It Happened One Night (11 page)

“That’s fine. I ain’t asking.”

Karin sighed. “This is a waste of time. Lana, let’s go.”

Lana followed her dutifully toward the front door, and Karin could almost taste the fresh air on her tongue. This errand had
been pointless. She wanted out, now.

“Wait.” Lana stopped in her tracks. The force of the word shot through the musty darkness, and she turned to face their father.
“Are you sick?”

Karin rolled her eyes.

Calvert hesitated as if weighing what to say. “Nah. I’m not sick.”

Lana nodded. Then she glided past Karin and out the front door, passing through the dusty old building like a ghost of herself.
She had never been much help in the trenches where their father was concerned. Karin turned back toward him again. “One more
thing.”

He put his hands in his pockets and seemed to shrink ever so slightly, as if he’d already conceded that Karin would have the
last word.

“Yeah?”

The sorrow in his voice almost made her hesitate. But she didn’t buy the act. “Stay away from me and stay away from Lana.
You got it? I don’t want to hear you’ve been hanging around her house again. If I see you, I swear I’ll call the cops.”

She slammed the door behind her when she left.

July 18

Kelly’s cheeks were tinged russet by an afternoon on the water. She stood before Eli in a baseball hat, bathing suit, and
life jacket. When she hugged him, she smelled of the lake, the faint sweetness of seaweed and the coolness of water. Normally
Eli associated these particular smells with Lana.

“We won!” she exclaimed, giving him a high five. “Did you see me out there? I was like a machine!”

“I had no doubt.”

She smiled. Behind her the hard slate blue of the lake was muted by an overcast sky. The Adirondacks were hazy and dull, but
the mood on the beach was upbeat. Blue and white tents had been set up near the water, and teams of women in pink, purple,
and yellow were congratulating one another and laughing. In the water, forty-foot-long canoes were lined up and bobbing gently.
On the front of each was the head of a dragon. The sides were painted with scales.

Eli had heard of the Dragon Boat Festival on Lake Champlain—everyone in Burlington had. But he’d never been to watch before.
Kelly had invited him to come and cheer for her and the other participants as they raised money for a breast cancer charity.
Eli had put on his sandals and grabbed his binoculars, but in truth, even though he was present, he wasn’t fully
there
.

After he’d given Lana the message about Calvert, he’d stopped trying to talk to her. Maybe he’d hoped that she would notice
his absence and come after him. Maybe he wanted to make her as miserable as she’d made him. Whatever his conscious or subconscious
ambitions, nothing had happened. Lana had stopped calling him and he’d stopping calling her. He still didn’t know exactly
why.

Only once before had he ever felt so distant from her. After they’d made love in the field that night, he’d walked her back
to her dorm. He couldn’t stop touching her, holding her hand, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close to press
his nose to her hair. Sometimes he wished he could go back to that moment ages ago and put his foot down.
All or nothing,
he would say. And if she said nothing, at least he wouldn’t be caught in this terrible limbo that became more painful by
the day.

Since he couldn’t go back, all he could do was live in the moment and try to stop thinking so hard about his best friend.

Kelly smacked his arm. “So does it bother you that I’m a dragon boat champion and can kick your butt?”

He laughed. “Kick my butt? Right.” He picked her up and carried her kicking and laughing to the edge of the lake.

“Don’t you dare!”

He waded into the water in his khaki shorts, threatening to toss her. She kicked her feet in the air and squealed. Her wiggling
was no match for him and he laughed.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lana. She was standing in the crowd on the shore, her bare feet sticking out from
under a long lavender dress.

Lana
.

He set Kelly back on her feet—perhaps a little too quickly. He’d started to say
Lana!
when the woman’s blonde hair caught the wind. He was going crazy. Absolutely nuts. He bent to pull his wet cotton shorts
from his thighs.

“It’s not her,” Kelly said. “What’s going on here? What are you not telling me?”

He straightened, and as he did, the truth tumbled out. “Lana’s pregnant,” he said. And the moment the words slipped from his
lips, he realized how much better he felt to have said them aloud.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, her voice tight.

