But I go on anyway because now that I’ve started, I want her to know about that beautiful little girl. “We followed false lead after false lead,” I say. “And then one day, the parents received a note telling them their daughter was alive and where to find her. When we reached the location, we found her tied to a chair. She was alive, but her eyes had been removed. She was holding a note that said it had been necessary so that she wouldn’t be able to identify him. Otherwise, he would have had to kill her and he didn’t want to do that.”
A sob slips from Keegan’s throat. I glance at her, see the tears streaming down her face and slip the boat into park, cutting the engine.
I reach out and cover her hand with mine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that.”
She looks down at our joined hands. “How can such evil exist?”
“I don’t know the answer to that. I just know that it does.”
“Did they find the man?”
“No. He still hasn’t been found. I haven’t stopped working on it though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I keep looking for leads. Asking questions. One day, he’ll mess up. Get caught. I kind of live for that day.”
Keegan turns her hand over, laces her fingers with mine. “You shouldn’t blame yourself, you know. For walking away. That’s not the kind of thing a person can deal with but so many times.”
“I think certain people have the ability to compartmentalize things. Separate them so that they can be effective in their jobs, but not take it home at night. I wasn’t one of those people. I ended up in a psychiatric hospital for a month after that case.”
“Bowie. I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It showed me that I have a line. I guess I pushed myself across it too many times, and all the good chemicals in my body leaked away. The world just looked gray and hopeless.”
She shakes her head. “Most people have no idea of the horrific things that go on around them.”
“And they don’t want to.”
A fishing boat glides by in the distance, the only sound registering in the night darkness.
“I can hear in your voice,” Keegan says, “that you somehow think you failed in your career there.”
I shrug. “Lots of people stick it out. My ex-wife thought I should be able to.”
“When did you divorce?”
“After my stay in the hospital. The experience was a little much for her.”
“I’m sorry, Bowie.”
“It’s for the best. I was somehow diminished in her eyes after that. She wanted a hero, and I was no longer that.”
“That’s not true,” she says. “We’re all meant to make a difference in the ways that are most true to ourselves. Feeling empathy for suffering makes you more human, not less.”
“Someone has to fight the bad guys though.”
“And you did. For how many years?”
“Fourteen.”
“That’s a long time.”
“I won’t deny that. I don’t regret my decision to leave. It actually wasn’t a choice.”
“Sometimes, the next path we’re meant to take isn’t a choice. It’s where we’re supposed to be.”
She stands then, unlinking our hands. She leans on the windshield of the boat, staring across the moon-lit water. “I think my coming here is one of those things.”
I stand up beside her, looking out in the same direction. “It’s kind of like once we get to the place we need to be, we get it. It’s not so easy to see until we get there though.”
She shifts slightly so that she is half facing me. “Bowie?”
I turn just enough that we are facing each other. “Yeah?”
“Would you kiss me?”
To say that the question surprises me doesn’t get anywhere near accurate. I look down into her beautiful face and know that I have never wanted to kiss a woman so much in my life. I reach out and rub my thumb across her full lower lip.
A small sigh escapes her.
“Keegan—”
“Don’t talk,” she says. “Just kiss me.”
So I do. With a tentative question at first. And then I just close my eyes. And we both get lost in it.
She slides her arms around my neck, locks herself tight against me.
It’s a first kiss, and yet somehow familiar, in the way of something you’ve been waiting for, but until this point couldn’t identify.
All I know is that I am suddenly filled with this awareness that something between us has clicked into place, compassion, understanding, a desire to acknowledge that, to be filled up by it.
I hook my hand to the back of her neck and deepen the kiss until we are both breathing hard and wanting more.
A thumping noise sounds from the back of the boat. We pull away from each other to see Carson looking at us and wagging his tail against the seat.
Keegan smiles and says, “That sounds like approval.”
“His version of clapping,” I say.
We both laugh, and Carson thumps his tail harder.
“As much as I would like to stay here and pick up where we left off,” she says, “I should get home. I’m not sure when Evan is coming back.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Probably a good idea.”
I drop into the driver’s seat and turn on the boat.
She leans down and brushes her lips across mine. “I wasn’t just saying that. I really would like to stay.”
I look into her eyes and see that she means it. And I let her see that I’m glad.
I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days—three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
– John Keats
Keegan
THE NEXT FEW days are the perfect definition of summer. Mornings are warm. Afternoons are hot. I read a book a day out on the dock, stretched out in the warm sunshine. Evan sometimes joins me, but is more often gone than not.
He’s made some friends with the local ski club and is actually excited about his growing ability to keep up with them. I’m just happy to see him involved in something that has distracted him from thinking about how much he hates being here.
And, of course, I’m thinking about Bowie. I sent him a text the morning after our night on the lake, thanking him for the dinner and the conversation. He’d texted back with a polite “you’re welcome, very much enjoyed it.” But I haven’t heard from him since, and I’ve convinced myself that the next move needs to be his.
I initiated the kiss—I did that—was it too soon? I don’t know, but for now, I’m going to err on the side of taking it slow.
