Dad comes back to the door and throws out a bottle of shampoo and a towel. Then he slams the door shut. “Fine, old man!” I bellow at him. “I’ll wash the damn dog!”
“You will if you want to come inside!” he bellows back after he cracks the door just long enough to let his words tumble out.
“You want to take a bath?” I ask the beast.
His tongue lolls out and he pants at me, but he doesn’t complain. Of course, that probably just means that he has no idea what I’m talking about. What with him being a dog and all. I scratch my head.
Suddenly, I hear happy screams coming from the lake and the sound of giggles. I follow the noise and come to a dead stop as I step onto the sand.
My heart starts to thump. “Katie?”
The girl turns to look at me over her shoulder. She looks just like Katie did eighteen years ago, with her long, narrow body, flat chest, and her long dark hair. How could that be?
“Mom,” the girl says, looking at a woman who’s sitting on the sand, and she points at me, her eyes wide and wary. “Who’s the strange man who’s calling your name?”
The woman who was sitting on the sand lumbers to her feet. “Katie?” I say again.
“Oh, my God… Jake? Is that really you?” She tugs the Army hat she’s wearing down lower over her forehead, and I have to bend over to look her in the eye.
“Katie?”
Then she’s moving across the sand toward me, and she’s in my arms. Immediately it’s like eighteen years disappears. Poof. Seems just like yesterday when I said goodbye to her and then never saw her again. We were sixteen years old and I thought I would die.
“Are you really here?” she asks, her voice breathy and wild.
“I can’t believe it,” I say. I still can’t catch my breath.
“I can’t either.” She motions toward the teenager who looks so much like her. “This is my daughter, Gabby.”
“God, she looks just like you,” I say. Gabby waves at me, her fingers slender and long, like a piano player. Just like Katie.
“She’s got some of her dad in her too,” Katie says, looking at her daughter, her gaze tender. Two smaller kids run up and Gabby wraps her arms around them like she needs to keep them safe. From me? Not hardly. “This is Alex, and this is Trixie.”
“When did you arrive?” I ask.
“This morning.” She scrubs at her eyes with her fists. “We drove all night.”
“I know the feeling. I had to pick Dad up and drove all night to get him.”
She grins. “Where is the old bear?”
“He’s at the house. Probably sitting there with his shotgun, waiting to blast me if I don’t wash the damn dog. I should have left his ass at the hospital.”
Her brow furrows.
“He said damn,” Alex says. He grins. “He sounds like Dad.”
I look around. “Is your husband here?”
She shakes her head. “No, he’s…not.” Her eyes avoid mine. What’s up with that? “Did you say you picked your dad up at the hospital? Is he all right?”
“He had a small stroke, but he’s going to be fine. You know him. He’s too mean to get sick.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll have to go see him later.”
“He won’t be in a good mood,” I warn.
She snorts. “When was he ever?” Then she laughs, and it sinks into the center of me. It’s pure and clean and so unlike where I’ve been. It’s genuine. She’s genuine.