Page 84 of It Happened on the Lake

H arper felt the weak winter sunshine against her crown as she walked across the quad to the deli.

She was starving and yet slightly nauseous, her stomach as conflicted as she.

She picked up a cheese bun and a Coke, then sat at a small outside table near a crepe myrtle tree, sparrows flitting through the branches.

Famished, she took several bites before opening the schedule of classes she’d picked up.

Spring term was due to start soon. Too soon.

Though she’d passed her GED with flying colors, she doubted she could enroll in any of the classes she’d need.

But summer term would be doubtful as well, because by then her pregnancy would be evident.

For now, her abdomen was flat, but that wouldn’t last for long, according to the doctor who had examined her and confirmed her pregnancy just two days earlier.

So she’d have to put off college.

Until after the baby was born. Or maybe she could take some correspondence courses. And get a job.

She picked at her bun, dropping some tiny pieces onto the sidewalk where some of the less timid birds fluttered down to peck at the crumbs.

“Excuse me. You’re Harper, aren’t you?” a male voice asked as a man’s shadow spread across the table top and her open booklet. “Harper Reed?”

Her queasy stomach dropped.

Oh no!

On alert, she looked up. No one knew her here. No one. That’s the way it was supposed to be.

Shading her eyes with one hand, she squinted up at him, a tall, lanky guy in jeans, T-shirt, Birkenstock sandals, and a string of love beads slung around his neck. His blond hair was unkempt, eyes an intense shade of blue, and just for a millisecond she thought of Chase.

However she didn’t know this guy. Geez, was he yet another reporter who had tracked her down here, in California where her father and Marcia had insisted it would be safe, that she would be anonymous? No one was supposed to know about Chase’s disappearance or Gram’s death here.

She didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to find out. In an instant she started wrapping the rest of her sandwich.

“You are, aren’t you?”

She didn’t respond, just gathered her things, knocking over her Coke and upturning her purse.

“Oh crap!” she cried, as soda spilled all over her bag.

She quickly turned to a nearby table and grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser.

The guy actually tried to help clean up the mess, but she yanked her purse away and glared at him.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“Well, you did.” Who the hell was he?

“I’m Joel,” he said as if reading her mind. “I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Why?”

“I just do.” She started to turn, but he grabbed her arm. “What’re you afraid of?”

“Nothing!”

“Seems like.”

She jerked her arm away and he didn’t reach for her again. “I saw you at the lake.”

Of course he did. Of course that was the connection. He was from Oregon. Some kind of reporter dressed like a college kid to blend in. To make her trust him.

So much for anonymity.

He explained, “I lived right down the street from Chase Hunt.”

Oh sure. “I don’t think so.” She was walking away, but he strode quickly to catch up to her.

“He was a friend of mine.”

“What?” This wasn’t making any sense. “Oh right.” She didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm as she reached into her purse for a pair of sunglasses and noticed that the inside of her bag was still wet from the spilled Coke.

“No, no, for sure,” he was saying, keeping up with her. “Chase and I? We met at college.”

“I thought you said you lived down the street from him.” She shook soda off the sunglasses and slipped them on.

“I did. In Eugene. And then when I graduated and was moving up to Portland for a job, Chase told me about a cabin that was near his house in Almsville. He thought maybe I could rent a room there.”

“What does this have to do with me?” She was walking toward the apartment her father had rented while he and Marcia started house hunting in Sonoma.

Joel had no trouble keeping up with her. “I just thought you might need a friend.”

“A friend?” Speed-walking now, she said, “And why would you think that?”

“Because you don’t know anyone here.”

She turned on her heel to stare at him through shaded lenses still blurry from the spilled cola. “How would you know?”

“Because I’ve been watching you.”

“Oh great. So you’re what? A Peeping Tom? Well, no thank you.” She was walking so fast she was nearly jogging. “I don’t need any friends.”

“Everyone does.”