My agent sends texts announcing two new projects he thinks I’m perfect for. I copy and paste my previous answer, wondering when he will accept that I’m not interested. Not now. I don’t know if ever.
I’m starting novel four on Saturday afternoon when my cell phone rings. It’s lying on the floor of the dock beneath my chair. I reach for it, recognizing Bowie’s cell number.
I swipe the screen, say hello with a nervous jitter in my stomach that ripples through my voice.
“Hey,” he says. “This a good time?”
“Yes,” I say. “Hey, Bowie. How are you?”
“Good. Just wondered if you’d like to go to lunch at Hayden’s, the marina I mentioned.”
“Evan’s out again, and I’m actually beginning to tire of my own company. That sounds great.”
“Good,” he says. Is that relief in his voice?
“Pick you up in twenty minutes?”
“By boat?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll be at the dock.”
“See you in a few,” he says.
I close my book, realizing there’s a smile on my face.
I SEE HIM as soon as he rounds the bend that leads into our cove. He’s got the boat wound out. Carson is up front, his ears flying back in the wind.
Bowie glides to a stop just short of the dock, raising
his hand in a wave. “Hey,” he says.
Carson barks.
I wave at them both, trying to keep my eyes on Bowie’s face so that I don’t look at his mouth and think about what it was like to kiss him.
He’s wearing swim shorts and a T-shirt, his hair standing up a little from the wind. His shoulders are noticeably wide, and his arms are defined with muscle. I glance away as he takes my hand while I step onto the boat.
Carson trots over to greet me. I reach down and rub his ear. He rewards me with a lick on the back of my hand. I look up at Bowie then and see that he’s just about to call Carson back, but I say, “It’s okay. It’s nice to be welcomed like that.”
I sit down on the seat next to the driver’s chair, looking out behind us as Bowie pulls away from the dock and hits the throttle until we’re zipping across the water.
Lots of boats are out for the summer weekend. Sailboats drifting lazily along with the help of a light breeze. Sea-Doos cut back and forth, looking for the roughest water to allow for the most airborne antics. A skier rides behind a sleek-looking boat roaring up behind us.
Bowie glances in the rearview mirror, stares for a moment and says, “Isn’t that Evan?”
I look closely then, saying, “It is! Wow, he’s doing great!”
We both wave then as the boat cuts by on the left, a young girl driving. Evan spots us, lifts a hand to wave and promptly tips forward into a face plant.
“Oh, no!” I say, feeling terrible for him.
“We’ll zip back and make sure he’s okay.”
We glide to a stop just short of the ski boat. The pretty girl driving lifts a hand, no doubt wondering who we are.
“That’s my mom,” Evan calls out from behind the boat. “And Mr. Dare. And Carson.”
The girl looks at us and smiles openly. “Hello. Nice to meet you. I recognize you from the marina, Mr. Dare. I’m Analise. Sam Tatum is my dad.”
“Nice to meet you,” we both say in unison.
“I’m a regular at the cafe,” Bowie says. “The cooking over there is ruining me. In fact, we’re headed over for lunch now.”
“It smelled good when I left,” she says.
“Skier down back here,” Evan yells, teasing.
“Sorry about that,” I direct back at him. “You looked good though.”
“I have a long way to go, but Analise is a good teacher.”
“All right then, we’ll leave you to it.” I feel Analise’s gaze linger on my face.
“Oh, my gosh,” she says. “You play on Aimless!”
“Did,” I say.
“Evan!” Analise admonishes. “How could you not tell me that?”
“It’s not really his kind of show,” I say, trying to cover up the awkward moment.
“But you’re his mom, and that’s fabulous!”
“Thanks. We didn’t mean to interrupt the skiing,” I say. “And we’re headed for lunch.”
“Okay,” Analise says. “Well, I’m a big fan!”
“Thanks,” I say again, deciding that she seems really sweet. “Have fun out here,” I add to them both. And we head out.
You cannot find peace by avoiding life.
– Virginia Woolf
Bowie
“DID THAT BOTHER you?” I ask once we’ve pulled away and taken off across the water.
“What?” she asks.
“That Evan hadn’t mentioned the show.”
“Actually, it doesn’t. It makes me think he just sees me as his mom. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted either of my children to see me as.”
I don’t know why the answer is surprising, but it is a little. “They’re lucky to have you as a mom.”
She shrugs, looks off to the side of the boat. When she turns back to face me, she says, “I wish I could say they would agree with you.”
The no-wake buoys for the marina are just ahead. I slow the boat so that we float in without a wake. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, Keegan. I don’t think the teenage phase is easy for anyone, but having met Evan, you’ve done a lot of things right.”
“Thanks,” she says. “I guess sometimes it really is hard to see the forest for the trees.”
Ahead, a young girl is helping tie up boats in front of the marina. I point her out to Keegan, saying, “That’s Kat, Analise’s stepsister now. Gabby and Sam Tatum own the marina here. They’ve been married a short while and are expecting a baby.”
