by Sarah Morgan
Izzy felt her throat close. She felt vulnerable. Awkward. A thousand years older than the last time she’d been here. Life had seemed so simple then, but it hadn’t been of course. It was just that she’d seen it as simple because she hadn’t known the truth. Now she knew and knowing was like dragging a boulder along behind her.
“Izz?” Her dad was looking at her and she felt panic rising inside her like milk left too long on the heat.
Unless she wanted to handle questions, she needed to move.
She reached for the door but he leaned across and his hand covered hers.
“Are you doing okay? I know this isn’t easy.” He spoke softly. “You’re thinking of Mom, and that’s natural. I guess we all are.”
She was thinking of her mother, but probably not in the way he assumed. The secret she’d been carrying formed a barrier between her and everyone else.
She’d never felt more isolated in her life. “I’m okay, Dad. Really. How are you doing?” It had to be hard on him, too.
“I’m good, and a lot of that is because of you.” He squeezed her hand. “You’ve been a superhero, Izzy. I don’t know what I would have done without you this past year. You’re the best daughter a man could have.”
His words made her eyes sting and her throat close. She knew she wasn’t that, but she didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t have known what to say, particularly as Flora was still sitting in the back seat.
“Izzy, I promise you’re going to have fun here. Flora and I are going to take care of Molly so you can do whatever you enjoy.”
“I enjoy being with Molly, Dad. She’s my sister.”
Did she really have to say it? There wasn’t a single person on the planet who understood her.
“But you should be spending time with kids your own age. I expect you’ll be pleased to see Aiden again.”
She was, although she was also nervous. What if his feelings toward her had changed? And she was so angry with everyone, what if she was angry with him? What if she hated him, too?
“We should say hi to Aunt Clare.” With a quick smile, she fumbled for the door and exited the car hoping to leave her mini meltdown behind in the car.
She walked across to Clare a little hesitantly. Last time they’d seen each other was at the funeral, which Izzy barely remembered. The whole day had been a dark, heavy blur of horror.
Clare put Molly down and then Izzy felt herself wrapped in the same warm hug Molly had been given. She breathed in Clare’s floral scent and closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself the comfort even though it wasn’t specific to her problem.
Aunt Clare had always been a hugger and a homemaker. Izzy had often heard her mother say that she couldn’t understand why anyone would give up a glamorous career working for a glossy, glamorous magazine to bury herself in the middle of nowhere and spend her day making beds after other people, wiping mud from boots and baking cakes.
Izzy didn’t know anything about editing a glossy magazine. All she knew was that whenever you were with Aunt Clare you felt cared for and fussed over. She was never on her phone, distracted by which filters to use on a photograph she was about to post on social media, and she never cared about her hair or her makeup when she was hugging you. Even though she was busy, she was never in a rush. She seemed to live in the moment rather than pushing forward to the next goal, and nothing she did was for public consumption.
On the flight, Izzy had started to write a piece about the perils of presenting a fake version of yourself to the world, but then she’d realized she was guilty of doing exactly that. It wasn’t the same, of course, not really. Keeping secrets and thoughts inside you wasn’t the same as presenting a polished, happy image. She’d made that the point of the piece, the central question that she hoped would stimulate conversation. How much of your true self do you keep from the world?
“How’s my Izzy?” The affection in Clare’s voice made Izzy tempted to tell the truth.
I’m completely messed-up. Help me.
This wasn’t the time, of course, but maybe—maybe later—
“I’m good, Aunt Clare.” She softened her wooden tone with a wide smile. “How are you?”
“We’re doing great, thanks.” Clare eased away and stroked Izzy’s hair back from her face. “But look at you. You look wonderful.”
Molly tugged at Clare’s arm. “You need to meet Flora.”
Izzy saw an almost imperceptible change in Clare’s expression and realized that this was probably awkward for her, too. Izzy’s mom and Clare had been friends forever. Did she feel resentful that Jack was here with another woman?
