The Lake Season

by Hannah McKinnon

  “What is it?” Leah whispered, looking concerned.

  The moment had deposited Iris firmly in the memory of those back-to-school shopping trips, when she and Leah stood side by side in the same kind of mirror. Monkeying around, and laughing too loudly. Being scolded by their mother to “Stand up, stand still. Just stand, will you?” And the fun they’d had.

  Iris shook her head, smiling. “Nothing. Just . . . thank you.”

  Twenty-Six

  In the middle of the night Iris was awakened by the creaking of her bed. “Lils?” Iris murmured, still half-asleep. “Is that you?”

  “It’s me,” Leah whispered.

  Iris blinked, her eyes straining to focus in the darkness. For a mother, midnight awakenings usually signaled nightmares. Or throw-up. Iris turned over. “What’s wrong?”

  In reply Leah slid beneath the covers and looped her arm over Iris’s side. “I’m sorry.”

  A lake breeze stirred the curtains. Outside a night owl called in the distance, its cry watery and distant.

  “Can we talk?”

  Iris glanced at the clock. One thirty. “Leah, it’s—”

  “I know. But I can’t sleep.”

  Iris rolled back over to face her. “Is everything okay?”

  Leah let out a breath. “I’m ready to tell you. About last ­summer.”

  Iris propped herself up on her elbow and sighed. The importance of her sister’s visit weighed on the air between them. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “When I came home last summer, it wasn’t about the farm. It was to get away.”

  Iris’s voice was still raspy with sleep, and she cleared her throat. “From what?”

  “Everything. Myself, mostly.” She paused. “I’d been working at Yellowstone about five months, and I really liked it at first. Every day was something new. New visitors, new locations; it was great.”

  Iris nodded in the dark, remembering how Millie had gone on and on about Leah’s national parks job whenever she called. It had sounded great, leaving Iris longing for such serene open spaces, trapped as she was by the confines of car-pool schedules and after-school sports. It had seemed a perfect match for her adventurous sister.

  “But after a few months, I just felt empty. Like something was missing. There I was working on the trails, guiding people on day hikes and up to their camps. Nothing but wildlife and fields, and these huge blue skies. Iris, you can’t believe how blue they were.” Her voice trailed at the memory, and Iris lay quietly. “It should’ve been perfect.”

  “Maybe you were just homesick,” Iris allowed.

  “No, it was more than that. Like this itch inside me that I couldn’t reach. I was lonely. I was edgy. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t seem to shake it. Eventually I let the loneliness get the better of me. And I fell for someone I shouldn’t have.”

  Leah sighed. “His name was Kurt. He’d been up in Alaska running adventure tours for this eco-tourism outfit, and he just reeked of perfection. Conservationist, outdoor adventurer, charmer. The park hired him to train us on backcountry ­guiding.”

  “So let me guess, you two hit it off?”

  Leah laughed lightly. “No! I couldn’t stand the guy at first. I thought he was cocky. Kurt had been all over the world; he spent winters skiing in Europe, and summers rafting in Costa Rica. There was even a rumor he’d been scouted for the Olympic downhill team, but walked away from it to climb Annapurna.” Leah turned to Iris, an urgency in her whisper, as if they were still teenagers talking about a boy. “Kurt had this vibe, like he was untouchable, you know?”

  Iris nodded. To her, Kurt didn’t sound any different from any of Leah’s other previous boyfriends. “He was a hotshot.”

  “And he knew it. So he showed up to train us for backcountry guiding, and everyone was scrambling to sign up. Then they’d come back from his workshops, and they’d be gushing. By the time my boss made me sign up for the last session, Kurt had a gaggle of groupies. I was over it.”

  “So why the change of heart?” Iris asked.

