if I were precious,” she said softly, almost to herself, because it was the Þ rst

time she’d ever given a name to what Dev had made her feel. She looked at her

mother. “I guess I wanted to keep that all to myself. Maybe that’s why I never

brought her home.”

“Maybe it was because you didn’t think I’d understand,” Eileen said sadly. “I’m

sorry if I made you feel that way.”

Leslie shook her head. “No. It wasn’t about you. I didn’t understand myself

what I felt.”

“And you didn’t…understand…until you were in college?”

“Not exactly,” Leslie said with a sigh. She curled an arm around the porch post

and sat on top of the railing, her legs dangling free.

She leaned her head against the column and thought about how long

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WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

she’d denied her feelings. “I never considered that what was happening between

Dev and me was anything except a wonderful friendship. I was clueless.” She

shook her head. “God. Worse than clueless. And then one night she kissed

me…no, we kissed…and I didn’t handle it very well.”

Eileen said nothing, but she brieß y stroked Leslie’s arm.

“Some bad things happened. Dev had an accident.” Leslie closed her eyes.

“Part of that was my fault.” When her mother murmured with concern, Leslie

waved her away. “It’s a long story, and Dev and I have already talked it out.

But it took me years to admit that what she and I had was what I really

wanted.”

“And you have someone now?”

Leslie hesitated. “Yes.”

“Did you Þ nd it again?” Eileen asked softly. “What you had with Dev?”

“No.” Leslie met her mother’s eyes, her expression ß at.

“Perhaps you will yet.”

“There’s no going back. Besides, everyone knows that Þ rst love is too sweet

to ever last.”

“Not everyone agrees,” her mother pointed out gently.

Leslie shrugged. She wasn’t in the mood to argue, not when they’d had their Þ

rst real conversation in over a decade. “I can drive you to the hospital to pick up

Daddy, if you want.” She scanned the sky, where a few ß uffy clouds ß oated

by. Far to the north a darker cloud bank was just visible beyond the mountains.

“We might get some of that rain after all.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to spend some time at your ofÞ ce today?”

“Dev left me her keys so I could use her truck. I can go in this afternoon.”

“Go ahead. I can handle things at the hospital.”

“It will be good to have him home.” Leslie slid off the banister and walked with

her mother toward the front door.

“It certainly will.”

“Are we still going to have the Fourth of July party Saturday night?”

“Of course. The guests always enjoy it, and so do the locals. I am going to have

some of the food catered this year, though, so all we have to do is make sure

the boathouse is in good shape.”

• 143 •

RADCLY fFE

“I’ll take care of overseeing that.”

Eileen squeezed Leslie’s hand. “I’m glad you came home. I’m sorry there’s

been so much for you to do here, but it still feels wonderful.”

“Every now and then, I actually forget I have another life.” Leslie laughed. “A

completely different life.”

“You seem very much yourself to me,” Eileen remarked, opening the door.

I never thought I’d say this, but I feel like myself here. Leslie looked over

her shoulder down the grassy slope to the boathouse and the lake beyond. A

few boats were out on the lake already. A few of the guests were walking along

the shore, some holding hands. The sun was impossibly bright, the sky incredibly

blue, the silvery surface of the lake hopelessly beautiful. In the back of her mind,

she heard Dev’s laughter. “Well, it is home, after all.”

v

Leslie sipped her coffee and opened another Þ le. It was amazing how quickly

she’d slipped into work mode as soon as she’d reached the ofÞ ce. This was

comfortable too—reviewing, analyzing, teasing out the critical facts from a

miasma of information. She felt as if she were hunting, pitting her skills against a

wily prey. To the strongest, or perhaps the smartest, went the victory, and she

liked being the victor.

She made some notes, scratched a memo to have her paralegal check several

rulings, and rose to get another cup of coffee.

“Excuse me, Ms. Harris,” the ofÞ ce receptionist said, “but Mr.

Carpenter said we’re going to close early today because of the storm.