“Oh, save me!” Who was this guy anyway? She’d never heard Chase mention him and she didn’t need any connections to her past. The whole idea of her family moving to California was for a chance at a new beginning.

She stepped off the curb, starting to cross the street.

A motorcycle roared around the corner.

“Watch out!” Joel grabbed her arm. He pulled her back to the sidewalk just as the biker glanced her way and sped off.

“Oh. Oh.” Harper could hardly catch her breath. Adrenaline pumped through her blood. “That guy nearly ran me over,” she said, feeling her knees going weak.

“ ‘Nearly’ is the important word.”

“I think ‘ran over’ are the important words.” She was still shaky.

Joel glared after the disappearing bike, then turned back to her. “Are you okay?”

“You mean other than freaked out of my mind?” She squinted up at him through the dark, blurry lenses. “Yeah. I mean . . . yeah.” But she was quivering inside.

“Good.” He nodded. “That’s good. Don’t suppose you got the guy’s license plate?”

“Uh, no.” She shook her head, letting out an unsteady breath.

“Me neither,” he admitted. “It happened so fast.”

She realized he was still holding onto her upper arm, and she moved away. “Look. Thanks. For—for saving my life, I guess, or whatever, but I’ve really got to go.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I—I don’t think so.”

But as she crossed the street, she hiked the strap of her purse over her shoulder and looked back to find him watching her. He held up a hand and she returned the favor before dashing along the tree-lined street to the apartment building and her new, if temporary, home.

She still didn’t trust him.

These days she didn’t trust anyone.

But he was right about one thing.

She could really use a friend.

More than that, she could use a boyfriend.

Not that her heart was mended.

She doubted it would ever be.

But she was going to have a baby and every kid deserved a father.

That night, alone in her twin bed, with her father and stepmother a paper-thin wall away, Harper started hatching a new plan.

No longer was she constrained to helping Chase avoid the draft or getting pregnant for his benefit.

Now she could concentrate on her own needs.

And her child’s needs. So maybe . . . her thoughts strayed to uncomfortable territory as she thought about her future.

She didn’t see Joel the next day.

Nor the next.

She’d looked for him on campus and wished she knew his last name. But he’d never given it and with all the hubbub of the spilled Coke and nearly being hit by a crazed motorcycle driver, she hadn’t asked for it.

Now she wished she had. She’d walked around the junior college buildings, hoping for a glimpse of him. So far, no luck.

Today she was back at the outdoor table near the deli where she’d first met him.

Though she was ravenous, food still wasn’t agreeing with her, so she picked at what she could keep down of an avocado and tuna sandwich, then tossed bits of bread, alfalfa sprouts, and lettuce to the pigeons and small birds that flocked nearby.

All the while she was hoping for a glimpse of him.

To talk to him. Someone near her age. Someone interested. Someone male.

Why hadn’t she asked him for a number or address or if he had a job or was going to school? Didn’t he say he’d already graduated from the University of Oregon?

All she had was his first name.

She’d about given up and had decided she wouldn’t see him again, but she’d been wrong. Later that week she caught sight of him walking with three girls toward the quad where a protest rally was scheduled.

Harper’s heart sank as she watched them.

A freckled redhead wore bell-bottoms and a midriff blouse.

Her long hair was parted down the middle and held in place with a feathered headband.

She was in deep conversation with a girl with a wild Afro who wore a sleeveless jumpsuit and bracelets that sparkled in the sunlight.

All the while the third girl, a sun-streaked blonde in a suede miniskirt and peasant blouse, clung to his arm, rapt at whatever he was saying.

Ugh.

Harper felt a stupid pang of jealousy, which she told herself was completely out of line. She didn’t even know the guy, not really, wasn’t even sure that what he’d told her was the truth.

The group of four walked to the middle of the quad where the small protest was forming, clusters of students armed with placards and armbands and outrage. Harper could read a few : MAKE LOVE NOT WAR ! and POWER TO THE PEOPLE ! and HELL NO ! WE WON’T GO !

