Emerald Eyes

by Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén

  “Well, I guess he must have changed his mind, anyway,” Tucker said tactfully, and smoothly changed the subject, venturing, “So, Molly, how old are you?”

  “I’m sixteen,” I replied. Then I had to know, “Would you have guessed that?”

  Tucker pursed his lips and looked me up and down. “I’m not sure,” he said after a moment, and I knew he would not have guessed me to be sixteen, that he was just being polite.

  Nicky was not as diplomatic. “Maybe fifteen,” he piped. “That’s what I woulda said. Even with the movie star hair and that dark eye shadow, you still don’t look sixteen.” He winked at me.

  I glanced at my feet, feeling stupid despite the friendliness of his words, because I realized that he and Tucker likely viewed me as nothing more than a cute little kid trying to act grown-up. I felt my face self-consciously, wondering if maybe I’d been a little heavy-handed with my makeup.

  But Tucker touched my arm encouragingly. “You look great, “ he said, and smiled, which lifted my spirits.

  Following suit, Nicky was quick to assure me that he’d only been messing with me. “And I’m serious,” he went on, “that hairdo’s worthy of Sandra Bullock. Must’ve taken you forever!”

  I laughed, completely at ease again. “No,” I replied, “not forever! Try five minutes.”

  “Amazing,” said Nicky, looking so totally awe-struck that I giggled again, and then asked, “So, now that you two are painfully aware that I’m sixteen, aren’t you going to tell me how old you are?”

  Tucker grinned. “Take a guess,” he said playfully.

  I put my hands on my hips. “That’s not fair,” I teased. “I told you mine outright.”

  “All right,” Tucker consented. “We’re nineteen, both of us.”

  That didn’t surprise me, but I toyed with them. “No way! I was going to say fifteen!”

  “That does it!” cried Nicky, and he grabbed me in jest, dragged me away from the table where I’d been sitting, and then plunked me down on the dance floor and began spinning me in elaborate twists and turns, almost swing-dance-type moves. As I’d never been swing-dancing before, I kept tripping over my feet and laughing uncontrollably.

  This made Nicky laugh, too, and Tucker on the sidelines. Because we were the only two people on the floor swing dancing to rock music, we attracted a lot of attention from the kids around us, who laughed as well. Even the band got into the spirit of things. As I quickly picked up on some of the dance steps, learning to better follow Nicky, they cranked out a jazzed-up Billy Joel tune to match our rhythm and style.

  Tucker stepped in and stole me away from Nicky at one point. Nicky protested good-naturedly. Even though Tucker didn’t have the fancy-pants moves that Nicky did, I was happy to dance with him. We danced till we were hot and out of breath. Still laughing, we walked back to my table, where Nicky had plunked himself down to watch us.

  Hanging Out

  Tucker got us all some refreshments, and the three of us sat and talked for the longest time. We compared notes on home (Tucker, surprisingly enough, lived in Stanton, a Chicago suburb only thirty miles from Pinewood, and Nicky was from a small town not far from New York City); school (Tucker would be entering his second year of community college in the fall, and Nicky had not yet decided on a college and would be continuing to work full-time during the school year for the Manhattan meat market that his dad owned and managed); summer jobs (both Tucker and Nicky worked part-time at one of the resort’s boat service shops); and just about everything else we could think of. The two guys had met at the resort when they were ten and had seen each other every summer since.

  They were interested in hearing all about me: my family and my interests and my ambition of becoming a fashion designer. “In fact,” I told them proudly, “I designed and sewed this dress myself.” I picked at the material of the skirt.

  The guys were duly impressed. But then, inevitably, the conversation turned back to my mother and Chet.

  “How did it all get started?” Nicky asked. “I mean, did Chet just walk up to your mom, catcalling, and tell her she was hot stuff, or what?”

  I giggled in spite of myself, envisioning what he’d just said. Then I told him and Tucker how Chet and Mom had been checking into their hotel at the same time, and Chet had, embarrassingly enough, started commenting on my school picture in Mom’s wallet. “It all snowballed from there, I guess,” I concluded unhappily. I was sure the guys could sense that I was none too thrilled about my mother’s relationship with Chet.