He wants to go secure his boat.” The pretty blonde laughed. “He’s totally weird

about that new boat.” Then as if just realizing that Leslie, although a visiting

attorney, was technically her boss, she blushed. “I mean, he’s—”

Leslie frowned. “Storm? What are you talking about?”

The blonde pointed to the window behind Leslie. “There’s some kind of freak

storm blowing in from the north. Like a summer Alberta Clipper, without the

snow. They’re predicting really high winds and—”

“Since when?” Leslie snapped, quickly pushing the Þ les she’d been working on

into her briefcase.

“Oh, you know these weathermen. In the winter, they forecast

• 144 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

snow for a week and then we don’t get anything. Then, when something

important happens, like this, it’s a big surprise. Anyhow, it’s supposed to be a

big one and—”

Leslie didn’t hear the rest as she hurried from the room. She glanced at her

watch on her way out of the building. It was almost four in the afternoon. Her

mother and father would be home by now. She hoped. Outside, she faltered,

staring at the sky with a rising sense of dread. Overhead, the crystal blue of the

morning had given way to an ominous purple, and to the north, the sky was

nearly black with roiling storm clouds. It felt as if the temperature had dropped

twenty degrees since earlier in the day, and the air was oppressively heavy. Her

skin clammy, Leslie shivered and sprinted toward Dev’s truck. Flinging her

briefcase into the backseat, she slid behind the wheel and speed-dialed the

lodge at the same time. She was forty minutes from home if she pushed all the

way.

“Mom? What’s it like up there?”

“The wind is up and the lake looks nasty. It’s going to be a good blow. Where

are you?”

“On my way home.”

“They’re talking about trees down and power out. We aren’t expected to get hit

for another couple of hours yet, so you should be Þ ne. Drive carefully.”

“What about Dev? Have you talked to her?” Leslie asked urgently.

Because she was out of radio range at the ofÞ ce, she’d left the two-way in the

lodge for her mother to monitor.

“I was just about to call her.”

“Tell her I’ll be out to get her as soon as I get home.”

“Leslie, you can’t go out on the lake. The waves are two feet high already and

there’s a small craft warning.”

“She can’t stay out there in this!”

“I’ll call the forest rangers, then. You’re not going after her.”

“Fine. Call Natalie Evans in the Bolton Landing ofÞ ce. Tell her she needs to go

get Devon. Call her right now.”

Leslie switched on the windshield wipers, although the rain, which had just

started, was still light. “Mom?”

“You just worry about driving. I’ll take care of things here.”

“Call me back as soon as you know what’s happening.” Leslie tossed the

BlackBerry onto the seat beside her. Thankfully, the Northway was relatively

clear of trafÞ c as everyone was trying to reach shelter,

• 145 •

RADCLY fFE

and she pushed Dev’s truck to eighty. Then she switched on the radio, watching

the road as she punched buttons in search of a local station.

Finally, she found the all-news station.

“…winds to Þ fty miles an hour, small craft warnings on all regional waterways,

and heavy ß ooding expected on many of the secondary roadways. The

governor has declared—”

Leslie tuned out the rest of the weather report. Summer storms often brought

high winds and torrential rain, but they usually weren’t sustained for more than

an hour or two. But an off-season variant of a clipper could last twenty-four

hours or more and might dump a foot of rain. She thought about Dev in a tent on

an island that was likely to be buffeted by gale-force winds and ß ooded by high

waves. She stared at the phone, and as if she had willed it, it vibrated. She

snatched it up.

“Hello?”

“Dev says she’s Þ ne. Not to worry.”

“Bullshit. Of course she isn’t Þ ne!” Leslie ß icked on the turn signal so

vehemently the lever nearly snapped off. “I’m exiting now and I’ll be home in

twenty minutes. What did Natalie say?”

“I could only reach the ofÞ cer on the desk. They’re all out evacuating campers

from the islands.”

“Tell him you want to speak to Natalie Evans. Tell him it’s an emergency. Tell

him if you don’t speak to her, I’m going to have someone’s ass.” Leslie gunned

the truck onto Route 9 and fought with the wheel as it skidded on the wet

pavement. “Son of a bitch.”