For a fleeting second she thought of Rand Watkins, already in the jungles of Vietnam fighting a war these people were protesting. And she thought of Chase, still missing, who vowed never to go.

And here she was, an outsider again.

She concentrated on Joel. He and the girls sat cross-legged on the grass.

A pipe was passed between them while a duo with acoustic guitars sang on the stage.

Nearby a group of people she thought were the speakers were gathering.

As the antiwar crowd grew, a group of protestors spread out on the lawn.

Her stomach turned over. Queasy again.

As the music died, a tall, bearded man took over the mic. His hair wild and curly, he started speaking vehemently, getting the crowd to respond.

Harper listened halfheartedly for a while, then started back to the apartment.

Just as she reached her front door, she heard footsteps running fast behind her.

“Harper!” Joel called.

She turned and found him jogging across the parking lot.

He was alone. The girls he’d been with minutes before not in sight.

His smile wide, he said, “Thought I saw you.” He was breathing hard, his face flushed. “I’ve been meaning to stop by.”

“Oh?” She was surprised, yet felt not only relief but a little thrill as well.

“Yeah, I found something you dropped the other day. When you spilled your Coke and your purse fell over?”

“What?”

He reached into the front pocket of his jeans, and she noticed the careful embroidery on the denim.

Daisies winding up his leg by the side seam.

“I went by the table where you were sitting on the way back and I found these.” He handed her a small plastic bottle.

Inside were her pre-natal vitamins, her name printed on the label. She hadn’t even missed them.

“Oh.” She let out a breath and felt her cheeks grow hot. She wanted to deny that they were hers but obviously couldn’t. “Uh. Thanks.” Embarrassed, she didn’t know what to say.

“You okay?”

“What do you think?” she shot back.

He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t know.”

“Well, let’s see, since you know my deepest, darkest secret,” she said, “then you’ve probably figured out that I’m just fine.

This is exactly where I thought I’d be at eighteen.

Pregnant, having to get a GED, and all those universities that accepted me?

Forget it. No college for me. Oh, and the father of my baby? Not in the picture.”

His smile had slowly fallen from his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. He actually looked like he understood.

“Yeah.” She blinked against a rush of tears.

“Me, too.” Clearing her throat, she put up a brave front.

“Look, thanks for finding these.” She held up the vial of pills, shaking it so that it rattled.

“I don’t know how I could have explained losing them.

” Dashing the tears from her eyes, she blew out a long breath and pulled herself together.

An awkward silence ensued, and she finally said, “I’d better get go—”

“Would you like to go out?” he said suddenly, and she thought she hadn’t heard correctly.

“What?”

“Yeah. You know. Go out. On a date.”

“You want to take me out? Seriously?” He was being absurd, or felt sorry for her, which she definitely didn’t need. She motioned to her abdomen. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I said before, you could use a friend.”

“And I told you I didn’t need one.”

“But maybe I do.” He appeared almost sheepish as a soft breeze passed by. Leaves on the branches overhead shimmered, casting shivering shadows across the walkway.

She laughed. “Looks like you’ve got plenty of friends to me.” Gesturing to the intricate embroidery on his jeans, she said, “Someone who sews flowers on your Levis, unless you have hidden talents with a needle and thread.”

“Hardly.”

“And you have people to go to protests with.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I want to meet someone new.”

“A girl who’s pregnant?” she said, shaking her head and laughing. “Oh sure.”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“Come on.” This was ridiculous.

“See you at eight,” he said, not accepting “no” for an answer. Then he took off, jogging away, a tall man with an easy, loping stride.

“Wait!”

He slowed, looking over his shoulder.

“I don’t even know your last name.”

His grin widened. “Prescott,” he said and then was off again.

She, still grasping the pill bottle, wondered what his game was.

Why was he interested in her?

And did he even know where she lived?

There was one way to find out.

Harper would take him up on his offer.