“I don’t know. She only told me about three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks!” Her face dropped as if he’d slapped her; he couldn’t imagine why. And then she was trudging past him, white
flares of water frothing at her knees as she marched toward the shore. It took a moment before he understood what had happened,
and he hurried to catch up.

“It’s not mine!” he said. “Kelly, stop.”

“Just leave me alone!”

Eli caught her arm, but she shook him off. He hurried to stand in front of her, and she stopped. “Did you hear me? It’s not
mine.”

“Wait. What?”

“I’m not the father. It’s some guy Lana met. Some mountain biker. She doesn’t even know his last name.
That’s
why I’m worried. That’s why when I thought I saw her on the beach—”

“The baby’s not yours?”

“No.”

“Oh, Eli.” She hugged him close, buried her face in his chest. She squeezed him so tightly he couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t
the reaction he’d expected.

The sun was starting to set now, the first warm effusion of yellow light rising over the tops of the Adirondacks. The seagulls
were wheeling in the air, scavenging bits of hot dog and fries from the race. People were walking, soggy and happy, to their
cars to go home.

“I don’t know why you and Lana aren’t a couple,” Kelly said, her forehead resting on his sternum. “But whatever the reason,
I’m glad.”

Eli didn’t know what to say. The conversation had already gotten a little too deep. It was entirely his fault, but he didn’t
want to encourage anything more. “Why is that?”

She looked up at him, her eyes bright, but she said nothing.

“Let’s go get dried off,” he said.

•  •  •

July 20

Lana looked out the window of the Wildflower Barn, watching the summer tourists fumble with their digital cameras to snap
pictures of the black-eyed Susans, Queen Anne’s lace, and dame’s rocket that grew behind the building. Every time the bell
above the door chimed, she looked up, expecting Eli. But always it was the tourists, visitors who came to Vermont for the
state’s guileless beauty and wholesome amusements. This time the family pushing into the Barn boasted a half dozen chattering
children and two women who laughed and said, “Oh, isn’t this place adorable,” like they were either sisters or best friends.

Lana tucked her disappointment about Eli as far down inside her as she could. All week she’d been hoping he would come find
her. Even if they didn’t talk, even if she didn’t have enough time to unburden her heart with him, she craved the comfort
of seeing his cheerful smile, his bright eyes. But since the days continued to pass without him, all she could do was give
to her customers the smile she would have reserved for him. “Hello. You folks here for the wildflower walk?”

The older woman, who wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and big sunglasses, looked around while she talked. “This place is so great.
I’m so glad we found it.”

Lana grimaced at the sound of a half dozen little sneakers squeaking on the floor. The children were running through the store,
among the displays of lawn art and wind chimes. Lana held her breath. The younger woman frowned sternly and went chasing and
yelling after the kids.

“Yes, we’re here for the walk… er, maybe the run,” the woman with the hat said. “How much?”

Lana peered around her, to where a little boy was spinning a stained-glass pinwheel faster and faster by batting it with the
palm of his hand. “There’s no charge for the walk. The paths are open to the public.”

The woman called over her shoulder. “You can go out! Angie? Take them out.” She rolled her eyes and smiled when she turned
back to Lana. “Do you have any children?”

Lana started to say no. But then she remembered. And for a second she felt as if she were answering not for herself, but for
someone else. “Not just yet.”

The woman nodded. Her smile was warm and her irises were dewy white and green, like the jack-in-the-pulpits that grew behind
the barn in the spring. “Well, you’re young. You have some time.”

“It seems like an awful lot of work,” Lana said, nervous.

“Oh, it is.” The woman laughed. “Tons of work. But tons of joy too. You’ll see, once you have your own.”

Lana was struck silent for a moment. Not long ago this would have been the part of the conversation where she said lightly
and certainly, “Oh, I don’t want kids. I want to live in Costa Rica.” And then the woman would have answered the same way
all the veteran mothers would answer: “You might change your mind.”

This time, however, the script was unwritten and entirely new.

“I don’t know,” Lana said. “Your kids seem perfectly sweet, but there’s so much sacrifice you have to make for them, isn’t
there? So much to give up?”

