On Mystic Lake

“You’ll bounce back. ”

“Oh, perfect, make fat jokes. ” Terri scooted up the bed and twisted around to sit beside Annie. “So, kiddo, how’s the ever-growing Goodyear blimp?”

Annie glanced down at her stomach. “We’re doing okay. ”

“Well, I’ve been coming every Friday for weeks now, and we talk on the phone constantly. I think I’ve been patient as hell. ”

“About what?”

Terri looked at her, hard. “About what? Come on. ”

Annie sighed. “Nick. ”

“What else? I’ve been waiting patiently—and we both know that patience is not one of my virtues—for you to bring his name up, but obviously, you’re not going to. I’m sick of respecting your privacy. Now, spill the beans. Have you called him?”

“Of course not. ”

“Why not?”

Annie turned to her best friend. “Come on, Terr. ”

“Ah . . . that honor thing. I’ve read about it. We don’t see much of it in Southern California. And none on the soaps. But you are in love with him?”

“I don’t think I want to talk about this. ”

“There’s no point lying to an old slut like me. Hell, Annie, I’ve been in love more times than Liz Taylor and I’ve slept with enough men to protect this country in time of war. Now, do you love him?”

“Yes,” she whispered, crossing her arms. It hurt to say the word aloud, and instantly she regretted it. “But I’ll get over it. I have to. Blake is doing his best to put our family back together. Things are . . . rough right now, but they’ll get better. ”

Terri gave her a sad smile. “I hope it works that way for you, Annie. But for most of us, when love is gone, it’s gone, and all the pretending and wishing in the world can’t bring it back. ”

“Can’t bring what back?” It was Natalie, standing in the doorway with another bowl of popcorn and a bottle of spring water.

“Nothing, honey,” Annie said softly.

Natalie produced a videotape from behind her back. “I rented us a movie. ” She popped it in the VCR, then climbed up onto the bed beside Terri.

Terri grabbed a handful of popcorn. “What’s the movie?”

“Same Time, Next Year. ”

“That Alan Alda movie?” Terri gave Annie a sharp, knowing look. “I always thought that was a hell of an idea. An affair once a year, I mean. Ellen Burstyn’s husband is probably a real shithead—a workaholic with the moral integrity of an alley cat. He probably fucked around on Ellen and then came crawling back like the worm he is. And because Ellen’s a grade-A sweetie pie, she took him back and tried to pretend that everything was okay. Still, she meets her secret lover for one weekend a year on the wild Oregon coast. Yep, sounds like heaven to me. ”

“Shhh,” Natalie said. “It’s starting. ”

Annie looked away from Terri. She tried not to feel anything at all, but when the music came on and the credits began to roll, she sank deeper and deeper into the pillows, as if distance could soften the sharp edges of her memories.

Chapter 26

Nick made it through the summer one day at a time. The last thing he did every night was stand by the lake, where Annie’s memory was strongest. Sometimes, the missing of her was so acute, he felt it as a pain in his chest. Those were the nights when he heard the call of the booze, the soothing purr of his own weakness.

But he was making it. For the first time in years, he was actually living life on his own terms. Annie had been right in so many of the things she said to him. He’d gone back to work, and the job had given him a purpose. He was the best policeman he’d ever been. He gave everything to the people under his protection, but when his shift was over, he left the worries behind. He had learned, finally, to accept that there would be failures, and that it was okay. All he could do was try.

Like with Gina. She was still fighting the pull of old patterns and comforting, self-destructive routines. The other kids were often blatantly cruel to her. The “good” kids didn’t want to hang around with a loser, and the “bad” kids spent all their time trying to lure her back into their circle of drugs and truancy, but, like Nick, Gina was holding her own. She’d moved back into her old bedroom and was reforging the bonds of the family she’d so carelessly torn apart. Last month she’d registered for school.

And there was always Izzy, waiting for Nick at the end of the day with a smile and a picture she’d drawn or a song she had learned. They’d become inseparable. Best buddies. He never took a moment or a word for granted.

During the week, he worked from nine to five; the second his shift was over, he picked up Izzy from the Raintree Day Care, and they were off. They spent all their free time together.