A Week at the Lake

by Wendy Wax

  Emma pushed these worries aside as they started on their food. It took exactly one bite to discover that Jake had not exaggerated his grilling expertise. Martha’s sides were a perfect addition.

  A cell phone rang. Nadia walked away from the group to answer it.

  Emma finished a rib then licked the sauce from her fingers. “So how are you feeling about California?” she asked Mackenzie.

  Mackenzie set down her fork, dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “I don’t know. I mean, I think I’m almost over the shock of it.” Her eyes strayed to her husband, who was laughing and regaling Jake with some story that had him chortling. “He looks so happy. And I’m really glad for him.” She hesitated. “But I’m just not sure I can pick up and leave our . . . whole life . . . anywhere near as quickly or easily as Adam apparently can.”

  Adam slapped Jake on the shoulder and tilted another shot of vodka to his lips. Adam had always known how to move on, had always kept his eye on the prize. It was, Emma thought, quintessentially Adam that he didn’t seem to realize how easily mistakes could come back to haunt you.

  “This summer has been a prime example of how quickly things can change,” Serena said. “One minute you’re dating the man you thought you’d never see again. The next his wife is in his hotel room telling you to take a hike.” She blew a bang off her forehead. “Then there’s the even more critical ‘one minute you’re eating lunch in an expensive restaurant and the next you’re in a coma,’” Serena said. “Life really can turn on a dime.”

  Emma considered the two women she’d once felt so close to. After Gran they’d been the nearest thing to family she’d ever had. Her fear of losing them had caused her to lie; maintaining the lie had pushed them out of her life anyway. “This summer has been a great big reminder to me of what matters most,” Emma said. “And a lesson that having people you love and who love you is more important than anything else.” She looked Serena and Mackenzie in the eye, felt tears well in her own. She’d made such a mess of everything. “I just.” She swallowed, made herself continue. “I just want you to know that whatever happens, I love you both. You are the sisters I never had.”

  “Okay, now you’re freaking me out,” Serena said. “You haven’t heard something from Mount Sinai or either of your doctors?”

  “No.” Emma found a smile. “My brain feels . . . good.” Her heart, on the other hand, hurt like hell.

  Jake and Adam came to join them at the table. “We’re going to head out in a bit,” Jake said. “Don’t even ask me why I agreed to chaperone this party.”

  “Those young girls have to have somebody to crush on,” Emma teased, once again pushing her sense of foreboding aside. “But don’t tell any of their mothers how great you are with a grill. I think we should keep that our little secret.”

  “My lips are sealed.” Jake smiled. “Unless of course you’d like to ‘use them.’”

  Serena took a picture of Jake placing a fish-faced kiss on Emma’s cheek. Then a shot of Adam and Mackenzie, who sat side by side but seemed not to be touching. Zoe and Ryan came up and joined them at the picnic table and she took a picture of them, too.

  Nadia delivered the dessert platter to the table then lit a sparkler she’d placed in the fanciest cupcake. Their third, final, and most wince-worthy version of “Happy Birthday” followed as the sun slid further down the sky.

  “I told you we should have practiced this afternoon,” Serena said as she framed and shot more pictures.

  Smiling more happily than Emma had ever seen her, Zoe opened the Richardses’ gift. It was an antique frame that held a double photo; one of Emma and Jake lounging on the floating dock as children, the second of Ryan and Zoe digging in the sand of the lake house beach as toddlers.

  It was a beautiful reminder of their ties to these people and this place. Emma clutched it to her chest, waving good-bye as Ryan, Jake, and Zoe climbed into Ryan’s runabout and motored out of the cove.

  After they’d cleared the table and put the leftovers away, Nadia departed on the scooter for a date with her librarian. Too tired to continue pretending that the loss of Brooks Anderson was no more than a blip on her emotional radar screen, Serena retreated to her room. Propped up in bed, she booted up her laptop and pulled up all the birthday photos she’d taken.