  Leah sighed. “Because once we were out on the trail, I realized why everyone was so smitten. Kurt was . . . amazing.” Iris tried to keep an open mind as she waited for Leah to go on. This time she really wanted to understand. “He wasn’t just a talented guide; he was a pretty great guy, too. We stayed up late each night talking about our childhoods, all the places he’d been. And the things we wanted to do with our lives. By the time our workshop ended, I found myself not wanting to go back to the lodge. I could’ve stayed out there on the land with him all summer.”

  “Is that when you guys got together?”

  Leah’s tongue clicked in the darkness. “No. We were with a group of my colleagues, Iris. Working.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”

  Leah rolled away from her. “We didn’t hook up until the workshop ended. Kurt had only three days’ layover before he had to head out to Yosemite for another gig. We didn’t leave each other’s side once.”

  Iris nodded in silence, imagining how easy it would have been. Romantic, even. A young, charismatic guy traveling from park to park, teaching others to save the world. Flying in long enough to shake things up for the staff, then heading off into the sunset. It was something out of a bad romance novel, and yet she got it.

  “Did you ever see him again?”

  “Once. I flew out to Yosemite, a couple of weeks later, like we’d planned. When I got there, we just picked up where we left off. He took me on this camping trip up in the High Sierra Camps, just the two of us. It was so secluded. We swam naked in the freshwater pools. We couldn’t get enough of each other.” Leah’s voice trembled. “I really thought that this was it. That he was the one.”

  Iris turned over, studying Leah in the shadows. Her dark hair spilled across the pillowcase, in contrast to the pale oval of her face.

  “What happened?” Iris asked, resting her cheek on her pillow.

  Leah sniffed. “Kurt had to leave for another job up north. He promised we’d meet up a month later back at Yellowstone, when he got some time off. He even bought the plane ticket.” She covered her face in her hands. “But he never came.”

  Iris lifted herself onto her elbow and cupped Leah’s cheek, now damp with tears. “Leah. I had no idea you’d lost someone you loved that much.”

  “It’s not that. It’s much worse.”

  “What then?”

  “You’re going to hate me, Iris.”

  “Of course I won’t. Just tell me.”

  Leah looked up at her. “I was pregnant.”

  A small throb began at the back of Iris’s head and she lay down. Leah was pregnant. She’d heard the words. But it wasn’t “pregnant” that caused her to suck in her breath. It was the word that came before it: that sneaking past tense.

  Leah sat up in the bed. “You see? I knew you wouldn’t forgive me. I don’t expect you to.”

  Iris did not answer. Could not answer right away. Leah had been pregnant. And here was Iris, who’d struggled so long to conceive. Who’d fought so hard for her own babies. Instinctively, she ran a hand over the softness of her stomach.

  “Please don’t judge me,” Leah cried.

  Iris blinked. “I don’t hate you. I just need a second.” She rolled away and out of the bed, and padded to the bathroom. She ran the water in the sink and splashed her face, willing herself to feel something. What? Anger? Empathy?

  Leah’s voice came from the bedroom thick with regret. “I know this is hard for you to hear. But you asked me. All summer you’ve been asking me.”

  Iris shut off the water and came back to the bed. But she did not get in.

  “Keep going,” she said.

  Leah was sitting up in bed now, her knees pulled protectively to her chest. “Are you sure?”

  Iris sat back on the crumpled window seat cus
hion and steadied herself. “Keep going.”

  Leah looked at her warily before beginning again. “I didn’t know I was pregnant until I got back to Yellowstone. I didn’t want to tell Kurt on the phone. So I decided to wait until he came out. But he kept making excuses, changing the date. Weeks were passing. Finally, I had no choice. I just told him.”

  Iris waited for her to continue.

  Leah’s voice caught in her throat. “That’s the worst part. He didn’t say anything. I just sat there on the phone, saying, ‘Kurt? Are you there?’ Until he finally answered. And you know the first thing he said?”

  “What?” Iris held her breath.

  “He asked, ‘What makes you so sure it’s mine?’ ”

  Iris stood up and went to the bed, pulling Leah against her.

