Lake Dreams

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  “I guess you liked it,” he said. “I’m glad. I thought you might slap my face for that.”

  Maggie laughed with a musical quality so sweet it ramped up his blood pressure a few notches. “I wouldn’t,” she told him. “But, oh, Cole!”

  “What?”

  She shook her head and her hair floated around her shoulders in a cloud. “I’ve waited for you to kiss me again for twenty years but I don’t know if you’re ready.”

  His scarred heart skipped a beat. Hell, he wasn’t sure either but he wanted to be and that represented a miracle. “If you’d asked me a week ago,” he said. “I’d have said no way. Yesterday I’d told you maybe sometime.”

  “What about now?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I want to find out.”

  She’d always been mercurial, a creature of many moods and faces so he wasn’t surprised when she put her hands against his chest and said, eyes smoldering, “Kiss me again and see what happens.”

  Cole almost did but rational thought stayed him. “If I do,” he told her, without any bullshit, “I won’t be able to stop this time at just a kiss.”

  Maggie’s eyes met his and hers were filled with the naked yearning of a hungry bird and the innocent trust of a pet bunny rabbit. “I don’t care, Cole. I want you.”

  Everything he longed for in this moment she offered but he shook his head. “I want you, Maggie, in every way a man can want a woman but it’s not the right time. If we do this now, it’ll end up bad. You’re vulnerable and the last thing I want to do is hurt you, honey.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I might without meaning to do it,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “We’ve brought something to life so let’s don’t ruin it before it can grow. We’ll be together when its right, I promise.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes and he thought she’d cry but Maggie didn’t. She nodded and put her fingers against his cheek. “You’re being sensible, I guess, Cole. Just tell me it’ll be soon.”

  “God, yes,” he said with feeling, so much she laughed.

  “All right, then,” Maggie said. “So, what now? Do you want me to remove temptation and go home?”

  “No,” Cole said, before he even thought about it. Joy danced through him, unexpected and unanticipated but he liked it. Most of all, he liked Maggie’s reaction to his kiss and her sass. On impulse he added, “I want to take you out to dinner.”

  “It’s the worst evening to go,” Maggie said, with a giggle. “Every road in Branson will be backed up for miles, every restaurant crowded and a long wait for every table. Saturday night of Memorial Day weekend isn’t a good night but I’d love it.”

  “So you’ll go?”

  She flashed him a smile of blinding brilliance and said, “With bells on but I need to go change.”

  Twenty minutes later, after he’d changed into a nicer shirt and pitched the hamburger he’d never eat now they headed out. By mutual agreement headed for the small town of Hollister instead of Branson. Hollister, if Cole remembered right, boasted English type architecture and promoted it for the tourists. He didn’t remember the string of fast food restaurants or the shopping center with a Country Mart grocery store or the huge Wal-Mart but once they meandered into the original city center, everything became familiar. They ended up at a small Mexican restaurant tucked away on a quiet street just off the original main thoroughfare and as they entered, he inhaled with appreciation. The aromas wafting out of the kitchen incited instant hunger with spice and seasoning.

  They shared a corner booth, dark enough the flickering candle on the table threw shadows on the walls and lit Maggie’s face. Cole admired the curve of her cheek, the sparkle in her grey eyes, and the slender lips. The single flame reflected off her hair, enhancing the warm shade with a rich glow. Cole couldn’t deny his attraction possessed power but he wanted to move with slow precision.

  The chips were light and crisp, the salsa near perfection. He guessed both must be homemade. Although the flavor was exquisite on his tongue, the salsa packed more heat than he expected. Maggie chose a taco platter, three tacos paired with a heap of Spanish rice and a scoop of beans. Cole’s steak fajita burrito filled half the large plate and melted cheese sauce covered it. Beans took up the other half of the dish and some lettuce with a few tomatoes topped the frijoles. His first bite of steak melted into his mouth, tender and tasty..

  .

  “That tasted good,” Maggie said as she pushed her plate away. She’d eaten the tacos, most of the rice, and half of the beans. “Thank you, Cole.”

