The Lake Season

by Hannah McKinnon

  Instead of pulling away, Cooper wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her firmly against him. They kissed once, then again. Long, desperate kisses, until Iris couldn’t breathe.

  “We can’t,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “Not here.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” Cooper stepped away. Resting his hands on the railing, he looked up at the sky, his back to her. “Look, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  A sense of dread washed over her. “What is it?”

  Cooper paused. “Remember what I said to you at the restaurant that night?”

  Iris’s head swam, rewinding through the roller-coaster images of the past week. Paul’s unexpected arrival, the spilling of Leah’s secret. Her reunion with her kids. And finally, back to the porch of the Inn at Hampstead, where she and Cooper had shared their first real date. Where he’d warned her that things would only get more complicated before they got easier again. But it was what he’d said last that had struck hardest.

  “When you said that if this was only a summer thing, that that would be enough?”

  Cooper flinched. “Yeah. Forget it. Forget all of what I said.”

  “You didn’t mean it?”

  He turned around, facing her. “I wanted to mean it, for your sake. I didn’t want to put any pressure on you. But after this past week apart, I take it all back. Iris, I want more than just this summer.”

  Iris’s chest swelled. So.

  “I know you’re going through a lot. And I know you need time. But I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

  Iris nodded, her eyes filling in the darkness. “Okay.”

  Cooper stepped closer, pressed his lips against her forehead. “And I want more.” With that, he stepped back inside, leaving her alone on the balcony.

  Iris sank onto the stone bench, overwhelmed. She turned to the sweeping view, all stars and shadows. Then back to the view inside. Dizzy, she rested her forehead on the railing and laughed, a loud and crazy laugh that erupted from her tummy. Cooper wants more.

  Behind her came the sound of footsteps once more, crossing the patio to her. She grinned, closing her eyes. What more could he say to her now?

  But it was Paul. “I’ve been wanting to get you alone all night,” he said, out of breath.

  Iris flinched.

  “Iris. I want you back.”

  Iris closed her eyes. “Paul, not now.”

  “No, you need to listen.” He grabbed both her hands with his own, which were clammy. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, Iris. I know I screwed up.”

  Iris withdrew her hands sharply. “Screwed up? Is that what you call it?”

  “Iris, please. We’ll do whatever it takes. A vacation. That gardening shed you’ve been wanting me to build. Whatever you want.”

  Iris was stunned. “A trip? A shed? You think that’s going to erase everything you put this family through?” She moved away from him, toward the doorway. Inside was everything that mattered. And out here on the porch, she realized she felt almost nothing. No real hatred. No desire to go back to what they once were.

  “Iris, I’m sorry about what happened. And about how I hurt you.” He paused. “She didn’t mean anything.”

  Iris turned around. For the first time she felt almost sorry for him. “That’s the thing, Paul. She doesn’t mean anything to me anymore, either.”

  • • •

  Back inside, Iris’s head buzzed. She couldn’t believe Paul. She couldn’t believe his selfishness or his stupidity. But for the first time, she felt no anger. Nor resentment. She smiled, realizing what it was that she was feeling. It was relief.

  “Mom!” Jack loped over. “Grandma needs you. It’s time for Aunty Leah and Uncle Stephen’s speech. She’s been looking all over.”

  Iris checked her watch. Eleven p.m. already? “Sorry, buddy. I was just out on the porch.”

  Jack shook his head. “No, she can’t find them.”

  Iris scanned the dance floor and the bar. She found Trish and Naomi waiting by the ladies’ room.

  “Maybe they snuck off for some private time,” Naomi joked, winking.

  That was something the old Leah would have done, but Iris knew better. She hurried to the ladies’ room and peeked under the stalls.

  “They can’t be far,” Trish said when Iris came out ­empty-handed. But Iris had a bad feeling.

  “Would you check the porches?” she asked her friend. She left the ballroom again, passing once more beneath the giant chandelier. So much had happened since she’d crossed beneath it just a few hours ago. The front steps of the club were empty, save for a couple of groomsmen sharing cigars in the doorway. “Hey, guys, any of you seen the happy couple?”

