Moonlight on Butternut Lake (26 page)

He patted the edge of his bed, meaning for her to sit down on it, but she eyed it uncertainly and kept standing.

“Do you ever feel like we see each other more at night than we do during the day?” she asked him, with something close to a smile.

“Sometimes. But I don't really care when I see you. As long as I
do
see you.”

She smiled at him then, a shy smile, and he knew she felt the same way about him. She sat down gingerly on the very edge of his bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, already knowing that in some important way, she was not okay.

She nodded. “Yes. But I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I don't want to be alone tonight.”

“Then be with me,” he said simply. “It's not as if I sleep that much anyway. What do you want to do? We could watch a movie. Or play cards. Do you like cards?”

“I . . . they're okay. But that's not really what I had in mind.”

“No?”

“Can I . . . can I stay in your bed with you?” she asked, her cheeks coloring almost imperceptibly.

“Oh,” he said, after a moment of confusion. Delightful confusion. At least until he realized what she must mean. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “I know the drill. I'll stay on my side of the bed, and you'll stay on yours.”

But she shook her head. “No, not tonight. Tonight, I need you to hold me.”

He nodded, slowly, but realized he still needed to clarify something. “Just hold you, Mila? Nothing more?”

“Yes. Is that all right? I mean, I want, I
need,
actually, to be with you, but not the way I was with you in the kitchen before. Just . . .”

“Just holding,” Reid finished for her. “I can do that,” he said, though inwardly he was less confident. They had slept together before without even touching each other. But that was before . . . well, before tonight. Before the kitchen. Now, it would be harder. Still, if that was what she needed from him, that was what she would get from him. Even if it killed him. And it might actually kill him, he thought ruefully, as he lay down on his bed and made room for her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, lying down beside him, and after she'd arranged the covers over them, she reached over and turned off the light.

He turned on his side and propped himself on one elbow. “How do we do this, exactly?” he asked, looking at her in the dark and feeling like an idiot.

She laughed. “I don't know. I don't think there's an instruction manual. Why don't you lie down and I'll lie down next to you and we'll take it from there.”

So Reid lay down and wondered why he always felt as if everything
he did with Mila he was doing for the first time. He thought,
Is it possible I've just asked her how I should hold her?
That was ridiculous. Holding a woman was like Seduction 101, and he was pretty sure he'd done well in that class the first time he'd taken it, back in high school

But with Mila, he thought as she lay down next to him, everything was different. He didn't want to just hold her; he wanted to hold her as perfectly as it was possible to hold someone. So he waited while she nestled against him, and then he helped her arrange and then rearrange their limbs, until they were both comfortable.

“Is this okay?” he finally asked. He was lying on his back, and she was cradled in his arms, her head resting at the base of his neck, her breasts crushed gently against his chest, her legs resting beside his legs, but not on top of them.

“It's fine,” she said, into his neck. “But can you sleep like this?”

“I'm practically asleep now,” he lied.

“Good,” she said, snuggling closer.

For a long time after that, they lay perfectly still, Mila at last relaxing into his arms, and Reid trying, with every ounce of his being, to not become aroused. He did this by thinking about things far outside of the room. The least exciting things, really, he could think of. He thought about an insurance policy he needed to renew on one of the boatyards. And about the upcoming quarterly tax filing for his and Walker's company.

And when his mind came back to this room, back to this bed, and back to Mila, he realized that the danger had passed. Mila was asleep, her body resting in his arms, her breathing regular as her chest rose and fell against his.
God, she smells so good,
he thought, inhaling deeply. She smelled like pure soap and clean towels. And it went without saying that she
felt
wonderful, too.
He couldn't resist, now, running his hand along one of her bare arms. Her skin was so soft, he marveled, and even now, on a chilly night, it felt warm to his touch, as if it were somehow lit from within.

