Rum Spring (22 page)

“How’s the weather in Kansas today, Dorothy?” he asked.

With a start, Rebecca realized the man was only joking with her. She had misjudged him. His seemingly cutting comments weren’t meant to be hurtful. They were just his way of making fun. She decided to play along.

“The skies were clear when I left, but I hear there’s a chance of tornadoes later so I would hold on to your broomstick if I were you.”

“It’s more fun when I have someone else do it,” he replied with a playful swat to Rebecca’s arm. “So where are you really from, Dorothy?”

“Pennsylvania.”

“Really? Which part?”

“You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s a small town called Lutz.”

He perked up. “Ooh, Amish country. I used to live there a hundred years ago. I froze my twigs and berries off each winter until I wised up and moved to Florida to thaw out. My husband Alan and I come up here for a couple of weeks each summer.” He pointed to the man standing next to Dylan in the DVD section. Both Alan and Dylan looked up and waved. “So what’s your name?”

“Rebecca. Rebecca Lapp.”

“Lewis Conrad. It’s a—” The man’s smile faltered. “Wait. Did you say Lapp? I know there are hundreds of Lapps in Lancaster County, but you wouldn’t be related to Amos Lapp, would you?”

“He’s my uncle.”

“Then I guess it really does run in the family,” Lewis said. “Is Samuel Lapp your father?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Honey, we’re all friends here. Don’t call me sir. It’s ma’am. How is your uncle? Is he still as handsome as ever?”

“Yes, s—” She caught herself just before the offending word could escape her lips. “How do you know my uncle?”

“Let’s just say you two have more in common than you might think.”

Rebecca pondered what he might mean by that but decided the answer couldn’t be as obvious as it seemed. Or could it? If it were true, it would explain so much—why Uncle Amos had never started a family, why he had not sought a higher position in the church, why he preferred to live alone, why she felt closer to him than she did to the other members of her family. It all made sense.

“Did he ever let Samuel talk him into finding a wife?”

“No, Uncle Amos can be pretty stubborn when he wants to be.”

“Yes, I know,” Lewis said wistfully. He looked off in the distance as if he were remembering old times.

Rebecca longed to hear about those times but she knew it wasn’t Lewis’s place to tell her about them. It was Uncle Amos’s.

Alan beckoned Lewis to join him. “I’d better see what Her Majesty wants. When you get back to Lutz, tell Amos I said hello.”

“I will.”

Watching Lewis and Alan interact with each other, Rebecca wished some of the happiness they had obviously found could have been passed on to her uncle. She didn’t know how he would react when she gave him Lewis’s message. Would he be grateful to receive news of a long-lost friend or would he be devastated to realize the secret he had worked so hard to maintain had been exposed?

She tried to put herself in his shoes. She tried to imagine what she would do if she were in his position. She didn’t have to try very hard. She was already in his position. The question was, could she keep her secret as long as he had or would she eventually tire of the charade? Could she live without Dylan? Could she live without love?

Dylan and Rebecca had dinner at the Lobster Pot, where the seafood was as good as advertised. Better, even. Unfortunately, Rebecca seemed to be too preoccupied with other matters to enjoy her meal.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Rebecca pushed aside her half-eaten plate of blackened tuna. “What do you mean?”

Dylan had told herself not to expect too much from the trip. The voyage was supposed to be mindless fun, not a search for self-discovery. There would be plenty of sightseeing but no earth-shattering revelations or romantic From Here to Eternity–style rolls in the surf. So why didn’t Rebecca seem to be having fun?

“You’ve been quiet since we left the bookstore. You haven’t even touched the novels you bought. Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Do you remember that man I was talking to?”

“The one in the Hawaiian shirt? What about him?”

“He used to live in Lutz. He says he knows Uncle Amos.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“He said he knows Uncle Amos.”

“Ah,” Dylan said as recognition slowly dawned on her. No wonder Rebecca was so quiet. Her brain was probably working overtime as she tried to determine how the revelation about her uncle’s secret would affect her ability to keep her own. Would it make it more or less likely for her to come out? “So is Lewis the reason your uncle never married? Is he the one your uncle tried to build a life with?”

“Tried and failed.”

“You aren’t your uncle, Rebecca. You can do anything you set your mind to. I’ve always told you that. If you tried to live a life different from the one you’ve chosen—”

“My decision is made, Dylan.”