Clare stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Good to meet you, Flora.” Her tone was so cool and polite that Izzy was taken aback. Clare was normally warm and friendly.
“I so appreciate you inviting me—” Flora broke off, cheeks pink, as if she’d realized that Clare hadn’t in fact invited her, and that she was really only here because of Jack.
“I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.” Clare sounded like a hotel owner greeting a guest who had trashed the room on their previous stay.
Izzy realized she was struggling and knew, right there and then, that she was never going to be able to confide in Aunt Clare. It would be too difficult. Clare had her own feelings to deal with.
No, Izzy was alone with this. She might as well have been shipwrecked on an island.
“You must be exhausted.” Clare led them into the house and suddenly Izzy was standing in front of Aiden. Her heart gave a little kick and her breathing felt weird. She almost made that most annoying of adult observations, you’ve grown, but she stopped herself in time. But he had grown. Had his shoulders always been that wide? No, definitely not. She tried to work out why she felt awkward and realized it was because he seemed more man than boy, a stranger. And then he gave her that funny smile that tilted his mouth more to one side than the other and he was Aiden again.
“Hi.” Deciding they were too old to hug without it seeming weird, she thrust her hands into the pockets of her jeans and grinned back.
He seemed a lot more comfortable with the situation than she was, but he’d always been that way. He didn’t much care what people thought of him. It was a trait she both admired and envied.
“Hey, Fizzy.” He’d given her that name when she’d been going through a phase of wanting fizzy drinks and it had stuck. “Good to see you.”
She wanted to say that it was good to see him, too, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she found it hard to speak. It might have been awkward, but they were saved by the arrival of Chase, who barked loudly and smacked everyone’s legs with his wagging tail.
“Chase.” Molly bent down to hug him and he licked her face and jumped on her.
“Don’t let him lick your face, sweetie. How many times have I told you not to jump!” Clare tugged at his collar. “Sit. Sit, you naughty dog.”
Molly laughed in a way Izzy hadn’t heard her laugh in a long time.
She made a fuss of the dog, too, all the time conscious of Aiden standing close by.
Thoroughly overexcited, Chase ripped himself away from Clare’s restraining hand and leaped at Flora, jumping up and planting muddy paws on her bright orange top.
“Chase!” Clare was appalled and embarrassed. “What a greeting. I’m so very sorry.”
“Oh don’t be. He’s adorable.” Instead of backing off, Flora dropped to her knees and hugged the dog. She was laughing, her eyes closed as Chase took full advantage. “Are you excited to see us? You beautiful, beautiful dog.” She stroked, tickled, made a fuss until Chase almost died of ecstasy.
Her orange top was spattered with muddy paw prints, but Flora didn’t seem to care.
Clare was looking at her oddly. “You like dogs?”
“I love all animals,” Flora said. “I always wanted a pet, but it wasn’t possible.”
Izzy stilled. She’d wanted a pet, too, but her mother had been horrified at the thought. Dogs are fine if you live
in the country, but they need walking, and they leave their hair everywhere—
“Chase was a rescue dog.” Clare gave his collar a little tug. “He was a year when we had him. Believe it or not we did a lot of training, but all that goes out of the window when he sees someone he likes.”
“Can I take him for a walk, Aunt Clare?” Molly was on her knees next to Flora, fussing over the dog.
“He’d love that and frankly so would I, but why don’t you wash your hands and have something to eat first? You’ve had a long journey and airplane food and the time change leaves you feeling strange. Come into the kitchen.” Clare herded them inside. “Are you hungry? I made a stack of ham sandwiches, and the scones are freshly baked. We still have homemade strawberry jam from last summer. Flora, I’m so sorry about your shirt. You’ll probably want to change and freshen up.”
“That would be good, thank you.” Flora grabbed her bag and paused, waiting to be directed.
