At the Water's Edge Read Online Free PDF Page A

brain can take over and ruin everything.
    When she returns, I watch her sit gracefully, her movements supported by strong muscles.
    “To a quiet September,” she says as she clinks the neck of her bottle against mine.
    In the silence that ensues I imagine telling her; I imagine her probing, kind eyes on me as I do.
    “When Dee informed me about the occupancy of your family’s cabin she didn’t give a check-out date.”
    It takes a few seconds before my brain registers her statement as a question. “Yeah, uh, no. I’m not sure yet when I’ll be leaving.”
    “Rekindling your love affair with Northville?”
    “Something like that.” I suck in a deep breath. “Bit of a burnout situation in Boston. Buried myself in work a tad too much.”
    “You could have gone to Hawaii, though. Or to Europe. Some place a bit more exotic than this sleepy old town.” Her voice is low, nonjudgmental, barely quizzing—just conversational.
    “Sometimes, you need to go back to where you came from.”
    “Not so easy for me.” She gives a light chuckle. “I was born and bred at this lake, and I’m still here.”
    “Have you never felt the urge to leave?” I try to keep my tone level.
    She shrugs. “Not really. This is what I know. I feel good here.” A wide, swooping gesture of her hand. “Look at this. Why would I want to leave this behind?”
    Instead of letting my gaze drift across the lake, its surface glowing in the light of the flames, I stare at Kay’s hand: long fingers, trimmed nails, no rings.
    “But what do you do for, uh, entertainment?”
    “Entertainment?” The word rolls off her tongue like the punchline to a bad joke. “Can you be more specific?”
    The blush that left me earlier is back. “Movies? Museums? Culture in general, I guess.”
    “When I have a crushing, burning desire to see a painting or some wacko modern art installation I probably wouldn’t understand, I take my car and drive to the city.” An edge has crept into her voice—as if she has had to answer a question like this too many times in her life. “And when was the last time you saw a good movie in the theatre? A movie which you can truly say was worth paying twenty bucks for?”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”
    “That small town people have boring lives?” The friendliness is back in her voice, a smile breaking on her lips again. “Most people I know here, I’ve known all my life. That’s a strong connection. And trust me, they provide all the entertainment I need.”
    Perhaps I should be jealous of Kay’s ties to Northville’s community—of the feelings of safety, of truly being known—that come with life-long acquaintance. But, apart from a few, very brittle, family ones, I have no ties here. Only nostalgia and a deep, deep melancholy that I know has sprouted here, that is rooted in the soil of this very town.
    “My turn to ask a question.” Kay swings her ankle into mine. I’ll need some more time to adjust to her questions-disguised-as-statements way of conducting a conversation.
    “Sure.” The beer has made me light-headed now, almost carefree.
    “Will it just be you in the cabin all this time? Or will a lady from the oh-so exciting city be joining you at some point?”
    Thank goodness the alcohol is helping me to relax enough that I don’t blush at her question. “No, just me,” I say in a small voice. I’m very good at chasing city ladies out of my life. I don’t say the last part out loud.
    “What? A hot shot Boston U professor like you is single? Just when I thought all was right with the world.”
    “I have a PhD in Biology. It’s not the most sexy subject.”
    “Could have fooled me.” For the first time, Kay’s flow of words is interrupted by something, perhaps self-consciousness, or maybe the beer is getting to her as well. “I mean, with the birds and the bees and all.”
    I laugh at this—a raw, deep chuckle that’s been waiting to come out. A release of tension. “What was