  “All because of you,” Tucker said, his voice low as he studied me, lingering a moment on my eyes.

  I glanced away, disturbed somehow by his words.

  Apparently sensing my strange and sudden discomfort, Tucker quickly changed the subject. He was good at knowing when to do that. “It’s getting dark,” he observed. “Will your mom be wondering where you are?”

  Instantly, I felt like that dumb little kid again. “I guess so.” I hated to admit that, but I knew I needed to be going.

  Nicky laughed. “Well, we wouldn’t want her thinking her daughter’d been abducted by two good-looking guys, now would we?”

  “Shut up, Nicky,” I said, relaxing. “Don’t you have a rather high opinion of yourself?”

  “Of myself, but not of Tuck,” he teased me back.

  I blushed only slightly, and Tucker looked cutely uncomfortable for a moment.

  Finally, I stood up and clasped the friendly hands they both extended. “Well, it was really cool meeting you guys,” I told them. “I hope I’ll see you both around?”

  “You bet,” said Tucker. “Why don’t you give me your cell number, and I’ll give you a call next time Goldberg and I take my speedboat out?”

  “You have your own speedboat? Wow! That’ll be great!” I didn’t quite succeed in masking my incredible enthusiasm. We exchanged cell numbers.

  “You want me to give you a ride up to Chet’s place?” he asked then. “It’s not too safe along dark roads at night, particularly with all these trees around.”

  Nicky laughed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he needled. “Tuck just wants an excuse to get you into his car. Maybe I should come along and chaperone?”

  Tucker shot him a murderous look, and I giggled as color rushed to my face. But I did wonder about what Nicky had said, not about Tucker’s having less than noble intentions, but the fact that Nicky had even bothered to suggest it. Could he possibly detect something in Tucker, something that—but no, I wouldn’t even go there. Granted, Tucker had asked for my phone number, and it was obvious that he wanted to hang out with me again, but that didn’t mean—of course it didn’t! Tucker was three whole years older than I was. He couldn’t possibly like me as anything more than a friend. I shook away that sad reality, not wanting to dwell on it.

  “Thanks so much, Tucker,” I said then. “I really don’t want to walk up those hills by myself in the dark.” I shivered at the mere thought of it, and turned to Nicky. “I’ll be seeing you pretty soon,” I told him, and added, to make him laugh, “Don’t you forget those dance moves, now!”

  “Believe me, I won’t!” he replied, and shook his head. “Nineteen years of bar mitzvahs and crazy Jewish weddings rival the best of dance instructors.”

  Tucker and I both cracked up, and, calling a last goodbye to Nicky, walked back along the pier, through the gate, down the steps, and across the sandy beach to the large parking lot beyond the rec center. I have to say, I had the time of my life at Club Beach that evening. The older guys were more mature and by far much better company than those drippy sophomores I’d dated back in Pinewood.

  Tucker led the way to his car, a shiny BMW, unlocked it, and held open the passenger door for me.

  I thanked him and slipped inside, onto the leather seat. “Very cool car,” I said.

  He grinned, then shut my door and walked around to the driver’s side. “My reward for graduating high school,” he told me. “I think it was worth it, huh?”

  I laug
hed. “Definitely.”

  Tucker reached over to turn on the radio, and, as he did so, he caught my eye and smiled at me.

  I tried to ignore the skittering of my heart and told myself that he was just being personable. But, either way, I smiled back flirtatiously, because I just can’t help myself when boys are around.

  We kept up a steady stream of conversation until we reached Chet’s house. Tucker rang in at the gate, a moment later it swung open, and he drove on through.

  “Have a nice one, Molly,” he said as he walked me up to the front door. “I had a great time with you tonight.”

  Again, my heart jumped, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking up at him searchingly, trying to decipher what exactly he had meant by that.

  Tucker must have noticed, because he quickly added, “I’m sure Nicky had a great time, too.”

  Hiding my disappointment, I grinned at him, thanked him again for the ride, and rang the doorbell.

