Still Waters (8 page)

The back door slapped flatly behind them as Hannah followed Colin back into the house. “I’ll grab the bags from the car,” he said over his shoulder, his step brisk and confident again. Hannah imagined his figure disturbing the thick, still air of the house, like a rippling eddy in a sluggish stream.

“Okay.”

His footsteps descended the porch stairs. Hannah stood still in the center of the floor, feeling a thin layer of grit in the bottom of her sneakers, the frayed laces pressing on her instep. The room was perfectly silent except for a fly buzzing and bumping against the window. It must have come in with them. Outside, Colin slammed the car door. But even that sound was muffled in the heavy air that shrouded the room.

Hannah suddenly felt the distance around them, the miles of woods separating them from the nearest house, from even one road. Her breath hitched and a wave of claustrophobia tightened
around her throat. The rough gray walls of the room seemed to rise around her, enclosing her in a high box. What were they doing here? What had she done? Running away like this—lying.

Quickly she moved to the near window and, twisting the stiff latch, shoved the splintery frame upward with all her strength. It resisted, and then gave with a groan. Hannah pressed her face against the rusty screen, inhaling the rich mud and grass odor that wafted in along with the rushing noise of the wind in the pine trees. The silence became more ordinary and the tightness in her throat slowly loosened.

Hannah turned, blowing out her lips in a long exhale.
Okay, get a grip. It’s all going to be okay—Colin seems fine now. And the place is nice, actually.
She examined the room more closely. The wide gray board walls were unpainted and darkened with age. Overhead, the ceiling arched, crisscrossed with exposed rafters. On each outside wall, wide windows stretched, facing the lake, so that the water seemed like it was going to lap right up to the edge of the floorboards. Who cared if it was a little strange?
Hannah, you’re here, alone with your boyfriend for the first time, really alone, at Pine House, and nothing to do but just lie around, eat, swim, talk.

Swiftly, before she thought too much about what she was doing, she crossed to the sofa, where
Middlemarch
sat open beside the stained coffee cup. In one motion, she picked up the book, slamming it shut, and shoved it under the couch. Anything to get rid of it fast. She grabbed the coffee cup and carried it through to the kitchen, where she dropped it into the sink. Then, back in the
living room, she plumped the couch cushions, choking a little on the dust, and smoothed them with both hands.

She stood back and surveyed her work.
You’d never know anyone had ever been there,
she thought just as the outside door slammed. This was
her
house now—hers and Colin’s. Whatever had gone on here before was over.

She looked up as Colin came into the room with the duffel bags over each shoulder. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Hot out.” He looked around. “There’s a nice breeze in here though.”

Hannah smiled with satisfaction. “Where do you want to sleep?” The words sounded ordinary but she felt a shiver go through her as she followed Colin’s broad back down the hallway toward the bedrooms. A little giggle of anticipation escaped her like a bubble, and Colin turned around, smiling. His eyes gleamed in the shadowy darkness.

“What?” His voice was low and teasing, as if he’d already guessed what she was thinking.

“Nothing.” His face was very close to hers.

“Nothing,” he teased, imitating her. He grabbed her around the waist with the suddenness of a snake strike. She giggled again, and he stopped the laugh by pressing his mouth to hers. Hannah leaned into the kiss. His arm circled her waist, pulling her in closely, and Hannah felt her heart quicken. His lips were firm and insistent. He pressed her against him, and she felt her head fall back. A doorknob was digging into her back. Feeling behind her, she twisted the smooth china knob. The door swung open, and they almost fell into the room beyond.

It was the room with the big bed. Hannah, eyes mostly closed, let Colin press her backward onto the mattress. She felt him leaning over her. Smiling, she stretched her arms over her head, waiting for him to clasp her hands and kiss her again. But his body grew still.

Hannah opened her eyes. Colin was leaning over her, but his eyes were fixed on the small window opposite the bed.

Hannah craned her neck back, but all she could see out the window were trees and gray sky. “Colin?” she murmured.

He looked down at her as if surprised to see her there. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay?” she asked carefully.

He shook his head a little and blinked. “Of course.” But he rolled over to one side.

