Lakeside Cottage

by Susan Wiggs

  JD made as much noise as he could, hoping the kid would surrender and join him. He had no idea if this ploy would work, though. His experience with kids was so limited. Generally he met them at the worst times of their lives, when they’d injured themselves or swallowed poison or spiked a fever scary enough to warrant a call to 911. Even healthy kids were a mystery to him, their minds operating on a different wavelength. He didn’t get them. He didn’t know how to be a parent. For all his special training, for all his experience in the field, JD was lost when it came to understanding a child. The one thing he would not do was give up on Aaron or give in to his temper. That was all he knew.

  A kid was the ultimate challenge, and this was proof. Forget dodging bullets and saving lives. Compared to raising a child, everything else was a cakewalk.

  And yet people did it every day, he reminded himself. They gave their whole heart to a child in an act of faith.

  It took all JD’s willpower to resist rushing back to where he had ditched the kid and make sure he was okay. If he did that, Aaron would learn that throwing a tantrum was a good way to bring people to your beck and call.

  He went around a curve in the trail. Still no Aaron. His stomach clenched. He was ditching Kate’s boy. Abandoning a child in the wilderness.

  This was a bad idea, and it was getting worse by the minute.

  The dog picked up speed, scampering around the next curve of the steep pathway. For a hound, he wasn’t very focused on sniffing out his kid.

  Come on, Aaron, JD thought. Quit being a little shit.

  He decided to pause by the anvil-shaped rock and take a break. Have a drink of water from the canteen. Did Aaron have enough water? The boy was so little; in the heat of a summer day, dehydration could set in fast.

  He tried to act casual as he opened the canteen and put it to his lips. Tipping back his head, he allowed himself to scan the area.

  No Aaron.

  JD took his time putting the canteen away. Bandit was rooting around somewhere below, but there was no sign of the boy. JD calculated that he’d come just a few hundred yards. Only a short time had passed.

  He heaved a sigh and kept going, noisily, hoping the kid would track his progress. But with every step he took, his doubts intensified. This wasn’t working. Aaron was just a little kid.

  The path split off into two branches, and JD hesitated. Seconds later, he made up his mind. He had to go back the way he came. He couldn’t risk losing Aaron just to make a point. All right, kid, he thought. You win. I’ll come running back to you.

  Defeated by a willful kid who had thrown a camera at him.

  He didn’t know what else to do. He’d taken a huge risk and it had been a mistake. He whistled for the dog. Then he turned and started back up the mountain. Running. Once the decision was made, he gave in to the sick, pounding urgency of full-blown worry. With the dog now following him, he came around the first switchback. He’d managed to work himself nearly into a panic now. He gathered breath in his lungs to call out for Aaron.

  A second later, he was hit by a whirlwind. The boy ran straight to him, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

  “Whoa, there,” JD said. “Take it easy.”

  Aaron’s face was sweaty and deep red, but when JD looked into his eyes, there was no rage. No fear or distress, either.

  “I’m sorry,” Aaron said with a curious sober dignity. “I threw the camera on purpose, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry about the stuff I said to you, too. I don’t hate you, not one bit, and I never have.”

  Judging by the tremor in the boy’s voice, JD suspected that this speech was exceedingly difficult for him. He knew his reply mattered a lot and hoped he’d get it right. “I’m impressed by your honesty.”

  “Do you accept my apology?”

  There was a lot to talk about here. JD knew this was something Kate would call a teachable moment, a time to discuss the incident in depth. He ought to talk with Aaron about recognizing anger coming on and discuss ways to deal with his temper before it got away from him. He ought to discuss alternatives and options for managing this strange inner force that took over.

  He studied the small face, now soft and vulnerable with remorse, and he thought, Some other time.

  “Yeah,” he said, and held out his right hand. “I accept.”

  Aaron solemnly shook on it, his hand lingering for a few beats. “Were you really going to take off and leave me behind?” he asked.

  “No way,” JD said. “I’d never leave you.”

  Twenty-Four

  Kate consulted the pedometer hooked to the waistband of her shorts. “How’re you doing?” she asked Callie, who was walking briskly beside her along the road.

  “Just peachy.”

  “This is mile three,” Kate told her. “Do you need a rest?”

  “Heck, no. Let’s keep going.”

  They were both sweating profusely in the afternoon sun, but Callie’s attitude was good today. They’d been on an emotional roller coaster as Callie came to terms with her condition. Or railed against the injustice of it, or gave in to despondency. From moment to moment, her outlook seemed to change. She veered from rebellion and despair to commitment and determination, all normal reactions, according to the crash course in diabetes control Kate had taken. She was determined to learn as much about the disease as possible. Without so much as a second thought, she’d assumed a parental role with Callie. Lord knew, the girl needed mothering.

  And Kate had an undeniable need to mother her. She applied herself to the problem like a military strategist, arming herself with knowledge of insulin resistance and type 2 diabetes, then mapping out a battle plan to vanquish the enemy. She created menus designed to maximize glucose metabolism and laid out an exercise regimen worthy of professional triathletes. She stood over Callie while the girl recorded her glucose readings, her weight and progress in a pocket-size journal Kate had bought for her. They walked at least five miles a day, went kayaking and swimming and rewarded themselves with trips to the movies or excursions that always involved more exercise.

