Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (169 page)

She was encouraged to believe that she was going to live because of the completely frivolous but urgent question that blinked in her mind: What bra had she put on this morning? She had several comfortable and rather saggy old white or nude bras she wore to paint in, and it would be a shame if she were wearing one of those, because she had so many pretty bras, with lace and silk.…

“I’ll close my eyes,” Ben told her, and did as he said.

She wrestled off her sodden tank top, which water had glued to her body. It made sucking noises as she pulled it away, and it felt creepy and suffocating as she pulled it over her head. She dropped it into the bottom of the boat and quickly yanked on his shirt. The dry cotton against her cold skin was like a soft robe after a freezing rain.

“Oh, that feels better. Thank you.” Still, she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

Ben began to row with quick, rhythmical strokes. “We’ll get you in the house. Get some hot tea inside you.”

Perhaps it was the rocking of the boat or the thought of tea—Natalie flung herself to the side of the boat in time to vomit into the lake. Most of what came up was water. Afterward, she was so weak that for a moment she just lay against the boat, resting. She became aware of sunlight beating down on her body, drying her legs, her arms, her hair, yet beneath the surface of her skin, she still felt intensely cold. Deep down in her soggy tiny reptilian brain where she
was beginning to return to self-consciousness, she also felt humiliated, half drowning like that and then having to be heaved up, helpless, to safety.

She dragged herself back up to a sitting position. Well, a slouching position. With effort, she stared at Ben. “What are you doing here? It’s a weekday.”

“I don’t teach this afternoon. I went in to the lab, checked a few things, decided I wanted to be out here. I like it on the lake when it’s quiet like this. People are mostly at work and school. I can hear the birds.”

“Well, I’m glad you were here. Thank you, Ben. You saved my life.”

“Glad to do it.” As he spoke, he looked over his shoulder, steering the rowboat neatly up to the Barnabys’ dock. In one graceful leap, he jumped up on the dock and tied the rope around a stanchion. “Think you can make it?” he asked.

Natalie summoned her energy, pushed herself to a standing position, and reached for his hand. He held her steady while she stepped up onto the seat, then onto the edge of the boat, then onto the dock itself. If she hadn’t already made a fool of herself, she would have thrown herself down on dry land and kissed it.

“I’m going to pick you up now,” Ben said.

“What?” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a croak.

“Look at your legs.”

She obeyed. They were shaking. “I can make it to my house,” she insisted.

“I’m taking you to our house. You can sit with Louise. She can watch you for any aftereffects.”

Before Natalie could argue, Ben simply swept her up, arms under her knees and shoulders, so quickly that she either had to let her head dangle back or wrap her arms around his neck to keep her head upright. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She was painfully—okay,
painfully
was the wrong word—she was
excessively
aware that Ben wore no shirt.
She
was wearing his shirt, after all, so his shoulders were bare, and his torso was bare. Blond hair swirled over his chest. He was slender, not tremendously muscular, but as he walked
up the beach and lawn toward the Barnabys’ house, he did so with ease, as if she didn’t weigh a thing.

“I think I’m fine,” she told him, mostly to prevent him from realizing how she was staring at his thick thatch of pale hair, his elegant ear, his thick eyelashes, his strong jaw. Also to prevent him from considering her thighs, hips, waist, breasts. They were in such an intimate proximity.

Very seriously, he informed her, “You almost drowned. You have water in your lungs. That can alter the sodium and potassium levels, which could lead to ventricular fibrillation. You were immersed in water lower than seventy degrees Fahrenheit, so you might be experiencing some hypothermia. And you’re in shock. Someone needs to watch you.”

“Oh,” Natalie said in a very small voice.

“Also, water taken into the lungs can cause problems as long as seventy-two hours after the event. Water irritates the lungs and disrupts the lungs’ ability to process air.”

Natalie squirmed in his arms. “That’s frightening!”

