Clear as Day (7 page)

Okay, new plan: use your brain this time, okay? Keep it cool and casual, slow and easy.

Right. Nate fixed his smile in place as if all was well with the world.

She was smiling.

Thank you, God.

****

Kay kept her “aren’t we happy” smile plastered on while she remained on guard for Nate to announce his news, but he said nothing. Maybe he was waiting for Lloyd and the guys to return. But for the ring on her finger and the knot in her stomach, she could pretend this was like any other July as everyone took turns skiing and lounging around the camp with beers and sodas, exchanging skiing and fishing tales.

The shadows grew longer and cast welcome shade across the camp.

“Last call for skiing, folks,” Dave called out from the boat. “Any takers? I’m ready for my beer.”

Olivia raised a brow, studying the lake. “I’ll go, if I can borrow a vest and ski.”

“Use mine, sweetie.” Patti saluted with her beer. “Have fun.”

Olivia set aside her drink and gracefully rose, slipping off her cover-up and sandals.

“I’ll spot,” Kay heard herself saying. Nate and Mark both volunteered to come along for the ride.

So far, the newbie seemed more nervous than aloof, although she’d hardly joined in with more than a few words when she wasn’t off grabbing a solitary smoke at the far downwind edge of the beach. She’d already apologized several times earlier in the afternoon for smoking despite JoAnn’s repeated reassurance and instructions to relax and make herself at home.

“I’ll take it easy on you. Need any refreshers?” Dave handed her Patti’s ski vest.

Olivia shyly avoided his eyes. “I’ve skied before. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Minutes later, they were ready. The boat rumbled at idle, Kay had the flag, and Olivia was settled comfortably balanced in the water, grimly serene as she waited for the tow into deeper water. Slowly the rope tightened and Olivia sat back on the ski as she cut along the drag of the wake.

Clear water, taut line, and at Olivia’s signal, Dave hit the throttle. She surged up like a pro and immediately thumbed up for speed. Dave frowned, but obliged.

Olivia did much as Kay had, taking her time, playing along the wake, getting her feel, then began cutting the wake in lazy and sharp S’s, leisurely enjoying herself along the first half of the run.

“She’s got great form,” Nate hollered to Dave. “Doing real good back there.”

Olivia thumbed up for more speed.

Again the lazy and sharp wake cutting, confident form.

The next S, she cut sharply, crouched low and jumped the wake, appearing to pause high in the air as if to give a pointed “See” to them all. She landed light and steady and added a sassy fishtail spray.

“Holy shit!” Mark shouted. “Go, Olivia!”

“What? What?” Dave craned around.

Nate grinned. “She jumped the wake. Very nice. Our newbie has hidden skills.”

“Man, you should have seen it. Beautiful. Flew like an angel. Wow. I am so in love.” Mark clapped his hands to his chest.

Dave scowled blackly. “She’s married, nut job.”

Mark laughed. “Yeah, I know, but I can worship from afar, can’t I? Honest, it was a thing of beauty. You should have seen it. Maybe she’ll do it again. Can you guys teach me how to do that?”

Dave’s scowl cleared. “We’ll see, grasshopper.”

But Olivia contented herself with ordinary wake cutting and fishtails, and before long they were on the drop-off swing by camp. She let go and, like Kay had, glided to an easy sinking in the water and short swim to shore.

Although the fishermen hadn’t returned, they started setting up for supper. Dave’s beans were simmering on one stove, filling the camp with the savory scent. Kay had never cared much for baked beans until she’d tasted his recipe. He swore his secret was the chorizo sausage, sautéing the onions first, and always using a well-seasoned cast-iron pot.

JoAnn gave in to Patti’s nagging and lounged in her beach chair, feet up, a glowing Madonna directing traffic and walking Olivia through her tomato salad and coleslaw recipes.

Oh, yeah, she absolutely had to paint JoAnn this trip, or at least get Nate to take some photographs with that wonderful camera of his.

Olivia still looked like she should be at a cocktail party on a yacht, nibbling caviar and holding some fancy martini in those glossy, manicured fingers instead of efficiently shredding cabbage and sipping a vodka and tonic from a plastic cup.

