More steps, and more squeals. The process torturous, but fun. Jack for the first time feeling a bit of what they came here for. To get away, to escape things, to simply enjoy his family.
Simon hit the upper-chest mark well ahead of him.
And then, amazingly, Simon dove into the water and emerged like a human otter, black hair plastered against his head, his eyes flashing.
Jack realized what his son was about to do.
“Simon, don’t even think—”
But Simon let go with a volley of splashes, the tables turned, wonderfully, and soon they were both fully wet, swimming, diving, and playing in the cold, clear water.
* * *
Jack followed Simon out of the lake, but didn’t copy him when Simon threw himself onto the sand, laughing, and basted his body in the fine beach sand.
Christie threw him a towel.
“Thanks.”
As he dried himself, he looked around.
Off to the side, away from the main pools of families sitting in the chairs and blankets, he saw Tom Blair, smiling, talking to Ed Lowe.
Ed in jolly mode, Tom probably pleased that his family could stay for a few more days.
Jack worked on his hair, neck, but kept watching the two of them.
Tom walked away and in the moment Lowe turned, he saw Jack looking at the two of them.
A smile from Jack. Nice day at the lake, isn’t it?
For a second it looked as though Lowe’s grin just evaporated. Then back on again. Like a switch.
Jack nodded at Lowe. He came and sat down by Christie.
“That was great, getting Simon in the water.” She laughed. “Of course, now he’ll have sand everywhere. Maybe a shower down here before we get back.”
Jack nodded. “You see our happy leader?”
“What? You mean talking to Tom Blair?”
“Weird the way he can turn the smile on and off.”
“Jack, come on. He’s in the—what do they call it?—the hospitality business. What do you think it is?”
“Right. Yeah, he’s just being … hospitable.”
“I don’t get why you can’t just relax. Let the cop thing go. Christ…”
Jack started to defend himself. “I’m just saying…”
Kate came over, still annoyed with him, Jack imagined.
“I’m going back to the cottage.”
“Okay, honey,” Christie said quickly.
He watched Kate walk away.
“Look, Jack. Relax. Okay? I love it here.” She took in a deep breath. The clear air. “It’s perfect.”
“Right.”
“Unless you just want to spoil this for everyone.”
“No. Don’t want to do that. I hear you. Relax mode … on.”
But he had turned back to Tom, now standing with his wife.
Jack tried to stay seated. Instead, he started to get up.
“Gonna go chat with Tom.”
Christie shook her head as he walked over to Tom.
“Hey, Tom.”
“Jack. Hi.”
“I saw you with Lowe. All set?”
“Oh yeah. I mean, he may have to shift us to another cabin. People request the ones with a view. I said no problem.” Tom laughed. “As long as my cash holds out.”
There was a flicker of something. A distant look in Tom’s eyes. Everything about Tom in that moment—his eyes, the way he stood, the sudden hollowness in his voice—said that there was something unsaid here.
For now, Jack decided not to push him. There’d be time to talk tonight, at the fireworks.
“See you guys at dinner?” Jack said.
“Sure. See you there.”
Jack walked back to Christie.
“They all set? To stay?”
“Appears so,” he said.
Christie kept her eyes on him. “And something else?”
“What? No. Just they may have to move cabins.”
“Why is that?”
“Other reservations. Something about the view.”
“Guess it doesn’t matter.”
She shaded her eyes, still looking at him.
“Nothing else?”
He smiled. An Ed Lowe smile, he thought. “Nothing else.”
She nodded. “Good. Just try to remember that you’re here. With me, and the kids. And this is
“I hear you.”
Then quiet.
After a few silent minutes, he stood up. “I’m going back to shower.”
“Or to check on Kate?”
He didn’t rise to the bait. “See you there.”
He walked away.
* * *
Christie felt her annoyance with Jack subside.
With her mix of Italian and Latin blood, she could get steamed pretty fast. Early in their relationship, she had worked hard to watch it, control it.
What she said seemed reasonable. This was a vacation. They were safe. And he needed to leave his old world behind. At least while they were here.
She pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the sun, the water, the warm sand between her toes.
“Can I go back in?” Simon said, writhing toward her like a sand snake.
“Sure. Another dip will get all that sand off you. Just stay close. Where you can stand—or squirm!”
Simon turned around like an eel and started slithering toward the water.
She let her thoughts fade as she kept her eyes on Simon.
Locked on him, catching every shimmering slash in the water.
* * *
Most families had already left the beach for the communal lunch. The beach took on a deserted feel with everyone packing up.
Time to go soon, she knew.
Though Simon still twisted and leaped in the water, oblivious to everything but the fun he was having.
Other kids were swimming, too.
One girl near Simon’s age. A little older.
And definitely farther out. A swimmer—she could move her arms in a simulation of the Australian crawl—but awkward, expending too much energy. Stopping to plant her feet.
