Page 56 of Keepsake
“I know, right? But they’ll believe soon, when more coffee plants die off in Central America. The arabica plant doesn’t do as well in higher temperatures.”
“No lie? Then we’re doomed, Lark. The Shipley farm runs on coffee.”
“I think even the most cynical politicians will come around when their access to coffee is thwarted. And hops aren’t growing so well in Washington State lately. So beer could be next.”
“You are just full of bad news.”
Why yes, I was.
“I know something that could cheer us up. And cool us down.”
“Then let’s hear it. Is it ice cream?”
“No. It’s a surprise. Just wait and see.”
14
Zach
When I passedthe Shipleys’ long driveway and kept going, Lark gave me the side-eye. But the turnoff I needed was just a half-mile further away, past the bungalow, but on the opposite side of the road. I eased the truck into the overgrown weeds by the tree line and parked her.
“We’re here,” I said. “Hop out and I’ll grab the towels.”
“Towels? Are we going to swim?”
“Or wade. Splash around. Just cool down a little.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see in sixty seconds.”
Lark removed her phone from her pocket before hopping out of the truck, while I searched the crate of extra supplies that I always drove around with on market days. There were two towels, one decent, one tattered.
Good enough.
“It’s right through that break in the trees,” I said, pointing. And we could hear the rushing water of the creek even before we saw it.
“Wow!” Lark said from ahead of me on the path. “It’s like a pool.”
It was. Some very big rocks turned the tributary here, creating a short waterfall of only a couple of feet, but then holding the water captive in a hole beneath it. When I reached her side, she was admiring the swimming hole and smiling. “The water is pretty fast right now,” I noticed. “It’s all that rain we’ve had. Just walk slowly, okay? The rocks can get slippery.”
“I’ll be careful,” she promised, kicking off her shoes and socks. “I’d rather not hit my head twice in one day.” She stepped carefully down the bank until the water found her toes. “Oh, this is heaven.”
Heaven was watching the water lick her smooth calves.
“It’s not even cold. How deep is that spot?” she asked, pointing to the central pool.
I tapped my chest. “Here, probably.”
“I’m going in,” she announced. Then she reached under her tank top to unhook her bra before easing it out from under the tiny shirt. The bra became airborne, landing at my feet.
White lace. Now I’d be picturing her in nothing but that with great frequency, damn it.
Off came her shorts while I tried not to swallow my tongue. Her back was to me, and I watched the little triangle of her panties come into view. “Catch,” she said before flinging the shorts backward over her shoulder.
Somehow I caught them. Then I had a wrestling match with myself while I tried to decide whether it was more polite to move her discarded bra to a rock in the sun or to leave it there. In the end I scooped it up and dropped it onto the towels. By the time I looked back, Lark was chest deep in water and smiling at me. “Aren’t you coming in?”
That was the question. “I hadn’t planned on it. When we drive back to the Shipleys’ there will be tourists everywhere.”
