Into the Darkness (31 page)

“Yeah, right. A warm bath,” I muttered to myself. “I must be crazy.”

He turned to look out at the lake, and I slipped off my panties and stepped cautiously into the water. When I was only ankle-deep, he turned to splash me. I shrieked and then, half out of modesty and half to get it over with, dove in.

“Warm bath?” I cried after popping up. “You must have polar bear blood.”

“Give it a few minutes. You’ll get used to it and love it.” He swam over to me.

It was colder than how it felt out in the middle of the lake, but it wasn’t really bad. In fact, it felt more invigorating. I was able to stand, but the water was up to my neck. It was crystal-clear and easy to see to the bottom. Looking around us, I spotted some lake trout swimming amazingly close.

“Look,” I said, and pointed to them when they came even closer.

“If you don’t move, they’ll swim right between your legs,” Brayden said.

“No thank you.”

“Then I will,” he declared, and went under before I could say no. He lifted me up, and I screamed before I hit the water again. For a while, we were like two much younger children, teasing and taunting each other. When I was out of breath, he embraced me, and we stood quietly enjoying the moment.

On the portion of land that jutted out farther, I saw a raccoon. It paused to look out at us.

“We’re being watched,” I said.

“What?”

I nodded at it, and he turned to look.

“Oh.”

“They have such humanlike faces, don’t they?”

“Prettier than some human faces,” he said, “especially the faces of the envious ones.”

Above us, a flock of geese in their perfect V formation honked. It sounded more like a hink and a honk, but they were beautiful to watch.

“I guess I’m indoors too much. I never seem to notice all this.”

“Pushing farther south,” Brayden said, seeing what had caught my attention. “Seeing something beautiful like that must have reinforced Thoreau’s beliefs.”

“Were you always so into nature, Brayden?”

“No,” he said. “Actually, I came to it quite recently.”

“Why was that?”

“It became the only way for me to be in this world,” he said.

I smiled. “You’re an enigma wrapped in a puzzle,” I told him. He nodded and fell back into the water.

“Don’t be in a rush to find out what it all means. The fun is in the pursuit.”

“Sounds like something someone who had something to hide would say.”

“You talk too much,” he told me, and came at me again. We kissed, and then he fell back into the water again, and the two of us began to swim. We didn’t go far, but we were both above our heads. For a few moments, we treaded water and looked out at the activity across the lake. People were waterskiing, and there were also some small sailboats here and there, looking as if they were painted on the water. One of the motorboats crossing the lake seemed to be heading directly for us. We watched for a few moments. It wasn’t turning.

“We’d better pull back,” I said. He nodded, and we swam toward shore. The sound of the boat’s motor grew louder. “Shayne told me not to get too close around here because there were stumps. Do you think this person doesn’t know?”

“Maybe,” Brayden said. We moved closer to the small part of the shore that jutted out to be sure we would be hidden from view. I watched the lake nervously. The boat appeared and then veered sharply to its left, turning away. I was holding my breath. It was Shayne’s boat. He had another girl with him, and they were both laughing. I didn’t recognize her and assumed that it was someone he had met at another school nearby.

“That’s Shayne Allan. As you can see, he’s heartbroken over our short romance,” I said.

“Looks like he runs regular tours.”

We waited until the boat was far enough away, and then we got out of the water.

“Here,” he said, handing me his shirt. “Use this as a towel.”

“But what will you wear?”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t care if it’s wet. It was used to dry your skin, so it’s now very special to me. Here,” he said, when I didn’t take the shirt. “I’ll do it.”

He started to wipe my back and then worked over my shoulders.

“You’re really very, very beautiful, Amber,” he whispered, and kissed my neck. I laid my head back against his shoulder. We stood there for a moment, the slight chill over my body slowly evaporating with his body against mine. His hands moved down my sides and then up and over my breasts. I closed my eyes. My legs trembled.

“Let’s get back to the cabin and get the food you brought,” he whispered. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“I am. I didn’t eat that much breakfast.”