  Sometimes they locked horns over working Callie’s program, but now, despite the ups and downs, Kate saw glimmers of determination and tangible progress. Callie was already losing weight. It was a blessing of youth that her body responded so quickly to a better diet and exercise. Even after a short time, the loss of fifteen pounds was apparent. Her skin was clearing up, too, thanks to the pills and topical medications the doctor had prescribed. The biggest change of all was in Callie’s attitude. She had been devastated by the diagnosis, but in a strange way, it turned out to be a source of motivation.

  Dealing with this filled Kate’s days. And kept her from falling to pieces over JD. Since they’d clashed over her article about Callie, he had left for L.A. and come back, but she hadn’t seen him. It was up to him to make the first move.

  Ahead of them, Aaron explored the dunes, glancing back from time to time to see where they were. To vary the daily exercise routine, they had driven to Dungeness Spit, a low, sandy finger jutting out into the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It was spectacularly scenic, a wild and windswept sanctuary for eighty species of birds, with a historic lighthouse at the very tip.

  “I’d like to get a copy of your birth certificate,” Kate said. “That way, we can take the ferry over to Victoria, do some shopping and sightseeing.”

  For a moment, yearning shone in Callie’s eyes, but she spoke up quickly. “No way. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself. Next thing I know, I’ll get shoved back into foster care.”

  The issue had been troubling Kate. For the short term, Callie had a secure living situation. Still, knowing how very young the girl was, Kate would have to take up the matter with officials before long.

  “You can’t fly below the radar forever,” she told her. “At some point—sooner rather than later—the ER report to social services is going to be assigned to a caseworker, who’ll show up on our doorstep. She won’t have to dig too deep to fi
nd that you’re classified as a runaway.”

  “I didn’t run. I was chased.”

  Kate walked along in silence for a few minutes. This was exactly the sort of material she needed for her article, but she was having second thoughts about that, too. She’d been so sure of what she was doing before JD had undermined her confidence.

  “You weren’t ragging on me about this before,” Callie pointed out.

  “I thought you were nearly eighteen before. The fact that you’ve got three years until you’re a legal adult changes everything.”

  On the drive home, Aaron fell asleep in the backseat of the car. Callie felt agreeably fatigued and distinctly pleased with herself. Some days, the hard work paid off. If she scheduled her eating and exercise right, she had loads of energy, and could feel herself getting stronger. Today was a good day. She had them every so often, which was pretty amazing, considering everything that had happened since her birthday. She’d revealed the lie about her age, and the world hadn’t come to an end. She’d been diagnosed with a really bad condition, yet life went on. Not only that, she was doing all right dealing with the situation. It gave her something to control, at least.

  Today. Her attitude, it seemed, was a pendulum on a long, long chain. Some days, she hated everything—her disease, herself, her life, her situation. Others, like now, ranged from not half-bad to pretty okay.

  “Another reason to get hold of your birth certificate,” Kate said, picking up the conversation from a couple of hours ago, “is so you can take driver’s ed next year. You want to learn to drive, don’t you?”

  “Oh, I know how to drive.” When she and her mother had come north to Washington, Callie used to take her mother’s car, just to see if she could get away with it. The idea, of course, was for her mother to catch her and tell her she was grounded, but of course, that never happened. It was dumb, anyway, a ploy for attention that never worked.

  “Legally,” Kate said.

  “Mmm.” Callie looked out the window as they drove through the little tourist town of Sequim, a sunny place surrounded by acres of lavender fields. The silence between them was pleasant, comfortable. She had made use of her driving skills again when she was living with a family whose driveway resembled a crowded parking lot. The father was always asking the kids to move the cars around to let this one or that one in or out. Callie had become the go-to girl for valet parking. Then one day, while moving a rusty Chevy Malibu from the driveway to the street, she’d simply kept going. She’d driven down the residential street and onto the highway, going so slow that passing trucks had blasted their horns at her. She got to the next town before the highway patrol and local police surrounded her and made her pull over. The impulsive move marked her last day with that family.

  Pulling her mind away from the past, she turned to Kate. “So when are you and JD going to get over your fight?”

  Kate’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, a dead giveaway. “What fight?”

  “Good one,” Callie said, “but I’m not buying it.” She didn’t want to bug Kate or anything, but she was genuinely curious. JD had stopped coming over. He let Aaron visit his place to mess around and help with the boat building, but there were no more suppers together, stories and board games in the evening. No more hearing Kate and JD trying to sneak around, like Callie hadn’t figured out exactly what they were up to. She was dying to know if he’d maybe explained to Kate about his real identity, and if Kate had a problem with that. “So what was the fight about?” she persisted.

  “Nothing.” Her knuckles were still white, her face red.

  “You wouldn’t take that answer from me or Aaron,” Callie said. “Come on, tell me.”

  Kate sighed and looked in the rearview mirror, adjusting it to check on Aaron.

  “Out cold,” Callie informed her. “Spill.”

  “We didn’t have a fight. It was a…disagreement.”

  “How is that not a fight?”

