When we get back to Amanda’s parents’ house, the sun is already setting. Amanda opens the backyard gate and leads the way to the guesthouse. She unlocks it, shivering.
“It got cold!” she complains, smacking me. “Whose idea was it to jump in that lake, anyway?” She reaches across the wall to fiddle with the thermostat, and the heat clicks on.
I pull off my shirt and offer it to her.
“Don’t try to get all sexy with me,” she says, trying to cover up her smile by narrowing her eyes.
“I don’t have to try,” I tell her.
“Is that so."
“It’s true and you know it.”
She turns her back to me and starts walking down the hall to the bedroom, pulling off and dropping a garment with every step.
I start to walk faster behind her until I’m chasing her. She looks over her shoulder and shrieks, but she’s in the bedroom now, and I jump on top of her, pulling her down onto the bed.
“We should go eat,” she interrupts, looking over at the little blue clock on the dresser. “It’s almost eight.”
“All right.”
She re-traces her steps back down the hallway, getting dressed again. “Sorry,” she says to me.
I shrug. “We’re here for your family; it’s okay.”
“There’ll be time after dinner.”
“Thank God.”
She laughs. “I wish I’d had time to pack, or something,” she says, looking around her. “I don’t have any sweaters or anything.” She opens a linen closet. “Nothing in here.”
“Maybe you can borrow something from your mom.”
She closes the closet door and turns back to look at me. “Please.”
I hold up my hands. “Only a suggestion.”
In the main house, Amanda’s mom has made a hearty autumn spaghetti, with lots of peppers and cheese.
“This is perfect,” Amanda tells her, bringing some plates to the table, which is warmed by several ceramic serving dishes of spaghetti and vegetables. “It got chilly out there.”
A big wooden bowl of salad sits in the center of the table. The kitchen smells warm. Little touches, like the yellow patterned potholders and the glow of the overhead lamp, seem to keep out the coldness that fell over our breakfast that morning.
Amanda’s father walks in and uncovers the dishes on the table. Steam rises from them, clouding around him in an eerily prophetic way. I wonder suddenly if I’m seeing what’s actually there, or if I’m seeing beyond it....I’ve never wondered that before.
Marian and Amanda bring silverware to the table and we all sit down. The steam is gone, as quickly as it appeared. There are several minutes of silence as everyone eats, taking in the warmth of the meal against the bitter cold outside.
“What did you two get up to today?” Marian asks us.
“We ended up going to the lake,” Amanda says. “John jumped off that tree branch with the rope on it.”
Marian laughs. “Oh, you two are still young,” she says, “and there’s the proof. My goodness, how high is that branch anyhow?”
Amanda shakes her head. “A couple stories.”
