Page 109 of Confessions

By the time she reached the dock she was exhausted. He helped her onto the weathered planks and they sat together, side by side, not touching, breathing hard and listening to the sound of crickets and frogs over the constant lapping of the lake.

“Listen, Ben,” she said, when she could finally speak again, “I don’t like you talking about me to anyone. Especially Kevin.”

“I didn’t.”

“He seems to think we were going together or something.” She didn’t add that he said he had loved her.

“Are we?”

The question hung between them, unanswered and she dragged her toes through the water. “You tell me,” she finally said.

He smiled then and chased away all the doubts in her heart as he kissed her. But he never answered her question.

* * *

“THOSE POWELL BOYS are trouble,” Weldon Surrett said as he cleaned his hunting rifle and offered his daughter some unrequested advice. They were seated on the back deck, he drinking a beer, she sipping a tart lemonade. The sun had set, a few stars winked in the sky and the lights of Gold Creek cast a glow into the bank of heavy clouds that were rolling in from the west. “I think you’d best avoid both the boys.”

“Who says they’re trouble?”

“Ever’body. Now, the old man, George, he’s okay. Worked every day of his life for the sawmill, but Kevin’s always complaining and showing up late for work. Got the reputation of a troublemaker. I’ll just bet his brother’s the same.” He paused to light a cigarette and let it dangle from his lips.

“You don’t work at the mill and besides, just because two people are related doesn’t meant they think the same. Look at you and Uncle Sid,” she said, feeling a need to defend Ben. They’d started dating just this past week and tonight was the third night they were scheduled to go out to a new action movie at the twin cinemas in Coleville. Obviously her father thought she and Ben were becoming too close.

“But half the people in this town get their paychecks from Monroe Sawmill and our trucks take logs over to the mill all day long. The drivers see and hear things and word filters back. Kevin’s a pain in the backside. Always has been. Got himself an attitude that nearly cost him his job a couple of times. The only reason he’s still there is Monroe seems to like George. I was worried when you first dated him and I was relieved that it ended so quickly.”

“There was nothing there, Dad. We only went out a couple of times.”

He drew hard on his cigarette and let smoke drift from his nose. “But now you’re with the other kid. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, if you ask me.” He took a long swallow from his glass and called over his shoulder. “Thelma, how about another beer?”

“How about you gettin’ it yourself and helping with these dishes?”

“I’ll get it.” Carlie was glad for an excuse to avoid another lecture. She walked through the sliding door into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Leave the dishes, Mom. I’ll do ’em.”

Her mother smiled. “You vacuum tomorrow. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“It’s a deal.” Carlie popped the cap of a can of beer and walked back outside.

“Thanks,” her father said as he stubbed out his cigarette. He poured the brew into his glass, took a sip and set his drink on the table. “Now, about the Powell boy—”

“Dad, please.”

“It’s not a good idea to date brothers—” He picked up his rifle again and ran his fingers along the barrel.

“I already told you, Ben and Kevin are different.”

Her father opened the Remington, snapped it shut and hoisted it to his shoulder, where he squinted through the sight. With a satisfied grunt, he set the rifle on the small table. “Just be careful, honey. Boys are territorial

and dating two brothers is—”

“Asking for trouble, I know. Believe me, I’ve heard the lecture. About a million times,” Carlie said as thunderclouds rumbled in the distance.

“Good. Then maybe you learned something. Looks like it might rain.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, I saw Thomas Fitzpatrick today and he asked about you.”

Carlie squirmed a little. “He’s still mad ’cause I stood up for Rachelle and Jackson.”

“He didn’t seem angry,” Weldon said thoughtfully as he gazed over the railing. “He just asked what you planned to do after the summer’s over.”

She tried to ignore the little chill that scurried down her spine. “I think he might offer you a job,” Weldon said hopefully. “You could work for him and go to the community college. Give up all those crazy notions of yours about New York City.”