The older woman peered at her thoughtfully a moment. “Sure, I’ve given things up. I always wanted to be a lawyer, you know?
Go to law school. Work long hours and get designer shoes.”

“I’m guessing you’re not a lawyer?” Lana said, embarrassed now by how urgently she clung to each word the woman spoke.

“Dreams are tricky things. They ebb and flow. They change as we change, you know? It’s not… it’s not a matter of right dreams
and wrong dreams. I mean, sure, choosing one sacrifices another. But it’s not about what you give up. It’s about what you
get.”

Lana fought the odd urge to reach out and grasp the woman’s hand, just for a moment. There were a hundred questions she wanted
to ask. A thousand. But propriety got the best of her; customers should never be burdened by the storekeeper’s personal life.

“Well, like I said,” Lana replied. “It’s not really something I’m thinking about right now.”

The woman watched her, and Lana felt as if those clear green eyes could see straight down to the truth. “Sometimes it’s hard
to know what you want. But that’s okay. Things have a way of working themselves out.”

One of the children who had come in with her poked his head inside the door. “Ma? Ma? Are you coming?”

The woman gave one last smile to Lana, her scrutiny replaced with what Lana thought might have been embarrassment. “I didn’t
mean to lecture you,” the woman said. “Sorry. Maternal instinct, I suppose. Enjoy the rest of your day!”

“You too,” said Lana. Then, too quiet for the woman to hear, she added, “Thanks.”

The stoplight turned red and Karin banged her fist on the steering wheel. “Oh, fudge!” When she finally got home—the ride
from church had never taken so long before—she opened the front door, said hello to her husband in the living room, and tried
to act normal as she set down her purse and tote.

Unfortunately she’d never been very good at keeping her feelings inside. She jerked at the laces of her sneakers, unable to
get them off fast enough. “Gene! My period is late!”

Gene put down his bowl of cereal and stood up from the couch. He’d already changed out of his work clothes and was wearing
his favorite maroon sweatpants and a T-shirt that made his chest look burly and wide.

“Whoa, Kare. Slow down.”

“What if this is it? What if it really happened this time?”

He didn’t return her smile. “Let’s not set ourselves up for disappointment. Take it slow. Let’s eat dinner together first.”

“You want to… to wait?”

“Just so we can be calmer when we do it.”

Karin laughed. “You think I’ll be calmer if I wait
longer
? No way. We have to do this
now
.” She brushed past him, heading for the bathroom and knowing he was following. Just before she reached for the knob, it occurred
to her that maybe he was as nervous as she was, if not more. She paused for a moment, to take his hand and rub its warmth
against her cheek. “Will you wait outside the door?”

“Kare…” There was concern in his voice.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him, then she shut the bathroom door.

She’d taken pregnancy tests so many times she could do it in her sleep—and it was a good thing too, because her hands were
trembling. She watched the clock on the wall, waited the appropriate time, down to the exact second, and then she looked.

NOT PREGNANT
.

Her joy took a huge, stomach-flipping nosedive, but then swelled slightly again.
Maybe it’s too soon to tell
, she thought. She reread the box; it predicted accurate results from the first day of a missed period. She’d just started
to convince herself that she needed to do a retest when she realized that the line between optimism and denial could be shamefully
thin.

“Well?” said Gene through the door.

She opened it. Then she shook her head.

“Oh, Kare,” he said. He hugged her, but she didn’t quite hug him back.

“Next month,” he said. “You’ll see.”

“I’m sure of it,” she said.

July 21

Early in the morning, Lana hiked the 5.2-mile trail to the top of Mount Abram. She sat on a lichen-speckled rock and looked
out. In the distance the blue luster of Lake Champlain glittered in the soft morning light. A wispy line of thin clouds lay
on a bed of air just above the peaks of the Adirondacks, contrasting rock and cloud.

Climbing up the mountain, past the ashes and maples and pines and scrubby bushes, usually made her head clear, as if the thinner
the air got, the easier it became to think. But not this time. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that
she’d been walking around in a fog.