Lake Dreams

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  On impulse Cole grabbed her hands and kissed them, enthusiastic over the discovery someone kept his grandmother’s special recipes alive. “Maggie, you’re the most wonderful woman,” he cried. “I can hardly wait to taste those dishes again.”

  Her smile widened into a grin and for the first time since he came back, Cole noticed her dimples. “Then I’ll cook them for you soon. I thought about it before but I worried about your stomach. When you think you can handle it, I’ll make them.”

  “I’d risk a stomachache for any of Babka’s recipes,” Cole said.

  “How is your tummy doing?” Maggie asked. Above her sunglasses, he noted the little worry crease dividing her forehead. “You said you never had any trouble until after the accident.”

  “That’s true,” Cole told her. “It’s better, most of the time than it was.I’d love to take my chances with Polish food.”

  “I’ll make them soon, then,” Maggie promised. “When you’re ready.”

  “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate that,” he said.

  They finished the meal with easy conversation as a refreshing breeze out of the south kept it from being too humid or hot. The wind lifted Maggie’s hair and rippled through it in a way Cole enjoyed watching. She packed their leftovers into the basket but they lingered, sitting on top of the stone picnic table, feet resting on the bench facing the lake. They took turns pointing out some of the boats on the water and Cole saw the Branson Belle showboat.

  “I never expect to see anything like that here,” he said, with a smile. “It always looks like it belongs on the Mississippi River.”

  An hour or so after they’d eaten, Maggie slid her hand over to rest on Cole’s abdomen and in answer to her unspoken question, he said, “Everything’s a-okay inside.”

  “Good,” she said. “You should have brought your fishing gear.”

  Cole laughed, “I should’ve but I need a license before I do much fishing. The water looks inviting, though. I was thinking about going for a swim. Want to join me?”

  Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think so. I didn’t bring a suit and neither did you. We can swim in my pool when all the guests go home tomorrow.”

  Cole stood and stripped off his shorts to reveal swim trunks. “I came prepared to swim today. Besides, it’s going to rain tomorrow.”

  Maggie raised her eyes to the clear blue sky and quirked an eyebrow in question. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really,” he said. “You’re talking to Cole Celinksi, the weather guru.”

  “There’s hardly a cloud in the sky!”

  “True but the few there are mare’s tails,” he said, pointing upward at the wispy little clouds. “They show up in advance of a storm system. I’m seeing a lot of them so I’d say there’s a front out west somewhere headed this way.”

  Her pleasant expression faded as she said, “You’re not joking, are you? I hoped maybe you were.”

  “Nope,” he answered. “I’d say it’ll be a fairly big weather maker too unless it shifts direction and it could.”

  Maggie’s eyes narrowed and he remembered her severe weather fears so Cole tempered his prediction, “It doesn’t necessarily mean strong storms, maybe just a lot of heavy rain.”

  She sighed, a breath of air rushing between them like wind. “I can live with that. Are you really going swimming?”

  Cole nodded. “I am, just a little. I haven’t been in this lake in twenty years so I promised myself I would. Sure you won’t join me?”

  “If I had my bathing suit, I might,” Maggie said. “I’ll just watch from here but be careful, Cole. I don’t want to watch you drown.”

  Her remark gave him pause and he scrutinized her face. “You won’t,” he said. “I’m still a good swimmer, I promise.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t even take the chance. Promise to be careful, will you?”

  “Sure,” he said and added, “Is there something I’m missing? You sound really worried.”

  “I am,” Maggie said, with a nervous giggle. “Every year several people drown on one or the other of the two lakes, Table Rock and Taneycomo. It never used to bother me but it does now, especially since Kiefer can’t swim.”

  His old buddy Maggie feared nothing but storms, Cole mused. “I remember when not much scared you.”

  Her eyes met his, open and worried. “I’m older now and the world’s a lot more frightening. Besides, now you’re back in my life, I sure wouldn’t want to lose you.”

  Maggie’s fear must be contagious because Cole experienced a flicker of foreboding. Concern put worry lines in her face and her posture stiffened, taut. Something more than she’d told him must be involved so he asked her, “Maggie, what aren’t you telling me?”