“I’m not trying to frighten you. You should just be aware, and you shouldn’t be alone. I’m going to put you down.” He lowered her to her feet on the deck of the house and grabbed the handle of the kitchen door. “By the way, what the
hell
were you doing, swimming alone?”

His sudden anger came at her unexpectedly. She’d been dreamily admiring his profile when he so unceremoniously dumped her on the deck. She knew he was right; still, she felt defensive. “I do
lots
of things alone!” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll bet
you
swim alone.”

“Sometimes. I was also captain of my swim team in high school. I won state medals. Did you?”

For a long moment their eyes met. All Natalie could think was,
Damn, you are one gorgeous man
. Instead, she admitted, ruefully, “No. Obviously.”

He continued to stare at her without speaking. A shiver went through Natalie’s body, completely different from anything connected to the lake.
He makes me feel all prickly
, she thought. Then
she thought,
Well
, that
was an interesting choice of words
. She couldn’t help it. She smiled at him.

He almost walked into the glass door to the kitchen. Realizing it, he flushed red, glancing away from Natalie. He’s attracted to me, she realized. And, good grief, I’m certainly attracted to him!

Ben pulled the sliding door open. “Mom! Natalie’s here. She almost drowned.”

Natalie put a hand on the wall to steady herself. A cat lay on the sofa in the sun, stomach up, blissed-out. A bowl of fresh cantaloupes, peaches, and plums sat in the middle of the kitchen table, filling the air with fruity aromas.

Ben asked, “You’re okay to walk?” Suddenly he was not coming near her in any way.

“I am.” She followed him down the hall and into the living room.

Louise was on the sofa, talking to herself.

“Mom!” Ben bent over his mother and gently removed one of the iPod plugs from her ears. “Turn off your French. Natalie’s here. She almost drowned.”

In a flash, Louise was up, turned toward Natalie, eyes wide with worry.

“Natalie! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Thanks to your son. He saved my life.”

Quickly, Louise took in the situation. “Ben, wrap the afghan around her.”

“Um,” said Ben.

“My shorts are wet.” Natalie touched the khaki material. Parts had dried in the sun, but her bum was still soaking.

Louise went into mother mode. “Natalie, go in the bathroom and take everything off. Ben, show her where the downstairs bathroom is.”

Natalie followed Ben. In the privacy of the bathroom, she stripped off her shorts and underpants.

“Are you decent?” Ben asked.

“My top half is,” she said through the door.

“Just a moment.”

She waited. He knocked and opened the door wide enough to toss in a pair of loose black yoga pants, no doubt Bella’s. She pulled them on. She looked at herself in the mirror. Somehow she was both pale and sunburned. Her nose had gotten shiny red from the sun, but the rest of her face was white, and her lips were slightly blue. All in all, highly attractive. Another knock came and a patchwork afghan flew into the bathroom. Natalie wrapped it around her, savoring its warmth.

She left the bathroom, returned to the living room, and dropped into a chair facing Ben’s mother. She was shocked at how good it felt to sit down.

“Ben said you were swimming alone, quite far out,” Louise said gently.

“I know. I’m an idiot. Actually, I didn’t swim that far, I was simply floating on my back, drifting. It’s so peaceful here. I just sort of melted.”

Louise laughed. “I understand completely. It’s relaxing on the lake when it’s quiet like this. On the weekends, the lake is different, full of people and boats. Are you warming up?”

“I am. This afghan feels so cozy.”

“Your color’s returning. You must have had quite a scare.”

Louise’s concern was so unexpected, so poignant, that tears swam in Natalie’s eyes. “I
was
frightened,” she admitted. “For a moment there I was certain I was going to die.” Shockingly, tears flooded down her face. Her shoulders shook. “Sorry,” she gulped. “Sorry.”

“It’s a normal reaction, for heaven’s sake,” Louise told her. “You deserve to cry.”

Grateful for Louise’s response, Natalie continued to sob. In truth, she wasn’t sure she could stop herself. She’d drawn her knees up to her chest, her feet resting on the chair near her bum, the afghan wrapped completely around her like a nest, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

Ben came into the room, took one look at Natalie in tears, muttered, “Oh God,” and hurriedly left.

