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He took the photograph from her, studying it closely. “You look like her. You have the same smile.”
“We were similar in many ways.”
“You’ve never shown me this before.”
“I’ve never shown anyone. You’re the first.”
“I—” His voice was roughened. “I’m glad you shared it with me.” He handed the photo back. “Do you want to share the rest? What happened?”
She never had before, but with Jack she wanted to share. She wanted him to really know her and how could he do that if she wasn’t honest? “We were at the beach. My mother loved to swim.” She wasn’t sure how to tell the story because it wasn’t one she’d told before. “She liked the feeling of weightlessness and freedom. She left me on the sand with a book. There was a family close by who said they’d watch me. I’ll be five minutes, she said, just five minutes.” The words started to come more easily. “She went into the water and swam out. She paused once to give me a wave, and then carried on swimming. That was the last time I saw her alive. They found her body the next day washed up on the next beach. They think she must have been caught in a riptide. That’s it really. For the time she was missing, I stayed with her friend and then the friend called my aunt and she came to get me.”
Jack rubbed his fingers across his forehead, opened his mouth to speak and then shook his head and pulled her into his arms. “Flora—” He held her tightly, pressing her against him in an effort to provide all the security she’d lost that day. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Her cheek was pressed against his shirt. She loved the way it felt, being held like this. “It was a long time ago. I don’t usually talk about. I never talk about it.”
“I’m glad you talked about it with me. I want to know. I want to know all of it.”
She could have stayed like this forever, but there were things she knew she had to say. “You don’t talk about Becca.”
“I talk about her all the time.”
“Only in relation to the girls.” She lifted her head and looked at him, trying to see the things he wasn’t saying. “You don’t tell me how you’re feeling.”
“I don’t need to.” He was tense. “I’m dealing with it.”
Alone.
“Jack—”
“I don’t want to talk about Becca. I want to talk about you. I wish you’d told me earlier that you were afraid of water.” He cupped her face and his hands were warm and firm. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have brought you here.”
Could she really blame him if he preferred to carry the weight instead of sharing? Hadn’t she done the same herself? Sharing took practice. Time. She was going to give him time.
&n
bsp; “I’m glad you brought me here. I like it.” She squinted as the sun beamed into her eyes, and he reached out and pulled her under the shadow of a tree.
“I brought you to a lake, Flora. A lake. You’re terrified of water, and you didn’t say anything until today. I don’t know what that says about you. I don’t understand why you’d come—”
“I came because—” I’m in love, she thought. She’d come because she was in love. And it was an emotion stronger, and bigger, than fear. She was in love with Jack, with Molly, maybe even a little with Izzy. Not the snarling, angry Izzy, but the Izzy she sensed lurked beneath. “I came because I like being with all of you. If we’d been staying on a houseboat, that might have been a little different.” She tried to make a joke, but he wasn’t smiling.
“Do you want to go home? I’ll take you home.” He leaned closer, watchful, monitoring her every mood. She’d never had anyone pay attention to her the way Jack did. It was a heady, dizzying feeling to know someone cared.
“Home to Lake Lodge?”
“Manhattan. Back to the city.”
“You’d do that?” She was touched, but even as she asked the question a part of her was thinking how much she’d miss the birds, the plants, the forest. As well as falling in love with Jack, she was falling in love with this place. She loved the mountains, or fells as they were called here. And although she didn’t intend to get her toes wet, she liked the way the lake looked when it sparkled under the morning sunshine, or turned red under the evening sunset. She enjoyed watching birds skim the surface, and was fascinated by the shifting colors and its changing moods.
“We can go back right now and pack. We’ll be on a flight tonight. Back in New York tomorrow if that’s what you want.”
“It isn’t what I want.” She was sure about that. “But thank you for thinking of it.”
He was offering to put her needs above everyone else’s. No one had done that since her mother died. Even she didn’t do it, although she was determined to change.
“It was a serious offer. You matter to me, Flora. You—” He broke off, changing the words he’d been about to speak. “I’m so bad at this. There’s so much I want to say.”
“Just say it Jack. Say it.”