  “I was all alone, Iris. I had no one.”

  Iris did not say that Leah had her. That if she’d called, Iris would have flown to wherever she was, no matter the years, no matter the rifts. It was too late for that now.

  “After that he stopped returning my calls. I emailed, and left messages with his coworkers, everything. I went crazy, Iris. I really did.”

  Iris pushed the hair out of her sister’s face. “Is that why you came home?”

  “I was pregnant. I had nowhere else to go.”

  It all made sense now. Millie’s furtive protectiveness, Leah’s shifting facades. Iris imagined her own pregnancies, which had left her both elated and fearful, after years of trying so hard to conceive. But even amid the strain, she’d had Paul and her friends’ and family’s excitement. Not to mention a petal-pink nursery teeming with baby gifts. She’d crafted the perfect little nest. Imagining Leah, alone at Yellowstone, made her heart ache. She pictured her sharing a dorm room bunk with a bunch of twentysomethings, her only belongings a mountain bike and a knapsack. “It must have been awful.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone at first, I was just so ashamed. Mom and Dad couldn’t understand why I’d left Yellowstone, or what I was doing here. Dad was supportive, of course, thinking I was just between jobs. But Mom knew something was up. She never said, but I sensed it.”

  Iris laughed harshly, as she ran her hands through Leah’s hair. “Oh, I can only imagine.”

  “By then I was almost three months along. I couldn’t hide it much longer, but I still wasn’t sure what to do. I mean, I thought hard about having this baby, Iris. I really did.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  Leah sat up. “But I feel like I do. I wanted that baby. When I first found out, I actually thought Kurt would be thrilled. Which probably sounds stupid to you.”

  “No,” Iris said quickly.

  “Well, it sounds stupid to me now. But if you knew the things Kurt promised . . . I would have had that baby. I would have.” Leah paused. “But then he was gone. I had no house, no job. Christ, I was back home, tucked in my childhood bedroom, living with my parents.” Leah looked hard at Iris. “I tried to think of a million ways I could do this. But I just couldn’t. I’m not like you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’re strong, Iris. You can handle things.”

  “You were in a totally different situation,” Iris insisted. “You can’t compare a divorce with a child. Who knows what I would have done, if it were me?”

  “No.” Leah shook her head adamantly. “I thought about you through all of this. Strangely, I probably thought more about you than the baby or myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because deep down, even though I knew I had plenty of reasons I couldn’t make this work, I knew you would’ve. Somehow, you would’ve found a way.”

  Iris sat back against the pillows. “You don’t know that,” she whispered. “You did what you felt you had to.”

  “But I always wished I had your strength. I’ve always been sorry I didn’t.”

  “You can still have your baby. With Stephen. Starting a family with you is all he’s talked about since I met him.”

  Leah pressed a hand to her eyes, shaking her head. “That’s the worst part.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t have another baby, Iris. Ever.”

  Iris sat up, her throat catching.

  “After I had the abortion, there were complications. First I had these horrible cramps. But then the fever followed, and I knew something was wrong. Mom drove me to the doctor’s and that’s when I found out.” She looked at Iris, tears spilling down her face. “It wasn’t just an infection. I had cervical damage. I can’t carry a baby.”

  Iris was too stunned to answer. As hard as it had always been to imagine Leah as a mother, she’d always assumed she would be someday. When she found the right person. When she found herself.

  “Are you sure?” she asked now, unable to give in just yet. “Have you had a second opinion? There are amazing treatments they can offer these days . . .”

  “No, we’re sure. I’ve been to three different doctors in New Hampshire and a fertility specialist in Manhattan. Both the cervix and the uterus were lacerated. I’m what they call ‘incompetent.’ ” She laughed grotesquely.

  “Leah, there are still ways you can become a mother. A surrogate. Adoption.”

  Leah nodded wearily. “Yeah, I know. But it’s not the same, is it?”

