“I’m so sorry!” Sara said. “This is Sam Draper; she’s teaching me to drive my boat.”
“Wow,” she said, with an appreciative scan of Sam’s body. “You look like a taller version of Tom Cruise.”
“Well, thank you,” Sam said, checking her watch and trying not to laugh, “But it looks like I need to get back to the station.”
Sam and Sara walked to the door, and Sam glanced back at Jennifer before she stepped out.
“Jennifer, it was a pleasure, I hope I see you again soon.”
Sara whispered in Sam’s ear and then closed the door behind her.
“Jesus,” Jennifer said, taking the bottle of Chardonnay out of the fridge. “She’s gorgeous. If you’re not sleeping with her, you should be.” She filled the glass almost to the rim and set the bottle back down on the table.
“Okay,” Sara said, pulling out one of the mismatched chairs and taking a careful sip of Jennifer’s wine. “Tell me what the hell is going on. And don’t say nothing; I know when something’s really wrong, and this is it.”
Jennifer sat back in her chair. “I wish I could tell you what’s wrong,” she said, “But I really don’t know.”
“Okay, start at the beginning and just tell me what happened.”
Jennifer took a long drink of the wine and set it back down between them. “Short version?”
Sara nodded. “To start with, yes.”
“I came home from my spinning class early, day before yesterday, because I wasn’t feeling well; I usually stay for back to back classes.”
Sara looked at the sharp points of her sister’s shoulders visible even under the fabric of her shirt.
“I walked in and just instantly felt like there was something wrong, you know?” She held the wineglass in her hand, watching the pale gold liquid like a crystal ball. “I went upstairs, and I wasn’t even to the top before I heard them.”
Sara had an idea what was coming.
“I walked into our bedroom and Trevor was in our bed, fucking some girl from his office.”
“Who is she?” Sara said. “Do you know her?”
“I’ve seen her at the front desk, but I think she’s new.”
“Jen, I’m so sorry,” Sara said, leaning forward and taking her hand. “Are you okay?”
“That’s just it. I am okay. It felt like it was happening to someone else, like it was someone else’s husband.” She hesitated. “I just don’t feel anything.”
“He’s always been an ass,” Sara said. “So you left him?”
“I didn’t get the chance,” Jennifer said. “He packed a bag that night and I haven’t seen him since.”
“I’m glad you came here,” Sara said. “Does Mom know?”
“Are you kidding? The first thing she’d do is ask what I did to drive him away.”
The sisters sat silent, each sifting through her own thoughts.
“I’m just so exhausted.” Jennifer’s shoulders were rounded forward, her eyes down. “I’m always so tired.”
“Are you eating?” Sara’s voice was gentle, her words as soft as possible.
Jennifer shook her head, her body showing the truth despite what she’d said. “I’m eating.”
Sara stood, holding her hand out to the other half of her heart. “Come on,” she said, “Let’s get you some pajamas.”
****
The next morning, Jennifer drove her rented Audi down the mountain to Boise to buy some clothes; she hadn’t stopped to pack much when she left her house, and she didn’t mention going back to Memphis. Sara went into town after she left to get some peppers at the farmer’s market and buy her some extra sheets for her makeshift bed on the couch. She wedged her truck in among the endless tourist cars parked in town and managed to get everything except the peppers when she heard her text ping. It was Sam.
So now you’ve decided to stalk me until I give you a boat license?
Keep dreaming, Sara typed back. Where are you?
Her phone pinged again.
Over your right shoulder.
But before she could turn to look, she got another message.
That’s exactly what a stalker would ask, by the way.
Sara spun around and saw Sam leaning out of a booth through the window of Moxie Java.
“This reverse stalking thing has got to stop,” Sara said, sliding into the booth opposite Sam.
“You keep telling yourself that.” Sam smiled, accepting the steaming mug the waitress brought to the table. She slid it over the table to Sara.
“What is this?”