  They shook their heads in unison, returning to their cheerful banter.

  Millie found her in the foyer, tapping her watch for emphasis. “The elderly guests are tired. We really need to get started on speeches.”

  As a last resort, Iris headed up the main staircase. The hall was dim, only the light from the gold sconces illuminating her way along the mahogany-paneled corridor. All of the doors she tried were locked, and she was about to give up when she heard the muffled sound of voices.

  “Leah?” Iris moved toward the end of the hall, stopping outside a door labeled “Powder Room.”

  But it was a man’s voice that came from the other side. “You’re not listening to me.”

  “Please, it doesn’t have to be like this.”

  It was Stephen and Leah.

  Iris stepped back, unsure of whether to get out of there or announce her presence.

  Stephen’s voice grew adamant. “I mean it. If you don’t tell them, I will. It’s off.”

  Before she could decide what to do, the door opened abruptly. Iris jumped back as Stephen stepped out. He glanced at her briefly, startled. Then smoothed his jacket and headed quickly down the hall, away from her. A small cry came from inside.

  “Leah?” Iris rushed inside the bathroom. “What’s going on?”

  “Iris.” Leah stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection. Nervously, she dabbed her eyes. “I was . . . uh . . . just washing up.”

  “What’s Stephen talking about? What is he going to tell everyone?”

  Leah forced a small smile. “Oh, that. It’s nothing, really. We’re just having a little disagreement.” She lifted one shoulder unconvincingly, still dabbing at her smeared mascara.

  “Oh, God. Did he hear us back at the house?”

  Leah shook her head. “Don’t worry, Iris. It’s just a little cold feet.”

  “Leah, I was right outside the door. I heard you guys.”

  Leah looked away. Why couldn’t she be honest? “Does he know?”

  “Iris, please,” Leah said, sniffing. She examined herself once more in the mirror. Smoothed her hair, as if it were the only thing askew. “I imagine they’re waiting for us downstairs.”

  “Well, yeah. Mom’s practically put out a search party.”

  Leah nodded, snapping back to business. “I’ll be right down.”

  “But shouldn’t we find Stephen first? He looked pretty upset.”

  Leah shook her head. “He’s fine. I’ll meet him down there.” She pulled a compact from her purse.

  Iris glanced worriedly down the empty hall. She couldn’t imagine he’d have returned to the festivities below with a false smile. Not after what he’d just said. “Look, everyone down there can wait. Why don’t you find Stephen and settle things first?”

  Leah looked at her sharply. “Like I said, he’ll come around.” She pressed the powder roughly to her cheeks, her hand shaking as she did. “Tell Mom I’ll just be a minute.”

  Iris couldn’t leave her like this. “Leah.”

  “Go!” Leah’s eyes flashed angrily in the mirror. She herself seemed taken aback
. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Iris. She placed her trembling hands on Iris’s shoulders. “It’s been a stressful day. Just let me finish up here, and I’ll meet you in the ballroom. Okay?”

  “All right,” Iris relented. Reluctantly, she made her way down the hall and back downstairs, her head swimming all the way. Leah’s false smile could mask only so much. This time, Iris wasn’t so sure she could fool everyone else.

  “Did you find her?” Millie wanted to know the second she returned to their table.

  “Yes, she’s freshening up.” Iris looked around the ballroom. The dance floor was empty. The women, having pulled off their heels, were now rubbing their feet; the men were lounging in their chairs, scraping forks across half-eaten dessert plates. Iris couldn’t locate Stephen anywhere among them.

  Lily joined them, flopping in Iris’s lap like a rag doll, just as she used to do when she was little and in need of a nap. “You tired, baby?” Iris kissed the side of her head, one eye still on the door.

  “No way.” Lily yawned. “I’m just gonna close my eyes a minute.” And she lay her head on Iris’s chest.

