We take a swim. Float awhile. Engage in a splash fight, which is decisively childish fun. We check on my father, asleep on the deck. Natalie insists we put up an umbrella, so he doesn’t burn, lying there in the sun. Of course, we have one.
Sitting at the back together, Natalie’s legs are bent at the knees and her feet find a cozy spot on my lap. She loves to have her feet rubbed and I take well to giving foot massages, rubbing each painted toe. She smiles at me when it tickles and even when it doesn’t.
“You did well on the skis,” I say.
“So did you,” she says, laughing a little, because she thinks I looked like a fish out of water.
“Glad to know I was funny.”
“You’re tickling me. I wasn’t laughing at you. I won’t do that.”
I continue to rub and we enjoy each other’s company in silence a few moments. The waves slap against the anchored boat and rock us side to side. The wind is gentle at this time of day and the sun is intense on our shoulders. The lake is crowded with boats as far as the eyes can see, yet it feels like it’s just Natalie and me.
This can’t get better.
Fondle her.
My hands stop moving on her feet and I take in our surroundings, which consist of a large number of boaters, close by, filled with people. The fast-moving boats are a fair distance away, past the large orange buoys, at least three hundred yards. My eyes return to Natalie’s face, watching me with her lips parted; her stare is sweet, but focused. My eyes trickle to her chest as the thought dances to a tempting beat. My eyes return to meet hers, hoping for an answer, a sign—something. She smiles slowly, faintly. She licks her lips and pushes wet hair back, and then shifts her knees. Her eyes are fixed on me, as if she’s reading me. Willing me to say the right thing. Waiting.
She will love it. She is wearing that for you.
I feel my face flush a little and nausea hits me, as the movement of the boat bothers me, all of a sudden.
“You okay?” Natalie says, retracting her feet and leaning toward me, concern written clearly over her face. “You look a little…”
“Off?” I say, as the only word I can get out. I lean toward her and my elbows rest on my knees; my hands hold the sides of my face.
“Uh, yeah. Getting a little sick? The water is kinda choppy here.”
Now is the moment. Her breasts are close to your hands. Just a gentle touch and watch what she does.
“What kind of angel are you?” I blurt.
Natalie sits back, surprised and wearing an embarrassed grin. “What kind of angel am I?”
“Did I just say that out loud?” I watch her reaction, realizing I just said what should have been private.
“Yeah, you did.” She breaks out laughing. “Do you need to take that back?”
“Well…no…that question…was…”
“It’s all right, Colin, really.” She leans over and gives me a kiss, her hand holding my face. “And I’m your angel, by the way.” Her hands take residence on my shoulders. Her face is an inch from mine; her body, still dripping wet, is temptingly close. With my father asleep, the world of opportunity presents itself. And with very little clothing to remove, there is no time like the present.
Enjoy her.
This doesn’t feel right. I want it, but…am I supposed to? Christel wants me to give in to my desire, yet this feels against my better judgment and I know it’s against Natalie’s wishes, our rules. We are flirting with disaster. We’ve been here before and decided it was best nothing happened.
I only want you to be happy. To set you free. I know you want her. No need to deny yourself. She wants it too.
I pretend she’s not talking to me. Natalie rests her head on my shoulder and remains still. We hold each other in silence, wanting so much more but knowing we shouldn’t.
She is intended for you. Your soul mate. Experience her beauty.
I sigh heavily and my hands touch Natalie’s arms; goose bumps form along them. “Are you cold?”
“No.” She sits up, takes my hand and places it at her neck. “Feel that?” Her pulse is racing like she’s sprinting.
“Wow…” I say, so quietly it’s nearly to myself.
“Yeah…” Her laugh is anxious. Is she hearing a voice like I am? Is she being teased in the same way?
I look Natalie in the eyes. “I won’t, because I shouldn’t.”
Her lip trembles a little, and she nods. “I need to dry off, I think.” She stands and wraps a towel around herself and returns to her seat, then places her feet in my lap. She playfully smiles and wiggles her bright pink toes. “Continue.”
I relax and resume rubbing her feet, but the thoughts of what might have been linger. Did I do the right thing?
I push the question aside and focus on Natalie. The rest of the afternoon is beautiful. I have no insight to Natalie’s thoughts, which I find odd, and miss hearing. Christel is a trusted friend and guide; I didn’t realize how much I would miss her directing, reassuring words. But now that she’s silent, I’m distracted by her absence.
Natalie and I talk for a while about nothing in particular and laugh a lot at each other. Her feet are comfortable in my lap and the boat gently rocks us back and forth. With the sun starting its descent and the lake population still in full swing, I nod off for a nap.
My father wakes me suddenly. Minutes had to have gone by in my short catnap. Can’t be much longer. Yet it’s dark out. Wasn’t the sun still up when I fell asleep?
Shit. It’s been hours, maybe two? Three? My neck hurts to move and my back is a little stiff. Limbs resist movement. A towel is over me that I don’t remember putting on. My father is rattled; his words slur together and don’t make sense.
Lights from our boat shine in my father’s face. The surface is well-lit, as well as the nearby water, for about five feet, from the lighting we’ve used in past for a nighttime swim. The few remaining Neighbor boats are lit up also.