Izzy saw Clare glance at her father and knew instinctively that she was wondering about sleeping arrangements. Izzy had been wondering that, too. Were Flora and her father sleeping together? She didn’t know. If they were, then they’d been discreet about it. But here things would be different. There was no work, or rushing around. The whole idea was to spend time together.
Her stomach ached.
“I’ve put Molly and Izzy in the turret as usual.” Clare was brisk and matter-of-fact. “Flora has the lake room, and Jack you’re next door. Hope that works.”
“I know the lake room. I’ll take you.” Molly grabbed Flora’s hand and they vanished from the room.
Izzy sat at the scrubbed kitchen table, looking at the stack of freshly baked golden scones and the thick, crusty sandwiches. The flight, the jet lag and the thought of this trip had left her stomach churning, but now she realized how hungry she was and also how tired. Not just from the journey but from life. The last year had been interminable. She was physically and mentally exhausted. She fought the impulse to put her head on the table and sob.
Her dad was asking about Todd, and Clare was answering.
Izzy was terrified she was going to break down. And then she felt a hand on her arm. It was Aiden.
“We bought a couple of paddleboards.” He pushed the sandwiches toward her. “Do you want to try them out? It’s fun.”
The change of subject snapped her out of her panic. “Thanks. I’d like that.”
“Turns out the lake is perfect for it.” He talked, pretty much about nothing really, not expecting her to respond and she wondered if he’d noticed her moment of near panic.
Molly reemerged with Flora, who had changed into a clean T-shirt, this time in a pretty shade of blue. She wore a pair of yellow shorts and her wild hair was held back by a red scrunchie.
She reminded Izzy of a bunch of spring flowers.
Izzy watched as she hovered in the doorway, her gaze flickering nervously to the people in the room. It was the first time she’d realized that this must be difficult for Flora, too.
Her pang of sympathy lasted less than a second. Her situation was way more serious than Flora’s.
She smiled at her sister and patted the chair next to her. “Come and eat something, Molly.”
Molly grabbed Flora’s hand. “I want to sit next to Flora.”
Izzy gritted her teeth. “There are two chairs, so you’re good. Flora can sit here, too.”
Molly dragged Flora to the table, and helped herself to a sandwich. “Aunt Clare makes the best cakes, but we can’t eat a cake until we’ve eaten the other stuff but that’s fine because it all tastes good. Different from sandwiches at home. Try it.” She passed the plate to Flora who gave a grateful smile and took one.
Izzy saw Clare glance curiously at Flora and then Molly.
Aiden grabbed a can of diet cola from the fridge and handed it to her, ignoring his mother’s disapproving frown.
The gesture somehow made her feel better. It made her feel that someone, at least, knew a little about her.
She ate several sandwiches and then a scone. She wished she and Aiden weren’t surrounded by people. The conversation between them was stilted, awkward, stuttering like a car that wouldn’t start.
It was always like this when they met after a long break. A little tense, each of them was trying to find the familiar parts of the other so they could reconnect.
Was he thinking about last summer, too? Was he thinking about that conversation they’d had while lying on the grass by the lake?
Maybe he was, because he took another sandwich and glanced at her. “You have to stick to British time, even though you’re tired, so the best thing is to be active. Do you want to take the kayaks out this afternoon?”
Did he mean all of them or just her?
Either way the answer was a yes. Doing something that required concentration might at least stop her thinking. Anything to get away from her life for five minutes.
“Sounds good. I brought a bathing suit and a wet suit.”
“Cool. We can use the boathouse to change.” He took a slug of his drink. “That okay with you, Mum?”
Clare handed Flora a mug of tea. “As long as you wear life jackets. You know the rules.”
Izzy waited for Molly to beg to be allowed to tag along, but she didn’t. Instead she was telling Flora about the birds and flowers that lived in the forest and suggesting they take Chase for a walk.
“Todd will be home soon,” Clare told Jack. “As it’s sunny, I thought we’d have a barbecue by the lake. I bought steaks and salmon, and we can barbecue veggies and halloumi for the veggies. What do you think?”
