“Sorry to hear that, Keane,” Ted answered, “’cause so am I. Looks like you’ve finally met your match.”
Livia laughed. “Maybe I have.”
Sue gave Eliza a look.
“Enough trash talk,” Sue said. “Come on, ladies. Let’s grind these boys into the dust.”
* * *
An hour into it, Eliza had already had enough.
“Ha! Wrong!” Livia shouted at Mike. She showed him the card. “Next!”
Eliza’s head hurt. She had brought a book with her—a collection of prize-winning short stories—and she longed to be up in the quiet of her room, reading instead of listening to this.
“Watch me, watch me,” Livia told Sue and Eliza. She started pantomiming the secret word.
“Uh...chopping something?” Sue guessed.
Livia shook her head.
“Poking...hitting...”
Livia frowned.
“Knife—stabbing with a knife?”
Livia groaned and shook her head harder.
When time was up, she shouted, “Downtown!”
“How is that downtown?” Sue wanted to know.
“Dooowwwn,” Livia said, demonstrating again by jabbing her hand downward. “You couldn’t even get to the town part.”
Sue looked at Eliza. “Sorry. I’m usually good at this game.”
“Not your fault,” Eliza mumbled.
Ted reached for her knee under the table and gave it a squeeze. Then he left his hand there and stroked it lightly against her thigh.
She gently removed it.
Eliza had had this feeling the whole night: that she didn’t belong there. That she was watching it from outside. There she was, in this gorgeous, fantasy lake house, and all she wanted to do was go home and sit on Hildy’s couch and eat cold pasta with her mother-in-law. Get up in the morning and drink her coffee alone. Spend the day without someone constantly trying to charm her, touch her, make her laugh, win her over. Spend her day without someone being so interested in her.
There had to be something wrong with that picture. Eliza knew in her heart it wasn’t normal.
But she also knew there was something wrong with sitting there in that room with a family that wasn’t hers, forcing her smiles, pretending she was having a great time. She wasn’t. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it up.
Before they could move on to another round in the game, Eliza leaned over and whispered to Ted, “Can I talk to you?”
Ted turned to his teammates. “Break, gentleman. Our opponent wants to concede.”
“I doubt it,” Sue said. “But I wouldn’t mind a break, either. Anyone want anything else to drink?”
“I thought you weren’t serving us,” Ted said.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Ted smirked at his big sister, then followed Eliza to the door. The two of them stepped out onto the porch.
“It’s still light,” Eliza observed. “I keep forgetting how far north we are.” She could see David out on the dock, sitting with his legs over the edge, watching his dog play in the water.
Ted tipped back his beer and drained it. Then he leaned against the nearest post. “So, what’s up?”
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good company on this trip.”
“Starting when?” Ted asked. “’Cause you’re a barrel of laughs right now.”
He met her gaze. And didn’t crack a smile.
“I’m sorry,” Eliza said again.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Ted asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered quietly.
“I don’t know, either. I can’t make you have fun, Eliza. Just like I can’t make you like me. I’ve tried—”
“I do like you.”
“Not enough,” Ted said. “And I’m sick of trying.”
He flipped his empty beer bottle into the air and caught it by the neck on the way down. “You let me know if you change your mind,” he told her. “Until then I have a game to go win.”
He went back inside the house and shut the door. Eliza stood on the porch alone.
She could feel her body shaking. That annoying, shivery reaction, like when her teeth chattered for no reasonable reason. Part of her wanted to go back inside, ask Ted to talk to her more, mend this and sort it out.
The other part of her felt relief.
She was acting like she was fourteen. No exaggeration, she thought, since she remembered very well having exactly this kind of physical reaction at her first high school dance. A boy two grades older—someone she’d never seen or talked to before—came straight toward her within minutes after she entered the room and told her he’d been waiting for her to show up.
“Do I...know you?” Her body felt cold and stiff. Her jaw felt so tight it had been hard to get the words out. She could feel the strange shivering start.
“I’m Troy,” he said, looking offended that she didn’t remember.
“Oh.” She glanced around, hoping to see any of her friends. Some escape. But she couldn’t find anyone.
“So you gonna dance with me?”
“Uh...” She could feel a layer of cold sweat spring up all over her body. “No, I’m supposed to meet someone. I...I have to go find my friend.”