  “De nada. Are you ready to go?”

  Maggie polished off another chip coated with salsa and nodded, “Sure, if you are.”

  “So what’d you like to do now?” Cole asked her as they pulled out from the parking lot.

  Maggie slid across the seat to get closer to him. “I’ve got some wine at home if you want to go sit on the porch and look at the stars. But if you’d rather try to get into one of the shows or something, we can.”

  “God, no,” he said. “The porch is fine but I think there’s a better view from my cabin.”

  “Great,” Maggie said. “Then let’s go home and I’ll get the wine.”

  They ended up sitting on the porch steps, sipping white zinfandel in plastic goblets and talked until the moon lifted high in the sky over the lake. Silver light shone down and kissed the waters as they talked, Cole and Maggie, about everything and nothing. The wine tasted sweet on his tongue but her voice trickling into his ears sounded far more delightful. For now they didn’t speak of their late spouses or children or anything with potential to derail their delicate bubble of happiness.

  After talking about Branson today versus then and mulling over current events, they segued into remembrance. A gentle breeze wafted out of the south to ripple over them, clean and fresh, the cool breath welcome after the heat of the day.

  “Do you remember the day we went to Silver Dollar City and rode Fire-In-The-Hole five times in a row?” Maggie asked, leaning against him, snug and comfortable. He put his arm around her shoulder, natural and without thought. “Then just for kicks we rode Thunderation. It scared my socks off. I prefer Fire-In-The Hole. Heck, these days I think I’d just as soon ride the steam train.”

  Cole remembered how she’d screamed on both rollercoaster rides and chuckled. “We have to ride Fire-In-The-Hole at least once for old time sakes. And eat corn on the corn and fried chicken and homemade old fashioned vanilla ice cream cold enough to freeze my tongue.”

  “And watch the saloon show,” Maggie continued. “And stay for the Echo Hollow show after the park closes for the night.”

  “Do they still close early?” Cole wondered.

  “Yes,” Maggie said. “I haven’t been in two or three years. You’d think living here with two kids, I’d go more often but we just don’t. It costs a lot and I never have time.”

  “We’ll make time this summer,” he told her softly. “If you want we can go twice, once with your kids and once just us.”

  Cole imagined the pair of them strolling hand in hand through the familiar amusement park and liked the idea. They could get familiar with the place again. Then they could take Kiefer and Kaitlin later. Maggie raised her head to look into his face, her smile brilliant.

  “I’d love that,” she said. “We can’t this weekend, the crowds will be fierce but maybe next Monday we could. I’ll see how many guests I’ve got and what the weather’s like.”

  “It’s a date,” Cole said, then wondered if he should have used the term. Although he and Maggie were moving past old buddies into something new, he worried he’d push things too soon and end it before anything began.

  “I’ll write it on my calendar,” Maggie said and shifted so her head rested on his shoulder. “I’m getting sleepy, Cole.”

  The scent of her shampoo, something with lavender and vanilla, reached his nose and he almost shuddered with the intimacy of the aroma. Beneath it he caught a faint h
int of Maggie’s natural smell, feminine and full of promise. Cole inhaled with pleasure and drew her closer. He kissed her lips, slow and easy and their mouths came together with the quiet grace of wind touching a blooming flower. He didn’t let it intensify but kept it at a low simmer. Her mouth yielded to his with quiet need and old familiarity. This kiss lacked the fiery wildness of earlier but it satisfied something within Cole. The moment of tenderness echoed with promise, he thought, for something more than a satisfying romp between the sheets. Before the beautiful interlude could change, he released her.

  “C’mon,” he said. “I’ll walk you home.”

  If she minded, her tranquil expression concealed it. Maggie offered him a little Mona Lisa smile, moonlight reflecting from her eyes. “I’d like that very much.”

  They left the porch and meandered without haste down to the office. They didn’t say much en route but their feet crunched across the gravel loud enough he figured everyone in the resort heard them pass. Cole didn’t care but Maggie might. Whatever reputation she’d built, he doubted she’d want anyone to speculate she had casual relationships. Still, at the back door, he couldn’t resist one more kiss.