  Enjoy It While It Lasts

  Gabbie answered promptly, exchanged greetings with Tucker, and beckoned me inside the house. Shutting the door behind him, she beamed broadly at me. “Well!” she exclaimed. “I see you’ve met Tucker Anderson! Nice people, those Andersons, and that Tucker’s a good-looking young man, don’t you agree, Miss Molly?” She winked at me.

  I felt my face grow warm. “Yes,” I admitted, “But he is nineteen, Gabbie. That’s three years older than me. We’re just friends.”

  Gabbie feigned surprise. “Did I imply anything otherwise?” she asked, and winked again.

  Swiftly changing the subject, I said, “So, you know the Andersons?”

  “Why, of course!” Gabbie’s round, pink face creased with her smile. “We’re neighbors; they’re just down the road a ways, and all of us up here are a tight-knit circle.”

  “Then you must know Tucker’s friend Nicky Goldberg, too,” I said. “The three of us are going to go out on Tucker’s speedboat sometime soon.”

  “Ah, Nicky Goldberg!” Gabbie exclaimed. “Another good-looking young man, and personable and friendly as the day is long! I tell you, Miss Molly, you’d better watch out!” For the third time she winked, then patted my arm, and both of us laughed.

  It was rather late by that time, and I was tired from my long day, so I decided to go find Mom and say goodnight, then settle down to sleep in the inviting king-sized bed that awaited me upstairs.

  Mom and Chet were out back, luxuriating in the Jacuzzi on the second deck with full crystal glasses of champagne. I walked down the two stairways to where they were, perched myself at the edge of a lounge chair, and proceeded to tell Mom, in full detail, of my incredible time at Club Beach.

  Mom clapped her hands in dramatic delight when I had finished. “That’s wonderful, Molly! I’m so glad you’ve made a couple of new friends to spend time with. And I’m glad you had a ride back, too. Sounds like your vacation is off to a decent start!”

  Chet didn’t say anything for a moment, just regarded me thoughtfully, his eyes boring intently into mine. Finally he smiled, a strange sort of smile that I couldn’t quite read, and told me, “Enjoy it while it lasts, Miss Molly.” He winked then, but not in the same genial manner in which Gabbie had winked.

  I felt something constrict across my chest, and a strange skitter down my spine. “Enjoy what while it lasts?” I asked, and my voice came out in a little squeak.

  Chet tossed his head and laughed at that. “Why, your summer holiday, of course! What else could you have possibly thought that I meant?” His tone was convincing enough, but I noticed that his laughter didn’t spread to his eyes. I felt weird and chilled, and glanced at Mom to see if she had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

  But no. She was too busy snuggling up to Chet in the warm, churning water of the Jacuzzi.

  I stood abruptly and ran up the steps, calling goodnight to them over my shoulder.

  “Miss Vanessa”

  I slept fitfully that night, woke late the next morning, hurriedly washed up and dressed and did something with my face and hair, then headed downstairs for breakfast.

  Gabbie was sitting in the quaint little breakfast nook off the kitchen, absorbed in a thick paperback novel. She laid it aside when she saw me and got up from her seat. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead! What would you like to eat this morning—this late morning, should I say? It’s nearly noon.”

  I smiled. “I guess I had a lot on my mind,” I told her. “I couldn’t get to sleep till about three o’clock, so…” I let myself trail off, and Gabbie patted my hair and gave a bright, congenial laugh.

  “What’s your pleasure, Miss Molly?” she wondered. “Could I interest you in an omelet, or would you like plain old eggs—fried, scrambled, boiled, poached, sunny-side-up—you name it. Or pancakes? Waffles? French toast? What strikes your fancy?”

  My mouth dropped open. Was she serious? At home, I usually eat cold cereal and milk for breakfast, or homemade cinnamon-sugar toast if it’s a really special occasion. “Eggs would be great,” I said after a moment. “Scrambled, please…and do you think you could possibly add shredded cheese?”

  Gabbie laughed again. “No problem whatsoever! Would you like orange juice and coffee with your breakfast? You could also have iced tea, or iced coffee. Chet keeps the refrigerator well-stocked with cold drinks from Starbucks.”

  “Wow!” I giggled. “Thanks, but I think hot coffee and orange juice will be just fine.”