“Ben!” Louise called. “Was that a mug of tea in your hand?”

No answer.

“Bring it, and be sure there’s plenty of sugar in it, and bring the box of tissues, too. It’s sitting on the counter near the phone.”

Ben returned, mug of tea in one hand, box in the other.

Natalie wiped her face, reached for a tissue, dried her hands, and blew her nose. Ben stood next to her, holding the mug, his eyes aimed at the ceiling. Natalie’s fit subsided, leaving her truly exhausted. She took the mug.

“Thanks, Ben.” She sipped the tea. It was strong and sweet, and she could feel it sink down through her throat, esophagus, and into her stomach, warming her all the way. She closed her eyes and moaned softly, snuggling into the chair.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Ben said to his mother.

“Oh, Ben, stay awhile,” Louise coaxed.

“Sorry, Mom. Gotta go.” Bending down, he kissed the top of his mother’s head. “Bye, Natalie,” he said when he was pretty much out of the room. Then he left, slamming the front door.

“He saved my life,” Natalie told Louise again. “He was so strong. I was so cold, and choking, and the water seemed to be trying to suck me down.”

“Honey, don’t think about it. You’re safe now. Put the mug on the table and rest.”

Natalie did as Louise told her. Her body surrendered its final tension of fight-or-flight response, her head nestled into the chair cushion, and she fell asleep.

She woke very slowly. Hearing came first, a whisper of pages. Across from her, Louise was reading. Natalie felt warm, perhaps too warm, but as relaxed as if her bones had dissolved. Secretly, she studied Louise. All the Barnabys had the same cheekbones, high and rounded, blue eyes slightly slanted down. Louise’s forehead was etched with wrinkles, and her lower jaw sagged slightly, but she was beautiful, especially now while she was in repose. She had about her the meditative calm of a Vermeer.

Natalie cleared her throat and shifted position.

Louise looked up. “Feeling better, dear?”

“Oh yes.” Natalie stretched her arms. “Thanks for letting me sleep in your living room.” She sat up straight, feet on the floor, letting the afghan slide away.

“Hungry?”

Natalie stood up. “Not really. I was working on a painting and decided to cool off in the lake. That’s what started my idiotic adventure. There’s still good light. I think I’ll go back to work.” She folded the afghan and laid it neatly over the back of the chair. She plumped the chair cushions.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Louise asked.

“Perfectly normal. Well, I might take a shower and change clothes.” She looked down at what she wore. “I’ll wash these things and bring them back.” She started to leave, then hesitated. “I wonder, I’d like to get Ben something to thank him for rescuing me. I don’t think the etiquette book covers such a situation. Any advice?”

Louise chuckled. “You don’t have to give him a present.” Her eyes twinkled. “He seemed quite pleased with himself for saving you.”

He did? Natalie almost asked Louise how she could spot any emotion Ben might have. But, of course, Ben was Louise’s son. She knew him well. Natalie thanked Louise once more and left the Barnaby house, warmed from the tea, the afghan, and the thought of being in Ben Barnaby’s arms.

Friday morning, Bella left the top half of the blue Dutch door open to let the fragrant summer air sweep into the gift shop. She didn’t expect many customers, not on this glorious early summer day, and Aaron was out in California at his damned interview, so she wore sneakers, jeans, and a tank top, planning to move furniture around, experimenting.

Bella could remember when she was a child, tumbling off the school bus and into the house to find her mother at the kitchen table, quietly studying a storybook mole’s tilt of nose or whether its whiskers went up, down, or straight out. She sculpted the minute creature in clay, baked it, and sewed soft velvet skin on it before painting its face. Her mother had seemed like a sorceress, capable of anything. Beatrice and Bella would go with their mother to help set up the Lake Worlds in the shop, carrying the boxes of handcrafted animals as if they were made of gold.