The Lake Season

by Hannah McKinnon

  “So, what’s your game plan?”

  Iris set down her fork. “I need a game plan? I didn’t even know I was in the game.”

  Trish made a smug noise. “Suit up, sister. You’re on the field, whether you like it or not.”

  Iris pushed the Niçoise salad around her plate. “I don’t know what to do about Cooper,” she admitted. “Everything just sort of happened this summer.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Trish wagged her finger. “This sort of thing doesn’t just happen, Iris. You walked into the path of oncoming traffic.”

  Iris feigned affront. “Cut me some slack.” But Trish was right. She’d put herself on this road. Christ, she’d even hailed the car and jumped in the front seat.

  “Here’s the thing you have to decide,” Trish said, talking around a large bite of tuna fish. Iris listened, wondering how her friend could eat such a thing at a time like this. “What do you want to happen?”

  Iris shrugged. “If I knew what I wanted I don’t think I’d be in this predicament.”

  “Look at it this way—if there were no repercussions or hurt feelings to deal with, what would you want to happen next?”

  “You mean if my kids and my family didn’t exist? How can you even ask me that?”

  “Because, in the end, it’s what you have to ask yourself.”

  It was an awful question, but it was also the question, Iris realized. Forgetting Paul and their failed marriage (could she even do that?), setting aside her fear of familial reactions and the implications her choices might have on others (the kids!), what would she want? “This is about much more than just me,” Iris reminded Trish. “I may be in the throes of divorce proceedings, but I’m still part of a family.”

  “Hang on, hang on. I’m not suggesting you toss the kids. But I’ve watched you make every move of your life around what was best for everyone else. It’s time you put yourself back into the equation. What does Iris want?”

  The waitress appeared at the booth and refilled their waters. Iris stared at her own untouched plate. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t.” Iris couldn’t think. She’d run away to Hampstead to escape her family problems in the first place. To clear her head. And now here she was, more confused and in a far deeper mess than before.

  “Then you have to stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  Trish gave her a level look. “Until you figure out what you want, you have to put a stop to all of this with Cooper. No more hanging out, no more stolen kisses. And no more working in the barn, or whatever it is you’re doing up there. Seriously, Iris. It’s too dangerous. This isn’t some little fling.”

  Trish had her. If Iris was going to give this thing with Cooper a real shot, she needed to figure out the rest first. Besides, no matter how awful things got, she was not the kind of person who could shove her kids and family aside and just give in to temptation. No, Iris was not that person.

  “You’re right,” Iris said, setting down her fork. “No more Cooper.” But even as she said the words and Trish reached for the dessert menu as if the matter was solved, Iris couldn’t ignore the other fact of the matter: none of this would’ve happened in the first place if Paul hadn’t put her in this position. This was his fault, too.

  Trish placed a double order for chocolate malts. “My treat.”

  “So you think chocolate is going to do it for me?” The joke lightened the mood, but still . . . How could Trish expect her to just walk away from Cooper at this stage?

  “Look at it this way,” Trish said, more gently this time. “It’s not fair to you or to Cooper. You don’t want to poison a second chance, do you?”

  Iris wagged her head.

  “Exactly. If this thing with Cooper is real, then he’ll still be there in the end. When you’ve got your head on straight.”

  Iris sat back on her stool, feeling both deflated and grateful. She’d asked for direction, and now she had it. “I guess you’re right. I owe that much to the kids. And to my family, too.”

  “Iris.”

  “What?”

  “You owe it to yourself.”

  • • •

  But staying away from Cooper Woods wasn’t that easy. Iris needed this little friendship they’d fostered. And a thousand chocolate malts with your best friend were no substitute for the cravings she had.

  By the time she drove home, it was almost dinner. She’d missed another day in the barn, but what did that matter now? Hopefully Cooper would’ve gone home for the day.

  Avoidance, as Trish had instructed. It was a necessary operation. She tried to think of it in clinical terms as she pulled into the farm driveway. Her separation from Paul was a questionable growth. A growth that needed treatment and removal. And as ugly as it was probably going to be, until she’d recovered from that operation she couldn’t allow herself any distractions.

  By the time she neared home, Iris had talked herself into this new role she’d have to adopt. Polite, but at a distance. Friendly, but not flirty. For extra backup, she summoned visions of her parents: Millie’s disapproving scowl, Bill’s pained expression. That’s what she needed, an unforgiving audience looking over her shoulder. She couldn’t kiss Cooper Woods with Millie watching. And as for Bill, oh, it’d probably throw the poor man into tachycardia. Iris gripped the steering wheel tightly. She could do this. Even if it meant that she had to wrap the dreaded weight of parental guilt around her shoulders.

  But no sooner had she pulled up to the barn than she noticed Cooper’s truck. Okay, she told herself calmly: the first test. What would her parents say about this?

  Millie pursed her lips.

  Iris drove on.

  But then Cooper stepped outside. Okay, plan B. She’d allow herself an innocent wave. What was the harm in that? It wasn’t like she could go from kissing to cutting off all connection. Especially not after the conversation they’d had last night. In her mind Millie shook her head violently, but Bill shrugged forgivingly. All right, then; she’d wave.

