“What are we doing?” Sadie asked, confused.
Kris grasped Sadie’s hand in hers. Both of their fingers were beginning to prune from the wet sponges.
“I think we deserve to have some fun,” Kris said.
She gave a wink, and then she was pulling Sadie out of the bathroom, their feet nearly slipping out from beneath them on the wet tile.
She led the little girl quickly across the great room and over to the French doors.
“Mommy, what are we doing?” There was growing concern in Sadie’s voice.
Kris did not reply. She crouched down to a squat, her back to Sadie. “Hop on.”
Sadie did not move.
“Come on, girl, train’s about to leave the station!”
Hesitantly, Sadie climbed onto her mother’s back.
Sadie gave a startled yelp and tightened her grip as Kris threw open the French doors. Warm summer air rushed around them like an exhaled breath. Kris hopped across the rough wooden deck in her bare feet like a panicking firewalker, chanting two words over and over—“No splinters no splinters no splinters”—until she was safely down on the flat stone path that cut across the backyard. She leapt from stone to stone as Sadie flailed on her back, giggling with fear and exhilaration.
They reached the edge of the bluff. The waters of Lost Lake stretched below. A cluster of clouds, painted with the golden light of late afternoon, hung over the distant gypsum hills, but otherwise the sky was clear and blue. There was no wind, not even the hint of a breeze, and the surface of the lake was as still as glass.
“Okay, you’re getting heavy,” Kris announced with a tired chuckle. She bent down so Sadie could hop off her back. They both stood on the very last stone before the path descended down the other side of the slope, toward the dock.
Sadie looked up at her mother, and her eyes sparkled in the sunlight like polished jewels.
“What are we doing?” she demanded.
“We’re going swimming.”
“In our clothes?!” It seemed to be the craziest thing Sadie had ever heard.
Kris shrugged. “Well, we can’t go naked, unless you want to get arrested.”
Sadie looked from her fully clothed body to the cool water lapping the rocky shore.
“Can we do that?” she asked.
Kris delicately ran a finger under Sadie’s chin, lifting her face until their eyes met.
“We can do anything we want. It’s our summer.”
An excited smile spread across Sadie’s face.
They were down the slope in seconds, bounding from step to step as if being chased. When they reached the edge of the wooden dock, they both chanted Kris’s mantra in perfect unison: “No splinters no splinters no splinters!”
Kris expected Sadie to slow as they neared the end, but the girl needed no prompting. She tightened her grip on her mother’s hand and gave a squeal of pure, unbridled giddiness.
“Jump!” Kris cried.
And they jumped. Together. Hand in hand.
They screamed as they fell, a sound that vibrated like laughter. It bounced off the gypsum hills and returned to them, enveloping them in their own joy.
Kris had long enough to glance over and see her eight-year-old daughter, eyes wide, mouth wide open in a shriek of exhilaration. Then they were splashing down into the water, puffing their cheeks full of air as they plunged beneath the surface.
A thought flitted through her mind: They were right. It’s bottomless. It just goes on and on forever and ever.
But there was a bottom, and she felt the tips of her toes dig into it, disappearing into slimy mud until they touched the layer of rock beneath. Even with her eyes shut tight, she could sense the shimmering sunlight cutting through the clear water. She pushed up toward the sunlight, her arms stretched out above her, her left hand still clutching the small hand of a child floating above her.
Kris broke the surface and sucked air desperately into her lungs.
Beside her, Sadie was treading water, her little legs kicking madly to keep her head from going under again.
“It’s cold!” she cried out with a shivering laugh.
“It always is, even on the hottest days,” Kris explained.
She gave Sadie’s hand a light tug, and the little girl’s body floated over and into her arms. She felt Sadie’s legs stop kicking as she relaxed in her mother’s embrace.
“I got you,” Kris said softly. “It’s okay, I got you.”
Sadie rested her head on Kris’s shoulder, her breaths warm and steady against Kris’s neck.
“I got you,” Kris said once more.
They fell silent, the water rippling around them as Kris gently sliced her legs like scissors to keep them both afloat.
On the bluff above them, the lake house stood, quiet and empty, awaiting their return.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SADIE’S BAG WAS the smallest piece of luggage, a purple duffel with cream-colored handles and a shoulder strap embroidered with orange-and-yellow daisies. Hand-sewn between two of the flowers was a square black patch featuring a red Anarchy sign, a personal touch from Kris. She just couldn’t resist the need to break up the earnest childishness of the bag. Life was not all blooms and sunshine. Sometimes life threw you a curveball. Sometimes it beaned you at a hundred miles per hour.
Sadie had crammed so many possessions into the bag that the zipper’s clamped teeth seemed to be clenching to keep from popping open.
“What did you pack in here?” Kris asked, pretending to strain under its weight.
Sadie shrugged. “Just … stuff.”
After their swim, they had climbed up onto the dock where they lay side by side on the flaking white planks, allowing their clothes and hair to dry in the sun. There had been no reason to rush. Even at four in the afternoon, they still had over three hours of light before the sun sank below the rocky hills that curled around the west side of the lake like an alligator’s tail.
It was close to six o’clock, and Sadie’s freckled cheeks were still rosy from her time outdoors. Even though their clothes were slightly damp, neither of them had any intention of changing. Changing would mean officially closing the book on their afternoon together. They wanted to hang onto it for just a little while longer, to feel the cool fabric of their wet clothes sticking to their skin, to smell the mineral-rich odor of lake water on their frizzy hair.
Kris pushed open the door to Sadie’s bedroom, and the hinges gave a slight squeak, like a startled mouse. The scent of lemon cleaner still hung in the air.
She set the bag down with a faint thump beside the bed and stepped back to allow Sadie to carefully pull the zipper across its bulging top.
“How about you unpack while I get dinner ready?” Kris suggested.
Sadie nodded and quietly began removing the items from her bag. She organized them into neat piles—socks, underwear, pants, shirts—until they formed a half circle around her. The stuffed animals she lined up in a row along the base of the dresser. Her favorite, a purple frog with crooked eyes, stood guard at the head of the plush menagerie. Its head sagged low on a neck in need of stuffing.
The sight of the frog sent a pang of sadness ringing in Kris’s heart like a church bell.
Her daddy gave her that.
Kris backed away, out into the hall. She was turning toward the great room when something caught her attention, a dark shape at the corner of her eye.