I pass along a handful of bungalows, most with boats jacked up out of the water and closed up now that the summer is over. The landscape goes along like this, with clusters of these small houses, followed by rocky terrain, and then another group of houses. I’m about to turn to head back up when I notice a guy on an L-shaped dock, loading up a fishing boat, and I immediately recognize him from the marina in Watkins Glen.
He notices me too and I see the recognition in his eyes. I wave. “Nick, right?” I say.
“You got it.”
I hop off the tracks, past a small yellow cottage. There are sliding doors leading from a deck into a living room and I can see the TV is on and tuned to a kids’ show.
I climb onto the dock. “Is this your place?”
“Yup. Me and my girlfriend. And our son, Jake.”
“My daughter’s mother is about three miles up the road, also on the lake.”
“Oh really? Where about?”
“She lives at her grandparents’ old winery. It used to be called Ramsey Cellars.”
“I know that place. My girlfriend and I went there a couple times when it was open.”
I nod. “You going fishing today?”
“Yup. There are a handful of guys up here for work. I’m going to pick them up at their hotel. Another business retreat. I get a lot of them.”
“Great day for it.”
“You want to come? I could use a skipper.”
I know I have a ton of studying to do, but I’m too curious about the waters around here to pass it up. “Uh, I’d love to.”
“Hop on and I’ll bring you back to your girlfriend’s house to change. It’s on the way. I’m meeting the group up in Geneva.”
“Great.”
“Sally,” Nick calls and a blonde woman holding a toddler comes out onto the deck. She looks at me curiously.
“This is Danny. He lives a couple miles down the lake.”
“Nice to meet you, Danny.” She smiles.
“He’s going to join me on the water today. Can you call the Belhurst Hotel and tell them we’ll be at their dock at ten?”
“Sure.”
Chapter 33
Five hours and four coolers full of trout later, Nick drops me off on Laurel’s dock. “You’re a good fisherman. Any time you want to skipper with me, I’d be happy to have you.”
“When are you going out again?”
“You around on Saturday?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be launching from the marina. Boat pulls out at 7:30.”
“I’ll be there at seven.”
“I can’t afford to pay you much. But the tips are yours to keep.” He reaches into his front pocket and produces a hundred-dollar bill. “This is from today.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I was glad for the help. You like trout?”
“Sure.”
He hands me one of the coolers. “Great on the grill.” Then he pulls out. “See you Saturday.”
I trot up the hill to the house and see Laurel’s and another car is in the driveway. I put the fish down on the picnic table and go in for a cutting board and knife. Two female voices are talking in the living room and I follow the sound.
Laurel is sitting on the floor, Carolyn on her lap, and she is talking to a red-haired girl with a red-headed baby on hers. There are toys laid out all over the floor. When Laurel sees me, she says, “Hey, Danny, this is my friend Audrey.”
Audrey smiles at me. “Hi.”
“Audrey and I were in a pregnancy support group together last year. Her daughter Chloe and Carolyn were born in the same hospital in Rochester.”
“Two days apart,” Audrey chimes in.
“Oh wow. Cool.”
“What’d you do today?” Laurel asks.
“I skippered a fishing charter. He just dropped me at your dock.”
“Who did?”
“Nick Whalen. He runs a boat out of Watkins Glen and lives a couple miles south of here. I went for a run and bumped into him at his house. He invited me out again on Saturday.”
Laurel laughs. “You’re here two days and you already found a job?”
“I also got us some dinner, assuming you like trout.”
“Sure.”
I leave the two of them to continue their playdate and get to work fileting the fish. With the screens open, some of their conversation carries.
“Danny is cute,” Audrey says, “and seems nice, too.”
I strain to hear, but there’s no audible response from Laurel.
“So what’s happening with Mike?” Audrey asks.
“We’re on; we’re off.” Laurel sighs.
“Why don’t you forget about him and focus on Danny?”