  For a time she lost herself in moving them around the screen, positioning them next to each other, in an effort to weed out the unflattering shots that no one would want saved for posterity. She then agonized over the shots in which some looked far better than others and set aside the funniest to insert periodically to give the photo book some semblance of pace and flow.

  The stress on Mackenzie’s face next to the happiness on Adam’s was telling. So were her own tight-lipped smiles, which she knew were in stark contrast to those that would have existed during her brief time with Brooks if only she’d thought to get so much as a photograph to document it. She noticed that Emma’s eyes and attention had been focused on Mackenzie and Adam far more often than Serena had realized.

  Serena dragged and zoomed, unable to miss the pronounced hurt on Mackenzie’s face as she looked at Zoe. But it was the photos of Mackenzie, Adam, and Zoe that made the breath catch in her throat. One photo that she barely remembered taking was of Adam and Zoe with their heads bent together as Zoe blew out the candles on the chocolate cake. It was that photo that made her stop breathing altogether for a long, uncomfortable moment as she tried to absorb what she was seeing.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs accompanied by a cheery whistle. Adam poked his head in her open doorway, his handsome face as content as she’d ever seen it. He held up what remained of the bottle of Stoli. “Do you want a good night shot of ‘wotka’?” he asked.

  Serena peered at the pictures on her computer screen, then back up at Adam’s handsome face.

  “What is it?” he asked, brushing the lock of hair off his forehead. His wide-set brown eyes intent. “Are you okay?”

  Serena looked from him to the screen, then back at his face, desperately wanting to reject what she was seeing. The knowledge slammed into her like a fist, knocking the breath from her, impossible to ignore. The more closely she studied the photos and Adam, the more perfectly the mental puzzle pieces she hadn’t realized she’d been moving around, fit together. The picture they formed was an ugly one.

  Thirty-seven

  How could you?” They were the first words that came out of Serena’s mouth. The only thing she could think of to say.

  “How could I what?” Adam stepped into the room, the bottle and small shot glasses in his hands.

  His face swam in front of her; far too content, too pleased with himself for someone who had apparently done what he’d done.

  “How could you do that to Mackenzie?”

  He set the bottle and shot glasses down but didn’t look at all alarmed or even particularly troubled. “What are you talking about?”

  Keeping her eyes on his face, Serena turned her laptop so that he could see the images of him, Zoe, and Mackenzie. “This.”

  He glanced at the photos then poured two shots. Placing one in her hand, he clinked his against hers, still unperturbed. Either Adam Russell was a far better actor than she’d ever given him credit for, or he was completely lacking in conscience. Her palm grew sweaty around the small glass. After he’d downed his shot, he looked at the photos more closely. “What is it I’m supposed to see here?”

  “Zoe’s resemblance to you. Are you her father?” The words were out and unretractable before she could stop them.

  His head jerked up. He took a step back. But his expression was one of shock not admission. “What in the hell are you talking about? Of course not.”

  She peered at him more closely. Looked down at the photos then back up at him. “She has your forehead, Adam. And the set of your eyes. Even her chin looks like yours. She’s built like you.” And it would ex
plain a lot.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Adam said. “Calvin Hardgrove is Zoe’s father. Every once in a while someone tells me I look like him.” He shook his head. “He and all of the Michaelses are built like me, well, except for Emma.”

  It sounded completely logical. And he seemed to believe what he was saying. “Right,” she said. “Only Calvin Hardgrove doesn’t share custody. And legally, according to the documents I received while Emma was in the hospital, Zoe wouldn’t live with him in the event of Emma’s incapacitation or death. Why would Emma cut out Zoe’s real father? And if she did, why wouldn’t he fight it?”

  “How would we know why they decided whatever they decided? And if Emma hasn’t told you why, she probably has a reason. I don’t know where you’re going with this, Serena, but I’m thinking you don’t need that other shot.” He leaned against the dresser, crossed his arms over his chest. “But if you’re saying she’d be living with us it makes sense. I mean, Mac would be a great mom. I can see why Emma would choose her.”