  “Sugar crash,” Jack informed her, plopping down in the seat beside them. “She ate three pieces of cake.”

  “Did not,” Lily mumbled sleepily.

  Iris was relieved for the weight of her children against her, for the way it normalized her even in stressful moments. But she couldn’t ignore the nerve-racking fact that neither Stephen nor Leah had yet appeared.

  “I thought you said she was coming,” Millie whispered tersely across the table. She’d begun to twist her wedding rings.

  “Mom. Do you want to go check on her for yourself?”

  “I will!” Lily said, popping up to full attention.

  Iris shook her head. But Lily was off her lap and already headed across the ballroom. She looked to Sadie, who rose dutifully. “I know, I know. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Bill, stifling a yawn, patted Millie’s hand the way he always did to smooth his wife’s demeanor. “And speaking of . . .” said Bill.

  Iris followed his gaze to Stephen, who was making his way across the dance floor. Alone.

  Desperately, Iris searched the ballroom. As Stephen approached the DJ the sounds of the ballroom roared in her ears. Spoons clanked in coffee cups. Conversation rolled melodically. Was she the only one who noticed him?

  With a sharp swish, the music was shut off. Everyone turned.

  “Excuse me.” Stephen cleared his throat, staring uncomfortably at the microphone in his hand. For the first time, Iris noticed Adele and Lance, who stood behind him like sentinels to an oncoming storm. Iris watched helplessly as Adele dabbed at her eyes. All of Leah’s worst nightmares were coming true. He’d told them.

  “Thank you for coming this evening.” Stephen paused, his voice cracking.

  Iris reached across the table. “Dad.”

  “I’m afraid I have an announcement to make,” Stephen continued.

  All three kids appeared at Iris’s side. “Where is she?” she asked them urgently. “Did you find Aunty Leah?”

  Sadie shook her head. “She wasn’t up there.” Then she narrowed her eyes as she sensed the uncertain cloud hovering over the ballroom. “Is something wrong?”

  Lily leaned against Iris, twirling her finger. “Lils, did you see her?”

  But Stephen’s voice pulled her attention away. “We appreciate how far some of you have come, and how much love you’ve brought with you. We are very grateful for that, indeed.” He paused. “Unfortunately . . .” Stephen looked back at Adele, who Iris could now see was crying. Confirming her worst fears, Lance placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and urged him on.

  “What’s the matter?” Jack asked. Glancing from Stephen to his grandparents, who now stood beside the table, looking as if they were about to be swept over by a terrible wind.

  “Mommy,” Lily whispered.

  “Not now,” Iris said, one eye on her parents, the other on Stephen, still trying to pull himself together at the microphone.

  Lily, who was still playing with her finger, scratched Iris’s arm.

  “I said not now,” she snapped. It was then she saw what Lily was playing with. She grabbed her daughter’s hand, holding it still.

  “Where did you get that?”

  Lily covered the diamond ring protectively.

  “Tell me!” Iris gripped her hand, tugging the engagement ring off her little index finger.

  “Aunty Leah gave it to me,” Lily whimpered. “Just now.” The diamond glittered ominously in Iris’s palm.

  “Dad!” Her chair toppled behind her when she stood.

  At the sound of the crash, Stephen stopped and turned in Iris’s direction. The guests stirred uneasily, glancing back and forth between the confused groomsmen and the maid of honor.

  But it was too late. From the grand foyer came another interruption: the urgent clatter of footsteps. The doors to the ballroom burst open. And this time they all turned, to a young man who stood shaking in the doorway. His server’s jacket hung from one shoulder at a grotesque angle.

  “There’s a woman at the bottom of the pool,” he cried. “Someone call 911.”

  Thirty-Three

  At first, she thought she was at the lake. The sun had the soft buttery glow of early morning, and she turned her face toward it. All around her was the reassuring throng of peepers. She relished this, their steady hopeful chirrup. Though there was something strangely mechanical about the rhythm of their song. What was it?