Dylan felt as if she were butting her head against the same brick wall. But she was going to keep slamming into that wall until she broke through—or died trying. “I’m not asking you to change your mind, Rebecca. But if I were you, I wouldn’t make any more decisions until I talked to my uncle.” She left enough money on the table to cover the bill and the tip. “Are you ready to go back to the hotel?”

“If we do that, I’ll spend the rest of the night trying to come up with answers to problems I can’t solve on my own. Take me dancing. I want to get lost in the music.”

And I want to get lost in you.

“Unfortunately, we’re too young to get into most of the clubs in town. Even though we won’t drink anything alcoholic, we still have to be twenty-one to go inside.”

Dylan watched Rebecca’s face fall. Running her hands through her hair, she tried to think of a way to lift Rebecca’s sinking spirits. She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got an idea.” She grabbed Rebecca’s hand and pulled her to her feet. They walked through the narrow streets, squeezing past pedestrians and snarled traffic until they reached their hotel.

“Why did you bring me back here?” Rebecca asked.

Dylan turned to Rebecca and smiled. “Just trust me.”

She led them to the communal area next to the pool, where employees in the hotel’s snack bar were dishing out veggie burgers, nachos, and tofu hot dogs to a half-dozen women huddled around three outdoor heaters. The in-house DJ was playing a mixture of dance music, ballads, and disco.

Dylan bought a couple of Cokes and steered Rebecca to an empty table. Instead of sitting down, she walked over to the DJ and made a request.

“What are you up to?” Rebecca asked after Dylan returned to the table.

Dylan grinned. “You said you wanted to dance, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Rebecca said slowly. Warily.

An Indigo Girls song ended and a new tune began.

“Come on,” Dylan said. “They’re playing our song.”

Rebecca cocked her head and listened to the music. She didn’t recognize the song, but she did recognize the dance the other women were performing on the makeshift dance floor. They were doing the Electric Slide, one of the dances Dylan had taught her the night she learned to dance.

Rebecca rushed to join the crowd. Dylan was right. Doing the Electric Slide was more fun with more people participating. Even though Rebecca didn’t know the women who surrounded her, she felt a kinship with them. She felt like she was part of something bigger than herself.

When the music slowed, she hesitated only briefly before she settled into Dylan’s arms. She liked the way Dylan’s arms felt wrapped around her. She rested her head on Dylan’s shoulder and sighed deeply. She felt safe. And loved.

When the song ended, Rebecca looked up at the stars, dazzling pinpricks of light that glittered overhead. “I can’t believe we’re here,” she whispered.

“Neither can I.”

Rebecca pulled her eyes away from the night sky. Dylan wasn’t looking at the breathtaking view. She was looking at her. Rebecca felt her face flush.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said.

“For?”

Loving me.

“Everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It was my pleasure.”

“No,” Rebecca thought, “the pleasure was all mine.”

Upstairs, Dylan changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed. She lay with her back to Rebecca, her face toward the opposite wall. Rebecca assumed an identical position on the other side of the bed. A chasm that felt as wide as the Grand Canyon lay between them. Rebecca wanted to lay with her body pressed against Dylan’s, but she knew she could not—should not bridge the gap.

Dylan fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Rebecca thought she should have been equally exhausted after their long day but she was too excited to sleep. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling waiting for the sun to come up so she could do it all over again.

Rebecca listened to the tour guide’s narration with one ear. The other was tuned to the sound of the waves crashing in the distance.

“Coming up on your left,” the guide said, “you will see some of Provincetown’s famous ‘dune shacks,’ structures originally built by the Life Saving Service, an early version of the Coast Guard, as shelters for shipwrecked seamen. Provincetown is home to seventeen of these shacks. Built within the dunes themselves, they have no electricity, running water, or modern conveniences, but that didn’t stop them from serving as inspiration for artists and writers such as Eugene O’Neill, John Dos Passos, Edmund Wilson, Susan Glaspell, Harry Kemp, and Hazel Hawthorne-Werner.”

Rebecca craned her neck to get a better look at the desolate structures. Next to her, Dylan snapped picture after picture with her digital camera.