“Sounds great. We can help.” He stood up. “I’ll bring the rest of the luggage in from the car.”
Without all Becca’s cases, it had all fitted easily this time.
Aiden stood up, too, and gestured to Izzy to join him. “We’ll see you later.”
Izzy hesitated. “Will you be all right, Molly?”
Her sister nodded. “I’ll stay with Flora.”
Izzy was hurt at the dismissal, which made no sense because last year she’d been thrilled for every moment she’d been able to spend with Aiden without Molly tagging along.
Without bothering to unpack, she grabbed her bag with her swimming things and followed him across the lawn and down to the path that skirted the lake.
Aiden walked slightly ahead and she studied the soft fall of his T-shirt and the way his hair curled over the back of his neck.
They reached the stream with stepping-stones and he held out his hand.
“Don’t slip. We’ve had a lot of rain and it’s deeper than usual.”
She hesitated and then took his hand, feeling his fingers close tightly around hers. It was the first time she’d felt safe in a long time.
“Are you all right?” His voice was rough and she nodded.
“Fine. Just jet-lagged, I guess. You know how it is.”
“We don’t have to take the kayaks out. I just said that to keep the adults happy. I’ve got the key to the boathouse. We can grab some drinks and chill on the deck if you prefer.”
“Sure.” She stepped carefully on the shiny, slippery rocks, determined not to lose her footing. By the end of the holiday they’d probably laugh about it together, but right now their relationship still had that slightly roughened edge. Neither was sure who the other was, or if they had changed.
As soon as she was safely on the path again, she pulled her hand from his.
They made it to the boathouse and she slid off her shoes and walked inside in her bare feet.
“This place is incredible. Do you ever get used to it?” She gazed up at the soaring ceiling, the acres of glass that somehow brought the lake into the room. “I mean, I’d live here.”
Aiden headed for the kitchen area. “You’d go crazy, city girl.”
“Just because I live in a city doesn’t make me a city girl.”
He reached into the fridge and pulled out a couple of cans. He seemed olde
r somehow, as if an extra year in the world had added layers that weren’t visible to the naked eye.
“The way I see it, we have a choice.”
She took the drink from him. “What kind of choice?”
“Either we dive in and start where we left off, or we tiptoe around each other politely for a week or so and then finally click the way we always do and wish we hadn’t wasted half our time together trying to find our way back to the place we always end up.”
He had a way of finding clarity in situations that always seemed murky and complicated to her.
Flustered, she took a swallow of her drink. “What place is that?”
“The place where we feel comfortable to push each other into the water.” He grinned and nudged her toward the jetty. Now he seemed young again. A boy about to push a girl off the dock.
“I haven’t reached that point yet. I’m not ready to get wet.” Her bathing suit was in her bag along with an oversize towel that Clare had thrust at them, but she wasn’t in the mood. She sat down, watching sunlight dance over the surface. “I’d forgotten how perfect this place is. You’re lucky living here.”
“Yes, although I don’t often have time to sit here. And we usually have strangers occupying this place.”
“That must feel weird.”
He shrugged. “It brings in money.” He sat next to her, his arm brushing against hers as he lowered his feet into the lake. “But yeah, I’m possessive about this lake. I feel a sense of ownership.”
She lowered her feet in too and gasped as the icy water closed around her ankles. “It’s cold!”
“Wimp.”
“Says the guy who has never lived through a winter in New York.”
He laughed. “Last summer you were diving off here.”
Last summer she’d done a lot of things she was no longer doing.
They sat with their feet dangling into the water as they had when they were children.
“So—” He leaned down and rolled the legs of his jeans up a little farther. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what? How cold the water is?”
He ran his foot along the surface, making ripples. “Does that mean you don’t want to talk? You don’t have to. Whatever works for you. I didn’t want you to think I don’t care, that’s all. I remember you messaging me once telling me that none of your friends wanted to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to be that friend.”
