A Week at the Lake

by Wendy Wax

  Mackenzie and Serena took a small step back. “You think it’ll be a whole month before she can be on her own?” Mackenzie had already been away two full weeks when she’d planned on one. Serena’s show was not on hiatus. Could either of them stay that long? Would Emma even want them to? And who was going to tell her it was Eve who’d retained this weight lifter turned RN?

  “Six to eight weeks most realistic,” the nurse said. “But stronger in four.” Nadia placed ham-sized fists on her hips. “Miz Mickhels should be in rehab facility. It big thing recovering from coma and blood clot and sepsis. You two can be responsible for her?” One excruciatingly thin eyebrow went up.

  Mackenzie and Serena winced in unison.

  “I stay. I be bad cop. You good ones. I bully her when needing it.” Her look said this would not be a problem. “You and the daughter give emotional support. She going to need it.”

  Nadia looked like a woman who knew when she’d won a match and didn’t waste breath confirming her victory. “I put things in room down here. Then I make Miz Mickhels’s room ready. I sleep on sofa in dressing room so I be there when she needs me.”

  Sixteen

  The floorboards groaned and the mountain named Nadia was standing over her bed when Emma opened her eyes.

  The woman had only smiled when Emma attempted to inform her that she didn’t want some stranger watching her sleep in her own bed, not after all the nights of observation in the hospital, but had given up for lack of energy and a fuzzy brain. At which point the nurse had pretty much carried her up the stairs in her arms, put her gently but firmly into her pajamas, and tucked her into her bed while Serena, Mackenzie, and Zoe made themselves scarce.

  When she’d awoken in the middle of the night needing to pee, Nadia had been there to help her, silent and efficient.

  “Good morning,” the nurse said now. “You get up now?” At Emma’s nod, the massive blonde swept open the draperies, letting daylight into the room, then returned to Emma’s side.

  Mist clung to the lake and softened the early morning sky to a wispy gray. The sun was already on the rise as Nadia helped Emma out of the master bedroom’s French doors. Barefoot and leaning heavily on the nurse, Emma stepped out onto the dew-covered deck, her bare feet growing damp as they slowly crossed to the railing.

  It had been a relief to go to sleep in her own bed in the place that had always provided such comfort, and yet that sleep had been fitful, filled with yet another jumble of dreams she didn’t understand. Gran had been there urging her on to something she couldn’t quite make out. Eve had been there, too, her smile enigmatic, her eyes hinting at something that was also unclear. Did any of it mean anything? Or was it all just random bits of imagined memory? Electrical impulses of long-ago impressions?

  No matter where she tried to turn her thoughts, the blank of the last weeks loomed dark and cavernous, an empty void she wanted to sidestep and yet couldn’t stop attempting to peer into. Its nothingness frightened her and so did the spottiness of her memory and the fuzziness of her thoughts. A fuzziness she prayed would ultimately pass.

  Across the still waters of the lake, the first rays of sun rose above the mountains, announcing the day’s arrival. She watched the red-rimmed yellow ball send shimmers of light dancing across the water’s smooth surface as the lake came to life.

  How many sunrises had she seen from this house? How many times had Gran told her each signified not only a new day, but also a new opportunity to be whoever she wanted to be? She felt a peace here she’d felt nowhere else. If the jumble of thoughts and emotions that filled her could coalesce anywhere, it would be here.

  Just beyond the boathouse a family of ducks floated nonchalantly, occasionally bobbing their heads beneath the water to scoop up an interesting morsel. A platoon of gulls skimmed low over the surface scouting for breakfast. A dog’s bark echoed in the quiet while an orchestra of insects tuned up for the day’s performance. The breeze was gentle on her bare arms, the temperature mild. She thought of Gran, to whom this master suite, this private deck, and this home had once belonged. God, she wished she were here in all her no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners glory.

  I’m always with you. And I’m quite relieved we’ve left that hospital behind.

  The words that sounded in her head offered comfort, but at the moment Emma wanted her grandmother in the flesh. Wanted her elegant arms wrapped tight around her. Wanted to bury her head in her grandmother’s shoulder and inhale the mingled rose and jasmine of her Joy perfume.