After they passed the Peaked Hill Life Saving Station, the tour guide parked the SUV in the shadow of a wind-gnarled pine tree and shut off the engine. Rebecca stepped down, her feet sinking into the sand. Wispy beach grass brushed her legs as she walked. “For you.” Dylan pulled a plum from her jacket pocket and handed Rebecca the prize. The fruit’s dark red flesh was sweet and ripe. When Rebecca bit into it, juice trickled down her chin. She reached to wipe it off but Dylan beat her to it. She brushed the pulpy liquid off Rebecca’s chin with her thumb and stuck her thumb in her mouth. “Delicious,” she said, licking her lips. “Lunch will pale in comparison after that.”

Rebecca’s heart was beating so hard she could barely breathe. Dylan said she wanted to be friends, but sometimes it seemed like she wanted more. Sometimes Rebecca felt like she did, too. The feelings she thought would fade with time had only grown stronger. Whenever Dylan took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, friendship was the last thing on Rebecca’s mind. But she had made her choice. Both she and Dylan had accepted it. Both had moved on. Hadn’t they?

The tour guides set up a portable grill and stoked it with charcoal briquettes. When the charcoal reached the proper temperature, they added marinated salmon filets and seasoned T-bones to the grill. While they waited for the food to be prepared, Rebecca and Dylan walked down to the shoreline. Rebecca dipped her fingers in the water, pulling back in shock when she felt how cold it was. A flock of hungry water birds circled overhead, occasionally diving into the water in search of food.

“Look!” Rebecca pointed to a colorful bird with a writhing fish clutched between its claws.

Dylan raised her camera and quickly snapped a picture. “You don’t get out much, do you?” she said lightly.

Rebecca felt comfortable enough to make a joke at her own expense. “I can’t be trusted in towns with populations greater than a couple thousand.”

Dylan draped her arm across Rebecca’s shoulder. “Then I’d better be sure to keep my eye on you so you don’t get into trouble.”

Rebecca hesitantly slipped her arm around Dylan’s waist. When Dylan didn’t protest, she left it there. “How do you plan to do that?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

“You always do.”

They spent the rest of the week relaxing at their hotel, either hanging out near the snack bar or sitting in the oversized chairs on the front porch. Then Dylan discovered the Jacuzzi on the back deck. She released a loud moan as she submerged herself up to her neck in the heated water.

Rebecca, a blanket thrown over her legs, lay on a lounge chair. She was grateful for the cool temperatures. If the weather were warmer, she would be expected to strip down to a swimsuit. She didn’t think she’d feel comfortable doing that with so many people around.

“You wouldn’t believe how good this feels,” Dylan said.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“We’ll see if you still feel that way when you get out.”

Dylan’s smile disappeared. “I hadn’t thought about that.” She shrugged and dipped lower into the swirling water. “All the more reason to stay in.”

Rebecca couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much. Yes, she could. The last time she had been with Dylan. When the two of them had sat and watched Michael play with his Christmas presents. When they had felt like something much deeper than friends or lovers. When they had felt like a family.

Rebecca shook herself out of her reverie and returned to her book. She couldn’t dwell on the past. Not when the future was staring her in the face. It was Friday. The last day of their trip. In less than twenty-four hours, they would have to catch the ferry to Boston and begin the journey home. The journey back to reality.

Rebecca jerked her head up when Dylan let out a high-pitched squeal. “Oh, God, that’s cold.” Water dripping off her lithe frame, Dylan stood quaking on the pool deck. Her mottled skin was covered in goose bumps. A complimentary beach towel was within arm’s reach, but she seemed—literally—frozen in place.

“Let me help.” Rebecca tossed her blanket over her shoulder and ran toward Dylan. She grabbed a towel and dried Dylan’s hair. Then she vigorously rubbed the towel over Dylan’s arms and legs. Dylan shivered violently, her teeth chattering so loud Rebecca feared they might shatter.

“G-go ahead. S-say ‘I told you so.’”

Rebecca shook her head. Dylan looked too miserable to make fun of. “Maybe later.” She had heard the best treatment for hypothermia was body heat. She wrapped the blanket around Dylan and pulled her into her arms. “Is that better?” she asked, rubbing Dylan’s back through the thick blanket. Dylan didn’t say anything, but she moved closer. She buried her face in the curve of Rebecca’s neck. Her skin felt like ice. “I’ll take that as a yes.”