We both dressed quickly, silently. Neither of us spoke. I was still trembling, but not from the cool lake. He took my hand, and we walked back to the cabin, still not speaking. As we went through the woods, I saw rabbits and what I was sure was a small fox. It was as if all of the animals were following along with us. Even birds seemed to be flitting from tree to tree to keep up. The foliage was very heavy. In some places, the trees that had grown close to each other crossed branches, their leaves creating a green ceiling over the shaded, cooler places. We paused at one of those places, and he turned to me.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“You’re so quiet.”

“I’m just enjoying it all so much,” I said. “Besides, you’re not exactly a motormouth.”

He laughed and kissed me softly. When he did, the sun moved as if it intended to send its rays between two trees and spotlight us in the woods. The rays fell around us. I was transfixed, caught up in a moment of pure ecstasy, but Brayden looked up at the sunlight and squinted. He looked very upset and unhappy for a moment, in fact. It was as if he thought the sun had disturbed us rather than highlighting us as something special. He turned quickly and, still holding my hand, walked faster through the woods, more like someone fleeing, again moving silently.

“Are you all right?” I asked when we closed in on the cabin.

“Yes, yes,” he said with the rapidity of someone who
wanted to get the issue off the table. “Let’s just get to our picnic.”

We entered the cabin, and I picked up the bag with our sandwiches and the brownies I had made. He seemed suddenly distant to me and stood for a moment as if he had forgotten where he was and what was happening. I thought perhaps he was worrying about his mother.

“Maybe you should check your cell phone,” I said. He looked at me, then nodded and did so.

“Nothing. C’mon,” he said, grabbing the bottles of spring water. “We should sit close at the lake.”

I could hear and even feel an urgency about him. He was acting like someone who expected to hear a whistle declaring an end to our enjoyment. Maybe he was anticipating a call from the clinic or his father, I thought.

We left the cabin, and he led me to another fairly clear area close to the water. I took out the light blanket and spread it, and we sat. He was still quieter than usual as I took out the sandwiches. I studied him. For all the time he had been outside, he hadn’t picked up much of a tan. His skin was as clear as it was the first day I saw him, the same fair complexion, whereas I had begun to darken. Of course, I had spent hours on the lake in a boat, but Brayden never wore a hat, and he had told me that he was out every day.

“I made you some brownies,” I said, and he looked at the food.

“Wow, that’s great. Thanks.”

“You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, and unwrapped his sandwich.

We sat there eating slowly and watching the activity on the lake. Whenever I turned my eyes to him, they met his. It was almost as if we were tuned to each other and our eyes moved in sync.

“So many boats out there today,” I said.

“They ride those motorboats late into the night.”

“Do they? What did you do this morning?” I asked.

“Nothing much. Waited for you.”

“Well,” I said, thinking that this might get him more animated, “you’ll be happy to know that I followed your advice about Shayne.”

He turned quickly. “How?”

“I told someone this morning that the story about me and Shayne was true, but I added the idea you suggested.”

“Really?” He smiled. “And?”

“Well, I told it to this friend of mine, Ellie, who, although she pretends to be my best friend and is the girl I’m probably closest to, I’m sure has already spread the story, even though I deliberately asked her not to, knowing that she would. It’s probably heating up cell phones as we speak.”

He laughed. “I’m proud of you.” He tapped his bottled water against mine in a toast. “Great sandwich by the way,” he said. “Thanks.”

“I’m actually a pretty good cook. I’ve been working with my mother in the kitchen ever since I could hold a dish. You’ll have to let me make you a real dinner soon. My mother keeps asking to meet you.”

“Does she? You’re a complete woman, Amber. You’re bright and beautiful and compassionate and capable.
Someday some lucky guy is practically going to rupture his tongue rushing to say ‘I do.’”

“Why can’t that be you?”

He smiled but lost the smile quickly and turned away.

“What?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t bet too much on my future.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s just take it an hour at a time. I won’t even say day,” he told me.