“A skinny latte.”
“Okay,” Sara said, “How do you know that’s what I order?”
“Let’s just say I like to stay one step ahead of my stalkers.”
Sara kicked her under the table and Sam asked the obvious question.
“So what happened last night after I left?”
Sara added sugar to her latte and stole Sam’s spoon to stir it. “I’ll give you the abbreviated version.”
“Hit me,” Sam said.
“She finds her dickhead husband fucking some girl from the office in their bed. He leaves, she catches the next plane to Idaho, and here we are.”
Sam leaned back in the booth. “Shit. That’s rough. Are you two close?”
“We couldn’t be more different,” Sara said, “But yeah, it’s always been the two of us against the world.”
Sara stared into her coffee.
“What are you worried about?” Sam ducked her head to catch her eye.
“How do you know I’m worried?’
“Because you have that look you get when I make you back the boat up with your eyes closed.”
Sara kept her eyes on her coffee. The last thing she needed was Sam to see the tears welling up in them for no reason. Or maybe it was a thousand reasons.
“Tell me?” Sam asked, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.
“She’s so fragile, but she won’t tell me what’s happening in her head,” Sara said, folding the sugar packet into tiny stacked triangles. “It’s always been hard for her to talk. Mom is very controlling with Jen, and over the years, I think she just stopped telling anyone how she felt.”
“And you’re worried about her?”
“I am,” Sara said, the words suddenly coming thick and fast. “When she was in college, she did two undergraduate degrees and a master’s in four years at Dartmouth. She’ll work herself to death if you let her.”
Sam reached out and wiped a tear from Sara’s cheek with her thumb, then sat back and held her eyes, listening.
“It’s like she’s fixated on being perfect. She thinks if she works hard enough or looks good enough, everything that’s wrong won’t matter anymore.” She shook her head. “But she never gets to the point where it’s enough, I guess.”
“I understand,” Sam said, nodding. “I think Tom Cruise feels that way about me.” Her words were teasing but her eyes were kind.
Sara laughed and rolled her eyes at Sam before her face fell again. “I don’t know what to do to help her. It’s like the more I try to help, the more she disappears. And the worse she feels, the less she eats.”
“Everyone thinks this isn’t the case,” Sam said, “But sometimes there’s just nothing to say that makes it better.”
Sam put her card down on the bill the waitress dropped off.
“It took me a long time, but I realized that after Dad died. Sometimes life is so shitty nothing makes it go away. All you can do is get through the moment you’re in.”
After a few more minutes, Sam had to get back to the station, so they gathered Sara’s bags and Sam walked her to the truck.
“Hey,” Sara said, unlocking her door and sliding onto the seat. “What are you doing for dinner?”
“Something involving spam,” Sam said. “Don’t be jealous.”
“I am jealous. But do you want to come over for dinner anyway? About six?”
“Are you sure Jennifer won’t mind?”
“Then I’m at your service.” Sam shut the door to Sara’s truck and hesitated. “Does she have a swimsuit?”
Sara shook her head. Jen couldn’t have much in the tiny bag she brought.
“Get her one,” Sam said, turning to walk back toward the station. “I’ll see you tonight.”
****
Jennifer opened the door and took the bottle of wine Sam had tucked under her arm.
“Tread lightly,” she said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “She’s in Chef Mode.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Sam said. “What’s the best approach here?”
“Simple,” Jen said, “Stay out of the kitchen, no matter what’s happening, and the answer to every question is ‘yes, ma’am’.”
Sam winked at Sara, who was holding a charred pepper aloft over the gas range, and accepted the beer that Jennifer brought her.
“How did you know to get me a beer?”
“Well,” Jennifer said, “No offense, but you look a little more Sam Adams than Sauvignon Blanc.”
“Well said.” Sam laughed, clinking Jennifer’s glass with her bottle.