  Iris turned her face back to the sun. If she could just stretch out, maybe she’d nod off again. But the stiffness in her limbs nagged, pulling her toward consciousness. And she startled, awakening in the vinyl hospital room chair. Wishing she had not.

  Before her, the monitors on the machines throbbed. Beep, beep, beep. Iris squinted as the ventilator swished beside her. An IV pole stood sentinel, and her eyes traced the slow drip of fluid, to the long narrow tube, to the arm connected to it all.

  Leah.

  Iris lurched from the chair. “How is she?”

  Millie was pulled up close to the bedside, hunched over the small form tucked beneath the white sheet. She did not turn around. “The same.”

  Iris stood behind her, peering down at her sister. A ventilator tube had been taped to her open mouth, her full lips pale and stretched around it. But aside from the clear tubes crisscrossing her face, Leah looked strangely peaceful. Iris reached for her, running her fingers across Leah’s forehead.

  “Oh, sis.” Leah’s chestnut hair was splayed across the pillowcase. Wavy and free like a mermaid’s, underwater. And at that thought Iris’s stomach flew up into her mouth.

  • • •

  When she finished vomiting, Iris braced herself at the tiny bathroom sink. One cheek was creased from the vinyl chair, where she’d spent the night. Her eyes were sunken. She glanced at her watch: 7:25 a.m. They’d been in the ICU since last night, when Leah was transferred from Emergency.

  At first, Stephen had been the only one allowed in the ward with Leah. For two hours, they’d all sat in the ER waiting area, the Willetses slumped against one side of the room, the Standishes on the other. Even in their shared grief, a line had been drawn. It did not matter that Stephen had not had the chance to utter the words of his impending announcement at the rehearsal dinner. They were no longer a family about to be joined, and neither would they share in their grief. Now there was blame to place. And though Iris felt it resting heavily across her shoulders, her mother had aimed hers at the Willetses. Who were they to show up, here, now?

  And so Iris had sat between her parents, knees shaking. Braced for an eruption. Readying herself to intervene. But in the end, no words had been spoken. Instead, an orderly had been sent to deliver the news that Leah was still unconscious but was being transferred upstairs. When they
’d been told that they could finally see her, they’d pushed past the Willetses and through the swinging doors without looking back. They’d seen no sign of Stephen, or his family, since.

  Now, back at the bedside, Iris placed a hand on Millie’s shoulder. Her mother shuddered beneath her touch, bristling.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m going to the cafeteria for coffee. Want some?”

  The shake of her head was so minute, at first Iris wasn’t sure her mother had heard. “How about tea? Or a muffin?”

  Millie waved her away.

  “I’m back.” Bill entered the room, looking about a thousand years older. His arms were filled. He carried an overnight bag, its mouth gaping, as if it were about to spit out its contents, and the old floral blanket Iris recognized from Leah’s bedroom at home. He stood, lost in the middle of the room, holding Leah’s things as if for dear life.

  “Here, Daddy, let me help you.”

  Iris arranged the quilt across Leah’s still legs, glad for a job. Its flowers looked faded and small under the harsh ultraviolet lighting.

  “I brought this, too.” Bill pulled a tiny picture frame from the duffel bag. He set it on the table beside Leah, whom Iris noticed he avoided looking at.

  It was a silver framed photo of Leah and Stephen standing on the farmhouse porch, their arms around each other.

  For the first time Millie looked up. Fury clouded the exhaustion in her eyes. “How could you?” she cried.

  Bill froze, eyes darting from his wife to the picture in question. “What?”

  “Mom. It’s just a picture.”

  Millie leaped from her chair and plucked the frame off the table.

  “What were you thinking?” she cried, her face crumpling. It was the most responsive Iris had seen from her mother since the fateful moment the country club doors had burst open last night. Since the gasping crowd had gathered at the edge of the pool, where staff had already pulled Leah from the twinkling blue water and up onto the concrete patio. Since they’d stood at the curb as the ambulance pulled away, Stephen ghost-stricken in the back with his unconscious bride-not-to-be.