make a good day of it."
"Yeah, we are. And after you've had your fun playing in the dirt, we're going to go fishing."
"Fishing? Like in a canoe?"
"I was thinking more off the pier. After we've had a bottle of wine, I'm not sure we should
attempt a canoe lesson."
Jill put the two wine bottles on the bar then tossed her bag on the loveseat after pulling
out her gardening gloves.
"Can I go down?" she asked, her eyes bright.
Carrie smiled. "I'll be right behind you. I've made some iced tea. I'll bring out a couple of
glasses."
Jill stepped out into the sunshine and looked skyward, closing her eyes for a moment of
quiet reflection, conscious of the peacefulness she felt being here. It was indeed as if
they'd locked the world away.
"My mother used to call that woolgathering," Carrie said quietly from behind her.
Jill turned, finding Carrie's eyes. "Just thinking how nice it feels to be here."
Carrie nodded, her head tilted slightly. Then she raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"
"Oh, sure," Jill said quickly as she averted her eyes. Then she looked back at Carrie,
finding the same gentle look in her face as always. "Just... a lot of questions at home," she
finally said.
"I see. Well, let's go down to the pier. We'll talk," she said as she walked down the path.
Jill took one of the glasses of tea and waved her gloves in the air again. "I have flowers
calling my name," she reminded her.
"Then we'll talk as we plant."
And they did, talking about everything under the sun before Carrie finally broached the
subject of Jill's home life.
"It's one thing for Craig to want to discuss our marriage, quite another when my daughter
does," Jill said. She took her gloves off and wiped her forehead before sitting down crosslegged
on the ground. She absently brushed at the dirt clinging to her knees. "Arlene
suggested to Craig that we need to see a marriage counselor." Jill leaned forward. "Craig
tells her everything. I think it's just creepy for a son to discuss his sex life with his
mother."
Carrie nodded but said nothing.
"We—me and Craig—had a talk," Jill said quietly. "He's... well, he thinks I'm having an
affair."
Carrie tilted her head. "Aren't you?"
Jill slowly shook her head. "No. This doesn't feel like an affair to me."
Carrie let out her breath, a slight smile on her face. "Thank you," she whispered.
"But I don't know what to do," Jill said. "I can't... the thought of him touching me is nearly
repulsive."
"I didn't want to know if you were sleeping with him," Carrie admitted. "I couldn't stand
the thought, actually."
Jill looked away. "You've never really said... I mean, about James," Jill said.
Carrie shook her head. "I've not had sex with him, no. In fact, I doubt he's even noticed."
"What do you mean?"
Carrie stood, brushing the dirt from her jeans before answering. "James is a classic
workaholic. He has very little down time. He sleeps only four to five hours a night." She
shrugged. "It hasn't been an issue."
When Jill would have spoken, Carrie held up her hand. "I'm ready to trade this tea in for
wine. What do you say?"
"Excellent."
"Good. Then let's have an early lunch." Carrie pointed at the weathered picnic table. "You
want to eat out here or in the cottage?"
Jill laughed. "I want to be outside as much as you do."
After they washed up, they hauled their lunch down to the pier in a huge picnic basket,
wineglasses and all. Carrie tossed a blue cloth across the picnic table and Jill opened the
wine.
For the next hour, they sat in the sun trading stories, leisurely munching on chicken salad
sandwiches, cheese and fruit and fighting over the last of the wine.
"Do you realize how thoroughly I enjoy your company?" Carrie said as she set the empty
wine bottle aside.
Jill reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Yes," she said without question.
Carrie laughed.
"I didn't mean that to sound quite so conceited," Jill said. "I feel absolutely the same way."
She twisted her napkin between her fingers, finally looking up, meeting Carrie's eyes. "You
know, we can talk about anything, everything. We do talk about everything?, she said.
"Except us. We never talk about us."
Carrie held her eyes for a moment then looked away. "That's because I'm afraid of the
answers."
"What do you mean?"
"We want more time together but there is no more time. We both have husbands, kids."
Jill cleared her throat, again twisting her napkin nervously. "How long can we do this?" She
looked up into the clear sky above. "How long can I go on pretending to have a marriage
when I just want to be with you?"
"Don't you think I feel the same? But you have a fourteen-year-old daughter whose
relationship with you is tenuous at best. Are you willing to lose her?" Carrie took her hand,
rubbing lightly against the palm. "My boys... it's different," she said. "They're older, for
one thing. And Josh, well, Josh is my son. And Aaron worships the ground his father walks
on. I'm sure their loyalties would lie there as well. And James, well, James has been too
busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. He would be completely blown away, yes. But
it's not me I'm worried about. It's you, Jill."
"I know. Angie would never forgive me, would never understand. Craig would be
devastated." She squeezed Carrie's hand. "But I'm not sure how much weight all of that
holds. I'm miserable at home. And they both know it, they just don't know why."
Carrie leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands, staring at Jill. "At
night when I'm in bed, you have no idea how much I long for it to be you beside me. I long
to sleep with you, to wake up with you." She leaned back again and idly twirled her empty
wineglass. "But we're not afforded that luxury."
Jill stared at the woman who had become so important to her, wondering what thoughts
were racing through her mind. Dare she bring up the one word that had not been uttered?
After knowing each other barely five months, dare she mention divorce? Was she ready to
sever her ties with Craig? Was she ready to cause a rift with Angie? But perhaps she was
premature. Had divorce even crossed Carrie's mind? Jill stared, waiting for the pale blue
eyes to look up, waiting for them to look into her very soul.
And they did. And as always—when those eyes held her—she was convinced she'd stared
into them many lifetimes ago.
Carrie finally smiled, releasing her. "I think I threatened you with fishing, didn't I?"
Jill relaxed, sensing Carrie had tired of their talk. So she let it go with a wave of her hand.
"And threatened is the appropriate word," Jill agreed.
"By the middle of summer, I'll have you begging to go fishing. And in the canoe, no less."
Carrie stood and motioned to the table. "If you'll pack all this back into the basket, I'll go
get the fishing poles and worms."
Jill's eyes widened. "Worms?"
Carrie just grinned as she walked back toward the garage. Jill cleaned up from their lunch,
her mind still locked on a dirty, wiggly worm.
"Surely she doesn't expect me to touch them," she muttered.
"It's just a worm," Carrie said patiently.
Jill shook her head. "Not doing it."
"Why not?"
"Well, gross and disgusting come to mind."
"I suppose if you catch a fish you'll want me to take it off of the hook for you too?"