  Shoulders back, chin up, darling. You worry too much.

  She leaned against the railing as Nadia wiped down the nearby wrought-iron dining set, then helped her into a chair.

  Behind her the bedroom door creaked open, footsteps treaded on the wood floor. China clattered as something was set down.

  “Em? I thought I heard you moving around. You didn’t really eat last night, so I brought coffee and some of Martha’s cinnamon buns.” Mackenzie came out onto the porch in shorts that revealed the long legs that Emma had always admired and an ancient New York Is for Lovers T-shirt. Her straight dark hair had been pulled up in a high ponytail and secured with a scrunchy. “God, it’s gorgeous out,” she said. “Would you like to have coffee out here?”

  Emma nodded.

  Mackenzie placed the breakfast tray with its coffeepot, mugs, cream and sugar, and plate of iced cinnamon buns on the table.

  “I straighten bed.” Nadia nodded, practically clicking her heels together and departing.

  Mackenzie poured Emma a cup of coffee and pushed the plate of warm buns toward her. “Oops.” She patted her pockets. “Forgot my phone. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thanks.” Emma reached for the mug, shocked that she needed both hands to lift it to her lips and keep it there. She wanted to believe the mug was exceptionally heavy, but was forced to admit that she was just exceptionally weak.

  Birds chirped on a nearby branch as she savored the first sips of coffee then carefully set down the mug in order to pinch off a bite of her cinnamon bun. It was warm, the melted icing sweet and gooey. She chewed slowly, glad that Serena and Mackenzie were here, grateful that they’d been with her and especially Zoe at the hospital, but she could not separate what, if anything, she actually remembered, from what surely must have been dreams.

  She felt a tug of anxiety as something flitted through her mind. Something she was meant to do or say. Something important that was supposed to happen here at the lake. She tried to focus, tried to call it back, but it was gone.

  Serena wandered out in her nightgown over which she’d thrown a short white terrycloth robe. Her feet were also bare; her toenails had been painted a bright blue.

  “Nice polish,” Emma said.

  “Thanks.” Without asking, Serena turned the extra mug upright and poured herself a cup of coffee, which she loaded up with cream and sugar. She took a long sip. “Ahhhh, I love this place. Is there still a boat in the boathouse?”

  “We’re down to a canoe, a Jet Ski, and a paddleboard,” Emma replied, pleased that the memory came easily.

  “And do we have a car?”

  “The Jeep should be in the garage. Martha’s son Jason drives it every once in a while to make sure it’s still running. And we have a small motor scooter.”

  Mackenzie returned, her eyes trained on the cell phone in her hand.

  “Expecting a call?” Serena asked.

  “I’ve been waiting to hear from Adam. But the three-hour time difference is a killer.”

  “What time is it?” Emma asked, realizing she had no idea.

  “Almost ten,” Mackenzie said, glancing at the cell phone again. “I seriously doubt I’ll hear from him until after seven his time.”

  “In my experience a watched phone rings about as fast as a watched pot boils,” Serena said.

  Mackenzie’s head snapped up. “Maybe that depends on
whether you’re married to the pot you’re waiting to hear from.” Mackenzie noted the cup of coffee in Serena’s hand. “Nice,” she said. “I guess I’m going down for another mug. Do we need anything else?” She aimed the question at Emma, who shook her head.

  Emma and Serena sipped their coffees in a companionable silence. Emma eyed the cinnamon bun but didn’t have the appetite or strength to reach for it. Mackenzie returned with another half pot of coffee and a third mug then pulled another chair over to the table. She set her cell phone on the table within easy reach. “Have I mentioned how much I love this place?”

  Serena raised her mug of coffee to Mackenzie and Emma. “I will definitely drink to that.”

  Mackenzie eyed the cinnamon buns as she sipped at her coffee.

  “If anyone can afford to have a cinnamon bun, it’s you.” Serena reached over and deposited one on Mackenzie’s plate. “Seriously. You don’t look like you’ve gained an ounce in the last five years. And it totally pisses me off.”

  “Me too,” Emma said. “The tall and slim just get taller and slimmer. The round just get rounder.”