  She exhaled through her nose then covered her mouth with her hand. Maggie removed it and said, “Never mind. You’ll just think I’m crazy or silly or both.”

  “I won’t.”

  Maggie fidgeted for a minute and then sighed, “All right, I’ll tell you. I had a dream the other night, the first night you came. It frightened me. In it, one minute you’re swimming in the lake then you got a cramp in your belly. I saw you bend double then sink into the waters. I woke up crying, Cole, it seemed so real. I wasn’t going to say anything unless you wanted to swim in the lake.”

  Cole’s lungs halted as he listened. An eerie sense crept over him and he lost any enthusiasm to swim. Until now, he’d forgotten Maggie could be fey. She sometimes knew little things she had no way to know and more than once she’d told him where to find something he’d lost. Cole mostly ignored her occasional dreams back then but recalled now, with chills, how she’d tried to tell him she dreamed Pop died but he wouldn’t listen. A dozen or more memories surfaced and he remembered all the things forgotten, filed away. Cole believed her and reached for his shorts as she spoke.

  “I knew you’d think I must be crazy,” she told him, her voice cracking with emotion. “I should’ve kept my big mouth shut.”

  Cole stepped into the shorts and zipped them. “Maggie, I believe you.”

  She’d put her head down to stare into her lap but she lifted it, her eyes seeking his. “You do?”

  “Yeah, I do. I remember now about your dreams and things. You have a psychic gift.”

  Maggie snorted. “It’s more like a curse, Cole. I can’t control it and I don’t always know what will happen. Most of the time I have no clue but once in a while, I dream something or get an image in my head. When I do, it’s usually true.”

  He sank down beside her on the table and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m glad you told me, then. I’d rather not die just yet. Now I understand more.”

  “Understand what?”

  “I see why you asked about my stomach.. It ties into the dream.”

  Maggie scooted closer to him and let her hand rest on his thigh. “Well, it’s just one reason. I’m concerned about you.”

  “I’m surprised you suggested we picnic here,” Cole said, admiring a sail boat passing by with grace.

  “I didn’t think you’d want to swim or I probably wouldn’t have,” Maggie told him with a laugh. “Maybe it’s good we came because now you know. If I get any other bad vibes, you’ll listen, won’t you?”

  “Absolutely, I will.”

  “Okay,” Maggie said, some of her earlier bright happiness returning to her face. “Why don’t we brave the traffic to get your fishing license so you’re legal?”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Cole answered. He lifted up the picnic hamper and held out his hand. Maggie took it and they walked back to the car.

  On the way onto the Strip, Cole battled the heavy traffic. After he’d almost been rear ended for the third time and missed a half dozen other collisions, Maggie, who cringed each time, asked, “Does it bother you to drive because of what happened to your family?”

  Cole considered the question. No one’d ever asked him before but he told her the truth, “No, not at all. I carry a truck load of guilt, s
ure, but not about driving. I’m a better driver than Victoria was and I’m sure the accident wouldn’t have happened if I’d been behind the wheel but it hasn’t bothered me to drive. Wrecks happen all the time, everywhere.”

  “That’s true,” Maggie said. “I see so many in the summer. It makes me more wary than I used to be.”

  “Does your daughter drive?” Cole asked. “She looks old enough.”

  “She is but she hasn’t,” Maggie replied. “Watch out for that motor home!”

  After he switched lanes, she continued, “I just don’t have the time, energy or nerve to teach her so her grandpa over in Joplin said he’d try but I’d rather he didn’t.”

  “I can work with her when she gets back, if you’d like.”

  “That’d be great, Cole,” Maggie said. “I know Kaitlin will love it too.”

  At Wal-Mart he paid for the costlier combination hunting and fishing license and although she stood beside him, Maggie didn’t ask any questions. Cole didn’t have an explanation to offer her. He didn’t understand it himself. He hadn’t hunted or fished in years but he might so he wanted to be ready. Since they were in the discount store, Maggie bought a few things she needed. Cole ended up waiting on a bench near the front of the store. He pondered his new responsibilities, as first handyman and now driving instructor. Although he might pretend to gripe later to Maggie, Cole liked the tasks. This way he’d stay busy and make a positive difference.