“I’ll help you look,” Troy said.
“No, that’s okay. I have to go.”
Then she’d fled into the crowd, hoping no one saw her and no one followed. She felt like a wild animal, cornered.
That was the closest she came to dating in high school.
Which was why Jamey Shepherd had been such a revelation. Someone who spoke to her on h
er first day of college and didn’t make her want to shiver or panic or escape. Someone who picked her out and let her know there was no hurry, but he wasn’t going away.
The Labrador splashed into the water. Eliza made her choice. Better a silent man and his wet dog than more games with the loud crowd inside.
And she made another choice: To leave as soon as she could.
* * *
“Do you mind if I sit here? We don’t have to talk.”
David hesitated. “That’s f...fine.”
Eliza lowered herself onto the dock. The wood felt rough and damp against the back of her legs. She drew up her knees and leaned against the closest post.
She could see the dog out in the water. He seemed content just to paddle by himself, without someone throwing him a ball or a stick. Self-contained, Eliza thought. A perfect dog for David Walsh.
“I think your brother’s tired of me.”
David didn’t answer right away. He waited a few beats before saying, “Why?”
“I don’t think I’m fun enough.”
David paused again, then nodded.
“Livia seems fun,” Eliza said.
David didn’t answer.
“Right,” Eliza mumbled under her breath. I said I wouldn’t talk.
She hugged her knees into her chest and rested her head on top of them. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds around the lake.
When her back started to ache from sitting that way, she lay back flat against the dock and let her legs dangle over the edge.
Eliza gazed up at the sky, now dark enough she could see a light sprinkling of stars.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked David.
“Yes.”
She felt bolder now that she wasn’t looking at him. “In the car today, what you said about my trip down the Salmon—how did you remember that?”
A slight pause, then, “I told you. I r-read it.”
“But that was five years ago. How could you remember?”
“I just do.”
She swung her legs back and forth for several quiet minutes. She heard Bear emerge from the water again and shake himself. “That’s enough, boy,” David told him softly. “Let’s go in.”
“Oh,” Eliza said, sitting up. “You’re leaving?”
“It’s late,” David said. He stood and then offered her his hand. She held up her arm and he helped pull her to her feet.
Eliza brushed off the back of her shorts. “Thanks for letting me sit out here. It was too loud in there.”
They walked along the dock, Bear tracking them from below. When they joined him again on solid land, David bent down to give the dog a few sturdy pats to his side.
“Can I be honest with you?” Eliza asked. Why am I telling him this? It’s not as if he cares. But she knew she just needed to say it to someone, and someone who wouldn’t ask her a lot of questions seemed like a good choice.
David waited and looked at her. Eliza took a breath and continued.
“I think it was a mistake coming up here. I think...I feel like an intruder on your family’s time. I don’t feel like I belong here.”
“You’re not intruding,” David answered. “You were invited.”
“But I don’t...” Eliza sighed. “I know this is probably too personal, and you probably don’t care, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” She laughed at her own nervousness, and at the fact that was still going to tell him, despite that. “I don’t think your brother and I are destined to be together. Which makes it kind of awkward for me to be here. I think he was hoping for...something more.”
“You can leave whenever you want.”
He said it simply, not in a petulant way—“Fine! Then you can leave!”—but in a very matter-of-fact, easy tone.
“Not really,” Eliza said. “I rode with all of you, remember?”
“I can drive you home tomorrow.”
“But...” Eliza studied his face in the dark. Was he serious? Was he mad? “Won’t people be angry with me? Won’t your sister?”
“Why?” David said. “You can do whatever you want.”
“I can’t ask you to drive me.”
“You didn’t,” he said. “I offered.”
“I don’t want to ruin your weekend.”
“I didn’t want to come here, either.”
The confession surprised her. “Then why did you?”
“Livia wanted to.”
“Oh. Right,” Eliza said, comprehension dawning. “Then of course you can’t leave. But thank you anyway.”
“Livia can stay if she wants,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No, David, I’m really sorry I bothered you. Never mind.”
