me take your suitcase.”
Eileen smiled, her face drawn and tired. “With pleasure. Thank you.”
“How’s your husband?”
“Doing very well.” Eileen grasped Dev’s arm. “Leslie tells me you’ve been
helping out around here every day. I can’t thank you enough.”
Uncomfortable, Dev glanced at Leslie but got only a small shrug and a smile, as
if to say, “Sorry, you’re on your own.”
“I really didn’t do that much, Mrs. Harris.”
“Well, you’re not going to be paying any rent on that cabin this summer,” Eileen
said ? rmly.
Dev stopped abruptly. “Mrs. Harris, the Institute pays for my lodging, and I
most certainly want you to charge. What I did, I did because… ” Because
Leslie has always been more than just a friend.
Dev sensed Leslie watching her intently. “Because you and Leslie needed some
help, and it was no imposition at all. Please.”
• 136 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
“I’m not going to make you feel uncomfortable about it.” Eileen squeezed Dev’s
arm and started across the lot toward the lodge. “Now, Leslie tells me you’re
going out to the islands today.”
“Yes.”
“We usually make just the two runs, delivery and pickup, but I’m sure we can
arrange more frequent—”
“No,” Dev said quickly, “that’s ? ne. I won’t need anything special.”
They climbed onto the porch and Leslie reached for the suitcase Dev had
carried. She said, “I’ll be running the skiff for at least the next week or so. I
don’t have a problem swinging by your site to check on things.”
Dev shook her head. “It’s a good hour just to get out there, Les, and I know
how much you have to do too.”
Leslie answered lightly, “Multitasking is nothing new. Let me ? ll my mother in
on what’s going on here, and I’ll meet you at the boat in a few minutes. Do you
need help transferring your gear from the truck?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
Thirty minutes later, Leslie piloted the twenty-foot Chris-Craft cruiser north
toward the Glen Island chain. She handled the boat with con? dent ef? ciency.
Despite the air temperature being in the mid-70s, the combination of wind and
spray was cold. Dev’s shirt was plastered to her chest, as was Leslie’s, by the
time they slowed on their approach to one of the undeveloped islands.
“Which side?” Leslie called, looking over her shoulder to where Dev sat. She
stared for a second longer than was necessary, registering the unmistakable
outline of Dev’s breasts and remembering just how they had felt against hers the
night before. Firm and tight-nippled and wonderful. She looked away.
“Northeast tip,” Dev replied. As Leslie drew closer to shore, Dev pointed to a
small sandy crescent rimming the thick woods at the water’s edge. “What do
you think about over there?”
“I think you’re going to get the hell scratched out of you breaking trail through
that underbrush.”
Dev grinned. “I think you’re right.”
“I also think that’s the only place to put up.” Leslie looked back at Dev again.
“This terrain is pretty rugged. Can’t you do this work from a campsite on one of
the other islands?”
• 137 •
RADCLY fFE
“Too much water traf? c.” The engine noise had quieted enough for Dev to be
heard without shouting. “Even with only a couple of boats coming in with
campers every day, the turbulence from the prop wash stirs up the bottom. Can
you drift in from here?”
Leslie cut the engine ten feet from shore. “I’m going to get out and pull her in.”
“Forget it. You’ll get soaked.” Dev clambered up on the bow and before Leslie
could protest, jumped into the knee-deep water to grab the towline. In a minute,
she’d waded to shore and secured the boat with a line around a nearby tree.
“Does the wake really make that much difference to what you’re studying?”
Leslie asked, intrigued. She’d grown up on the lake, but she’d never really
thought about it in such microcosmic terms.
“Yes. Here, start passing me the gear,” Dev said. As Leslie handed down crates
and Dev’s tent, sleeping bag, and other supplies, Dev explained. “We’ve looked
at water velocity at lake bottoms with Dopplers and measured the water
turbidity with optical backscatter sensors—even motorboats running as slow as
six miles an hour stir up the sediment and change the water clarity and nutrient
composition.”
“And?”
“Aquatic plant growth is altered, which affects the ? sh feeding patterns.” Dev
glanced out at the lake, then back at Leslie. “And the backwash makes it easier
for contaminants in the water to be transported to other regions of the lake.”
Leslie climbed down from the boat and hefted Dev’s duffel. “What are you
doing for food?”
“K rations. Dehydrated meals. I’ve got water-purifying tablets so I can use
boiled lake water. I’ve done this before, Les. I’ll be ? ne.” Dev took the duffel
from her. “There’s no point you getting torn up too. I’ve got long sleeves. I’ll be
? ne from here.”
Leslie scanned the island. It was isolated from the others, densely forested and
rocky, and not designated for normal camping. Dev would be here alone. The
thought made her uneasy. “Do you have extra batteries for the two-way?”
“In my dry pack.”
“I’ll wear the radio. If you don’t check in with me twice a day, I’ll be out.”
Dev frowned. “Besides the fact you’ll contaminate my test waters, there’s
nothing for you to worry—”
• 138 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
“I’m really not interested in negotiating this, Devon. Either check in, or I’ll be out
here stirring up your sediment.” Leslie gestured toward the woods. “Your other
option is that I stay.”
“To protect me?” Dev couldn’t help herself. She grinned.
“You think I couldn’t?”
Dev knew Leslie was capable of doing any number of things to her, and
protection wasn’t at the top of the list. Still, Leslie’s concern made her feel
good. Too good.
“I’ll call in. Thanks.”
Dev stared at Leslie across the pile of gear, aware of the sudden awkwardness.