It was as if a dark cloud had moved over the sun. I felt the chill shoot through my body. All of his trouble and sadness came rushing in around us as though we had left an opening in the wall of happiness we had built around ourselves. It was always waiting, lurking just outside, hoping to have an opportunity. Right behind it came reality, angry that it had been put aside and not given the respect it deserved. Here we were, pretending to be in our own safe, magical place, while not that far away, his mother floated in some pool of great depression. From the way he had described his father and from the little I knew, Brayden was more like an orphan, someone who did not know his own past and did not even dare to dream of his own future.

I reached out to touch him. His arm felt strangely cold. For a moment, it was as though he had lost all feeling and didn’t realize my hand was on his forearm. Finally, he turned and smiled.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Amber. These hours are too special to lose or damage by worrying about what’s to come and what isn’t.”

“Okay,” I said in a tiny voice, the voice of someone much younger, the voice of a little girl who was afraid of losing her childhood faith and imaginary friends. Somehow, at one time or another, when we reach a certain point, we know we’ll soon cross a line and leave that precious place where all hard and true realities are uninvited, where we can curl up comfortably around our dreams and feel invulnerable and protected.

Brayden’s right. Let’s not think. Let’s not worry. Let’s not go there for now,
I told myself.

I felt moved by his ravenous hope and hunger for some happiness. Leaning toward him, I offered my lips to show him that I agreed, and we kissed softly. He brushed his hand through my hair and looked at me as if he wanted to remember every inch of my face. Then he seemed to snap out of his reverie and return to his sandwich, holding it up.

“Delicious.”

He drank some water, and we ate in silence for a few moments before we finished and lay back on the blanket. He put his arm around my shoulders, and we stared up at the sky. A lonely cloud had somehow lost its way crossing from one horizon to another and appeared to be driven in two directions. The winds above eventually began to unravel it. It broke into gauzy wisps of itself and then moved in one direction more than the other.

“Clouds are slaves to the wind,” Brayden said. “I wrote that in one of my poems.”

“I like it,” I said. “When will you let me read your poems?”

“When I’m finished,” he said. He sat up and plucked a brownie out of the wrapped paper. “Now, this,” he said, holding up another, “is a real poem.”

“Right.”

We turned when a peal of laughter sounded very close by. It came from our right.

“There’s someone in the woods,” I said.

He nodded. “Let’s get out of the open.”

We moved quickly to pick up our things and fold the blanket. He led me down behind some thick bushes, and we waited and listened. We heard their voices grow louder and moments later saw the Russell twins with one of their friends, a shorter, stouter, dark-haired girl. I didn’t know who she was, but she stopped to complain about scratching herself on a low bush. They were all wearing shorts.

“There’s no one here,” the girl whined. “Let’s go back. I want to go swimming, and your mother said we were going to have ice cream sundaes soon.”

“I’m sure I saw some girl walking in the woods,” one of the twins said. “It looked like Amber Taylor.”

“Well, she’s gone.”

They stood there a moment, and then the twins relented and turned around.

“I wondered if they might have seen us when we were at the spring,” I told Brayden.

He nodded. “Someone’s always ruining it. Glad they didn’t find the cabin though.”

“Maybe we should return to your house,” I said. “Or we could go to mine.”

He thought a moment. “I like the idea of going to yours, maybe to your room.”

“Yes, of course. There’s no one home. It’s a big day at the store, I’m sure.”

“All right.”

He helped me wrap up everything and get it all back into the bag. Then he paused and looked sharply at the woods again.

“Are they coming back?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “Brayden?”

“What? Oh, no. They’re gone.”

“Good. Ready?”

He turned back to the woods. Maybe it was just my imagination, but despite the warm sunshine and the soft breeze coming over the lake, I felt a darkness, a chilling emptiness. For a few moments, all of the sounds around us, the monotonous hum of boat engines and the chirping birds, went silent.

“Brayden?”

I touched his arm. It felt like ice, so cold that I jerked my fingers off.

He turned slowly. His eyes looked different, more gray. “Tell you what,” he said. “You head home first. I’ll follow in a while. I want to check on my mother and my father and then get all my stuff together.”