  Serena studied his face, considered his body language. Either he really didn’t know what she was talking about or she wasn’t being clear enough. “No,” she said. “Not you and Mackenzie. Emma chose me.” The glass grew slippery in her hand and she set it down. “Which Mackenzie is not at all happy about. So, I’ve been wondering, why would Emma leave Zoe to me when Mackenzie would be a far better choice? When Mackenzie always wanted a child, but couldn’t have one? When the two of you could provide the kind of solid, two-parent home Emma always wanted and didn’t have?”

  He shrugged. “I have no earthly idea. And I don’t think it’s any of our business, either.” He said this without stumbling, as if she were talking crazy and he was just trying to reason with her. But something flickered in his eyes.

  For a moment Serena wished she’d downed the shot. Wished that her mind were less sharp, her thoughts less clear. But everything inside her said it was too late to turn back. “Did you ever sleep with Emma?” she asked because the only way any of this made sense was if her first instinct had been correct.

  He laughed, but it was nowhere near as confident as before. The carefree attitude was rapidly evaporating. “You definitely don’t need this shot.” He picked it up. “You’ve clearly had way more than enough already.” He set the shot glass in the empty one and picked up the bottle as if to leave.

  “Seriously, Adam. Just answer the question. Did you and Emma ever have sex?”

  “Of course not. I . . .” He faltered, went still. Almost reflexively he downed the shot of vodka. Swallowed it. She thought that was all he was going to say, when he continued. “Once.”

  She waited him out, her eyes never leaving his face.

  “Back when Mackenzie and I had broken up for good.”

  “You had rebound sex with Emma? Seriously?”

  “It was forever ago.” He closed his eyes as if recalling a painful memory.

  “Like just under seventeen years ago?”

  She read the shock on his face, as if he’d actually managed to forget it until this moment, which apparently in his playbook was as good as having never done it.

  “This is frickin’ unbelievable,” Serena said.

  “It’s not like it was intentional,” he snapped.

  “No? How unintentional was it?” she asked.

  His jaw tensed. He closed his eyes once more. When he opened them he said, “I was staying at her place while I was in town talking to agents. We were both going through a rough patch.” He held up the bottle. “We drank too much. Tequila as I recall, not vodka.” He paused. Swallowed. “I . . . I don’t know which one of us was more freaked when we woke up together the next morning. But it was a mistake and we both knew it. It didn’t mean anything. And we never mentioned it again.”

  Serena studied his face. He seemed to be telling the truth. As he knew it. “Then what happened?”

  “Nothing,” he insisted. “Nothing happened.”

  She watched him. Waited.

  He drew a deep breath. “A few weeks later Mackenzie told me she was pregnant. We got married. That was it.”

  “And Emma?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.

  “Emma was already shooting that movie with Calvin. She got pregnant. They got married and had Zoe. End of story.”

  Except it wasn’t. The story had been edited. The backstory tweaked. The characters sent off in different and unanticipated directions to mislead and confuse.

  Serena looked at the photos on the screen then once again at Adam, who was looking less belligerent and more uncomfortable. Now that she knew what she was looking for, the resemblance was even more obvious. The way he tilted his head. The way his smile started as a hint before it got bigger. She’d seen these things in Zoe and not understood why they seemed so familiar. Was that why Emma had distanced herself from them? Because she was afraid one of them would notice?

  “This is totally crazy,” Adam said. “You’re jumping to all kinds of conclusions. Conclusions that could seriously fuck up a whole lot of lives. If I was the father, don’t you think Emma would have left Zoe in my hands? Or at least told me?” He shook his head as if he might dislodge their conversation, make it cease to exist. “Given everything that’s going on, this is the last thing in the world Mackenzie needs to hear.”