  “Things didn’t get ugly or anything. We simply…found a deep difference of opinion about something.”

  “About what?”

  Kate hesitated, bit her lip as she concentrated on the road ahead.

  “About me,” Callie said. It wasn’t a question. All it took was that slight hesitation, and she knew. Damn it. “Kate, that’s so stupid. I shouldn’t even matter—”

  “Of course you matter.”

  “I mean when it comes to you and JD.”

  “We’re not a match, and that became apparent. It’s best not to waste time and energy trying to make something work that’ll only last the summer no matter what. And that’s my decision, and mine alone.”

  One thing about Kate, she could be totally stubborn. Maybe that’s what came of being a single mother all her adult life. She was used to calling the shots.

  “What do you mean, you’re not a match? That’s such bullshit.”

  “I don’t like your language.”

  “I don’t like you shutting me out. I thought we were friends, Kate. Friends tell each other stuff. Jeez, you know my weight and my glucose level and everything.”

  Kate pursed her lips as if she didn’t want to say anything. Then she spoke up. “We quarreled about me making you the subject of an article.”

  Classic, thought Callie. Of course JD would object to that, and she knew exactly why. Kate didn’t, though, and Callie wasn’t about to tell her. Or should she? If she let the cat out of the bag, Kate would understand. Or she might get pissed that JD had put one over on her, and blow him off completely. All right, Callie decided. She’d keep her mouth shut. His real identity wasn’t her secret to tell, and besides, she’d made a promise. You idiot, JD, she thought. You freaking idiot.

  “Did you tell him I want you to do the article?”

  “Certainly. I also told him that since you’re a minor, your identity can’t be revealed.”

  “I still want to do it. I’ll tell him myself,” Callie said.

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort. This is between JD and me.”

  “But it’s about me.”

  Kate flipped on the blinker as she headed through downtown Port Angeles. On First Street, they passed the recruiting office and Callie saw it again, the poster of Jordan Donovan Harris, three feet high in living color outside the shop front. She studied it every time they passed by. He was so hot in that picture. It was amazing how dorky glasses and a baseball cap could conceal so much hotness.

  “He thinks I might be exploiting you and your situation,” Kate said. “I don’t want to do that, Callie, I swear.”

  “You’re not. I’m totally cool with it.”

  “Do you really want your picture in a national magazine?”

  Duh. It would only be the coolest thing ever to happen to her. But Callie had learned the truth about wanting. The harder you wished for something, the more impossible it was to get. So she tried not to wish too hard. “We’ve already been through this,” she reminded Kate. “I’m not like some cover model or anything, but if the magazine wants pictures, it’s fine with me. God, JD really ticks me off.” She hesitated before she said too much, and cut her gaze away.

  “Have you talked to him about this?” Kate asked, frowning at the road.

  “No,” Callie said quickly. “It just seems like the sort of thing that would make him freak. He’s like, this really private person and all.” She realized that she felt weirdly invested in the idea of Kate and JD together. It wasn’t really her business, but there was something between them, some kind of energy in the air. It was sad, actually, to think that she and JD were on the brink of calling it quits. They seemed like a perfect match, Kate the eternal optimist and Harris the dangerous protector. Not to mention that they were so good-looking, their picture ought to be in celebrity magazines. JD would love that, Callie thought.

  These days, Kate seemed…diminished. Maybe a little lost. Callie could tell Kate missed him. And then it occurred to her that she wasn’t completely powerless here. If she could just think up
a reason to get them together again. Surely Kate’s place had a leaky faucet or something broken JD could fix. He was all about fixing things. Maybe that was the key, Callie decided, mulling it over.

  “Anyway,” she said, “I can’t believe the two of you are breaking up over this. You’re making me feel like the bad-karma fairy.”

  “You’re not,” Kate said, “and we’re not breaking up. Technically, we weren’t together in the first place, so there’s nothing to break up.”

  Callie snorted. “Listen to yourself. Technically? What does that mean?” She waited, but Kate didn’t answer. Callie said, “He saved my life, remember?”

  “You don’t need to remind me that he’s a good guy.”

  “Hello? It’s not like they grow on trees.”

  “You know what?” Kate said with a rare flash of that redheaded temper. “We’re not talking about this anymore. We’ve got a project, and that’s to get you well, so let’s work on that, okay?”

  “Only if you promise we’ll get back to work on the article.”

  Kate pulled off to the shoulder of the road. She took a deep breath, turned and faced Callie. “If I do, it’s going to involve going to see your mother.”

  Callie’s heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

  “Because she’s a huge part of your story. It wouldn’t be complete without her.”

  Callie was seized by a painful combination of panic and yearning. Her mother had failed her in every possible way, ultimately flinging her to the world like a seed blown into the wind. Yet for all that, they were mother and daughter, and even though she didn’t want it to mean anything to her, it did. It meant everything. “Whatever,” she said. “I don’t care.”

  Twenty-Five

  “Callie thinks we’ve broken up,” Kate said, getting the words out quickly before she lost her nerve. Last night, pacing the floor at 3:00 a.m., wondering how to end the stalemate and clear the air with him, she found no answer. Only exhaustion.