  Cooper approached the car, and her heart began to race as she raised one hand. It was a flat-handed wave, like something a pageant girl on a float might give, and so she tried a more enthusiastic one, but her nerves took over and her hand began to flap uncontrollably.

  Cooper stared as she approached, a funny look on his face.

  Great. He probably thought she was having a seizure. Now she’d have to stop the darn car. Which Iris did, but then she proceeded to sit there, windows rolled up, the engine still running as she argued with herself about what to do next.

  Cooper came over and peered in the window. “You okay?” he mouthed.

  Well, this wasn’t working. Reluctantly, Iris rolled down the window, thought better of it, then rolled it up again. Almost pinching Cooper’s hand. Jesus.

  “Iris?”

  “Hi!” Iris shouted through the glass. There, greeting complete. Now, if she could just get the hell out of there. Because if she stayed, it would only lead to something else. Like a conversation. Which might lead to dinner. And then, of course she’d have to kiss him again. Oh, God.

  At that thought, Iris hit the gas pedal. But much harder than she’d intended, and the car rocketed forward.

  Cooper leaped to the side. “What the hell?”

  She stamped the brake. “Shit!” Iris jumped out of the car. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  Cooper threw up his hands. “Are you?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. God, I almost killed you, didn’t I?”

  “Jesus, Iris. What are you doing?”

  It was no use. “I didn’t mean to stop. I mean, I wanted to say a quick hello, but I’ve got to get back to the house. Right away.” She snuck a look at him, an intense heat rising in her cheeks. “I’m busy today. Crazy busy.” Just plain crazy was what she was.

 
“Okay,” Cooper said warily.

  “So,” she said, stepping awkwardly toward her car. “I guess I’d better go.”

  Cooper ducked playfully to the side. “Wait, let me take cover first.”

  “Ha-ha . . .” She opened the door. But she couldn’t get in. Not yet.

  “You are something,” Cooper said, which suddenly made her smile.

  “What?”

  He shook his head in amusement. “Nothing. Just that you sure keep a guy on his toes.”

  Iris liked the way it came out. The way his mouth curved up in one corner as he said it. It wasn’t just the way he was looking at her. It was the way he saw her.

  “Whatever’s so important, can it wait for a swim?” he asked.

  Iris looked back at her car, still running. She looked down at the house, where she could not see Millie’s look of consternation. Or Bill’s befuddlement. And back at Cooper, who was dusty and tan, and still smiling at her in the middle of their driveway.

  Trish’s words echoed loudly in her head, Stop it, Iris. Stop it. Now!

  “Why not?” she said breathlessly.

  • • •

  They’d descended the hill below the barn, bypassing the house and cutting left across the lawns to the same spot where Stephen and Leah had passionately argued what seemed like years before. A handful of willows lined the shore, and the grasses were taller here, a spot where mallards nested and where Iris had scouted for eggs and ducklings when she was a child.

  “Do you think they can hear us?” Cooper asked, glancing sideways at the house in the distance. Tiki torches on the patio flickered, signaling the dinner hour.

  Iris shook her head. “They’re all too busy talking over one another.”

  Cooper laughed. “Stephen’s parents are a little high maintenance, huh?”

  “Makes my mother look like a pussycat,” Iris agreed. “And that’s no small feat.”

  “And what does that make you?”

  Iris stopped at the water’s edge and kicked off her sandals. “I don’t know. A dog?”

  Cooper made a face. “Are you kidding? Something fiercer.”

  Fiercer? “A tiger, maybe?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  She splashed him, and Cooper darted away laughing.

  “What then?” she demanded.

  Cooper sat on the rocky shore and began unlacing his work boots. “An egret.”

  “A bird? I remind you of some gangly bird?”

  He nodded, his voice growing serious. “The best kind of bird. You’ve seen them growing up around here. Egrets are graceful.” He glanced over at her. “Independent. Loyal to their nest.”

  Iris tilted her head, contemplating this. She’d observed the quiet shorebird all her life. But it was the attributes Cooper listed that caught in her throat. It was perhaps the nicest thing he could’ve said, and the thought of her own distant nest filled her with a quiet sadness. And, right on its tail, a small flutter of happiness, too. Cooper thought her independent.

  He stood, then pulled his T-shirt over his head, and Iris averted her gaze. She could hear him unzip his work pants, and a moment later he stood behind her, in just his navy-blue boxers.

  “Come on,” he whispered, touching her shoulder.

  Iris watched as he waded in, the shadows of the branches overhead falling across his bare back. Cooper’s legs flexed as he navigated the rocky shallows, the water rising up to his waist, and he turned to look back at her.

  “You all right?”

  She nodded, filled with sudden awareness of her clothed self. She’d have to strip down at least to her underwear, which she desperately tried to recall from when she got dressed that morning. An image of tattered grandma underpants flashed in her mind; God, she hoped she wasn’t wearing those.

  The shade of the willows combined with fading sun enveloped them in a golden hue. It wasn’t getting any darker. She dropped her pants quickly, kicking them aside with her foot.