“Audrey…”
“What? He is Carolyn’s father. And he obviously cares about you.”
I put the knife down and move closer to the door.
“Why do you say that?” Laurel asks.
“He came up here to help you out for the week. No guy does that if he doesn’t like a girl.”
“He did it for Carolyn.”
“He did it for you.”
I like this Audrey person.
Their conversation shifts back to the babies as they try to engage them to interact with one another, so I pick up the knife and get back to work.
After the fish is fileted and stored in the fridge, I go up to take a shower and then hit the books. When I reemerge downstairs an hour and a half later, Audrey is gone and Laurel is positioning the baby into a high chair.
“Does she feel warm to you?” Laurel asks when she sees me.
I put my hand on Carolyn’s forehead. It is much warmer than usual. “Maybe. But it is pretty hot in here.”
“Yeah.” She sits down and starts spooning apricots into Carolyn’s mouth.
Carolyn doesn’t seem to be hungry. After a few attempts at various jars of baby food, Laurel gives up.
“Maybe I should take her temperature.”
She grabs an ear thermometer out of a kitchen cabinet and sticks it in Carolyn’s ear. “Oh my god.”
“What?” I ask.
“It’s 102.5.” Laurel stares at the thermometer.
“Should we call her doctor?”
Laurel nods and grabs her cell phone.
She leaves a message with a service and we wait for the doctor on call to phone us back.
“What do you think is wrong with her?” I ask.
“I don’t know. She’s around a lot of kids all day. She might have picked something up.” Laurel’s voice trails off, her face weighted with worry.
Laurel’s phone rings, and after she’s explained what is happening, the doctor advises us to give Carolyn Tylenol, which we don’t have.
I grab my keys and head for my car, driving the fourteen miles to the nearest pharmacy, and grab Infants’ Tylenol.
When I return, Laurel rushes at me, grabbing the bag. “Her fever is up to 104!”
She quickly opens the medicine and she sticks the measuring tube into Carolyn’s mouth. She takes it no problem, her face all flushed.
“I’m calling the doctor again,” Laurel says.
This time the doctor advises us to give her a lukewarm bath, which we do. Carolyn doesn’t splash around in the water like she normally does, but she does feel cooler when we are done.
Once she’s dressed in a diaper and a T-shirt, I carry her up the stairs, Laurel limping behind, and we put her down in her crib. As soon as she’s flat on her back, she starts crying.
“Maybe we should try giving her a bottle. She didn’t eat dinner,” I say.
I run down to the kitchen and mix up a bottle and go up and hand it to Laurel. She’s rocking Carolyn in the chair.
Carolyn fusses and it takes a lot longer to feed her than usual, but she does manage to drink half of it. Laurel continues rocking her until she appears drowsy enough.
“Let’s see if she’ll sleep now,” I say.
But as soon as Laurel t
ries to hand her to me, Carolyn throws up with such force it gets all over Laurel, the rocking chair, and her pajamas.
“Oh my god!” Laurel exclaims.
“Damn! Is that what projectile vomiting is?” I grab Carolyn out of her arms, who is now screaming, her little body on fire.
“I’ll change Carolyn. You go change your clothes.”
When Laurel returns, now back in the T-shirt and pajama shorts she had on in the morning, she feels Carolyn’s head. “She’s burning up.”
“And she just threw up everything that was in her stomach, including the Tylenol.” I swallow.
“What do we do now?”
“Call the doctor again.”
This time he tells us to give her Advil, since the two medicines can be taken together. But since I only bought Tylenol, I have to drive again to the pharmacy. Twenty-eight miles round trip.
“We’ll all go,” Laurel says. “This way we’ll be closer to the hospital if we can’t get her fever down.”
She climbs into the backseat with Carolyn, not even paying attention to how scantily dressed she is. I hit the gas.
“Put the air conditioner on,” Laurel says, rolling down a window. “Why is it so hot out tonight?”
