Charlie laughs, then pauses to meet my eyes. “You’re incredible.”
He lowers his lips to mine, but this kiss is gentle and sweet. Something precious.
“You make me feel incredible,” I tell him. “You make me feel so good.”
His hands find mine, and he laces our fingers together on either side of my head.
I’m so lost in the slow glide of our tongues, the caress of his thumb on the back of my hand, that I don’t notice the door to the tree house opening until I hear “Sweet Jesus.”
I bolt upright, bashing my head into Charlie’s, holding the top of my jumpsuit closed. Sam stands in the doorway, his eyes on the ceiling.
He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Ireallyshould have known better.”
36
Sunday, July 27
36 Days Left at the Lake
Charlie:How are you this morning?
Me:Still embarrassed.
Charlie:Don’t be. Sam didn’t see anything.
Me:You were ON TOP OF ME.
Charlie:Thirty seconds later, and it would have been worse.
Me:Ugh.
Charlie:And Percy’s thrilled. She woke up singing, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.”
Me:UGH!
Charlie:I’m sorry, Alice. It’s my fault.
Me:Yes, I blame you entirely. I’m completely innocent.
Charlie:So what you’re saying is?
Me:No regrets.
37
Tuesday, August 5
27 Days Left at the Lake
By the time the first week of August comes, we’ve fallen into a rhythm. Nan and I get our town gossip on Mondays at the hair salon. She’s driving short distances now, so on Tuesdays she takes herself to physio, and I delight in someone else having to listen to her gripe about the exercises. We go for walks through the bush and turn the cottage into a flowering garden with our sewing machine. During her naps, Charlie and I swim or take a ride in the yellow boat, but since the night of the party, we haven’t so much as kissed. It feels like something has shifted between us, but I’m afraid to ask.
He insists on bringing Nan to choir practice, and when I ask him why, he gives a vague answer about enjoying the music. But all is revealed when the Stationkeeper Singers perform at the Barry’s Bay Railway Station over the long weekend. I almost fall out of my chair when Charlie joins Nan at the front of the room. He has more enthusiasm than talent, and I bite my cheek to keep from laughing.
Charlie’s here for afternoon tea and often stays for dinner. One night, he takes us to the Tavern for pierogi, sausages, and braised red cabbage. After we eat, he darts back into the kitchen to help clean and returns with Julien. We stay late into the night, long after the restaurant closes, listening to the chef’s stories about Charlie, Sam, and their parents. Julien teases Charlie relentlessly, but it’s clear there’s love between them, that they’re family.
We hear about Charlie’s first shift working the deep fryer and the time Julien caught him making out with a server in the walk-in refrigerator. When Julien turns serious and tells Nan and me about how proud Sue was of her sons, I reach under the table and squeeze his thigh.
I’m here for you, I’m saying.