  Cringing, she closed her eyes. Which was absurd. Cooper’s own eyes were not closed, and she could feel the warmth of his gaze traveling across the pebbly shallows as she tugged her T-shirt off and stood in her white bra and panties before him. At least they weren’t the ones with holes in them, she thought, stepping gingerly onto the damp sand.

  In one slip, she moved into the lake, passing Cooper underwater, and surfaced just beyond him. Behind them a throaty chorus of peepers had started along the shore.

  “Feeling better after the other night?” Cooper asked.

  Iris smoothed her wet hair back. “I’m working on it.” She leaned back into the water, floating. She did not want to talk about Leah or her family right now. “If I could just stay like this . . .” she said, her voice trailing.

  “I know. This is why I came back here,” Cooper said, sinking into the water.

  Down the beach, voices carried and they both turned, watching as distant figures emerged from the house and onto the patio.

  “They’ll be wondering where I am,” Iris whispered, grateful to be where she was instead. She laughed out loud, suddenly giddy, as if they were a couple of kids hiding from the grown-ups and might be discovered at any moment.

  “You’re a big girl,” Cooper allowed.

  “Sometimes.” Iris laughed again. “Sometimes I just do a really good impression of one.”

  “Well, you’ve got me fooled.”

  Iris turned to him. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Why do people always do that?” Cooper mused. “Ask if they can ask you something, instead of just asking the question.”

  “Probably because they’re uncomfortable about the very thing they want to ask you.”

  “Are you?”

  “Well, now I am,” Iris said, smiling.

  Cooper swam closer. “Ask me anything.”

  “All right.” Iris glanced back at the house. “What was I like in high school?”

  Cooper frowned. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

  “No. I mean, everyone has a vague idea of how other people saw them in high school. But it doesn’t always match up with how they felt. Or who they were.”

  “Exactly. So, why would you care what I thought about you in high school?”

  “Forgive me, but only you could answer like that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You were popular. And athletic. Everyone knew who you were. I’m sure it never occurred to you to feel anything less than awesome.”

  Now it was Cooper’s turn to splash her. “That’s not fair. I was just as self-conscious as anyone else in high school.”

  Iris scoffed. “Sure. Says the lacrosse team captain.” She rolled over onto her stomach. “Wait, weren’t you also homecoming king one year?”

  Cooper winced.

  “Oh, please. Of course you were!”

  “Iris, that was so long ago. Who cares about that stuff now?”

  “I know, I know. But seriously, this is important to me.”

  Cooper rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine why. But if you want to play this game, I will.” He paused. “Let’s see; in high school I remember you as being kind of serious. And smart. Weren’t you in all the honors and AP classes?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not what I mean. How did I seem to you?”

  He gave her a pleading look. “Tell me again why you’re asking me all this?”

  “Because you’re right—high school was so long ago. We’ve all grown up and turned into such different people. But now that I’m back home, I don’t feel different at all. Suddenly I’m unsure of everything. I’m driven by this ridiculous need to please my parents. And I’m completely overshadowed by my sister’s life. It’s just like high school all over again.”

  “Iris, it’s nothing like high school. As fo
r Leah, you’re just looking out for your sister. It may feel overwhelming, but it certainly can’t overshadow you.”

  “But it is!” Iris insisted. “I came back here to sort things out for myself. And yet I’m so afraid to take the next step, any next step, really, because what if it’s the wrong one? What if I screw up and can’t go back and fix it?” She was rambling now, and she could see that Cooper was trying to keep up. “And I’m listening to everyone else: my parents, Trish, you! Why is that? I’m educated, I’ve got a family and a career, and I’m forty, for God’s sake. Haven’t I learned anything?”

  Cooper swam closer. “Well, haven’t you?”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “I don’t think it is. You’re struggling, Iris. Welcome to the trenches. All I can say is that you’ve got to take a step, even if it’s in the wrong direction. Because you can always circle back.”

  “Can I really?”

  Cooper’s voice was soft, and his eyes full of concern. Iris could feel her heart slowing in the water. “Iris, you can do anything you want to. You’re still the smart kid from school.” He furrowed his brow. “And definitely the serious one.”

  Iris flicked him.

  “But you’re so much more than that. Stop analyzing everything so intensely. Go with your instinct.”

  “Easy for you to say. Mr. Popularity himself.”

  “For the record, being the captain of the lacrosse team was great. But being popular wasn’t. You know how stressful that was? Everyone’s always got one eye on you. You’re constantly thinking about what you say or do, or who you’re with. I should’ve focused a lot more on the important stuff. Like you did.”

  Iris scoffed. “Yeah, look where that got me.”

  Cooper waited a beat before reminding her, “Right here, with me.”

  Iris glances over, but he’d closed his eyes and was floating on his back. Watching Cooper out of the corner of her eye, she could sense how relaxed he was. Stretched out in the water, a look of contentment on his face. If only she could channel some of that for herself. If only she could summon some of that confidence he’d had back in high school. He could say whatever he wanted about popularity; there was no denying he was still more sure of himself than she was.