Unlike most of the others, he thought it was something I could overcome with the right kind of help. I could have gone to the dean in protest, but…I didn’t. I don’t quite know why. I remember I would spend those four hours per week with sweat dripping down my back, my fingertips clamped hard around the pencil so he couldn’t see them tremble. It wasn’t that I couldn’t compose a thought, or a sensible essay.
I just couldn’t—can’t—write it in my own hand. I tried so fucking hard those days, and of course, the effort didn’t add up. It never does, and never will. I would leave there having written maybe a paragraph. An imperfect paragraph. A paragraph Dr. Faar would always read aloud.
And first I’d hit the boxing room at the gym. When it wasn’t enough, I’d run for an hour. When that wasn’t enough, and at times when I didn’t have polo or baseball practice to supplement, I would program. I’d had a class my sophomore year, and I’d been good at it. The difference between code and the English language—how I could do one but not the other?—intrigued me. Coding made me feel more capable.
I look at Lucy now and find I want to tell her. “I had a hard time in high school. I can barely write, but I can program code.” She nods, and I hear myself say, “It made me feel better I guess.”
“That’s seriously amazing. I’m honored that you told me.”
“Declan knows, and Heath.”
“That’s all?”
“Who don’t work for or with me.”
“Wow. How many people work for you?”
“Twenty-two. Most of them don’t know they work for me,” I tell her. “A guy from my Lawrenceville class named Todd does some of the programming with me, and most of the marketing. He runs the day-to-day stuff. I’m just behind the curtain.”
I glance up from my hands, still around the wheel, and find Lucy shaking her head. “That’s really crazy. So you’re like…this businessman and no one even knows.”
I shrug. “No one needs to. I put some money aside, but a lot of it does go to charity. I don’t need it. Everyone on staff is paid well enough, so…that’s that.”
“Your dad has no idea?”
I shake my head.
“You don’t think he would be proud?”
I have to struggle to suppress the urge to snort. “I don’t.”
“Because he wouldn’t want you working?”
“Yeah. Work isn’t for royals.” That’s what his generation thinks. “But also because me doing this might make him think I don’t want a role in government.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly.
“But like…do you have to?”
“That’s what the precedent is.” The precedent might not apply to me, but Lucy doesn’t need to know all that.
“Damn, Liam. You have a lot of interesting secrets.”
I give her a hollow laugh.
“I think I might owe you a few of mine.”
I crack my door open. “I think you definitely do.” I give her a look over my shoulder, then grab our pack and walk around to her side of the car. I was going to get the door for her, but she’s already out, smiling at me.
“What’s that look about?” I ask her.
“Nothing. I just feel like I know you more now.”
I wiggle my eyebrows, because I can’t exactly tell her that she doesn’t. Then I lead her over to a shed between some trees.
I punch a code in to unlock it, take out a canoe, and pull out a couple more bags that were dropped off here for us about an hour ago.
I help Lucy into the canoe and watch her as she looks around the lake. There’s fog along the shore, but the water is glass flat. “It’s gorgeous here, Liam. With all the mountains…” She waves at the peaks surrounding the lake.
I point to the island out ahead of us. “That’s Pirate Island. It’s a quarter of a mile away. Crown property.”
“So no pirates?” she teases.
“Only us.”
We row in silence for a while. All I can think about, as I look at the island, with its rocky shore and small, twin peaks and waterfalls and thick trees, is my mum. I can’t believe I’m bringing Lucy here. It’s been years since I got near this place.
We get out on the southern shore of the mile-long island, small rocks crunching under our feet. The deep blue water of the loch is crystal clear up by the shore, lapping at our boots.
As I turn and grab the first of our bags, Lucy stretches her arms out, and I realize she’s going to get them from me one at a time, and set them on dry ground.
When I hesitate, she snorts. “I won’t break.”
So together we unload the boat. Then I pull it up onto the rocky shore and haul it up a small embankment.
I come back down to the beach and find Lucy hefting two bags. I grab the others and we make our way up into the trees, to an outcropping that hangs over the water. She sits down on the rocky ground. I sit down beside her.
“This is gorgeous.”
I nod.
Wind whips some of my hair into my face, and I think of how I need to cut it. I’m not sure why I’ve left it long like this, or why I’ve left the beard. I guess because it makes me feel like someone else.
I am someone else, I think.
Then I feel Lucy’s hand on my cheek. I look over, and her face is right beside mine, smiling softly. She pulls my hat off, still smiling at me as she pulls my hair back up into its rubber band, and puts the hat back on. My eyes are closing in the warm, pale sunlight bleeding through the clouds.
“That feels good,” I rumble. Why’s she playing with my hair?
She takes the hat back off, and somehow I end up lying in her lap with my eyes closed, her fingers stroking through my hair.
“I like your hair. It’s really pretty, kind of the color of cinnamon.”
I want to tell her it’s darker in the winter, but I’m too tired to say a word. I just lie there, half asleep, thinking about wisps of things I can’t quite catch and listening to the gentle lap of water.
When I wake up, I find myself alone on the rock, my cheek pressed into something soft and red that smells like her. I blink into the sunlight. Glance around. I sit slowly, and realize there’s a sweater draped over my legs.
I spot Lucy back down at the shore. She’s got her pants rolled up and is wading around, ankle-deep, in the cool water.
I see her lunge for the surface, hands cupped, and watch her stand up laughing. Her hair flows around her shoulders.
I watch her as she does the same thing again, and I realize she’s trying to catch a fish. I smile, thinking of the fishing lodge on the other side of the island. Maybe we should spend the night there instead of the tree-houses.
I grab the pack she left beside me, throw it over my shoulder, and walk around the pile of bags at the top of the embankment, heading slowly down the grassy plane.
Lucy sees me as I reach the shore. She smiles at me and spins around.
I can’t help chuckling as I approach her. “You look like you’re having fun.”
She tilts her head, still smiling. “I am. It’s gorgeous here. Paradise.”
I grab her hand, but I don’t twine my fingers through it. I trace my thumb over her knuckles, wanting so damn much to bring her fingers to my lips.
I think about Dru and all her promises. About Ronald. Reality unwinds around me like a sticky web I can’t get out of. I know I can’t. And I would never want her stuck with me.
I let go of her hand and hear my own voice say, “I’m glad you like it.”
I sound hollow. Far away.
Tonight, I need to keep my distance. It’s wrong to have Lucy here at all, but so much worse to get entangled with her.
*
Lucy