  “Ha!” Mackenzie said but she reached for the pastry and took a large bite. Her eyes closed as she began to chew. She moaned in a paroxysm of ecstasy. “Oh. My. God. That’s soooo good.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” Serena bit out. “Give me one of those things.” She snatched up a bun and brought it to her lips. “At the moment I don’t care how round I get. I told you I wasn’t counting calories this trip and I don’t see any attractive men hiding in the bushes. Plus my only on-camera opportunities are handled by a caricature of me.” The bun disappeared in a matter of bites.

  They drank coffee and chatted idly while the sun continued to rise and the number of boats out on the lake multiplied. Zoe still hadn’t appeared when they heard a car approach and pull into the drive.

  Serena glanced down at her pajamas. “Are we expecting company?”

  “Not that I know of.” Mackenzie looked to Emma.

  “Nope,” Emma said. “Unless it’s Martha. Or Jason checking on the Jeep.”

  Serena got up and leaned out over the balcony railing as a car door slammed shut. “Whoever it is is kind of short and blond. And he’s got equipment of some kind with him.”

  “Well, whatever he’s selling I’ll get rid of him,” Mackenzie said, glancing down at her phone again then scooping it off the table. “Seeing as I’m the only one actually clothed.”

  “Thanks.” Emma couldn’t stop the yawn that followed. “I hate to say it, but I think I . . .”

  Nadia was there before Emma had even made it to the edge of her chair. “You need nap.” She helped Emma to her feet. Waited for what felt like an eternity while she straightened.

  Mackenzie stuffed the phone into her shorts pocket and headed downstairs, taking the breakfast tray with her as Emma moved slowly inside. Serena tagged behind Nadia. As if Emma might not be able to make it even with a former Soviet weight lifter supporting her.

  She didn’t protest as Serena bid her good night and Nadia helped her back into bed. Emma yawned, unable to believe she could be this tired, this soon, but she could already feel tendrils of sleep wrapping around her, ready to pull her under. There was a brief stab of fear that she might once again fail to wake up, but she pushed it aside. They wouldn’t have let her out of the hospital if there were a chance that could happen. Emma settled onto her side and pulled the pillow closer. The morning coffee hadn’t exactly roused or infused her with new energy, but she felt better, calmer, after the time with Mackenzie and Serena. Except for that thing, that thought, that disappeared each time she tried to grab it.

  It’s all right, darling, Gran’s voice said in her head as she began to doze. See how much better you feel? Sometimes a coffee klatch is the answer.

  Emma burrowed into the pillow. But her last thought as she slipped back into sleep was, Doesn’t that depend on the question?

  Mackenzie snuck another peek at her silent cell phone before answering the front door to a stockily built man in his early thirties. Despite the heavy equipment bag looped over one muscled shoulder, he managed to hand her a business card. “Bob Fortson,” he said, his craggy face breaking into a smile. “I’m here for Ms. Michaels’s first physical therapy session.”

  “I’m sorry?” Mackenzie considered the man in front of her. He had a tanned face with a slight smattering of freckles, sun-streaked hair, and a friendly smile. His handshake was firm but not bone shattering.

  “Where would you like me to set up?”

  Mackenzie looked into his eyes and saw no subterfuge in them, but she had no idea how he’d gotten there.

  “I think there’s been some mistake,” she said, preparing to close the door.

  “I was hired by Eve Michaels. Services paid in advance. The PT and OT were prescribed by a Dr. Markham. Two times a day, no more than thirty minutes per session.”

  “Everything okay?” Dressed in shorts and an As the World Churns T-shirt, Serena came down the stairs to join Mackenzie at the door.

  Bob Fortson’s mouth dropped open briefly. “Georgia?” he said awestruck. “Emma Michaels and Georgia Goodbody in one place?”

  Mackenzie sighed. This, of course, would make her the chopped liver.

  “You don’t have any camera gear tucked away there anywhere do you?” Serena asked the young man.

  “Oh, no, ma’am.”

  Mackenzie smiled at Serena’s sigh. She might be chopped liver, but Serena had just been “ma’am-ed.”