Hannah raised herself up on an elbow and looked around. There wasn’t much to see. Books stacked beside the bed: some Jane Austen and a dictionary. A closed closet door. The white bedspread. That was all.

“Was this your parents’ room?” she asked.

Colin shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess so. I already told you like six hundred times, Han, I don’t remember this place. Okay?”

Hannah sighed. “Sorry. I’m just curious, and I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“Okay, let’s forget it.” Colin smiled his easy grin. “You’re so gorgeous on that white quilt. Hang on.” He climbed off the bed and disappeared down the hall for a moment, returning with his camera in his hand.

“Okay, let’s see it,” he said, his camera already at his eye. Hannah grinned and scooted backward on the bed until she was half propped against the pillows. She struck a pose, arms behind her head, hips twisted to the side.

“Nice.” Colin snapped a few shots. “Very Hollywood bombshell.”

Hannah snorted and flipped onto her stomach. “All us bombshells wear jeans and T-shirts with”—she looked down at the words on her shirt—“Reider High Mathlympics on them.” She sucked in her cheeks and aimed a sultry look at the camera.

Colin zoomed in, the camera clicking in an insectile manner.

“Hey, not too close!” Hannah protested, holding her hands up in front of her face.

“What do you mean ‘not too close’? Like this?” Colin put a knee up on the bed and leaned over. Hannah giggled a little as he advanced closer, still holding the camera. He clicked off another shot and moved closer. She pressed herself back against the pillows and reached for him.

Colin shoved the camera to one side and bent over her. She closed her eyes, relishing the hot, insistent pressure of his lips on hers. Before Colin, she didn’t even know what a kiss was. Howard Mortenson freshman year didn’t count. Kissing him was like having someone toilet plunge her mouth. And after that, no one … until Colin.

Too soon, Colin drew his head back. He stretched out on his side next to her, propping his head up with his hand. His blue eyes were soft and sparkling. The sun must have come out
because a dapple of sunlight played on the wall behind him. “Are you happy we came up here?” he asked.

She nodded, rolling a little closer to him. “Yeah. I can’t believe we made it, but I’m really happy.” She burrowed her face into the hard muscles of his chest. She could hear his heart beating slow, strong thuds. Her muscles felt limp, as if her body were filled with honey. She gazed into Colin’s face, lazily stroking the side of his stubbly cheek with the tips of her fingers, smiling. This felt good. It felt right, finally, after all the angst from earlier.

Colin moved an inch closer. “Han …” His breath blew softly against her cheek. “I …”

She felt herself tighten up. No. Not yet. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready right now. She rolled away from Colin and slid off the bed. He sighed and flopped back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

Hannah stood at the edge of the bed, trying to gauge his level of frustration, chewing her lip. A little moment of silence stretched out—familiar silence. This was the silence they’d been inhabiting since he first spoke those three words graduation night. “You want to get something to eat?” she offered after a long moment. She tried a little smile.

“Sure.” He sighed and shoved himself off the bed.

Just a little more time. That was all she needed, she told herself as she followed Colin down the hallway.

The light was growing dimmer as the sun declined behind the trees, and automatically, Hannah flicked the switch as they entered the kitchen. Nothing. She flipped it on and off again. “No electricity,” she said to Colin as he systematically opened cabinet doors.

“Right, that makes sense. That means no fridge, too.” Colin opened the cabinet over the sink with a particularly loud screech. “Baked beans?” He held up a can with a stained red and white label and examined the side. “Expired three years ago. Sounds great, right?”

“Sure. I’m starving.” Hannah sat down at the table, trying to think. The adventure seemed very real now. “So, no lights. Um, do we have a flashlight?”

Colin was now rummaging through drawers. “Our phones have lights.”

“Right, but I don’t think that’ll be enough. Do we seriously
have no flashlights? It’s going to be really dark soon.” She tamped down a little twinge of fear as she spoke.

“How about this?” Colin’s voice was triumphant. He turned from a deep drawer holding up a can opener in one hand and two grubby white candles in the other. “And matches, too.”

“Great!” Hannah made herself sound enthusiastic. Pulling two blue-speckled bowls from one of the glass-fronted cabinets, she opened the can of beans with a few turns of the can opener, dumped it into the bowls and set them on the table. She paused. “Do you think the stove still works?”

