to keep her eyes closed and let Leslie open her shirt, unbutton her jeans, and

stroke her sorrows into pleasure. She wanted Leslie to…

Leslie. She wanted Leslie. She opened her eyes. “Yes. Because I love Leslie.”

“She’s not here, Dev,” Natalie said, her gentleness softening the sting in her

words. “I don’t know why she isn’t, but the reasons don’t really matter. What

matters is that you’re here alone, hurting, and I want to be with you. We’ll both

feel better, I promise.”

“I can’t,” Dev groaned. “I can’t make love with you if I’m thinking about her.

I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Natalie leaned back, her Þ ngers slowly stroking Dev’s arm. “Don’t worry. You

won’t be thinking about her when you’re with me.” She

• 182 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

smiled, a slow, lazy, conÞ dent smile. “I know it, and one of these days, you’re

going to know it too.” She leaned close again and nipped at Dev’s chin, then

kissed the spot she’d bitten. “And when you do, Dev, I’ll be waiting. And I

promise you a night you’ll never forget.”

Dev laughed, but her eyes were serious. “It doesn’t bother you?

Knowing the way I feel about Les?”

“Of course it bothers me,” Natalie said, her eyes blazing. “It bothers me a hell of

a lot that you’re so torn up. And it bothers me that I want you to distraction and

can’t have you. Yet.” She blew out a breath.

“But I can be patient. And I’ve got you for the whole summer.”

• 183 •

• 184 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

When Leslie walked into the lodge the next morning, Dev and Natalie were

having breakfast in the dining room. Natalie wore her park uniform, and Leslie

wondered if she had brought it with her the night before or had gone home

sometime in the evening. The rain had Þ nally stopped just before dawn, but it

wouldn’t have been an enjoyable walk back to the parking lot last night. Natalie

probably stayed with Dev. In the tiny cabin. With only one bed. Leslie gritted

her teeth, shook her head no when Dev gestured to the empty chair at their

table, and pushed through into the kitchen.

The cook they’d hired was cleaning up after breakfast, and Leslie could hear

her mother and father talking out on the screened-in porch.

She poured a cup of coffee and joined them.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling?”

“Like a turtle ß ipped over on its back in the middle of the Northway,” her

father grumped. His crutches were propped against the chair, where he sat with

his casted leg supported on an embroidered footstool that looked barely

capable of supporting the weight. “I can’t get down to the dock on these

crutches, especially not after all this rain.”

“Is there anything you need me to do?” Leslie asked, leaning her hip against the

end of the couch and sipping her coffee. “I’m going to bring the boat in this

morning.”

“That should be Þ ne,” her father said. “We’ll make arrangements for someone

to take guests out and back the rest of the summer.” He glanced at Eileen, then

at Leslie. “The doctors said eight weeks in this damn cast.”

• 185 •

RADCLY fFE

“Eight weeks, minimum,” her mother interjected. “You can’t rush these things,

Paul.”

“I was wondering, Les,” he said hesitantly, “if you might be able to come up

Labor Day weekend and give your mother a hand closing up.”

“I can handle it, Paul,” Eileen said, a hint of reproach in her voice.

“Leslie’s busy enough with her own work. I don’t want her to think she’s going

to need to work here every time she comes home.”

When Leslie thought of how much went into the end of the season closing, her Þ

rst reaction was to beg off, pleading too full a schedule.

The cabins and all the rooms would need to be inventoried and items marked

for replacement or repair, the boathouse would have to be winterized, and the

boat and equipment overhauled in preparation for dry-docking, just for starters.

Supervising the process, let alone doing it, was an enormous load. Still, it was

going to be a rough summer for her mother, and no matter how much extra help

she hired, there were some things that couldn’t be left to employees. She really

should come home to help. And Dev had said she’d be here all summer. That

fact made the decision easy.