  Iris couldn’t answer that. “Stephen doesn’t know any of this, does he?”

  Leah shook her head shamefully. “No. None of it.”

  Iris lay back down on the bed. So there it was. “God, Leah, you’re marrying him in a matter of days. How can you not tell him?”

  “I know. I tried. But each time something else always came up. The job at the foundation. The move to Seattle. It was already so complicated.”

  “But all he talks about is starting a family with you. He wants kids. What are you going to do?”

  “It will kill him if I tell him now.”

  “But what do you think will happen if you wait? Did you think it’d be easier once you were married? At best, he’s liable to feel tricked.” At this late hour it was a lot to expect of any guy, even Stephen.

  Leah’s voice thickened with defense. “I told you, I tried. But I knew the second I opened my mouth, everything would change. After all I went through, why not hang on to normal?”

  Now look at them, Iris thought. One sister who’d chased normal her whole life was ultimately losing it in divorce. And the other, who’d never wanted it, clinging to it by mere threads.

  “What about Mom. How much does she know?” Iris thought back to the confrontation in the kitchen, her mother’s bloodied hand.

  “She knows. The night it all came to a head I was out on the lake. With—”

  “Cooper.” Iris said the name and her heart skipped. It had to have been the same night.

  “How did you know that?” Leah sat up, about to say something more, then stopped. “Of course.”

  Iris’s head spun as it came together. Cooper told her about the night on the boat. But had he known more? “Wait. He never told me about your pregnancy.”

  “Cooper never knew.” Leah turned to look at Iris. “And I don’t want him to. Or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Of course not.” But the tiny relief Iris felt over the fact that Cooper had indeed conveyed everything wasn’t enough to quell the deep regret she felt for Leah. It was sad enough that she could not bear her own children. But what would that mean to Stephen?

  “Dad doesn’t know either. We told him I’d had some female issues and left it at that. He would’ve been so disappointed, you know? I made Mom promise not to tell him.”

  Iris wondered at this. What did you do when your child asked you to keep a secret from your spouse? Her mother was strong, fierce even. But had Millie really kept the secret from Bill? It was ironic, when Iris thought about it. Of her two parents, Bil
l was the patient, forgiving one who’d always listened in earnest and responded with calm. And yet here was Millie, the parent whom Iris had always feared most about disappointing, picking up the pieces for Leah. Asking no questions, guarding her secret. “Does Mom know that you haven’t told Stephen?”

  “No. It was hard enough for her to deal with everything as it was. We’ve never discussed it since. Besides, Stephen wasn’t in the picture back then. I guess she assumes that he knows now.”

  Iris closed her eyes. So. At least Millie wasn’t guilty of helping Leah keep the secret from Stephen. It was one thing to protect family privacy; another thing entirely to knowingly deceive. More and more, Iris was beginning to understand the gray shadows that motherhood cast.

  “You have to tell him. Before the wedding, Leah. It’s not too late.”

  Leah’s voice was small, muffled now. “I know.” Then, “Iris?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry. For everything.”

  Iris placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Me too.”

  Iris leaned against the cool headboard and closed her eyes. Was Leah right? Would she, in fact, have had the baby against all those odds? What if she had never been settled and married? Would she still have wanted a baby so badly that she’d put herself and a new child through a completely different set of struggles? She covered her face with her hands. They were impossible questions.

  Leah needed her. Iris wiped her eyes and turned to her sister.

  “Leah?”

  Leah had rolled onto her back, her expression soft with sleep.

  Iris slid beneath the covers. She watched her little sister, the images of their pasts playing over and over in her head like a reel of film.

  Gently, Iris bent forward and kissed her once. Leah’s forehead was damp, like her daughters’ in sleep; familiar and earthy. “I forgive you,” she whispered.

  She would do whatever Leah asked. Not because it was right, but because she had promised to get on board. Never mind that the train was on fire. If Leah wanted them to ride it down the tracks, so they would. Flames and all.