into someone else. Joey is now my best friend.’
‘No way! How can you be friends with him after what he did to you?’
Tim laughed, and rolled on top of Lauren. His chest brushed hers, and her nipples reacted instantly.
‘He’s a good hockey player – and so am I. We agreed that this was a good enough reason.’
Lauren let her hands wander over his back, enjoying the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. She enjoyed the way he flexed his muscles, and how this small act was giving her goose bumps.
‘So what’s our reason then?’ she asked. He kissed her. Then he smiled.
‘I think that everything is possible, so long as you’re not beating me up with a hockey stick.’
* * *
‘I almost forgot about that hockey stick,’ Tim laughed, giving Lauren another kiss before getting up. The lake house’s old-fashioned porch swing held a handful of blankets, and he grabbed a few of them. He handed one to Rachel, pressed one into Mia’s arms, who subsequently got up and cozied up next to Lauren, and spread one out over Alyssa who was still sleeping in her mother’s arms. His three girls all curled up together – not something that happened often – and he tried to commit this image of the whole family united, bathed in the golden light of the flames, to his memory.
‘I think you were distracted, Tim,’ Lauren joked on the subject of the hockey stick. She tucked the blanket around her and was glad when Tim took his seat behind her again.
‘So I was. You were a distraction of the special kind. I wasn’t ready for you at all.’
‘Maybe that’s why we made so many mistakes,’ Lauren pondered.
Her friends fell silent while everyone was dwelling on old memories. Memories of their time together.
The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and by now the waves thrashing against the shore of Lake Champlain were drowning out the sound of the crackling flames.
‘Lorelei, do you want me to put more wood on the fire?’ Chris asked, bending down to the remaining pile of logs.
Lauren’s head was aching terribly, but she wasn’t yet ready to leave. She knew in her heart that the time had not yet come.
‘Yes, please, put another log on the fire. And maybe some of you want more wine?’
‘Wait, let me top up everyone’s glasses,’ Peter offered, reaching for a bottle. For tonight, he had brought out only the good stuff from his private wine cellar.
Lauren, too, allowed him to refill her glass. She noticed how her dad’s hands were shaking, saw the pain in his eyes, and gratefully met him half-way when he bent down to her and pressed a kiss against her forehead. The entire world knew him as a well-respected, fearsome lawyer, but tonight none of that fierceness showed. He stood before her, a sorrowful man, grieving. Grieving for everything that would never be.
‘Here you go, honey,’ he muttered, and handed her the wine.
‘What are we drinking to?’ Lauren asked and raised her glass.
‘To our time together!’ Tim suggested. ‘We had such a wonderful time. I really have no idea why we were so blind when we first started out. So foolish and so afraid, even though we had nothing to lose.’
Everyone’s eyes met as they sat around the fire. They knew what Tim meant. In the light of the rekindled fire it was almost impossible to believe how hard their beginnings had been.
‘It’s not the mistakes I regret, Tim. It’s the time we lost – the time we can never get back now,’ Lauren said, thoughtfully.
Golden Autumn
Golden autumn leaves rustled in the wind, raining over Tim and Lauren’s heads and down to the ground. Lauren, lying on her side, propped up on her elbow, picked a bright-red maple leaf off their picnic blanket. The warm scent of moss, old leaves and wet earth engulfed her, and she felt as if she were at one with nature.
Tim had folded his arms behind his head and his eyes were closed. A colorful leaf had landed on his gray knitted sweater, but he didn’t notice. It quivered with each of Tim’s breaths until Lauren picked it up, too. She twisted the two leaves between her fingers, admiring the play of colors.
‘So tomorrow you’re going back to Maine?’ Tim asked again, even though they had talked about this several times already. Her classes at art school were picking up, and Lauren wouldn’t be home again until Christmas.
‘Hmm, yeah,’ she muttered, throwing the leaves into the wind, and snuggled back into the crook of Tim’s arm. ‘But I don’t want to go. It’s lovely here with you.’
He laughed. ‘Summer flings always are.’
‘Is that how you see us? Nothing more than a summer romance?’
He kissed the top of her head and shrugged his shoulders.
‘I like you, Lauren. A lot, even. But we’ve only known each other for four weeks, and you’re going back to Maine for several months,’ he explained, as if everything had already been said that needed to be said.
Lauren could feel her stomach churn. She didn’t want this thing, whatever it was that connected her to Tim, to end. Didn’t want to draw a line under it. It meant too much to her. Tim meant too much to her.
‘We could try . . .’
Tim opened his eyes and rolled over onto his stomach.
His eyes were warm, but determined.
‘Oh, come on, Lauren! You’re not seriously suggesting a long-distance relationship? Those never turn out well, and we’d just end up hating each other.’
She grimaced, because she didn’t really want a long-distance relationship either. But she disliked the alternative just as much.
‘What is it that you want, then?’ she asked and could hear the sulkiness in her own of voice.
‘You!’ He bent over her and kissed her, but Lauren’s pinched lips remained shut. He looked into her eyes and tenderly wiped a stray strand of hair from her face.
‘Today, sure – but tomorrow you’re finding solace in the arms of a girl named Caroline.’
He shook his head.
‘Tomorrow? No – I’ll wait until the day after tomorrow.’
‘Idiot!’ Lauren was annoyed at how much the idea hurt her feelings, even though she knew he was only kidding around. These last few weeks with Tim had been wonderful. She had fallen head over heels in love with him. And he . . . Well, he slept with her. Would spend the night . . . and spent what little spare time he had with her, unless he was practicing on the hockey field. While he had never mentioned love, he . . . he surely had feelings for her, too. Didn’t he?
‘Lauren,’ he tried to appease her, but she held him off, with her hands pressed against his chest.