He returned his hand to the small of her back, where it had been resting, and let his body relax beside the gentle weight of her. He hadn't thought he'd be able to sleep tonight. He'd fully expected to lie awake until morning, watching over her. But gradually, he felt the tension ebb out of his body, until he was suspended somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. And that was when he realized something. Something amazing. His and Mila's hearts were beating in time with each other. He could feel them, pressed together, separated only by the thin cotton of his undershirt and her nightgown. How was this even possible? he wondered. He'd heard of it before, of course, but only in cheesy love songs, or on tacky greeting cards.
Two hearts that beat as one
. He'd never given much thought, though, to the idea that it could actually happen.

He tightened his arms around her. “I love you, Mila Jones,” he said. But the only answer was the steady rhythm of her breathing.

T
he morning after the alarm went off, Mila and Lonnie were in the kitchen together when they heard a truck rumbling up the gravel driveway.

“It's Hank,” Lonnie said, looking out the window as the UPS truck came into view. She was at the kitchen sink, up to her elbows in soapy water, but she snatched up a dish towel to dry her hands on and was out the door before the truck had even stopped. Mila, who was sitting at the breakfast table, picking at the remains of her French toast, watched Hank get out of his truck. He seemed as eager to see Lonnie as she was to see him, though it was the third time this week he'd been to the cabin. Mila wondered if he even had a package to deliver. But he did. He handed it over to Lonnie, and after a few minutes of conversation, he got reluctantly back into his truck and drove away. When Lonnie came back into the kitchen, she was humming.

“It's a package for Reid,” she said to Mila, setting it down on the table. “Do you want to take it to him when you're done?”

“All right,” Mila said, feigning interest in her French toast. She knew there was no way Lonnie could know about her and
Reid's unconventional sleeping arrangement last night, but for some reason she still felt self-conscious around her this morning. Mila hadn't seen Reid yet; he'd been sleeping when she'd left him this morning, and by the time she'd showered and come to the kitchen, he'd skipped breakfast and had Lonnie bring him a cup of coffee in the study instead.

“It's wonderful that Reid's working again,” Lonnie said, going back to the sink. “When he first came here, straight from the rehabilitation center, he wasn't interested in
anything
. Can you believe what a difference a summer makes?”

“No, I can't,” Mila said honestly. And the difference wasn't confined to Reid, either. She hadn't thought she'd be able to sleep last night after the cabin's alarm had gone off, but she'd been wrong. She'd slept more deeply than she had all summer. She'd felt so safe in Reid's arms, so protected, and so . . .
so cherished,
she realized, with a little jolt of surprise. So completely and utterly cherished. What would it be like, she wondered, to feel that way every night of your life, and every day, too?

“So what do you think?” she heard Lonnie ask her now from across the kitchen.

“About what?” Mila said, embarrassed. She hadn't heard a word of whatever Lonnie had been saying.

“About Hank asking me out for dinner,” Lonnie said, frowning slightly as she came over to the table.

“I think it's wonderful,” Mila said honestly.

“I think so too,” Lonnie said, sitting down across from Mila. “The thing is, though, I haven't dated a man in twenty-five years. I'm not sure I remember how to.”

“It'll come back to you,” Mila said encouragingly.

“Will it?”

“Absolutely.”

But Lonnie looked unsure. “Do you think,” she said, after a moment, “that instead of going out to a restaurant with Hank I could have him over to my house for dinner? I think I'd feel more relaxed.” She added, almost shyly, “And I think he'd like my chicken pot pie.”

“Lonnie, he'll
love
your chicken pot pie,” Mila said. “Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.”

“Then there's only one other thing I'm worried about.”

“What's that?”

“I'm worried that if he comes over, he'll want to sit in Sven's—my late husband's—armchair. It's right in the middle of the living room. And my God, Sven loved that chair. If he was home, he was sitting in it. And now, when guests come over, they seem to gravitate toward it. Why, I don't know. It's nothing to look at. You know the kind. Brown leather, all cracked and worn. Sort of like an old shoe,” she said, with a chuckle. “But it
is
comfortable. I'll grant it that. And I have a feeling that if Hank comes over, he'll sit right down in it. And it'll just feel . . . I don't know, wrong somehow. Disrespectful to Sven's memory.”