  “Good night, Maggie,” he told her when he’d finished. “I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nodded with her left hand still on his shoulder. “Of course you will. I’m going to church in the morning, though. I still go to Dove Chapel. Do you want to come?”

  As a teenager, he accompanied her more than once and Cole remembered the small white frame church well. Dove Chapel could be featured on a calendar of country churches as an example, the classic icon of American Christian faith. Cole recalled the curious stares and soft whispers, though, and he didn’t want any attention now. Besides, he hadn’t set foot in any kind of church since November when he walked out of the funeral for his family. Church summoned up images of the four caskets, one large, three small and Cole didn’t think he could experience a similar setting, not yet if ever.

  “Maybe some other time,” he told Maggie. “I haven’t been going since the funeral and I don’t think I’m ready.”

  “I understand,” she said in a voice so compassionate he believed she did. “So how about a picnic after I get home?”

  “That sounds great,” Cole replied. “Sure, I’ll go.”

  “Then I’ll see you after I get back,” Maggie said. “Cole?”

  “What?”

  “Thanks for dinner and everything.”

  His lips quirked into a grin as he answered, “You’re welcome, Maggie.”

  Since there wasn’t much else to say without prolonging the conversation on purpose to enjoy her company, Cole headed back toward his cabin. Alone, the moonlight failed to shimmer with silver and the shadows he didn’t notice when he was with Maggie loomed up dark and almost eerie now. Her church invitation stirred up some of the memories he’d rather forget and evoked his lost family.

  They didn’t go to church as a family often. Victoria didn’t really believe in anything and he’d fallen into the lazy habit of sleeping late on Sundays, then lingering over coffee and the Post-Dispatch. At his insistence they went on Easter Sunday with the kids dressed out in the high fashion he remembered Pop and Babka always insisted on for him and his siblings. If he could talk Victoria into it, they attended church around Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve. Once in a great while, he’d convince her to attend often enough a few people in the congregation knew them. If the choice had been his alone, their funeral would have been at a big, showy funeral home in the suburbs but staff members there suggested the church because the larger building would accommodate the crowds with ease.

  Although he ranked as one of The Lou’s favorite weathercasters, Cole never thought about being ‘famous’ but at the funeral, so many people turned out he had to admit didn’t know them all. Among all the many family members, friends, coworkers, school teachers, daycare managers and neighbors, a lot of television viewers came to pay their respects. When Cole realized it, he couldn’t handle the idea so he left during the final hymn, “Amazing Grace” and waited in the parking lot until the hearses were loaded for the final drive to the cemetery.

  Church equaled mourning for him now and whether or not it could change, Cole didn’t know.

  After working outside, casting with his new fishing rod, and dinner out, he should be exhausted but back at the cabin Cole wasn’t even tired. Restless replaced the calm he’d felt with Maggie and he wandered around before settling down to watch some television. He couldn’t stay focused on the movie, though, because Maggie filled his mind. The kisses changed everything, he realized, and their relationship shifted from two old childhood friends into something new. Problem was, he didn’t know what.

  Maggie evoked feelings he thought vanished with his youth and Cole long ago recognized his pursuit of Victoria came out of infatuation, not love. It’d been shallow at best and barely survived their wedding day but lust carried them for awhile. Cole would never deny his wife’s beauty but he acknowledged t ran skin deep. Maggie brought out emotions he liked along with a strong desire for something lasting, deep and fulfilling. She knew him well even after their long absence in a way he didn’t think Victoria ever mastered.

  But, once burned, he feared getting too close to the flame. Cole wasn’t sure what Maggie desired, if she sought a lover or a long term love. Until he knew, beyond any doubt, Cole would proceed at a slow and safe speed because the very last thing he wanted for either of them was heartbreak.

  He channel surfed until he settled on old sitcoms and drifted to sleep watching Bewitched, wondering why Darrin Stevens couldn’t just accept his lovely wife for what she was. Cole slept in the arm chair, twisted into a pretzel like knot, and didn’t wake until morning.