  “But I am a huge fan!”

  Serena turned to Mackenzie and raised an eyebrow.

  “He says he’s a physical therapist prescribed by Dr. Markham and paid for by Eve.” Mackenzie wasn’t sure what should happen next. “I was going to call Glens Falls Hospital to follow up on the list of referrals in the morning.”

  “But Eve beat us to it,” Serena said. “First the nurse, now the PT. How weird is that?”

  “Extremely,” Mackenzie said. In all the years they’d been friends with Emma, she’d only spoken about her mother when pressed, and what she’d shared had been almost always negative. It was hard to imagine Eve Michaels with an altruistic agenda. Or even one that put someone else first. “She’s asleep right now,” Mackenzie said to the young man. “And regardless of who’s paying, we’ll need to see your ID and references.” There was still that small possibility that they’d let him inside and the only equipment that would come out would be a camera. She looked to Serena for confirmation.

  “Agreed.”

  “You want I come interrogate him?” Nadia stood on the stairs. “Make sure he who he say he is?”

  The physical therapist blanched slightly at the disembodied voice.

  “No, thanks, I think we’ve got it, Nadia,” Mackenzie called up to the nurse. “But, I think Emma needs at least one transition day before she gets started.”

  “And let’s see that ID and references now,” Serena added. “Otherwise we’ll have to turn you over to our resident former KGB agent.”

  Bob Fortson’s eyes got big. “Sure. No problem.” He pulled out his wallet and showed them his hospital ID. “There’s more information and references on the website.” He handed Serena a business card and pointed to the URL. “We have an occupational therapist on staff, too.”

  Mackenzie looked up to gauge Nadia’s reaction. The nurse shook her head slightly. “Nyet.”

  “I’m pretty sure Emma already has an occupation,” Serena said drily.

  Bob chuckled. “Wow. You’re as funny in person as you are in cartoon.”

  Mackenzie wondered if he was about to pull out a pen and paper and ask for an autograph. Serena was apparently thinking the same thing. “There’s just one thing, Bob,” she said. “Emma needs privacy and quiet in which to recuperate and regain her strength. And it looks like you’re going to be a part of that
recovery.”

  He smiled happily, apparently not yet hearing the steel beneath Serena’s honeyed drawl. “But if you tell a single person that Emma is here, or share anything you see or hear while you’re in this house no matter how small or seemingly unimportant, I’ll personally make sure that you regret it.”

  “Y-ye-yes, ma’am,” the physical therapist stammered as he backed away from the door. “But there’s no chance of that. I take the HIPAA promise of privacy very seriously. My lips are sealed. Mum is the word.” He’d reached his fingers to his lips and started a zipping motion when Mackenzie closed the door.

  “Well done,” she said to Serena with unfeigned admiration. “I’ve never seen anyone scare another person so sweetly.”

  Seventeen

  Serena tried not to worry about the fact that Emma slept much of their first full day at the lake and a good part of their second. When Em was awake Nadia brought her out onto the upper balcony for fresh air and so that she could feel a part of what was happening.

  Zoe did as she’d promised and spent most of the daylight hours in her bathing suit either in the lake or sunning on the swim platform. Serena and Mackenzie stayed within hailing distance of the house so they could join Emma when she wanted company, but they, too, wore little more than bathing suits, oversized T-shirts, and flip-flops. No one unpacked a blow dryer, curling iron, or makeup bag. Only Nadia remained fully clothed, starched, and shod.

  In those first days they began a routine that revolved around morning coffee, afternoon drinks and snacks, and dinner on Emma’s balcony. It was agreed, if unspoken, that as long as she was too tired to come to them, they would come to her. And that no one was going to bring up Eve’s “gifts” unless Emma specifically asked where her nurse and physical therapist had come from. Together they began to work their way through the homemade offerings that Martha had stuffed into the refrigerator and freezer. They sat around the wrought-iron table eating, talking, and staring out over the lake while Nadia proved herself adept at seeming to disappear while remaining within earshot, a surprising accomplishment for someone built like a tank and with the personality of a steamroller. Unless, of course, their jokes about a possible past in the KGB weren’t jokes at all.