“Find it?” he called.
“No, not yet,” she answered. She slammed a drawer shut, and then opened another one.
“I’m going out on the deck, Kate,” he called, and she heard the back door of the house open and then close again. She was glad he’d gone outside. For a moment, she’d thought he would join her and watch while she went through the bogus search. But he was out of the house now, and this gave her some time to consider her next move. She went through the small end bedroom methodically, almost as if she were conducting a real search, knowing she would find nothing, trying to work out a feasible plan all the while. When she finished with the bedroom, she walked out into the corridor and opened the door to the linen closet. There were perhaps half a dozen large towels and two blankets in the closet, leftovers from the summer before. She studied them thoughtfully.
And then the idea came to her.
The idea was a simple one, a cliché she had seen represented hundreds of times in cartoons and motion pictures. But as she stood looking into the open linen closet at the blankets and towels, it seemed to her the idea had two distinct advantages. First, it would make David feel extremely masculine and heroic while presenting her as a helpless, dependent female. And secondly, it would give her an excuse for disrobing. She nodded in agreement with the idea.
She had decided she would drown.
Or, at least, she would pretend she was drowning.
He was waiting for her on the deck outside. He was sitting facing the lake solidified by light.
“I couldn’t find it,” she said. “I was sure I’d left it here.” She shrugged. “It was a nice suit, too. The red wool, do you remember seeing me in it?”
“I think so, yes.” He kept staring at the lake, seemingly absorbed by it.
“It was my favorite suit,” Kate said.
“You looked well in it,” David said.
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. May I have a cigarette, please?” She sat in the chair opposite him and crossed her legs. David offered her the package and she took one and waited for him to light it. She blew out a stream of smoke. “Thanks.” They were silent. The sun blazed on the surface of the lake, reflected dizzily onto the deck. “Mmmm, that sun is good,” she said. “Are you in a terrible hurry, David, or can we just sit here for a while?”
“I’m in no hurry,” he answered. He was still staring at the lake.
“Mmmmm,” she said, and she stretched out her legs, bracing her feet on the deck railing, pulling the tight skirt back a little. She closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sun. “Oh, that’s really good,” she said.
“I hate this lake,” David said suddenly.
She did not open her eyes. She was thinking, Wading, I’ll say I want to go wading. I’ll slip and fall in. The water’ll be cold. I have to be careful because he knows I’m a good swimmer. I can do it, though, and I know the water’ll be very cold, and that’ll be my excuse. I just have to be very careful.
“Every time I come to this damn lake...” he started, and then shook his head and fell silent.
She was ticking off the seconds. She did not want to wait too long, what time was it already? But neither did she want him to suspect she was executing a preconceived plan. She waited. She could feel the hot sun on her face and on her legs. She pulled her skirt a little higher.
“It’s awfully hot, isn’t it?” she said at last. “I wish I had found that suit. I’d go in for a swim.”
“Water’s still probably very cold, Kate.”
“I think I’ll wade, anyway. Want to join me?”
“I’ll watch you from here.”
“Oh, come on down.”
“Nope. Thanks, Kate.”
“Please, David?”
“All right,” he said reluctantly.
“Take off your shoes.”
“This is against my better judgment,” David said, smiling. He took off his loafers and socks, and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers. Together, they went down to the edge of the lake. She chose her spot carefully, knowing exactly where the rocks were most slippery, knowing exactly where the lake bottom dropped off suddenly after a few shallow feet of shelf. She pulled her skirt up over her knees. She was sure he was watching her. She was sure his eyes were on her legs. She was suddenly glad she’d worn the tight black skirt.
The water was very cold. She felt it attacking her feet and her ankles, almost numbing. She gave a girlish little shriek. David stood on the shore, and she turned, surprised to see he wasn’t watching her but was looking out over the lake instead.
“Come on, sissy,” she said teasingly.
She pulled the skirt high on her thighs, held it there with one hand, and extended the other hand to him. He took it and came gingerly into the water.
“It’s like ice,” he said.
She squeezed his hand playfully. “You haven’t even got your feet wet.”
“That’s all they’re going to get wet,” he said, and he nodded once, emphatically, and then suddenly dropped her hand.
“Hey!” she said.
“I’ll watch you from here,” he called, wading back to the shore.
“Oh, come on back here!”
“My toes are blue,” he said.
“Well, what’s wrong with that? Blue’s a lovely color.”
David laughed. “Go on, enjoy yourself. I’ll sit here and watch your legs.”
She did not miss the reference, and yet there was the usual condescending tone in his voice. He was talking to a child. He was still talking to a child.
She pushed out suddenly against the water.
“Be careful, Kate,” he called. “Those rocks are slippery.”
The rocks were slippery, yes, and the water was truly very cold, and she had the sudden feeling she might really drown if she went through with her plan. She could feel the icy water attacking her legs, rising on her flesh as she waded deeper, over her knees, touching her thighs now. In a moment, she thought. In a moment.
“Be careful, Kate,” he warned again.
She would allow herself to slip, the child in Kate thought. She would allow one foot to reach out tentatively and to slip suddenly, and she would throw both hands up over her head, dropping her skirt, and go into the icy water. The child in Kate thought, I’ll flounder around a bit trying to swim, laughing perhaps, and then I’ll shout, “Help! David, help me!” and I’ll go under, and he’ll jump into the water and pull me out trembling, my clothes clinging to me, he’ll carry me into the house, I’ll undress and come into the living room wrapped in a blanket, the child in Kate plotted as she stood poised on the shelf at the edge of the drop, ready to feign a plunge into freezing deep water.
Go ahead, the child in Kate urged. Take the step. Do it.
But the woman in Kate hesitated. The woman in Kate clung to her skirts, she could feel the slime-covered rocks with the tips of her toes, could feel the numbing water, the woman in Kate weighed the plan silently, the blatancy of the plan, and wondered if it had not been too outrageously conceived. The woman in Kate was suddenly aware of caution and subtlety, and something beyond that, something only unconsciously understood, something that told her instantly and without doubt that the plan was wrong.
She turned and began wading out of the lake.
Clinging to her skirt with one hand, her long legs flashing in the golden sunshine, she extended her free hand to David, and he bent over to reach for it, laughing at her sudden reversal. She clung to his hand tightly. He tugged at it, and she came splashing out of the lake and onto the shore. Impulsively, she allowed the momentum to carry her into his arms. “David, I’m freezing,” she said, “Oh, David, make me warm,” hugging herself to him girlishly, and yet aware that her skirt was still pulled up over her thighs, held there where their bodies met in flat contact, sensing he was aware of this, sensing he knew he was holding a woman against him. She broke away from him suddenly and started for the house, holding out her hand to him. He laughed again and took her hand, and they went up the path together, the lake silent, the woods still.