  He roused, uncertain for a few moments, stiff and more than a bit sore but beyond that, Cole sensed something strange, noticed something absent for too long and when he finally put his finger on what it was, he grinned.

  Happiness wrapped him like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night, unfamiliar after a hiatus but welcome.

  As Cole rose to shower, change clothes, and make coffee, he caught himself whistling, an old habit he’d lost when he married Victoria who hated noise in the morning. Like a canary, he summoned up a familiar tune, the notes of Scarborough Fair, the old Simon and Garfunkel song. Plaintive, memorable and sweet, the melody restored music to his soul.

  He might even sing next, Cole thought, with a wry laugh and made a face at his reflection in the mirror as he shaved.

  Chapter Eight

  Sunlight reflected gold off the waters of Table Rock Lake as Cole and Maggie pulled into the parking area for the Dewey Short Visitor’s Center just after one. He’d donned denim shorts for the picnic, casual compared to Maggie’s floral print sundress. Beneath the bows on each shoulder Cole admired her scattered freckles and longed to kiss them but he could wait for the right moment. Instead Cole carried the wicker picnic hamper and griped how heavy it seemed.

  “Were you planning to feed the five thousand?” he quipped and Maggie laughed.

  “No, just the two of us,” she said, her pretty grey eyes hidden behind sunglasses. “If the traffic’d been any worse, we might’ve needed to snack on the way.”

  “No kidding,” Cole returned. Traffic snarled the major thoroughfares between the resort and all the way through Branson. For awhile, he’d considered turning around and eating at Maggie’s place but now, with the lake spread out around them in a pretty, park like setting he was glad he hadn’t. “Well, I’m hungry so let’s find a picnic table and eat.”

  “I know just the one,” Maggie said and took off with speed so he trailed behind in her wake lugging the basket. She led him down to a table beneath a huge old hickory tree beside the lake and he nodded his approval.

  “This is awesome,” he commented.

  “It’s my favorite,” Maggie said. Then she whipped out a small plastic tablecloth, covered one end of the table with it and began
putting out food. Cole noticed ham and Swiss sandwiches on rye bread, some potato salad he guessed must be homemade, some dill pickles, and chocolate iced white cupcakes. She pulled out a bag of ripple cut potato chips too and several cans of soda. Maggie glanced up, as if asking for approval. “So does it look all right?”

  “It looks great,” Cole answered. She’d chosen exactly what he would for a picnic although he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone on one.

  He picked up a ham sandwich and took a bite. The flavors of rich Swiss cheese mingled with the smoky taste of ham in his mouth into perfection. Cole tried the potato salad and liked it. “Did you make this?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Maggie said. “Do you like it?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he answered around a mouthful. “It tastes a lot like what Babka used to make.”

  Maggie spooned some creamy potato salad into her mouth as she said, “I know. It’s her recipe. She gave it to my mom once and we used it from then on because it’s the best.”

  Her words touched Cole’s heart. Babka died just a few years after Pop so he hadn’t eaten her cooking in years and he still missed it. No one else in his life cooked the way his Polish-American grandmother did. “I’m glad you made it, Maggie. Thanks.”

  “I’ve got several of her recipes, Cole,” she said, surprising him. “While we were out swimming, fishing, and playing, I guess your grandmother and Mom became friends. Sometime I’ll make you her Golabki, Plaki, or Pierogis.”

  Her sweet Southern Missouri tongue tangled the Polish names for cabbage rolls, potato pancakes, and filled dumplings but Cole didn’t mind. He could almost taste the familiar old dishes Babka made on special occasions or holidays. Although there were places in St. Louis offering up Eastern European and Polish cuisine, Cole had never been to any of them because he wanted homemade originals. “I’d love that, Maggie,” Cole said. “Tell me you have her recipe for that sweet yellow bread.”

  “The one like cake?” she said and nodded. “I can’t pronounce it but I can bake it.”