“Camp,” I said. “I loved being around you all week. And riding the horse. That was fun.”
“It was.” He ran his hands up my thighs. “Is that your happy place? What about memories that don’t involve me?”
I traveled back again, this time to playing board games at night during Christmas break, Tiffany screaming when she won, screaming when she lost, and my dad struggling not to lose his temper and ruin Christmas. One morning when I was seven and Tiffany was ten, we’d woken up and found a Labrador puppy under the tree. We’d named her after Daphne from Scooby-Doo, but she’d gotten sick within six months. Seeing how much Tiffany had loved that dog, Dad had shelled out thousands of dollars in vet bills, but it hadn’t saved her. Tiffany had been devastated. I opened my eyes and started to get up. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”
Manning sat up, watching as I brushed snow off my pants. “It’s not a game, Lake.”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this. What’s the point of forcing me to look at what I’m giving up? Are you hoping I’ll change my mind and tell you not to leave her?”
“No. I just want you to understand what lies ahead. Once I talk to Tiffany, there’s no turning back.” He held out his hand to me. “Come here.”
“No.”
“Then help me up.”
I took his hand, but after a short-lived battle of strength, I found myself in the snow again, stubbornly holding in a laugh as he feathered his fingers up my waist. “What’s your middle name?” he asked. “You never told me that day on the wall, and I’ve wanted to know ever since.”
“You could’ve asked any member of my family over the years,” I pointed out.
“I wanted you to tell me.”
“Dolly,” I said, “and I hate it.”
“Dolly.” He kissed my cheek. “Lake Dolly Kaplan.”
“Manning Raymond Sutter.”
He looked surprised. “How do you know that?”
“I saw it on some of the paperwork for your arrest.”
“Come on, Lake Dolly Kaplan. My goldilocks, my little bird.” He stood, holding out a hand to pull me up. “Your locks of gold are all wet and your wings, too.”
16
Lake
There wasn’t anything special about Manning’s hotel room—an oversized, stark white bed that hadn’t been slept in for four nights. A luggage stand with his open, organized suitcase next to a closet where he’d hung a garment bag. A desk with a logoed notepad and pen, which sat next to a phone with a flashing red light. “You have messages,” I said.
“I know.” As if remembering his cell phone, he took it out, wiping it on his pants. “Fucking thing got wet.”
He set it on the media console, and it lit up with missed calls from Tiffany. I took off my coat. The melting snow on my pants and in my hair suddenly felt less whimsical and more cold and sticky. “You were right,” I said, looking away from the blinking red light. “I don’t like it here.”
Manning turned me by my shoulders, hugging me to his torso. “I know it’s hard, but I need you to be strong, Lake. We can’t get through this if we aren’t in it a hundred percent.”
I glanced up quickly. By the way my stomach dropped thinking Manning might have doubts, there wasn’t a percent high enough to convey how badly I wanted this. “I’m in,” I promised.
He thumbed the apple of my cheek, then kissed it. “You know why that shade of blue is my favorite? Why I’ve loved it since a warm summer day in 1993? I don’t really have to tell you it’s your eyes. My Lake. You are my favorite color.”
I hugged him back, but I couldn’t help thinking how my eyes were simply a shade darker than my sister’s. Mine were a lake, still and shallow, but hers were the color of the endless, manic ocean.
“You’re shivering,” he said. “Get in the shower. I’ll join you after I check the messages.”
The red light continued to blink at me. It felt personal, like a judgment—as if Manning listening to his messages before showering was equivalent to choosing Tiffany over me.
I went into the bathroom and turned the water on hot, standing under it with my eyes closed. How many times had Tiffany tried to reach Manning over the past few days? Had they spoken when I wasn’t around? He hadn’t mentioned it, but I hadn’t asked, either. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
When I turned, Manning was on the other side of the glass, wrestling his wet clothing off. He had dark circles under his eyes like the night I found him at the sink after a nightmare. He slept soundly with me, or so I’d thought. But maybe he didn’t sleep at all. All week, I’d been able to ignore the fact that Manning had another life, but had he? Of course not. It would’ve been impossible for me to expect him not to think of her at all, my sister, the woman with whom he’d spent day in and day out since I’d last seen him.