Dave stopped by the stove to give the beans a stir. Olivia paused in her slaw tossing. “Dave? Thank you for driving. That was a perfect run. Great boat.”

Dave nodded tersely. “No problem. Glad you enjoyed.”

He popped a CD in the player and set the volume to a soft, conversation-friendly level on Jimmy Buffett’s “Volcano.” They grouped the usual mismatched lot of card tables together, tossed up the romaine salad, and set the places between impromptu dances, all singing along with “Growing Older But Not Up” and “We Are the People Our Parents Warned Us About.” Mark belted out an enthusiastic “Brown Eyed Girl” and made the quiet Olivia laugh. Nate scooped JoAnn from her seat and danced her gently around the tables to “Cheeseburger in Paradise.”

Good mood, good friends, good music.

Nate caught Kay, and they slid into the slower rhythms of “Stars Fell on Alabama.” Being in Nate’s arms was heaven. She didn’t want the music to end. A strange mix of terror and exultation twisted through her. He loved her, but he was so happy.

While among their friends, Kay had been able to distract herself from the reality of Nate’s proposal. Guilt dragged at her like an anchor. He had assumed she accepted. She hadn’t said yes or no.

And which did she want?

She hated this indecisiveness consuming her. She was not indecisive. This was not her. Not at all.

Tell him no? And hurt him? She might be straight-out conflicted where love fit in, but she cared about Nate. A lot. Maybe too much.

Tell him yes? Tell him honestly how messed up in the head she was and how scared?

There was no good answer.

“Fins,” “Pencil Thin Mustache” and “Margaritaville” later, Patti set aside her beer. “They’re late. Looks like it’s cheeseburgers tonight in this paradise, my dear Parrotheads.”

Olivia stubbed out another barely smoked cigarette. “I’ll help.”

Dave peered out at the lake, hand shading his eyes. “Nope. There they are. The fish fry is on!”

As the boat came in, Lloyd posed at the bow like Washington crossing the Delaware, brandishing a healthy stringer of fish in the air.

“You’re late, guys. We were ready to begin hamburgers without you,” Rich hollered.

All pitched in to clean and cook the fish.

Margie helped bravely, but hopelessly, even with Christopher murmuring instructions. Olivia’s polished blond husband started droning on about the ones they didn’t catch. His practiced, charming laughter and toothy grin set Kay’s teeth on edge.

Dave frowned at the catch. “Got a lot of catfish in here. Knew I should have gone out with you three.”

Kay always wondered how an adrenaline junkie like Dave could hold still long enough for such a peaceful pastime as fishing, but he did. She’d done a portrait of him fly-fishing several years back for a birthday gift and the painting remained one of her favorite works.

Chuck whacked him with his Tigers cap. “Don’t complain to me, Mr. Fish Snob. Fish is fish. I’ll take anything legal that bites. I think we did damn good for the afternoon.”

Lloyd hoisted a catfish. “You want more bass, next time you come along and coax them.”

Margie grimaced, looking pale. “I didn’t know catfish were so big and ugly.”

“This one’s just a little baby.” Lloyd patted his “little baby.” The channel catfish weighed eight pounds, easy. “Have to be careful when you go swimming out in the deep water, Margie baby.” His voice dropped to a rolling old-pirate, tall-tale cadence. “They say there’s some out there a couple a hundred pounds, could just slurp a little thing like you right up.”

Margie looked wide-eyed at Christopher. Christopher was choking down a laugh and trying to look serious and supportive at the same time, and failing miserably.

JoAnn rolled her eyes and flicked the back of Lloyd’s head.

“Ouch! Damn it, Jo.” He rubbed his head.

JoAnn grinned. “Margie, sweetie, don’t listen to Lloyd. He’s just pulling your leg.”

“Oh.” Doubts still flickered over her face. “What do you need pliers for?”

“You don’t scale a cat, hon. You got to skin them. Watch how Scott’s doing it.” Christopher dispatched his own bass.