Something is wrong. He’s staring at me, looking into my eyes as if he’s not sure whether I’m all there.
“Colin?”
I manage a nod. “Yeah, I’m up. What time is it? What’s going on?”
The look on his face is one I’ve never seen before. Not in the NBA films of him in the finals. Not when a business deal meant everything. He gets intense, but never shows panic. Without a word from his mouth, he has me on edge.
I think about standing, but I’m queasy. I hold my breath a moment, an attempt to control my breathing.
“Where’s Natalie?” His voice inflection reveals a great shadow of worry.
Dumbfounded, I look at the seat next to me, expecting her to be asleep. But the seat is empty. There is no sign of her on the boat or in the water. She’s gone.
SIX
My nerves run wild and my mind takes a direction of its own. Nothing makes sense now and I hope the world I find myself trapped in isn’t real at all. “I don’t know, Dad. What did she tell you?” I’m practically yelling; my voice carries far over the calm, dark water.
He looks puzzled. “She didn’t inform me that she was leaving. I thought you talked with her.”
I shake my head and rise to my feet, looking for sandals. “How long ago did you wake up?”
“A minute. So what did she tell you?” he says.
I shrug my shoulders, wishing all of this would end. “She didn’t say a word to me about leaving. She was with me before I went to sleep…her feet were in my lap…she was sitting…”
“Take your time.”
I can’t find my sandals, so I sit down and sigh. “She was giggling while I was rubbing her feet…then I don’t remember anything after that…so I must have fallen asleep.”
My father paces, holding his cell phone at his side. His attention scans the sparsely populated lake—I can only presume most people left when the sun went down. The sun is gone, the moon is full, and a wave of dancing dim light on the water depletes hope.
Natalie is missing. Natalie is missing. How can thi
s happen? The words keep repeating in my head, as they can’t be said out loud—my lips won’t say them. She can’t be gone. Where would she go on her own?
“What time is it?” I say, starting to think again.
“Eight forty-seven.” He takes a seat and his determined stare burns. “Son…do you know when you fell asleep? Or if Natalie went to sleep too?”
I shake my head, with shallow movement, watching his eyes. Frozen, like in a scary dream, I try to think. “We were…talking for quite a while after the last swim…Both of us were here…back of the boat. She was…sitting there at the back seat…I remember getting tired and resting my head on the side and…she fell asleep before me. Yeah. She was asleep because I pulled her towel over her so she wouldn’t get cold, because it was getting dark out.”
“If it was starting to get dark and she was still here, that means she was on the boat at six o’clock, or do you think it was later? Closer to dark?”
The front of my skull tingles. “The sun was over the mountain, over there,” I say, pointing into the distant blackness.
“What else do you remember?”
“She was wearing her sunglasses, so it was hard to tell if she’d fallen asleep,” I say.
“You’ve got friends out on the lake today? Someone she might have gone with?”
Would she really just leave? Without a word to me? Could someone have taken her or lured her off the boat? That doesn’t make sense. She would have had to—”I’m sure someone she knows is out here today. Her family has lots of friends.”
My father seems satisfied and pulls out his phone, and then makes a call.
“Marc? Allan Wyle…did Natalie call home recently?…in the last few hours…no…Christ…sorry, I…no, no idea where she went…well, I’m sure she’s just with some friends having a good…” My father waves his arm about in frustration. “Jesus, Marc, it’s a holiday weekend. We don’t need the sheriff to be…Sorry, I forgot…” He groans. “Fine. Do it. I’ll stay put. I’m thinking she has to be with friends somewhere…hello? Marc?…fuck.”
He slaps the phone shut and carefully places it in his pocket. A blind man could see my father is containing himself.
“What is it?” The silence is lethal.
“AMBER Alert. Marc is calling the sheriff for an AMBER Alert. He insists that Natalie must be missing, like his daughter would never just take off with friends for a good time. Must be a saint.”
“I’ve been thinking…”
“And?”
“Someone had to have seen her leave,” my hands are frantic in the air. “The lake was crowded all day.”
“Colin, you know that after the sun goes down, the crowds leave. And who would notice some teenager jumping off a boat? People do that all day long. Nothing notable there, I’m afraid.”
“But if she left…I mean, if she were taken.”
My father restrains himself from laughing, but only for a moment. “That would have been noticed. A teenager screaming her lungs out. And I think I’d have woken up, don’t you?”
I nod. “That’s what I’m saying. It doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t just leave without telling me or you. Even if she was mad, she’s not rude like that. She’d let us know. So…damn. What happened here?”
My father sighs again. “She saw friends, decided to jump aboard with them to chat and then…took off without realizing she said nothing to you or me. Then…being a teenage girl, she doesn’t think to call or tell anyone else. She may even be trying to find her way back, if she feels badly enough.”
“You don’t care for Natalie.”
He sits next to me and pats my leg. “She’s fine, son. But a teenager. She’s not going to think all this stuff through. She’ll turn up and have no idea anyone was looking for her. Then her father will be the jackass who called the cops when it was entirely unnecessary.”