Eliza took off toward the house, feeling embarrassed and foolish. It was nice of David to take pity on her, but obviously she was acting like a child. “Take me home! I don’t like it here!” She had signed up for this trip, and she could tough it out. It wasn’t like the place or the people were awful. She was just being difficult. Self-indulgent and insecure and melodramatic. So what if she wanted to go hide in her room and read a book and fall asleep? She could act like a grown-up and go be sociable with the other grown-ups and stop behaving as if the world revolved around her.
“She’s back!” Livia said as Eliza walked through the door. “Not that we needed you—Sue and I are trouncing the competition. But if you want to bask in our reflected glory...”
Eliza plastered on a smile. “Good job, you two. Sue, can I get you anything? Livia? Anybody?”
“I’ll take another rum and Coke,” Livia answered, holding out her glass. “Teddy, something for the losers?”
Ted glanced up at Eliza, then held out his empty bottle of beer. “Time for some tequila,” he said. “Last cupboard on the left. And bartender, don’t be shy.”
* * *
It was after midnight when Eliza finally dragged up the stairs. Sue was cleaning up—despite her speech at the beginning of the day—and her husband had gone to bed hours before. Ted and the nephews had moved on to a card game. Livia sat drinking and watching.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Eliza said, patting Ted on the shoulder.
“Yeah, see you,” he answered, not looking up. He slammed another card onto the table. “You’re going to owe me your college fund, Mikey.”
“Me, too,” Danny said, slapping his own card on top. “You really suck at this.”
Mike gave his own cards a cool appraisal, then calmly fanned them out in front of him.
“Damn it!” Danny shouted.
“Settle down,” Sue warned from the kitchen.
“I’m dealing,” Danny said, scooping up the cards.
Ted leaned back and stretched. Eliza still stood behind him, waiting.
Waiting for what? she wondered. She wasn’t sure.
His attention? His approval? His forgiveness?
“Okay, so good night,” she said again.
“’Night,” Ted answered.
“Coffee’s here,” Sue said, pointing to the coffee maker. “Supplies are up here. John’ll probably be up before you and he can make it, but just in case.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Eliza walked across the room to the staircase and started going up.
“Good night,” Livia called after her. “Remember, shopping tomorrow!”
“Shopping. Right.” With Livia. The weekend was getting better by the minute.
She stopped at the first room at the top of the stairs and turned on the light. The room certainly was lavender: lavender walls, white bedspread with lavender flowers, matching white and lavender curtains. But she didn’t mind it. It was overly feminine and fussy, but it felt right as a guest room in a fancy, professionally-decorated lake house. She could easily see this room in a magazine spread. “The lavender room, with its sunny windows and soft, inviting bed.”
Soft and inviting it was. Eliza quickly brushed her teeth in the bathroom two doors down, then returned to change into her nigh
tgown. Then she slid between the cold, soft sheets and fell asleep within minutes.
And woke a few hours later to the unmistakable sounds of sex.
17
Of course he didn’t make any noise, Eliza thought. Why should David be any different during sex?
Livia, on the other hand: giggling, moaning, and at one point—thankfully, only one—crying out. Then Livia shushing herself and giggling again. Save me, Eliza thought.
She tried blocking it out with a pillow over her head, but that muffled only some of the sound. There was still the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the wall—such a classically embarrassing touch when you were staying at someone else’s house. Whenever Eliza and Jamey stayed with friends, he made fun of her for lying on the bed first thing and making it bounce and shift. If there were even a hint of squeak or knocking, she’d tackle the problem like a sound engineer until she had moved, padded, or otherwise fixed the bed.
And if she couldn’t, they’d be making love on the floor.
“No one cares,” Jamey would tell her, but Eliza cared. “We’re married. It’s legal. It’s required.”
“It’s personal,” was how Eliza always explained it, and Jamey let her continue stuffing T-shirts behind headboards and testing for sound if they moved horizontally instead of vertically.
Apparently Livia Keane played from a different rule book.
As did David.
In the morning, all it took was one look at Sue to realize she’d had an even rougher night.
“Morning,” Eliza muttered.
Sue couldn’t even answer. She just selected the biggest mug she could find in the cupboard and poured coffee up to its rim. She stood in her robe, leaning against the counter, drinking dark roast with the kind of grim concentration of a climber who knows she used up all her strength on that last pitch, and she still has four more impossible ones to go.