“And you don't want to give it away?” Mila asked gently, hoping she wasn't overstepping her boundaries here.

“Oh no, I couldn't. Not yet, anyway.”

“Could you . . . put it in another room? A bedroom, maybe?”

Lonnie wavered, then shook her head. “No, that would feel wrong, too. Like I was banishing it or something.”

Mila thought about it some more. “I know,” she said. “Keep the chair. And leave it exactly where it is. But before Hank comes over, put something on it—a pile of folded laundry, maybe—so he can't sit down on it.”

“That might work,” Lonnie said thoughtfully. “But what about the next time he comes over? If there is a next time, I mean.”

“More laundry?” Mila suggested.

“But I live alone,” Lonnie pointed out. “How much laundry can one person have?”

Mila laughed. “It doesn't matter. Just put something there until you're ready to let another man sit in it.”

“And if I'm never ready?”

“Then you'll put one of those velvet ropes across it. The way they do to the antique chairs in museums.”

Now it was Lonnie's turn to laugh. “Well, I better be getting back to work,” she said, getting up from the table. “Are you done with that?” She motioned to Mila's breakfast plate, which had only a crust of French toast left on it.

“I'm done,” Mila said, as Lonnie cleared it away. It was still hard for her, even after two months, to let Lonnie wait on her this way. But now she reached for the package on the table. “I guess I'll take this in to Reid, then,” she said, with elaborate casualness. “Oh, and Lonnie? The house alarm malfunctioned again last night. Reid said he was going to call someone to come out today and fix the faulty sensor.”

She carried the package to the study and tapped lightly on the closed door, her heart beating annoyingly fast. Not with fear, like last night, but with excitement. “Come in,” Reid called immediately, and Mila remembered the long sulky silences that used to greet her whenever she knocked on Reid's bedroom door. Lonnie was right. What a difference a summer had made.

“Hi,” she said, cracking open the door. “The UPS man delivered this.” She held up the package. “I thought you might need it.”

“Oh, thanks,” Reid said, smiling and leaning back in the swivel chair. His left leg, in its brace, was stretched out in front of him, and his crutches were propped by the side of the desk. “I've been expecting that.”

Mila came into the office, feeling suddenly shy. It happened every time she saw Reid now. No matter how much time she spent thinking about him when they weren't together, she was completely unprepared for the reality of him when they were together. Objectively, of course, she knew he was good-looking. But knowing it was different from feeling it. And this morning she was struck, with a whole new force, by the sheer physicality of his presence.

It was amazing to her, really, that someone who had been in such a devastating accident such a short time ago could radiate such good health now. He'd put back on the weight he'd lost after the accident, and it looked good on him. His new tan, which he'd gotten watching Mila's swimming lessons, looked good on him too. He smiled at her, and his smile caught at her heart, and the feeling was sweet and bittersweet at the same time. Sweet because she knew that she loved him, and bittersweet because she knew that she shouldn't.

She came over to him then and handed him the package. “I don't want to disturb you,” she said, starting to leave.

“You're not disturbing me.”

“I did last night,” she said guiltily, turning around.

“The alarm going off disturbed both of us.”

“
After
the alarm went off, I mean. I'm sorry. I'm a grown-up. I should be able to sleep alone.” That wasn't all she wanted to apologize to him for. But that list was long and complicated. Too complicated, probably, for this conversation.

“Well, I should be sleeping alone too,” Reid said. “But that hasn't stopped me from asking you to spend the night with me, has it?” He picked up the package and held it out to her. “This is for you, by the way,” he said.

“For me?” she said. It was addressed to Reid.

“Well, I ordered it for you. Go ahead, open it,” he said, reaching into his top desk drawer and handing her a letter opener. She used it to slice through the flap of the padded envelope, then reached inside and pulled out two new test prep books. “You ordered these for me?” she asked, looking up in surprise.