  On the way out into the parking lot, a woman screamed his name and he stopped with an abrupt stumble. Cole peered at her but didn’t recognize her. Nor did he know the man with her or the two kids jumping up and down. When he heard what she said, though, Cole understood.

  “Oh, my God, oh, my God,” the woman shouted. “It’s the weather guy, who does ‘Cole’s Challenge’.”

  “Can I get your autograph?” the older of the two kids with the couple said while someone else shouted, “I watch him on TV!”

  It had happened often enough before and although he’d never become used to the attention Cole dealt with it, shaking hands, smiling, and scrawling his name in someone’s notebook. A small crowd of tourists gathered to see what the hubbub was about but when Cole excused himself, they scattered. Cole glanced at Maggie and shrugged his shoulders, helplessly. She smiled and took his arm.

  “So you’re a star,” she said. “Don’t fight it. Does this happen to you often?”

  “Sometimes,” he admitted. “More than I like, really. I didn’t expect it to happen here.”

  “People come here from all over, even St. Louis,” she said. “It tickles me to know my old playmate is famous.”

  He hated the word ‘famous’ applied to himself. “Maggie, I’m not famous. Famous people do things worth something, they discover things or write novels or create music or act. I just go on television and give my best guess about the weather.”

  “And you must do it well,” she said. “I’ll quit teasing you, Cole but I think it’s pretty neat.”

  He opened the car door for her then went around to the driver’s side. Some of the black heaviness he’d struggled against for months loomed and threatened to drown him with misery. Being recognized reminded him of St. Louis, of what he’d been there, had, and lost. Cole yearned for a strong drink to settle his nerves but he didn’t want Maggie to think he’d become a drunk. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in a burst of angst and counted to ten, silently. Maybe fishing would ease his tension, Cole thought but he wasn’t sure. It might be best if he just separated from Maggie for awhile, pleaded a fake bellyache or headache so he could retreat and be sullen in private. He pondered his options until Maggie put her hand on his shoulder and shook it, rough and firm.

  “Cole, are you all right?” she said, her voice coming from what seemed like a great distance.

  He shook his head to clear it and turned to her, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You’ve been staring straight ahead for five minutes, not saying a thing,” Maggie told him, her voice gentle but not soft. “I called your name twice and you didn’t seem to hear me.”

  Shame heated his face until his cheeks burned. He’d been an ass, sharp tongued with her while she’d been concerned. “Shit!” he swore. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I zoned out. It’s one of the things I did at the station that inspired my boss to send me on an extended leave of absence. I thought I’ve been doing better but guess not.”

  She detached his hand from the steering wheel and held it between her palms. The gesture soothed him more than he could’ve imagined. “You don’t need to apologize, Cole. You’ve been through a lot. I think you’re definitely improving. You’re less tense than when you got here last Thursday. It’s going to take awhile but you’re headed in the right direction. We need to take it one day at a time.”

  His ears caught her use of ‘we’ and Cole felt a fraction better. Her cool, smooth hands rubbed his large one with light movements he liked. Maggie wasn’t giving up on him, not yet, so maybe he could pull out of his tailspin. “Thanks,” he told her with genuine gratitude. “I’ll try.”

  Her smile would melt ice cream. “That’s good enough.”

  Back at Lake Dreams Resort, he carried in the picnic hamper for Maggie and wondered if he should hang around or be scarce. Funny but back home in the city Cole wanted solitude and shut out everyone he could. Here, though, he liked her company and he’d be lonesome if he returned to the cabin solo. Maggie settled the issue before he asked, though, when she announced she’d be returning to church for the evening service.

  “I’d stay home if I wasn’t singing,” she told Cole with a tiny smile.

  The idea of Maggie performing a song intrigued him, almost enough to go. “What are you singing?”

  “I’m doing Lord of the Dance as a special,” Maggie said, naming the upbeat song he remembered Tommy Makem singing. “You know, ‘dance then wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the dance said he, I lead you all wherever you may be and I lead you all in the dance, said he’.”

