She stood beneath the orangey bulb that illuminated the covered deck. He hadn’t seen her since the diner, and yet—to be honest—he’d thought about her often. He couldn’t help noticing how pale she looked, how thin and drawn. Her stunning bone structure now looked edgy and sharp; her chin was pointier than before.
But it was her eyes that caught him, held him as firmly as a child’s grip on a favorite toy.
“A hot tub, Doctor? How clich.”
“I went climbing today. My back is killing me. Get in.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
“Here. I’ll turn off the light.” He pressed the button and the tub went dark. “There’s wine in the fridge. Glasses are above the sink.”
She stood there a long time. So long, in fact, he thought she was going to decline. Finally, she turned and left. He heard the front door open and close. A few moments later she returned, holding a wineglass and wearing a towel.
“Close your eyes,” she said.
“I can see your bra straps, Julia.”
“Are you going to close your eyes?”
“What are we, eighth graders? Are you planning on spin-the-bottle later? I doubt—”
She walked away.
“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “My eyes are closed.”
He heard her return, heard the muffled thump of the towel landing in a chair and the quiet splashing of her getting in the hot tub. Water rippled against his chest; for a split second he thought it was her touch.
He opened his eyes.
She sat pressed to her side of the tub, her arms at her sides. The white lacy bra she wore had gone transparent; he saw the creamy swell of her breasts above the fabric and the water, and the dark spots of her barely covered nipples.
“You’re staring,” she said, sipping her wine.
“You’re beautiful.” He was surprised by the thready tone of his voice, surprised by how much he suddenly wanted her.
“I struggle to calculate how many times you’ve said that to women foolish enough to get into this tub.”
“Are you foolish?”
She looked at him. “Absolutely. But I’m not stupid. Stupid would be naked.”
“Actually, you’re the first woman who has ever been in this hot tub.”
“Clothed, you mean.”
He laughed. “Those see-through scraps are hardly clothed. But no. I mean the first woman—clothed or naked—to be here.”
She frowned. “Really?”
“Really.”
She turned slightly, looked out at the lake. In the charcoal-hued distance, two white trumpeter swans floated lazily on the surface of the water. Moonlight seemed to make their feathers glow.
The silence turned awkward. Julia must have noticed, too, because she finally turned to him and said, “Tell me something real, Max. I don’t know anything about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Why are you in Rain Valley?”
He gave her the answer he gave everyone. “One too many gang shootings in L.A.”
“Why do I think that’s only part of the story?”
“I keep forgetting you’re a shrink.”
“And a good one.” She smiled. “Jumping to conclusions notwithstanding. So, tell me.”
He shrugged. “I’d been having some personal issues, so I decided to make some changes. I quit my job and moved up here. I love the mountains.”
“Personal issues?”
Of course she picked up on what mattered. “That’s too real,” he said quietly.
“Sometimes you have to get away.”
He nodded. “It was easy to leave Los Angeles. My family is crazy enough to be carnival workers, every one. My parents—Ted and Georgia, before you ask—are currently on leave from their jobs teaching at Berkeley. They’re traveling through Central America in a motor home called Dixie. Last I heard they were looking for some bug that’s been extinct for eons.”
Julia smiled. “What do they teach?”
“Biology and Organic Chemistry, respectively. My sister, Ann, is in Thailand. Tsunami relief. My brother, Ken, works for a big-time think tank in the Netherlands. No one has seen him in almost a decade. Every year I get a Christmas card that says: ‘My best wishes to you and yours, Dr. Kenneth Cerrasin.’ ”
Julia laughed so hard she snorted. At the sound, she laughed harder. Max found himself laughing along with her.
“And I thought my family was strange.”
“Pikers,” he said, grinning.
“Were they there for you when your … trouble happened?”
Max felt his smile fade. “You sure know how to throw a punch, don’t you?”
“Hazard of the trade. It’s just … I know how alone I felt during the mess in L.A.”
“We’re not that kind of family.”
“So you were alone, too.”
He put down his drink. “Why are you here, Julia?”
“In Rain Valley? You know why.”
“Here,” he said, letting his voice soften.
“Alice spoke tonight. She said stay.”
“I knew you’d do it.”
A smile overtook her face; it came all at once, as if she hadn’t expected it. The porch light bathed her skin, tangled in her hair, made her lashes look spidery and fragile against her cheeks. She moved slightly. Water rippled against his chest. “The thing is … I’ve been waiting every day for weeks for this to happen.…”
“And?”