  “You’ve got it!” said Gabbie. “Coming right up, Miss Vanessa.” The name slipped so easily off her tongue that for a moment, neither of us realized what she’d said.

  Then it hit me, and I looked over at her, bewildered. “Vanessa?” I repeated. “Who’s Vanessa?”

  Gabbie met my gaze, her face blank and white as a sheet. “Miss Molly,” she said, and her voice trembled slightly. “I’m sorry. I meant to say…Miss Molly.”

  I brimmed with curiosity. How could she possibly have confused the name Molly with the name Vanessa? Unless Vanessa was a real person, someone Gabbie had known…I glanced at her again, but by the expression on her face, I could gather that she didn’t wish to discuss the matter any further.

  Hands Like Ice

  The next three days passed rather uneventfully. I sketched designs in my notebook on a rainy afternoon, wrote an incredibly long letter to Kathryn, took the car to downtown Indian Falls to buy some fabric and sewing supplies for a new summer top I’d decided to make, and walked down to Club Beach a couple of evenings. Tucker and Nicky weren’t there either time, and Tucker hadn’t yet called me about taking out his speedboat, so I was rather bored, with long days to fill. I sat on the top deck with my sewing at times, and other times, I put on one of the bikinis I’d brought and vegged and read in the Jacuzzi on the second deck.

  Finally, on the fourth day, I decided to head down to Chet’s private beach and take a dip in the lake. I packed a beach bag, slathered myself with sunblock, and walked down the stairways past the decks to the secluded strip of sand along the water’s edge.

  I was wearing my favorite bikini that day, a green one that enhances my eyes, as well as my figure, as it is a size too small for me. I do that on purpose—buy swimsuits a size too small—because I’ve found it lends me the illusion of a much curvier body. That, in combination with the padded cups I’d inserted in the bikini top, did a lot for my sexy factor. Believe me, I can use all the help I can get!

  I spread out my towel in the sand and lay across it on my stomach, deciding to soak up some rays and get myself uncomfortably warm before running the length of Chet’s dock and catapulting myself off the end into the waters of cool, refreshing Secret Lake.

  I lay sprawled for a while on my stomach, then flipped over and let the sun bathe the front of me as well. Despite my sunblock, I could tell that I was going to have somewhat of a nice, gold-kissed tint to my skin, a little healthy pink to my face, and probably highlights in my hair. Now if only Tucker would call while I was looking this good! As usual, I pushed the tho
ught away, telling myself that I was being daydreamy and wishful and altogether ridiculous.

  Once I was thoroughly sweltering, I got up and dashed down the dock, leaped from the end, pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them in mid-air, and cannonballed into the deep, clean water. I slipped beneath the surface, and then bobbed up again, little rivulets of coolness dripping down my face. The water even tasted fresh on the tip of my tongue, and I smiled and stretched out on my back, and kicked off from the dock, closing my eyes and floating, the waves gentle beneath me and the warm sun licking my face. I surrendered to a warm little cocoon of contentment as I drifted further from the shore.

  Inevitably, my thoughts turned to Tucker. I felt myself grow warm with the memory of his gentle smile, his beautiful blue eyes, the cute expressions that lit up his entire face. I didn’t want to chide myself this time, not now, while I was so warm and cozy floating in the lake. The soft, gentle water at my back might well have been Tucker’s comforting arms, wrapped tightly around me as he held me to him and whispered sweet little nothings in my ears….Wow! The daydream was really getting out of hand now, and I knew I had to stop; I had to make myself stop.

  And that was when I felt them, the icy cold fingers that tickled the soles of my feet, then threaded their way between my toes, and slowly, slowly slipped along my feet to my ankles and grabbed hold, now entire icy cold hands, tugging at me, yanking me downward as if in an effort to drown me! I was stiff in the water, frozen with fear. For a moment, I couldn’t move a muscle, and then, recovering a bit from the shock, I thrashed in the lake as the hands pulled me beneath the surface, kicking and fighting my way free, then swimming arm-over-arm with every ounce of my strength. I returned to the dock, and hauled myself up, breathless, huddling there and shuddering like an idiot.