  She sang the bits of refrain in her husky alto, melodious and sweet. Her voice touched him and the hymn, so folksy and simple about a Lord who danced his way through a mortal existence and led his followers, moved Cole’s heart. Something roused within and although she’d not invited him, he said, “I’d love to hear you sing it, Maggie.”

  Her deft hands cleaned out the basket and tossed their trash before she turned to him and said, “I can sing it now if you want.”

  His words surprised Cole because they repudiated everything he’d decided the night before about church. He’d said he wasn’t ready but now Cole thought maybe he could use a little taste of faith. “I meant I’d like to come to church to hear you sing, Maggie, if I’m still welcome.”

  Her eyes lit with the sudden flare of a match struck on a dark night and she smiled. “You’re always welcome anywhere I go, Cole. Are you sure, though?”

  He met her gaze and nodded, “Yeah, I am.”

  Maggie took three steps forward until she stood in front of him and put one hand on his chest. She stared at him for a moment stretching out long and then stood on tip-toe to kiss his mouth, very gentle and soft. It wasn’t a lover’s kiss, not quite, but intimate and Cole’s reaction surged through his body with a rush. Her mouth’s brief caress whispered affection and familiarity.

  “Go get changed,” she said. “We’re not fancy at Dove Chapel but shorts won’t do. I’ll come pick you up in a half hour, okay?”

  “Sure,” Cole said. “I’ll be ready.”

  When she rolled to a stop beneath the cabin’s porch, he hurried down, wearing the only pair of Dockers he’d brought with a button-down shirt. Maggie smiled, dressed in an attractive navy blue and white print dress, hose, and dark blue heels. She’d also put on more make-up than he’d seen her wear yet and tamed her hair into a bun on the back of her head, held in place with a plastic clip.

  “You look lovely,” Cole said, his eyes drinking in her beauty.


  “Thanks,” she laughed. “Don’t turn my head or I’ll get nervous.”

  She drove around the winding curves along the back roads to the old church, handling the car with skill. They didn’t talk much but she sometimes broke into song, practicing he guessed. Cole realized he’d never ridden with Maggie at the wheel before. He recalled during the last summer he spent here, he’d driven Pop’s Impala with Maggie riding shotgun to Dove Chapel.

  When the church came into view Cole’s chest tightened with sudden anxiety. Too late to turn back he wasn’t sure he should have come. He offered up his first prayer in a very long time and begged God no one be present from St. Louis.

  “Will people ask who I am?” he said as they climbed out of the car.

  “Probably,” Maggie replied. “And everyone will stare at you and be nosy.”

  His heart slowed and his stomach clenched. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  She grinned, “I’m not, really but it’ll be fine, Cole. Trust me, okay?”

  “All right, I’ll try to be on my best behavior.”

  They settled into a pew midway down the right side of the aisle. As Cole looked around the once familiar church, he could almost believe he’d been transported back to Mayberry or to a sound stage somewhere. The humble country church appeared to date to the early 19th century and he figured it probably did. Before he could analyze his thoughts further, a couple in their sixties appeared and greeted Maggie.

  “Oh, you look so pretty, honey,” the woman said. “Who’s your friend?”

  Cole cringed and restrained from ducking his head like a bashful child as Maggie rested one hand on his knee and said, “This is Cole Celinksi, an old friend. He used to spend his summers at the resort when we were kids. Cole, this is Irene Matthews and her husband, Tom. They used to own a little motel over on the other side of Taneycomo, where Branson Landing is now.”

  “Hi,” Cole said, extending his hand in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  He repeated the phrase for the next ten minutes to several other people until the service began and everyone settled into place for worship. Maggie remained in the pew through the opening song but then headed up front. Cole watched, awestruck, as she stood in front of the upright piano and clasped her hands. From the rear of the church, someone struck up guitar chords for the melody and she sang in a clear, full voice. The sound of it filled the little old church and resounded around the room. For Cole, it seemed as if she sang to him alone. Her eyes never left his face as she trilled out the lively song and as the message tucked within the music penetrated his heart, tears trailed down his cheeks, slow and steady.