“Maybe.” Colin examined the gas grates. “We can always try. It’s not electric, after all.” He twisted one of the knobs but nothing happened.

“Try lighting it with a match.” Hannah sniffed. “I can smell the gas coming out.”

“Good plan. First we’ll blow ourselves up, then we’ll eat dinner. I like how you think, Han.” Colin pulled a match from the box. “Stand back.”

Hannah edged over as he touched the flame to the grate. Blue fire sprung up, and Hannah squealed. “Nice!” She grabbed their bowls of beans and scraped them into a saucepan. “At least we can have hot expired beans.”

After a few minutes, she refilled their bowls and held her spoon out toward Colin. “A toast. To our very own vacation paradise,” she said. “Sort of.”

They clinked spoons, then dug into the sludgy beans, which looked like the leavings from a cement mixer.

Colin chewed manfully for a few moments. Hannah watched in silence. Then all of a sudden, they looked at each other and laughed. Hannah laughed so hard she had to lay down her spoon. Tears spurted from the corners of her eyes. Colin fell off his chair with a theatrical thump and lay spread-eagled on the floor.

“Oh my God,” Hannah said weakly when her giggles had trailed off. She wiped her eyes. “Why are we eating this crap?”

“I have no idea.” Colin sat up. “I need some real food. Let’s go to town. Come on, the map’s in the car.”

Outside, dusk was falling. The screen door clapped behind them as they stepped out into the rich, loamy twilight air. Hannah stopped so suddenly that Colin almost ran into her from behind. “Oh, look.” She pointed. Across the lake, the sky was streaked with deep blue and violent orange so pure, it was almost painful to look at. In between the streaks burned delicate rose and clear, perfect violet. The sunset was reflected in the lake itself, blurred and reaching to the very edges of the water. The pine trees surrounding the lake made a dark, jagged boundary between the water and the sky, with the woods pressing in all around them.

Colin glanced up. “Yeah, pretty,” he said without stopping. He climbed into the truck, and Hannah hurried after him, her sneakers gritting on the gravel of the overgrown drive.

Colin was already bent over the county map, the dome light shining down weakly on the yellowed paper. “Okay, assuming this blue spot is the lake, then the nearest town should be …” He traced his finger down the page. “Nowhere?” He looked at
Hannah. “Looks like we might have to go all the way back to the highway for food.”

“That’s like forty miles!” Hannah grabbed the homemade map from the dash. “There was a town, it’s marked—here.” She stabbed a tiny dot, labeled
OXTOWN
. “It’s probably too small for the big map.”

“Assuming it’s still in existence,” Colin muttered. “Okay, it doesn’t look too far, maybe …” He measured the distance from the highway with his fingers, then the distance from Pine House to town. “Like two or three miles.”

“Oh, that’s nothing.” Hannah settled back into the passenger seat as Colin folded the map and started the truck down the bumpy road.

Path
was more like it. Woods. Pine trees, more pine trees. Big trunks, little trunks. Branches. Totally isolated
.

The thought popped unbidden into her head, and she shoved it away. There was nothing wrong with being alone.
It’s romantic,
she told herself. The road was mainly two wheel ruts with weeds growing up the center. The woods themselves were already a black mass, even though the sky still held streaks of sunset overhead. Hannah stared into the trees until her eyes hurt, trying to pick out even the tiniest comforting detail, like a rabbit nibbling grass, or a deer. But there was nothing—just darkness, with black branches stabbing the sky. Hannah shuddered, looking away. For what seemed like a long time, she watched the tunnel of branches in front of them.

It seemed to be taking a lot longer from the house to the road
than Hannah remembered. But finally, she saw a faint strip of gray at the end of the tunnel, which widened rapidly. The trees grew sparser, and Colin bumped the car onto the main road and turned right.

Hannah realized she was sitting forward in her seat, one hand gripping the door handle. She sank back, surprised to feel a little frisson of relief in her chest. The truck wheels thrummed reassuringly on the slate gray asphalt. The road was small, with just one narrow lane on each side. In front of them, the double yellow line unspooled like a ribbon.