After steak sandwiches dripping with caramelized onions, charred peppers, and British brown sauce, they took their drinks down to the dock to watch the sifting layers of evening light. Jet-skis crisscrossing the lake provided the background sounds of summer, and the water lapped under the dock in a relaxed rhythm. Jennifer barely ate two bites of her sandwich at dinner, which worried Sara, but she’d let it go; she’d learned the hard way criticism made everything worse. Jennifer watched an eagle glide over the lake and into the dark cover of the trees, then turned to Sam.
“So, what do you do for a living?” She dangled her foot in the water, then tucked it underneath her. “Besides teaching southern belles to drive boats?”
“I’m with the McCall Police Department Lake Patrol.”
“Like cops on boats?”
“Exactly,” Sam said. “I’m primarily responsible for issuing tickets to blonds driving without a boating license.” The memory of a topless Sara in her boat flashed across her mind. “What do you do?”
Jennifer looked at Sara. “Nothing, really.”
“Jen,” said Sara, pausing before she continued and dipping her toes just under the surface of the water. “If you could have any job in the world, what would it be?”
“I don’t know,” Jennifer said. “I’d love to teach high school but Trevor would never go for that.”
“Fuck Trevor,” Sara said, rolling her eyes. “If you want to teach, you should do it.”
“What would you teach?” Sam asked, downing the last of her beer.
“Math, probably.”
“And by that,” Sara said, giving her sister a look, “She means that she has a master’s degree in Abstract Algebra and Numerical Theory.”
“Holy shit,” Sam said.
“Right?” Sara said, “I was doing well to graduate high school.”
A Camp Montauk ski boat drove by and left a huge wake, which made Sara’s dock feel more like a porch swing in downtown Savannah.
“I can see why you love it here,” said Jen, looking out over the water to the mountains in the distance. “I know Trevor will make my life hell when I get home, but I’m starting not to care. I’d move here if there was a gym.”
“Do you miss him?”
“I don’t. I don’t really feel anything.” Jennifer paused, twisting her wedding ring around on her finger. “I haven’t even cried.”
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of evening falling into night.
“Do you see that island out to the far right from here?” Sam said, pointing into the setting sun. “That’s Rock Island.” She got to her feet and held a hand out to Jennifer. “We just have time to swim out there and back if we leave now.”
“What?” Jennifer said, “Why?”
Sam turned to Sara. “What about you, up for a swim?”
“No way,” Sara said, “This is my third glass of wine. I’m good.” She nodded towards Jennifer. “But I bought you a swimsuit today in town; it’s in a bag on my dresser.”
Sam looked at her watch. “You’ve got three minutes.”
To Sara’s surprise, Jennifer started up the dock toward the cabin, and Sam sat back down on the dock.
“Actually, that’s a great idea,” Sara said. “If she can just get out of her own head for a while, I think she’ll start eating again.”
Sam looked out at the island. “After Dad died, I spent most of last year in the water. I don’t think I would have made it through if I hadn’t.”
“Wait,” Sara said suddenly, looking her up and down, “Do you even have a swimsuit on?”
“Always,” Sam said, standing up and waving Jennifer back down to the dock. Sam unbuttoned her shirt and left her jeans on the dock. She wore a black speedo two-piece, and her muscles flexed slowly from shoulders to abs as she took off her clothes.
Jennifer stripped off the shirt she’d thrown over her swimsuit, dropped it on Sara’s lap, then looked up at Sam, who had a good seven inches on her.
“Look, I don’t want you to feel bad if you can’t keep up,” she said, reaching up and patting Sam’s shoulder. “Just do the best you can.”
She dove in and left Sam on the dock.
Sam smiled. “It’s not hard to see that you two are related.”
****
The next day, Jennifer declared she had cabin fever and left for town after lunch. Sara had spent most of the previous night trying not to think about Sam’s body. She wished she hadn’t seen it. And she wished that she’d seen more of it. But she was certain she was losing her mind. A couple of days before, Sara had tried to bring up the progress she was making on the diner, but Sam shut her down, mumbling something about a gastropub being a bad idea not quite under her breath. Sara thought if they talked about it, or Sam saw the progress she was making with the space, she might come around. Apparently not.
