Page 33 of Barefoot Lake

Even though I tell myself to focus on me, my attention still goes to her. Every time I leave my house or drive into our little clearing, my eyes dart to her house. Will she be outside? Is her car parked beside the house? Does something look like it’s about to fall apart and crush her?

Most of the time, the house is quiet, but sometimes I do see her, and I see changes around her property.

Alice has been working hard at taking better care of her new home, raking leaves, picking weeds, and constantly cleaning something. She smiles and waves when she’s outside and spots me inevitably staring. My frustration with her is gone, as is the punch of sadness when she reminds me of Rain. Stubborn as an ox, I refuse to acknowledge the new feeling her attention stirs in me.

I remind myself that we’ve clocked no more than a few hours together and that I know very little about her. Reasoning doesn’t get me far, though, because I feel drawn to her, nonetheless. I want to spend time with her. I want to get to know her.

Instead, I do my best to give her space and not find anything else to admire about her.

It’s not going well.

CHAPTER 16

Alice

It feels like Jake and I have reached some kind of truce. We’re not about to have any more heart-to-hearts, but I think we’ll maintain the peace. To help with that, I try my absolute hardest to stay out of his way, politely waving when I see him but minding my business. Ten out of ten times, I get a quick head nod in return before he turns away.

For a while, I became a homebody, trying to figure out all it takes to care for my home. Once, I slipped away to the outskirts of Boston for a couple of hours to connect with part of my old life. With the several-hour-long round-trip drive, I surrendered my day to the task and snuck back into Wilcox Grove without seeming to have raised any alarms.

Grateful Bob came by to visit and help me winterize my boat. In return, I gave him a small crocheted stuffed loon I made. Even with all the house projects, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands these days.

Since this is the first time in my life when I haven’t had school or work to keep me busy, I’ve been, well, vibing. After yet another morning of cooking, cleaning, crocheting, screaming at something broken in the house, and reading in my library squashy chair, I decide it’s time to push myself to try new things.

I also need to get out of this house before I decide the “charm” isn’t worth it and burn the place to the ground.

This was Mom’s haven. I would never.

(But I bet she’d forgive me if I did.)

Since arson is off the table for now, I try to think of something else to do. For a city girl, “new things” probably means spending a lot of time outdoors. I’m just not sure what to do. Should I wander around and look at plants? That feels like a surefire way to get poison ivy.

Since I’m completely out of ideas after that extensive (read “five-second long”) brainstorming session, I grab a bottle of pink wine and my phone and head to my back porch swing to video call Piper.

As the phone rings, I convince myself that since I’m outside, it’s a step in the right direction. I start lazily swinging back and forth. I notice there are no longer any splinters stabbing me and silently thank Jake for sanding the swing down.

Luckily, Piper’s home and answers my call quickly before I can dwell on my neighbor any longer.

Once the video connects, I’m met with chaos on the screen. Between the flashes of light and bits of Piper, I realize she’s shoving her arm through a sleeve while still holding the phone. A moment later, the image centers on her face, and her mouth splits into a grin.

“Hiya!” she basically shouts the greeting at me.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” I ask as the background behind Piper moves.

I can tell she’s taking me through her apartment to the bathroom. She props the phone on her counter and starts running her fingers through her hair. I unscrew the top from the wine and take a swig straight from the bottle.

“It’s all good! I’m just multitasking. I need to leave for work in like ten minutes. What’s up?”

“Nothing in particular. I’m just enjoying the great outdoors.”

Piper glances away from the mirror and down to her phone screen.

“Babe, it looks like you’re enjoying your great backyard. I’m not sure that counts.” She laughs as she says it, and I know it’s all in good fun, but I groan anyway.

“I don’t know what to do. I feel so boring.” I know I sound whiny, dragging out the last word, but I also know I’m safe to be as dramatic and ridiculous as I want with Piper. Anything goes between the two of us.

“You could start by seeing other people,” she suggests, her fingers twisting in her hair as she makes a tight French braid. “You know, not drinking wine straight from the bottle alone at one p.m. on a Wednesday?”

I gasp in mock outrage at the judgment and clutch the bottle to my chest like I’m comforting it. At least, I thought this was a safe space.