“Oh, that’s the old way. Try it this way.” With a brisk, sure slip of his knife, a snap of the backbone, and a smooth pull head to tail, Dave had the smaller catfish in his hands neatly peeled and gutted.

A kittenish cry escaped Margie as she turned seriously green. Christopher quickly rinsed off his hands and hugged her close, murmuring something soothing.

She hid her face in his chest, and a hiccupping sniffle squeaked from her. “But there it’s wrapped and everything.”

He smiled and patted her back as he whispered into her ear, his craggy, lined face transformed by tenderness into something exquisite.

Kay stared, transfixed.

Christopher whispered more. Margie’s gentle laughter rippled out, and she tipped her face to him. He kissed her and her smile bloomed.

Patti and Olivia deftly fileted and portioned the cleaned catch, and Dave and Rich manned the fry pans.

Food was served up, seats taken, and the lively banter, jokes, and catching-up conversation flew around Kay.

Lloyd handed Kay the tomato salad. “Kay, we put this trip together per Nate’s request so we could all get some serious fishing in, and what does he do on the first day? Deserts us!”

Nate laughed. “Hey, I caught four fish today. Tell them, Kay.”

Kay merely smiled as she scooped the savory tomatoes onto her plate and passed the bowl to Nate.

“Took you all afternoon to catch four fish? You said you’d be right back with Kay for lunch.” Dave rolled his eyes and gave Kay a friendly wink.

“Got sidetracked. The fish, lunch…you know.” Nate grinned smugly.

A flaming blush rushed over Kay.

JoAnn laughed dryly. “Uh huh. ‘You know’ always takes some time, when done right.” She leaned over to whisper in Lloyd’s ear and, as Lloyd choked and flushed, turned smoothly to Nate. “Nate, honey, pass that salad on down here.”

“Waiter, waiter, there’s a fly in my salad,” Dave cracked.

“Please, sir, no casting in the restaurant,” Christopher answered.

Margie giggled and so did Kay, even if that old joke got cornier every year. Kay had so missed this.

Still Nate said nothing. Kay puzzled over JoAnn’s revelation. Nate had been in love with her all this time and everyone knew? Yeah, Nate and she had been friends from day one, had always gotten along, and oh, yeah, clicked physically from moment one.

Really well. She’d never met anyone who brought her body to life like Nate. But physical attraction and friendship weren’t love.

Love was nothing but trouble.

Olivia slid a glance over to her husband, who was busy talking with Lloyd and Mark. She gave a tired, resigned smile and sipped at her drink. “So what do you do, Kay?”

JoAnn jumped in before Kay could answer. “Believe it or not, my friend here spends three months out of the year wandering around the desert by herself painting pictures of rocks. Rocks, mind you.”

“I do paint things other than rocks.” Kay sipped at her beer, feeling cornered.

JoAnn’s friendly, teasing laughter rang out. “What are you working on now? Ten to one it’s rocks.”

Kay shook her head. She didn’t dare answer, considering the subject matter of the Coyote Point piece. Yep. Rocks. The paintings sold, and sold well. She was very good at painting rocks. Thanks to her art, she owned a comfortable home in Tucson and had a career that contented her. Work at the academy filled September through May to the brim, with brief wintery escapes into the high mountains. June, July and August remained hers to wander through the Southwest as she pleased for her painting, ruled only by sunlight and shadows. The itinerary might vary, maybe Organ Pipes, or maybe Arches National Park, or Canyon de Chelly, instead of Lake Havasu or the Grand Canyon, but it was always the desert, and she always came to Lake Mohave in July.

“You camp alone?” Margie poked the fish around on her plate. The uneasy look in her eyes hinted at a replay of the catfish skinning scene. She settled on a bite of the baked beans. “Isn’t it frightening? You must get very lonely.”

Gee, had she ever been that wide-eyed young? Memories of her dad’s instructions during their camping trips flooded over her.

No, never.

Other less pleasant memories of their family trips jostled for recall as well. Her chest tightened.

No, not going back there.

And lonely? Not ever, until this trip.

“I camp near friends most of the time. It’s not hard. A few things to remember and respect about the desert and you can get along fine.” She liked being alone. Always had.