I hear the ear thermometer beep. “Danny, it’s 104.5. I’m scared.”
When I pull into CVS, I run in and grab five packages of Infants’ Advil and five more of Infants’ Tylenol. We’re not running out of this stuff ever again. I also grab a cold water bottle out of a refrigerator, and once I’ve paid, I jump into the backseat with Laurel and Carolyn. Laurel’s hands shake as she struggles to open the packaging.
“Here.” I grab the box from her and produce the medicine dropper, dosing it into Carolyn’s mouth, her cheeks almost as pink as the stuff in the bottle.
I take the cold water bottle and put it on her forehead and on her face.
Laurel takes another reading. It’s still 104.5. “Should we go to the hospital?”
Although part of me thinks we should go, I’ve watched my brother deal with his kids’ high fevers. They aren’t necessarily an emergency. I take a deep breath.
“Why don’t we drive around a bit and see if the medicine stays down?”
The muscles in Laurel’s jaw are so clenched, I can’t help but reach across to touch her face. “Relax,” I whisper. “We’re close to help if we need it.”
She nods, stroking the back of my hand. I run my thumb across her mouth and let go, resuming my place in the driver’s seat.
I steer the car around the town, with my GPS set to Geneva General Hospital just in case we need it, and we weave through streets lined with Victorian-style houses.
Laurel continues putting the cold water bottle on Carolyn’s face, arms and legs. And I keep the air-conditioning cranking and all the windows open.
After half an hour, Laurel breathes relief. “She’s asleep.” She takes her temperature again. “It’s 101.5.”
“It’s coming down.”
“What should we do?” she whispers.
“I think we should go home. We won’t run out of medicine now.” I hold up the CVS bag.
Laurel smiles for the first time all night.
***
By the time we are home and have Carolyn moved to the crib, her fever hovering around 100, it is after eleven.
Laurel closes Carolyn’s door, and when she turns around, I see she has tears in her eyes. “I haven’t been that scared since she was in the NICU.”
Instinctively, I reach out and pull her into me. “She’s okay.”
Laurel puts her arms around my waist and I squeeze her, kissing the top of her head, and she nuzzles her wet cheeks into my shirt.
My hand makes its way to her face, my thumb wiping the tears and then tracing her cheek and her lips. She doesn’t move, and she examines my face. Finally I bend down and kiss her. Gently. Softly. She kisses me back, opening her lips just enough so I know she wants more, and my tongue explores her mouth. I reach down and grab her by the legs, lifting her up and onto a lamp table. Her legs open and I press into her so she can feel how much I want her, and we continue kissing, now me moving down her neck and towards the V of her T-shirt.
I wait for her to tell me to stop, but she doesn’t, so I tug at her T-shirt and lift it off. She’s not wearing a bra, so I continue my exploration with my tongue and a soft moan comes out of her mouth. “Let’s go in my room,” she whispers.
“Are you sure?”
She nods. “We can take it slow, though, right?”
“At whatever pace is good for you.” I grab her hand and pull her towards the bed.
While she pulls down the covers, I take off my jeans and shirt and we crawl under the sheets and resume where we left off.
Although I’m infatuated as all hell, I don’t venture below her waist.
She shifts and rolls on top of me, stretching her legs out on top of mine. Then she moves down my chest with her mouth, tugging at my boxers.
I pull her back up. “Not until you’re really ready to do this.” My voice is firm. If she isn’t ready to do it with a guy she’s been seeing for months, she’s not having another one-night stand with me. Although I know I’ll be heading for a cold shower soon.
I pull her up close to me. “Come here.” She curls into my arm and I shift to look into her eyes. “I thought you said you want to take things slow?”
“I do. I did,” she murmurs. “This feels good though.”
“Yeah, it does…Too good.” I shift to rest my head on my arm, keeping one hand on Laurel’s hip. “So tell me, how come you aren’t into it? You know, sex?”
Her brow puckers and I sense she doesn’t know how to answer.
