Читаем A Baumgartner reunion полностью

“I…” My words felt caught in my throat and when I looked over at him and saw the confusion and hurt on his face, my heart lurched in my chest. “Oh Henry, I’m so sorry. I meant to, but… well, my life has been kind of… complicated… and very busy… since you were little…”

“Yeah?” He picked up a stick and started drawing circles in the sand. It reminded me of when they were little and we spent hours making sand castles.

“I guess you’re not so little anymore.” I knew I was stating the obvious.

“Mom said you got married and had a kid?”

I nodded, thinking of TJ and Beth for the first time since the plane had landed and I’d called to let them know I was safe. “She’s five now.”

“I guess kids make your life pretty complicated?” It was half question, half statement, and I didn’t know how to tell him the truth, how to even begin.

I just shrugged. “Sometimes…” We were quiet for a while, watching Doc and Janie swimming, listening to the sound of the waves. All the time I’d stayed away, it had never occurred to me what they would think, how they would feel…

I’d been too concerned with how slighted I felt.

“I’m glad you’re here.” The pressure of Henry’s hand on mine surprised me. His hand was big, his fingers long, like his father’s.

I smiled back at him. “I am, too.” Even as I said it, I knew it was true.

“Last one in’s a rotten egg!” Henry was racing toward the water before I could even take another breath and I swore softly, stumbling to stand in the sand.

“No fair!” I called after him, but he was already halfway to the water’s edge, laughing over his shoulder at me.

The water was so much warmer than I expected and I groaned as I rolled to my back and floated in the waves. If nothing else, it was nice to float along with nothing else to do. It had been years since TJ and I had gone away somewhere together-since before Beth was born-and we never could have afforded something like this, a private beach on Key West.

“I miss that orange bikini…”

I opened my eyes to see Doc swimming toward me. I quickly stood, the water coming to my navel here.

“I’m too old to wear a bikini.” I smoothed my hair back.

He gave a little laugh. “With a body like yours, sweetheart, you’ll never be too old to wear a bikini.”

The way he looked at me brought back the memory and the feeling of that week so long ago. I felt a slow heat spreading through my middle. Part of me wanted to be insulted by his comment, but another part of me was both flattered and excited by it.

“I guess I’m more self-conscious now than I was… then.” He raised his eyebrows, his eyes dark and knowing. “Well, we’ll have to fix that then, won’t we?”

“Hey, let’s play a game!” Henry called over to us from where he was periodically splashing his sister just to annoy her. Janie had retrieved one of the floats and was sunbathing on it.

“I’m not it!” I called immediately, out of habit.

“Me, either!” Doc chimed in, winking at me.

Janie lifted her head, shading her eyes and looking toward me and her father. “I don’t feel like playing.” She rolled off the float and started wading toward shore, dragging it behind her.

Henry frowned as he watched her go, swimming over to us. “Maybe mom and Gretchen want to play?”

I sighed, watching Janie open the door wall and go into the house. “Maybe tomorrow, Henry.” My eyes met Doc’s and I looked quickly away. I didn’t like the look in them, the questions or the knowing. “I think I’m going to go take a shower-wash off the jetlag and the salt water.”

I didn’t look at either of them as I began to wade toward shore, although I felt their eyes on me and was glad that my suit was so unrevealing. Gretchen lifted her sunglasses as I passed them and Mrs. B shaded her eyes.

“Where are you going?” Gretchen asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Shower.” I opened the door wall, glancing back at them. “I’m tired.” I stopped at the top of the stairs, hearing music coming from Janie’s room.

I thought about going in and talking to her, explaining…but what would I say? I knew I would have to address it at some point this week, probably soon, but I felt

suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed. I took a towel out of the linen closet and went into the bathroom. I intended to take a shower, but the big tub looked so inviting that I started to run the water in it, peeling off my wet suit and tossing it into the sink.

When the water was high enough, I turned on the jets and slid in, groaning as the water churned around me. I was tired, although less from the plane trip than from the anxiety and tension of the past few days. It had felt as if I were holding my breath, waiting for the moment when I saw the Baumgartners again, and now I felt deflated, like an empty balloon.