Silence settles in. I imagine this is what it feels like being slowly boiled alive—doom is imminent, but the precise time of death is unknown.
“What the hell am I to do now?” I say, giving in to the situation.
“Calm down. She’ll turn up, son,” my father says, though I know he’s patronizing me. It takes a moment to realize he’s trying to reassure me. “If she left against her wishes…no, that doesn’t make sense. If she were to be picked up while asleep, it’s safe to assume she would wake up and make noise, which we would have heard and other people would have seen…” He looks around, sniffs, scratches a leg, fidgets a little, and then says, “She had to have left by choice, son. She has to be with someone she knows. Cops and people are everywhere up here with it being the holiday weekend…who would try…”
“Then why not say something? Why not wake me up…you know, let me know?” I shrug, having the courage to face only the deep blue carpet of the boat.
“Maybe she was embarrassed son…or maybe she thought it would just be a minute then lost track of time. Could happen.”
There’s no room for argument. I need Christel right now. I know nothing of Natalie’s whereabouts. I’m helpless and need her guidance. It’s hard to even admit the possibilities—to stomach the thought that she may be gone from my life. “Could she have gone for a swim… and drowned?”
My father smirks at this. “She might have referred to herself as a weak swimmer—if she’s comparing to professionals.” He shakes his head, attention on the water and the few scattered boats in sight. “She can swim. I know. I saw. I’m not convinced that she’d drown.”
I accept his answer and watch two boats in the distance make way back to the marina; their bright lights are as candles on gentle waves. “So now what do we do?”
My father swears quietly to himself, at the open space of water. “We wait. Sheriff will be here shortly.”
Time passes and minutes feel like a hammer against my heart—an ache to my core. I know she is gone. I just know. My father doesn’t get it, and I’ve no idea how I’ll survive this. Or worse, that I will survive and Natalie will be gone forever, without explanation, and living on without her—it would be like losing Chelsie all over again. And that I cannot take.
Two heavy-duty lights shine in our direction and we stand at attention as a boat pulls beside ours. Two uniformed officers stand at the head of the boat. One of the officers begins interacting with my father and steps aboard. A second officer looks around, his heavy Mag light hard at work on the surface, and then he makes a beeline for me.
The officer asks for the missing person’s name, description, home address, and phone numbers. He gets my information second and disappears as fast as he came, without a word otherwise. I get the sense he knows all the information already, and is following procedure. I wish Natalie hadn’t left her cell at home.
A deputy barks instructions into a handheld device while stepping to their boat, and pulls away. My father sits, looking off into space, and then begins to twiddle his thumbs—something I’ve never seen him do before.
“Dad? You okay?”
“She’ll turn up, son. Don’t worry.”
“I’m glad you’re sure.”
Then he says, “Two other kids went missing today and both were found. This sort of thing happens and the deputies know what to do.” He pauses a moment and exhales like he’s composing himself. “Maybe it was a good idea Marc called them.”
A good idea? Nausea comes on, and I feel the need to lie on the floor for a while. To be on dry land. Because I know, and suspect my father does, too, that Natalie is gone for good. For the first time in years, I am deeply afraid of the future.
SEVEN
With my father for company, the sheriff and his deputy, the right-hand man, Reed, question me about Natalie. Her father feels the need to be included, believing he has special clout as a politician.
The sheriff denies the request and Marc takes it personally. My father and I become his immediate targets.
“She’s been gone now…for what…five hours?” Marc Merian asks the deputy, who stands by to keep the peac
e.
“Four hours and thirty-seven minutes,” Deputy Reed says.
All two hundred pounds of Marc sits, slouched forward on a bench; his hands hold the sides of his scruffy face. He sighs loudly, close to how I feel. The seating outside the sheriff’s office is tight for Marc and Allison Merian, Natalie’s bewildered parents, and my father and I. Allison has a composed look about her; her face is expressionless and her hands are folded in her lap. She makes little movement. She is a cheerful person, a treat to be around—this is a somber contrast, but she’s not apoplectic, as I prepared for. Natalie is all she has—an only child.
“I feel helpless and…can’t imagine how Natalie is,” Marc says.
“She’s probably passed out on a friend’s boat somewhere, unaware that anyone is looking for her,” my father offers. “She took off with friends and forgot about us and didn’t think about it.”
Marc glares back. I’m happy there’s distance between them and the deputy stands by.
“Are you still insisting that Natalie is irresponsible? My daughter wouldn’t do that. She would’ve informed you if she were leaving,” Marc says. The anger in his voice shows his feelings better than words.
“She’s sixteen…”
“Enough, both of you. This isn’t helping,” the deputy says, taking charge.
Marc’s disdain for my father is clear. No doubt he wishes he hadn’t allowed his only daughter go on the lake today. He probably wishes Natalie never met me.
The Merians are special people, like Jamal’s parents. The strain of Natalie missing drives a rusty nail into the relationship—one that will be painful to remove and leave a scar.
“What are we waiting for?” Marc asks no one in particular.
The deputy says, “We’re waiting to hear back from several contacts. It’s a holiday. No telling how long it will take. The lake, camping grounds, and the surrounding area are being searched as we speak. We’ll find her.”
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