“I’ll come. It’s no problem.” Leslie knew it was crazy to come back while Dev

was here, especially since she’d already decided to leave right after the Fourth

of July celebration just so she wouldn’t have to see Dev anymore. But she

couldn’t help herself. Whenever she thought of going back to Manhattan, back

to her life, she felt both relief and sorrow. She was comfortable—more than

comfortable, she was satisÞ ed with the life she’d made for herself. It would be

good to immerse herself in work again. Not to be constantly assaulted by conß

icting desires. Not to be faced with the guilt of wanting Dev so desperately. But

when she imagined actually leaving, of never seeing Dev again, she wanted to

cry. By Labor Day, she’d have control of her life again. She’d be able to see

Dev and put their relationship—their friendship—into perspective. Yes, it would

be much better that way.

“It’ll be fun.”

Eileen laughed. “Then you don’t remember what it’s like very well.”

“It’s funny, being home makes some things feel like yesterday.”

Leslie smiled and shook her head. “I’d better go see if Ranger Natalie is ready

to ferry me out to the island.”

“See you later, honey,” her father said.

• 186 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

“I’m going to go into the ofÞ ce later this morning, Mom. I probably won’t be

home for dinner.” In fact, Leslie thought, she intended to spend as little time as

possible around the lodge until she was ready to leave.

The less she saw of Dev the better.

v

“You really ought to try the pizza at Iannucci’s,” Natalie said, pushing her

breakfast plate aside. “The crust is amazing. I’ll pick one up for you tonight.”

“I’m probably going to be at the lab pretty late,” Dev said.

“So I’ll bring it by.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to.” Natalie’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and Dev followed her gaze.

Leslie, carrying an armload of laundry, was on her way over to their table.

“Thanks for the loan of the clothes, Dev,” Leslie said, depositing the washed

and folded sweatshirt and jeans on the empty chair next to Dev.

“You’re welcome.” Dev watched Leslie study Natalie with an inscrutable

expression, and wondered if Leslie suspected that Natalie had spent the night.

She felt foolish for wanting Leslie to know that Natalie had slept on the couch

again. What could it possibly matter?

“Ready to hit the water?” Natalie said, smiling at Leslie.

“Sure. Can’t wait.”

Natalie laughed and rose. She brushed a hand over Dev’s shoulders.

“I’ll be by with that pizza delivery.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Dev said. She picked up her briefcase and clean clothes.

“I’m heading into the lab now.”

Once outside, Dev took the turn to the parking lot while Leslie and Natalie

continued on down to the dock. Dev waited a minute before getting into the

truck, watching the two women cast off. Natalie, dark and petite, Leslie lithe

and blond. Both bright, both accomplished, both beautiful. She enjoyed

Natalie’s conÞ dence, her laugh, her sudden ß ashes of authority. But looking at

Natalie didn’t make her burn the way seeing Leslie did. Leslie’s smile had lit the

path through some of her darkest nights, and she’d lain down to sleep countless

times with the sound of Leslie’s laughter ringing in her heart. Now she had the

memory of Leslie in her arms, and for a while at least, whether she

• 187 •

RADCLY fFE

wanted it or not, there wasn’t room for anyone else. Maybe when Leslie was

gone, and the dreams Þ nally died, there would be.

When Leslie turned in Dev’s direction, one hand shading her eyes in the hazy

glare of a Þ tful dawn, Dev gave a start. Although Leslie was too far away for

their eyes to meet, Dev felt the tug of connection nevertheless. When the boat

pulled away from the dock with Natalie at the wheel, Leslie settled onto one of

the benches. She wrapped her arm around a cleat and faced forward, hair

blowing in the wind. Even as the sound of the engine died and the boat

disappeared like a candle winking out, Dev could still feel Leslie’s presence.

Someday soon that link would be gone, and she wondered if she would rejoice

or bleed.

v

Three days later Dev stood in almost exactly the same spot, watching Leslie’s

mother climb the hill from the boathouse toward her.

It was Saturday afternoon on the Fourth of July and the weather had not

disappointed. It was hot, and it was going to be hotter by nightfall in the

boathouse. She could see from where she stood that all the windows had been

opened. The large wooden frames swung out over the water on either side of