thickened, warm and oppressively humid. Johnny ran the shower too hot. Steam emanated from the bathroom, fogging up the living room windows. The smell of lavender soap filled the air.
I’d left the photograph on the table in the second bedroom, the room he now used as an office, but I could not find the picture anywhere. I needed to compare the image to the scene at the river. But no luck.
I went into the bathroom. “I’m back,” I said with false cheer. “How was your run?”
“How was your walk? Long one today.”
“I got lost,” I said. “I ended up on a strange path.”
“Bad girl. You didn’t take your phone.”
“I didn’t think I would need it.”
“Always take your phone.”
“I will next time.”
He peered out from behind the shower curtain. His hair was full of soap, water running down his body, flattening the dark hair on his chest. “Is it raining out there?”
“Yes.” I looked down at myself, and I realized I was soaked.
“Get in with me. Hurry.” He grinned at me in his devilish way. Come on, a quickie.
I peeled off my clothes and joined him beneath the hot, soothing water. The cold and rain had sunk into my bones; I leaned back into him, closed my eyes, and felt his hands caressing my body, awakening my nerve endings in the heat. Gradually, I stopped shivering. “I saw you,” I said, as he kissed the back of my neck.
“Mmm,” he said, kissing my shoulder.
“I mean I followed you,” I said.
He kissed my neck again, cupped my breasts in his hands. “Why didn’t you yell at me? I would’ve waited for you.”
“I followed you all the way to the Minkowskis’ yard and I saw you go in the back door. I saw her let you in.”
His hands dropped away from me. “You did?”
“What were you doing there?” I turned to face him. The tub was too small for both of us. Too small and slippery. I could so easily fall and hit my head again.
He blinked, his eyes darkening. “She asked me to stop by,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “I took a look at Kadin Junior. She was nearly hysterical about his rash. Allergic reaction. He’ll be fine.”
“She’s lucky you’re willing to make house calls.” Was he telling me the truth? I realized, looking into his eyes, that I could not read him.
“Sarah, you don’t think . . . You couldn’t . . . ” He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “You think I went over there to . . . Come on.”
“How do I know? I wake up in the night and you’re over there, and now you take this backward route through the woods, like you know the way.”
“I jog in the woods every day,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close. “I used to jog out here before I met you. Yeah, I ended up there once before. I remember routes. No big deal. She called the clinic and the call was routed to me. I was already out. So I went over there.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, I swear. Why didn’t you come down there? You let this fester. You’re imagining things.”
“It’s my job to imagine things. I’m a writer.”
“One of the many reasons I love you.”
“The picture of you on the dock with that woman. Did you do something with it?”
“What picture? Oh yeah. No, why?”
“I can’t find it. You don’t remember it—?”
“No, I don’t,” he said quickly. He was rinsing off now, preparing to get out of the shower.
“I ended up down at the river. Was the picture taken there, at the dock?”
“Show me again . . . I’ll see.” When he looked at me, his brow was furrowed, his expression guarded.
“The picture’s gone,” I said.
“I didn’t do anything with it,” he said, his voice edged with irritation. “What’s with all the questions?”
“There was a building in the picture, a fisherman’s shed. I saw a similar building today. It looked like the same one.”
“It might be. I’m not sure.”
“You really don’t remember?”
“What does it matter? Look,
I’d left the photograph on the table in the second bedroom, the room he now used as an office, but I could not find the picture anywhere. I needed to compare the image to the scene at the river. But no luck.
I went into the bathroom. “I’m back,” I said with false cheer. “How was your run?”
“How was your walk? Long one today.”
“I got lost,” I said. “I ended up on a strange path.”
“Bad girl. You didn’t take your phone.”
“I didn’t think I would need it.”
“Always take your phone.”
“I will next time.”
He peered out from behind the shower curtain. His hair was full of soap, water running down his body, flattening the dark hair on his chest. “Is it raining out there?”
“Yes.” I looked down at myself, and I realized I was soaked.
“Get in with me. Hurry.” He grinned at me in his devilish way. Come on, a quickie.
I peeled off my clothes and joined him beneath the hot, soothing water. The cold and rain had sunk into my bones; I leaned back into him, closed my eyes, and felt his hands caressing my body, awakening my nerve endings in the heat. Gradually, I stopped shivering. “I saw you,” I said, as he kissed the back of my neck.
“Mmm,” he said, kissing my shoulder.
“I mean I followed you,” I said.
He kissed my neck again, cupped my breasts in his hands. “Why didn’t you yell at me? I would’ve waited for you.”
“I followed you all the way to the Minkowskis’ yard and I saw you go in the back door. I saw her let you in.”
His hands dropped away from me. “You did?”
“What were you doing there?” I turned to face him. The tub was too small for both of us. Too small and slippery. I could so easily fall and hit my head again.
He blinked, his eyes darkening. “She asked me to stop by,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “I took a look at Kadin Junior. She was nearly hysterical about his rash. Allergic reaction. He’ll be fine.”
“She’s lucky you’re willing to make house calls.” Was he telling me the truth? I realized, looking into his eyes, that I could not read him.
“Sarah, you don’t think . . . You couldn’t . . . ” He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “You think I went over there to . . . Come on.”
“How do I know? I wake up in the night and you’re over there, and now you take this backward route through the woods, like you know the way.”
“I jog in the woods every day,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close. “I used to jog out here before I met you. Yeah, I ended up there once before. I remember routes. No big deal. She called the clinic and the call was routed to me. I was already out. So I went over there.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, I swear. Why didn’t you come down there? You let this fester. You’re imagining things.”
“It’s my job to imagine things. I’m a writer.”
“One of the many reasons I love you.”
“The picture of you on the dock with that woman. Did you do something with it?”
“What picture? Oh yeah. No, why?”
“I can’t find it. You don’t remember it—?”
“No, I don’t,” he said quickly. He was rinsing off now, preparing to get out of the shower.
“I ended up down at the river. Was the picture taken there, at the dock?”
“Show me again . . . I’ll see.” When he looked at me, his brow was furrowed, his expression guarded.
“The picture’s gone,” I said.
“I didn’t do anything with it,” he said, his voice edged with irritation. “What’s with all the questions?”
“There was a building in the picture, a fisherman’s shed. I saw a similar building today. It looked like the same one.”
“It might be. I’m not sure.”
“You really don’t remember?”
“What does it matter? Look,
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