Leigh wanted to take the nightgown off, to stand naked in the moonlight and feel the breeze all over her.
Not here, at the end of the pier. Someone might be watching.
From over the water came a quiet groan.
It didn’t sound human.
Metallic, almost like an oarlock.
The sound startled Leigh out of her dreamy languor. She stiffened. Her eyes searched the darkness.
The boat was a vague blur on the lake’s black surface. In the center sat an upright shape. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t noticed it at once; the boat was directly ahead, no more than fifty feet beyond the end of the pier.
It went nowhere.
Charlie?
She almost spoke his name, but stopped herself. What if it’s not Charlie?
It might be anyone.
The man from Jody’s.
She felt her skin prickle.
Don’t be silly.
It might be someone night-fishing.
She couldn’t see a pole.
It is Charlie. It has to be.
This is too weird, she thought. Spooky weird.
What’s he doing here?
“Charlie?” she asked. She didn’t raise her voice. In the silence, it wasn’t necessary. She knew the name would carry out to him.
The oarlocks groaned, more loudly this time. She heard the soft swoosh of the blades rising out of the water. The dim silhouette leaned forward and back, beginning to row. The boat turned.
He’s coming for me.
Oh dear God.
Leigh’s heart felt as if it might smash through her rib cage.
This isn’t happening. It’s a dream. A very weird dream. You’re going to wake up any second.
She knew she was not dreaming.
She locked her knees to keep herself upright.
Calm down, she thought. You wanted something like this. Well, it’s happening.
She was a little frightened, but excited. She couldn’t stop trembling.
Then she realized that the boat wasn’t moving closer. It was heading away.
Charlie had lost his nerve.
He’d been drawn here, late at night when she would be sleeping, only to stare at the cabin, to… what, fantasize?
Calling out to him would do no good.
Leigh dove, leaping from the edge of the pier and stretching out, hitting the water and slicing down beneath its surface. The first shock of cold made her flinch. Then the rush of water felt good. She arched upward and broke the surface. Taking a breath, she blinked her eyes clear and spotted the distant shape of the boat. She swam for it.
She knew Charlie must have seen her dive. Rowing away, he would be facing her. He had to see. But would he stop, or row all the harder hoping to get away?
Leigh was a strong, swift swimmer. In a canoe, Charlie would be able to leave her behind, but rowboats were heavy and ungainly. She was sure she could catch up to him, no matter how hard he might row.
She kicked steadily, darting out one arm then the other with smooth, easy strokes, turning her head for a breath on every sixth stroke.
He probably thinks I’m crazy, she thought.
I must be crazy.
I could’ve taken the canoe.
This is better.
A corner of Leigh’s mind, which seemed to be observing her from a distance, was admiring her nerve. And was a little amused. You’ve really gone and done it.
She raised her head.
The boat was broadside to her, not far ahead. So Charlie was no longer trying to get away.
Good for him.
He wasn’t wearing his odd, feathered hat.
She lowered her face into the water and kept on swimming.
What if it’s not Charlie?
She considered taking another look. That wouldn’t solve anything, though. Too dark.
It better be him.
What if it’s not?
She went tight and cold inside.
She told herself not to worry. It had to be Charlie.
But she was very close to the boat, getting closer with every stroke. She saw herself grab the gunnel and pull herself up. A face above her. A stranger’s face. A woman’s. Charlie’s mother. Her hand clutched Leigh’s wrist. Now I gotcha!
It was a crazy thought, but she couldn’t get rid of it. She stopped. Treading water, she wiped her eyes.
The boat was two yards away.
The man in its center had Charlie’s shape, but the face, a dim blur, could have belonged to anyone.
“Charlie?” she asked.
“Might as well grab an oar,” he said. The hushed voice was Charlie’s. He didn’t sound overjoyed.
Leigh kicked closer, caught hold of the slippery oar blade, and pulled herself along its shaft. Then she clutched the gunnel with both hands. “Thanks for stopping.”
“What am I gonna do, let you drown?”
“I wouldn’t have drowned.”
“Well, you gonna climb in, or what?”
“I haven’t decided.” She thought about her nightgown. Wet, it would be transparent. “What were you doing out here, Charlie?”
“Nothing.”
The boat was empty except for an anchor on the deck near the bow. “Not selling baskets, I see.”
“I just come out for some fresh air. Too hot in the cabin.”
“You rowed all the way over here for some fresh air?”
“Think I come by to spy on you?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, you’re full of it.”
“It’s all right, Charlie. I don’t mind. I was thinking about you, too. That’s why I couldn’t sleep and came down to the lake. I missed you. I was afraid we wouldn’t see each other again.”
“How come you were thinking about me, and not that boyfriend of yours?”
“There isn’t any boyfriend. I just made him up. Comin’ aboard,” she said.
Charlie scooted away to balance the boat, and Leigh thrust herself up. Bracing herself on stiff arms, she waited for the boat to stop its wild rocking. Then she swung a leg over the side and tumbled in. She landed on her back, grunting with the impact. Her knees were in the air, parted, so she quickly rolled to her side.
“Hurt yourself?” Charlie asked.
“I’ll live.” She ran a hand down her rump and leg. The clinging fabric didn’t end until just above her knee. She sat up, then scuttled backward to the edge of the stern seat. She boosted herself onto it. “Graceful entrance, huh?”
Charlie moved to the center of his seat and caught the handle of the oar he’d left dangling. He lowered both handles to his thighs. The oars jutted out like strange, uptilted wings.
Shivering with cold and excitement, Leigh looked down at herself. As she’d expected, the nightgown was glued to her skin and she could see right through it. She folded her arms tightly across her breasts. She hunched over. “You wouldn’t have a towel?”
“You can have my shirt,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He shipped the oars, swinging them toward Leigh and inward, resting their paddles on the sides of her seat. Then he took off his shirt and tossed it to her.
Leigh draped his shirt across the seat beside her. “Shut your eyes,” she said.
“What for?”
“Because I’d like you to.”
“Okay.”
“They shut?”
He nodded.
Leigh couldn’t see whether they were shut. Half expecting him to peek, half wanting him to, she raised herself off the seat and peeled the nightgown over her head.
She wadded it into a tight club and wrung it out into the lake. She set it aside and lowered her gaze. Her skin looked dusky where she was tanned. Her breasts were pale, her jutting nipples almost black in the darkness. Taking a deep, tremulous breath, she picked up Charlie’s shirt and put it on. It clung to her damp skin but took away the cold. She fastened the two lower buttons and arranged the hanging front to cover her lap.