They’d planned to have a lesson in the early evening, but Sam got pulled into a staff meeting, so they didn’t have much daylight left by the time she arrived. They pulled out of the boat slip and Sam directed Sara towards the middle of the lake.
“Where are we going?” Sara looked back toward the cove they usually used for practice.
“I thought I’d teach you how to do something fun. People love it, but you need to do it carefully or it can be dangerous,” Sam said, taking over the wheel. “Go sit in the back.”
Sara hesitated. “Why?”
“Brighton,” Sam said, slowly taking off her sunglasses, “If you don’t take a seat in the back, I’ll put you there myself.” Sam stepped closer to Sara, looking down at her, holding the challenge between them.
“Fine,” Sara said, “But remember, this boat has a tendency to attack me when you’re not looking.”
Sam took her uniform polo off and draped it over the back of the chair, leaving just her tank top and navy cargos. Sara watched her from the back, then diverted her eyes to the shoreline. Checking out a hot butch with broad shoulders and a sexy smile was usually high on her to do list, but this one would just be too complicated.
“Hold on to something,” Sam called back.
Sara grabbed the handle on the side just as the rear of the boat swung suddenly into a full 180-degree sweep. A cold spray of lake water soaked Sara and the entire back seat as the boat skidded back into place and accelerated again toward the center of the lake.
Sara squealed, wiping the water from her eyes. “I loved that!”
When the boat steadied, she ran to the front and nudged Sam out from behind the wheel.
“Will you teach me how to do it?”
Sara’s white shirt was now completely transparent and clung to her soaked skin, although she was too excited to notice. The opposite was true for Sam, so she stepped behind Sara at the
wheel out of self-preservation and put her hand on the throttle.
“Okay,” she said, “It looks difficult, but it’s really not. The trick is to pull the throttle back at exactly the right time.”
She lifted her hand and Sara slid hers underneath. Sam’s hand was tan, with long fingers and a broad palm that covered Sara’s completely. She pushed the accelerator forward, bringing her other arm around Sara to hold the wheel.
“Here,” Sam said, “Put your other hand under mine on the wheel. That way, when we go into the slide, you’ll know how it feels to be able to recreate it later.” She pushed the throttle forward, her voice close behind Sara’s ear. “Don’t move it. I’ll move you.”
Sara leaned back into Sam, thankful for the shelter from the wind. The water was surprisingly warm this late in the summer, but wet clothes and high-speed wind in the back of the boat changed that pretty quickly.
Fuck. Sam thought as she felt the warmth of Sara’s body lean slowly back into hers. Is she trying to make this as difficult as possible?
Sara practiced power slides until it was too dark to see anything but the stars. The lake was quiet, water-skiers long since headed to the docks, and the only sound was the boat gliding through the water. A pale silver path of moonlight fell from the night sky to the lake.
Sam cut the engine.
“Ordinarily we’d do this in the daytime,” she said, “But there’s a section of the test called ‘Wrap and Retrieve’ that deals with ski ropes and knots in the water, so we can get it out of the way if you have time.”
“If you don’t mind me doing it in a bra and underwear,” Sara said, unbuttoning her shirt. “I mean, I could try to act modest here, but I think we both remember how we met.”
“Yeah.” Sam smiled, raising an eyebrow at Sara. “I don’t think that mental picture will be leaving my head anytime soon.”
Sam pulled a ski rope out of the storage and started to unknot it. “If you want to go ahead and get in the water I’ll show you what you’ll need to do.”
Sara climbed over the back seat to the platform made of teak slats at the rear of the boat, dropping her clothes behind her on the seat. She wore a sheer blue bra and underwear, and both, Sam noted, were still wet. This was definitely a bad idea.
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