  “Is that right?” Mackenzie was standing in the doorway staring at Adam as if she’d never seen him before.

  Serena had no doubt her own face shone with guilt just as Adam’s did. As if they were the ones who’d been caught in bed together. Mackenzie looked as if she were more than ready to kill the messenger.

  Emma heard the commotion even before her door flew open. One look at Mackenzie’s face told her that the very thing she’d been bracing for and dreading was in fact now happening whether she was ready for it or not.

  Neither Adam nor Serena looked as if they wanted to be there any more than she did. It was Mackenzie who’d flung open the bedroom door and practically pushed them through it. Mackenzie, whom Emma had never seen truly angry before, looked as if she might explode.

  “How in God’s name could you have done this?” Mackenzie demanded.

  “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way.” Emma could feel her thoughts swirling, words and sentences ducking and weaving. Could even feel the holes and gaps that might never be filled, and wished desperately that she could shove her guilt into one of those dark caverns and be rid of it. “But you’re going to have to be more specific than that.” She pulled her robe tighter around her and got up from the chair, though she didn’t move one step closer.

  “So you’ve done other things besides sleep with my husband and give birth to his baby without ever telling me?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Or me,” Adam said as if still trying to absorb this.

  Mackenzie turned long enough to give him a withering look. “She didn’t tell you that she slept with you?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant. But that was a simple . . . mistake. It happened exactly once and . . .”

  “That would be one time too many,” Mackenzie said.

  “Yes. But you and I weren’t seeing each other anymore. And it . . . it just sort of happened. Only that once. It never happened again.”

  He looked to Emma for corroboration. She nodded. “I know that doesn’t excuse it, but that part is true. It meant absolutely nothing to either of us except for how shitty we felt afterward.”

  “And the fact that he made you pregnant,” Mackenzie bit out. “He gave you Zoe.”

  “But I didn’t know that,” Adam said. “She never even told me.”

  Mackenzie closed her eyes briefly as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. “That makes me even sicker to my stomach. That you had sex with my best friend. That it meant nothing. That you could do that and then marry me.”

  “I married you becau
se you were pregnant.”

  Even Emma winced at how badly Adam was mucking this up.

  “And because I loved you,” he added softly, seeming to recover his senses. “I’ve always loved you.”

  “Right.” Mackenzie drew herself up.

  “If I’d known I would have . . .” Adam began.

  “You would have what?” Mackenzie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Adam admitted. “But Emma should have told me.”

  “And me,” Mackenzie said, her eyes, which were filled with hurt and anger, turning to Emma.

  “I know. And I’m so sorry,” Emma said. “I didn’t think there was a reason to hurt you by telling you that we’d ended up in bed together. You’d broken up for what you swore was the last time, and Adam and I turned to each other exactly once. For about ten seconds.”

  Serena shot Adam a look but for once she didn’t take the opportunity to offer a wisecrack about Adam’s sexual stamina or anything else.

  “It meant less than nothing,” Emma continued, unable to keep the pleading tone out of her voice. She hadn’t allowed herself to imagine this conversation, but she had imagined herself somehow forgiven. She saw no sign of forgiveness in Mackenzie’s face. Or Adam’s for that matter.

  “By the time I realized I was pregnant, you were back together, getting married, and you were going to have the baby you always wanted. Would that have been a better time to tell you? Just how would that conversation have gone?”

  Mackenzie didn’t answer. Her jaw remained set; her hands were still fisted at her hips. Her long blond hair hung down beneath her squared shoulders. She looked like an Amazon warrior princess. Emma had always been short, but she’d never felt this small.

  “Please try to understand. I was afraid of losing your friendship. I . . . deserved to lose your friendship, but I . . . you were pregnant and Adam loved you. I thought we’d both have children, who’d be best friends with each other.” She willed back the tears. “That was why I married Calvin. So that no one would ever know. And that was why I left Zoe to Serena, so you would never be forced to know after I was gone and couldn’t explain.”