“I met her at the farmer’s market up the road,” Keegan says. “Gabby, I mean. She was really nice.”
“Theirs is one of those stories that make you believe in meant to be. They dated in high school, and I’m not sure of all the details, but found each other again not that long ago.”
We’re almost to the dock when Keegan looks at me and says, “Do you believe in that?”
“What?”
“Meant to be.”
I look into her eyes and feel myself falling as if someone has physically pushed me from a cliff. My response is surprising to my own ears. “Yeah,” I say. “I think I do.”
Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.
– Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama
Keegan
THE YOUNG GIRL who helps us tie up the boat is all the advertisement this marina will ever need to keep people coming back. She greets us with a wide, beautiful smile, her long blonde hair hanging in a braid over her left shoulder.
“Hey, Kat,” Bowie says. “This is my friend Keegan. Keegan, this is Kat.”
“Hi,” the girl says, sticking out her hand. We shake, and she says, “You play on that show.”
I smile at her and nod. “Nice to meet you, Kat.”
“Wow. You too. Wait ’til I tell Mom we have a celebrity at the marina.”
“I met your mom the other day. We had a nice chat.”
“Cool,” Kat says. And then to Bowie, “Hope you’re in the mood for something Italian today.”
“What’s the special?” he asks.
“Panzanella.”
“That bread salad you make?”
“Yep,” she says, looking proud.
“And what’s Myrtle going to surprise us with?”
“She has fried green-tomato sandwiches today,” she says with a smile.
“Who’s selling the most?” Bowie asks.
“Right now, Myrtle,” she concedes.
Bowie laughs. “I’ll be taking you up on the panzanella.”
She gives him a high-five, asking, “Do you need gas in the boat?”
“You could fill it up,” he says.
“Will do.”
We walk inside the marina cafe, and the smells are instantly intoxicating. “Oh, my goodness,” I say. “I am suddenly starving.”
“Then we’re at the right place.”
“Hey, Mr. Dare!” a woman calls out from behind a serving counter. “Y’all have a seat anywhere.”
“Thanks, Myrtle,” he says, and we take a table by the window that looks out over the lake.
A pretty young waitress hands us two menus. Bowie tells her he’ll have the panzanella special. I opt for the fried green-tomato sandwich. We both ask for unsweetened iced tea.
“I can’t believe I just ordered that,” I say, shaking my head.
“When in Rome,” he says.
I glance around the cafe, feeling the charm of the place, the low voices of other customers a hum in the background. “I love this,” I say.
“It’s my favorite place to eat around here,” Bowie says. “The Tatums have expanded the kitchen and the seating area. It just keeps getting more popular.”
“I can see why,” I say.
The door opens, and a couple walks inside. I instantly recognize Gabby Tatum. She spots me at the same time, waves and takes the man with her by the hand to lead him over to us.
“Hi,” she says, smiling in a way that makes me realize she’s glad to see me. “I was hoping you would come by. Hey, Bowie,” she says.
“Hey, Gabby. Sam,” Bo
wie says.
“Oh, sorry, honey,” she says, tucking her arm into his. “Sam, this is Keegan. I told you that we met at the farmer’s market.”
He sticks out his hand and warmly shakes mine. “Nice to meet you,” he says.
“You, too,” I say, noticing that he is as handsome as Gabby is beautiful. “What a great place this is.”
“You’re new to the lake?” he asks.
“Yes. My son and I bought a house not too far from here. Actually, we just met your daughter. She’s pulling my son, Evan, skiing out on the lake.”
Sam’s eyebrows raise a bit. He looks at Gabby and shakes his head, smiling. “That must be her new friend. Evan. The one she can’t stop talking about.”
“Ah,” I say. “They appear equally smitten.”
“Would you like to join us?” Bowie asks, waving a hand at the empty chairs at our table.
“We would love to,” Gabby says. “But we’re on the way to Roanoke for an appointment. Just checking in with Myrtle before we go. I really hope you enjoy the lunch. We’d love to have you over for dinner if there’s a time that works for you.”
“Thanks,” I say. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Then we’ll do it,” Gabby says, waving as they leave.
“Is everyone here that nice?” I ask Bowie once they’re out the door.
“There are a lot of nice people here,” he says. “You’ll find an exception here and there, but it’s one thing I like about living in this area. It’s not like a big city where it’s hard to run into someone you know.”
The waitress arrives with our plates. Bowie’s panzanella salad fills a large white bowl and my fried green-tomato sandwich is enormous. “Oh, my,” I say.
Bowie smiles. “You might have some to take home with you.”
We don’t waste any time getting started on our food. And it’s so good that conversation isn’t on either of our minds. But I can only finish half of my sandwich.
“That was unbelievable,” I say, putting a hand on my very full belly.
The woman from the kitchen comes out, a wide smile on her face. “What’s the verdict today, Mr. Dare? And who is this pretty lady you have with you?”
Dragonfly Summer (A Smith Mountain Lake Novel Book 2) Page 10