Page 86 of See You Next Tuesday

The pebbles on the shoreline of Sierra’s property were round and dark. Kira always wore water shoes when they came here, but Gabe liked the beads of pain pressing under his feet. They made him run faster to the water; they woke him up. He dove beneath the surface of the chilly inlet, the ice-cold water rushing over his body, sending his pulse pounding. He’d traveled all over the world, but he’d never found another place that made him feel at peace like Orcas. There was so much life here, so much beauty. He wanted to share it with Anya. So he swam through the gentle surf, back and forth, thinking of what he could do to help make her life beautiful again. He started to formulate a plan.

Anya stood under a hot shower in the guest cabin’s homey little bathroom for a solid ten minutes, breathing deeply, letting the pressure and steam relax her muscles. She hadn’t used any hair products since coming to the island (or for months beforehand, for that matter), but she found some gel in her dopp kit under the sink and raked it through her wet curls with her fingers. She pulled on some soft old jeans and a gray V-neck tee. Makeup felt like overkill, but she had some sunscreen with a little bronzing tint mixed in, so she put that on.

She appraised herself in the mirror, thinking of how much time she used to spend agonizing over her outfits, her tall boots, her red lipstick. She saw a flash of movement on the path outside the cabin: Gabe, wearing only a swimsuit and running shoes, jogging up from the water back to the main house. He moved quickly past the cabin, water glinting on his chest and dark swim shorts. Anya’s face warmed as she remembered him on the beach in Vieques. She turned back toward the mirror. One coat of mascara couldn’t hurt. And maybe a little lip balm.

When she walked up to the main house, she found him sitting in the kitchen wearing fresh jeans and a dark tee.

“Hey.” He broke into a smile when he saw her. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” she said. She gave him a small smile too, which made him grin even wider.

“I was thinking we could go someplace, if you’re up for it?” he said. “I want to show you my favorite spot on the island.”

“No hiking!” Sierra called from the next room.

“I know.” Gabe sounded annoyed, and Anya stifled a laugh. He flashed her another grin, and she immediately knew he’d pretended to be irritated to amuse her.

Twenty minutes later they were driving along the tree-lined roads of Moran State Park and up its tallest peak, Mount Constitution. About halfway up the mountain, Gabe veered off the main road onto a smaller path; it was unpaved, just gravel and packed dirt.

“You can’t get out here in the winter,” he said. “Too much mud.”

“Kira brought you here?” Anya asked.

Gabe nodded. The road started climbing again, then eventually leveled off and wound through a thick grove of trees, until they reached a small clearing next to a spectacular lake rimmed with graceful California cypress trees, their boughs twisting in the sunlight. Gabe backed the car into the clearing so its trunk was facing the lake, then killed the engine.

“Come help me,” he said, hopping out of the car.

Anya followed, and he opened the Jeep’s trunk, then folded down the back seat and grabbed a duffel bag that had been sitting in the back of the car all summer. Anya had noticed it a million times but never bothered to wonder what was inside it. It turned out it was full of camping gear. Gabe pulled a sleeping bag out of the duffel and unzipped it, laying it out over the trunk and folded-down seats to make a comfy surface.

“You really know your way around the island,” Anya observed.

“Kira and I come out here almost every year,” Gabe said. “Who do you think fixed Bobbie’s cracked water heater this spring?”

“Wait, you’ve met Bobbie? And what do you know about fixing a cracked water heater?”

“I know all those ladies! But nothing about water heaters, I was very little help,” Gabe admitted. “I helped Bobbie set up Netflix while she waited for the repair guy. Isn’t she the sweetest? It’s so nice how she always cooks for you and stuff.”

Anya peered at Gabe. “Bobbie’s never cooked for me.”

Gabe’s face flushed. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. When does she cook for you?”

“All the time—it’s like her thing! Like if she’s making brownies and she has extras, or she brings you a lasagna because she was making one anyway so she thought she might as well double the recipe?”

“Oh my god.” Anya laughed, a real laugh this time. “You help with her Netflix and she makes you lasagna? What do you wear when you go to her house?”

“Just clothes! My regular clothes!” Gabe looked horrified, but he was laughing too. “Wow, I feel so objectified.”

Gabe smushed the camping duffel against the front seats, then stacked a couple of pillows in front of it. It made a soft wedge to lean against as you lay back and looked at the lake.

“Ta-da!” he said. “The world’s most beautiful nap spot.”

“It’s perfect. Help me up?”

Gabe interlaced his fingers for Anya to step up into the trunk, then climbed in after her. The car was big enough that they could both lie comfortably side by side. With the car windows down and trunk and sunroof open, the cool breeze off the lake filtered all around them, and all they could hear was the call of birdsong and the soft lap of water on the shore.

“My mom would love this place,” Anya said.