“Uh-huh. I knew you'd been studying the same ones all summer. I thought you were probably ready for something new.”

“I don't have these two yet,” she said, excited by her new windfall. But then she caught herself. “Reid, you know you didn't have to do this,” she said.

“I wanted to.”

“Well, I'll pay you back,” she said.

“Whatever,” he said.

“No, I mean it.”

“Okay, fine. But I'm going to owe you, too.”

“For what?”

“For providing me with a new source of entertainment.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Starting tonight, I'm going to be administering your practice tests,” he said. “And scoring them, too.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it'll be fun.”

“It doesn't sound fun.”

“Well, maybe not for you. But only because you'll be the one doing all the work.”

She hesitated, touched by his offer, but he misread her hesitation. “Mila, look, it's not a big deal,” he said. “Friends help each other out sometimes, that's all.”

Do friends also sleep in the same bed together?
she wanted to ask him. But she already knew the answer to that. They did not.

Something about her expression made him smile at her,
though, and she felt it again, that tightening around her heart. “What are you thinking, Mila?” he asked.

“I'm thinking that it was incredibly thoughtful of you to order these books for me,” she said. But what she was
really
thinking was that if she spent the night in the same bed with him again, there was no way she was going to be satisfied with having him just hold her.

T
ime,” Reid said, looking up from his watch later that evening.

“Already?” Mila said in dismay, dropping her pencil onto her open test prep book.

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I have five more minutes?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you're not going to get five more minutes when you take the real test.”

“You're right.” Mila sighed, rubbing her eyes.

“Here, let me see that,” Reid said, reaching for her answer sheet across the card table they were sitting at in the study. He compared her answer sheet to the answer key in the book while Mila massaged her temples and wished they were spending this chilly evening playing a board game, or watching television, or doing almost anything other than what they were doing now. She'd liked doing the practice problems before tonight, but that was because she'd done them alone, without timing herself, and without thinking too much, either, about what taking the actual test would be like.

“Not bad,” Reid said, looking up from the answer key. “You got nineteen out of twenty-one right. But that's out of the problems you did. You never got to the last four problems.”

“No kidding,” Mila said, feeling discouraged. “But I don't think I'll ever finish all the problems in the time allotted.”

“Of course you will.”

“Reid, it can't be done.”

“Of course it can,” Reid said.

“How do you know that?”

“Well,
I
don't know it. But the people who design the tests know it. Besides, Mila, you're accuracy is good. It's excellent, in fact. You just have to do the problems faster.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“By timing yourself every time you do one of those sections, and by learning to pace yourself so you never spend too much time on any one problem. And by not getting discouraged,” he added. “Take tonight, for instance. This was just your first try being timed. I'll time you on a different section now, and then another one after that, and you can see if your scores get better. I think they will.”

“Reid, you have got to be kidding about my doing another one of those now,” Mila protested.

“I'm completely serious,” he said.

“But my brain . . . my brain already feels like it's about to explode.”

“Well, it might feel that way,” he said, “but I think even without a nursing degree you know that's not actually possible.” He reached for her test booklet and flipped through it until he found what he was looking for, then passed it back over to her.

“Here, try this section,” he said. “You have twenty minutes to do it in.”

“Can I have twenty-one?” she asked.

“You know what?” he said, feigning seriousness. “Just for asking that, I'm going to give you nineteen.”

She laughed. “And what are you going to be doing for those nineteen minutes?”

“I'm going to be watching you do those problems.”

“That sounds fascinating.”

“You'd be amazed, actually, at how fascinating I'm finding it,” he said, and he smiled at her, a smile that made her think of everything else they could do in nineteen minutes.

“Are you ready?” he said, tapping on his watch.

She nodded and managed, finally, to stop staring at him long enough to glance down at the problems on the page in front of her.

“All right, go!”