“A lot of reasons, I guess. I’m terrified of getting pregnant again, for one thing.”
“Well, you know there is this innovative thing out there called birth control.” I smile.
Laurel laughs.
“Perhaps if someone had told you about it last year, we wouldn’t even be here.”
As soon as it is out of my mouth, I regret it. Laurel’s face goes from content to uneasy, apprehensive. “I’m sorry, Danny. For getting you into this mess.”
I stretch my hand down her back. “What’d I tell you about the apologies?”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You did it again.”
She sighs. “Danny.” She pulls away from my grasp.
I need to rescue this. Fast.
I sit up and move closer so that she has to look into my eyes. “I’m not sorry about how things have turned out. I’m glad it worked out just like this.”
Laurel props herself up to meet me. “How can you be?”
It takes me a second to explain it, because I need to speak from the heart. “I love Carolyn. Now that she’s here, I can’t imagine her not being a part of my life. I hardly remember my life before her, you know?”
Laurel nods enthusiastically. “I do.” She brushes the hair from her face, pushing it behind her ear. “As hard as it’s been, I love her so much. I’ve never felt love like this before.”
She looks over my head, past me, out the window. The blue moon shines through the glass, illuminating her features in sapphire. I find her so attractive, so beautiful in so many ways, I realize I’m holding my breath.
She glances at me, deep in her thoughts. “I think it’s also the reason I’m not ready to do it yet. Have sex.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Carolyn and I have been through so much together. Mentally and physically. Pregnancy, birth, the NICU, all the bonding. It’s hard to factor in intimacy with someone else, you know?”
“I’m a guy, so, no, I don’t really get it. We want sex all the time. But I can accept it.”
“You’d be okay with waiting?”
I grab her hand. “You should take as long as you need. I don’t mind. Mike shouldn’t mind either, if he’s the one you want to be with. But I can’t speak for him.” I swallow. “I care about you. I�
��d never force you into anything you don’t feel comfortable doing.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Just don’t take it personally if I keep excusing myself for cold showers.”
She laughs.
“We should go to sleep.” I reach for the bedside lamp.
“Let me check on Carolyn once more.”
She stands and I watch the silhouette of her small frame hobble down the hall. When she slips back under the covers, she says, “She feels cool.”
I throw my arm around her and we drift off.
Chapter 34
After a cold, wet morning on the water with few fish to be caught, Nick and I decide to call it a day. The group, wet and seasick from the choppy wake, seems relieved when we announce we’re going in early.
Nick hands me a couple hundred bucks. “Well deserved. You’re making me think I need to hire a first mate. Let me know the next time you want to come out.”
Excited to get home to Laurel and Carolyn, I zip up the highway. Since Carolyn got sick, I’ve slept in Laurel’s room every night, and even though we’re not having sex, it’s been pretty amazing. We’re so into each other at this point it’s come down to everything but, anyway.
Yesterday she didn’t have class, and when Carolyn, now fully recovered, took a long nap, we spent three hours in the middle of the afternoon just exploring each other. I’ve never wanted to stay in bed with someone for an entire day. When I’ve been with other girls, even aside from Ava, I’m usually making an excuse why I have to go. Sticking around and snuggling has never been on my list of favorite things. But with Laurel it’s different. Even later, when we put Carolyn down for the night, we were right back at it the minute she was asleep. It’s like we can’t get enough of each other. Laurel mentioned I should buy some condoms the next time I’m near a pharmacy. Just in case. There is now a box in my glove compartment.
So as I pull in to the driveway, my entire body shuts down when I see that Mike’s car is parked next to Laurel’s. Some unconscious process forces my mind blank. I don’t feel angry or sad, just numb. All over.
It takes me a while to regain feeling in my limbs, and I’m not sure if I should turn my car around and go back to Long Island or go inside and face the music.
Yours and Mine (Freshman Forty Book 2) Page 13
