And I walk back to my tent, my duck waddling quietly by my side. When we get in the tent, and I get zipped in, I look over at my duck.
“I’m in like.”
The duck settles down and burrows into his blanket bed.
“And apparently, I’m a dumbass.” I swipe a hand down my face in frustration, but for the first time in a very long time, I feel hopeful about the future. It’s both fearsome and awesome, all at the very same time.
14
Abigail
It has been a really long time since I’ve been on a date. But this is a date. Or at least I hope it’s a date. This afternoon, I went and found Ethan where he was working on the plumbing at one of the cabins. I’d knocked on the door and found him under the sink, after he’d told me to come on in.
He’d lifted his head so he could look at me, but he didn’t scoot out from under the sink. Instead, he’d grinned and said, “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” I said, as I squatted down next to him. “You busy?”
“I’m never too busy for you.” He scooted out from under the sink and grinned at me.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I just like looking at you.”
I shoved his shoulder. “You’re such a weirdo.
He said nothing more as he searched through his tool bag.
“Do you have plans tonight?” I asked.
“Depends,” he said. He closed one eye and stared at me the way he always does when he’s concentrating.
“On what?”
“On what you’re doing tonight. Because whatever it is, I’d love to do it with you.” He winked at me and then slid back under the sink.
“Dinner?”
“What time?”
“Seven-ish?”
“I’ll bring the duck.” Then he chuckled.
Right that moment, the duck was sitting next to his leg on the floor by where he was working, so I didn’t think he had much choice about bringing the duck. “I’ll cook,” I said.
“As long as it’s not duck,” he’d replied.
And now it’s almost seven o’clock, and the food is out of the oven and waiting on the table, and he’s not here yet. I go and check my hair in the mirror. It’s as flyaway as it ever has been, and I tuck a lock of it behind my ear. Ethan has never minded my curls. In fact, I think he likes them. Charles had always asked me to straighten my hair if we were going out. And I usually did, but I like my curls, and I love that Ethan likes them too.
The crunch of tires on gravel gets my attention, and I go to the front to look out the screen door. I freeze immediately when I see Charles’s silver sedan pull up in the driveway. He parks behind my car and gets out, stopping to hitch his pants up as he stretches. Gran was right. He doesn’t have much of an ass.
But then the passenger door of his car opens, and she gets out too. He had the nerve to bring Sandra to my lake house? He brought her to my refuge? He brought her here, when he knows what this place means to me?
She looks around, her face curious as she says something to Charles. He walks around the car to stand next to her. He points toward the Jacobsons’ house, and then he stops to tell her something. She smiles like she’s enjoying getting the history of the place.
I open the screen door, step through it, and let it slam hard behind me. Gran would shoot me if she heard that door hit the frame like that. But it’s enough to get their attention. They both turn in my direction. Sandra’s lips lift in an unsteady smile of greeting, and Charles just looks resigned to whatever task he has assigned to himself.
“Why are you here?” I ask without preamble. I march down the steps toward them. Sandra takes a step back and covers her bump with her hand. Like I would do something to hurt an unborn child.
Charles holds up a hand. “Wait,” he says. He steps between me and Sandra, holding his palm up and out in my direction, like he can push me back with sheer will alone. I’d have to care about them being together before I would want to expend any energy pushing them back to get rid of them. And even now I can’t bring myself to care. Instead, I am extremely annoyed that they are here, in