everything down to her truck, she made a stop for supplies, then drove back to
the lodge. She pulled in just behind Leslie and her mother.
“Good morning,” Dev said to Eileen as she climbed out of the truck. “Here, let
me take your suitcase.”
Eileen smiled, her face drawn and tired. “With pleasure. Thank you.”
“How’s your husband?”
“Doing very well.” Eileen grasped Dev’s arm. “Leslie tells me you’ve been
helping out around here every day. I can’t thank you enough.”
Uncomfortable, Dev glanced at Leslie but got only a small shrug and a smile, as
if to say, “Sorry, you’re on your own.”
“I really didn’t do that much, Mrs. Harris.”
“Well, you’re not going to be paying any rent on that cabin this summer,” Eileen
said Þ rmly.
Dev stopped abruptly. “Mrs. Harris, the Institute pays for my lodging, and I
most certainly want you to charge. What I did, I did because… ” Because
Leslie has always been more than just a friend.
Dev sensed Leslie watching her intently. “Because you and Leslie needed some
help, and it was no imposition at all. Please.”
• 136 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
“I’m not going to make you feel uncomfortable about it.” Eileen squeezed Dev’s
arm and started across the lot toward the lodge. “Now, Leslie tells me you’re
going out to the islands today.”
“Yes.”
“We usually make just the two runs, delivery and pickup, but I’m sure we can
arrange more frequent—”
“No,” Dev said quickly, “that’s Þ ne. I won’t need anything special.”
They climbed onto the porch and Leslie reached for the suitcase Dev had
carried. She said, “I’ll be running the skiff for at least the next week or so. I
don’t have a problem swinging by your site to check on things.”
Dev shook her head. “It’s a good hour just to get out there, Les, and I know
how much you have to do too.”
Leslie answered lightly, “Multitasking is nothing new. Let me Þ ll my mother in
on what’s going on here, and I’ll meet you at the boat in a few minutes. Do you
need help transferring your gear from the truck?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
Thirty minutes later, Leslie piloted the twenty-foot Chris-Craft cruiser north
toward the Glen Island chain. She handled the boat with conÞ dent efÞ ciency.
Despite the air temperature being in the mid-70s, the combination of wind and
spray was cold. Dev’s shirt was plastered to her chest, as was Leslie’s, by the
time they slowed on their approach to one of the undeveloped islands.
“Which side?” Leslie called, looking over her shoulder to where Dev sat. She
stared for a second longer than was necessary, registering the unmistakable
outline of Dev’s breasts and remembering just how they had felt against hers the
night before. Firm and tight-nippled and wonderful. She looked away.
“Northeast tip,” Dev replied. As Leslie drew closer to shore, Dev pointed to a
small sandy crescent rimming the thick woods at the water’s edge. “What do
you think about over there?”
“I think you’re going to get the hell scratched out of you breaking trail through
that underbrush.”
Dev grinned. “I think you’re right.”
“I also think that’s the only place to put up.” Leslie looked back at Dev again.
“This terrain is pretty rugged. Can’t you do this work from a campsite on one of
the other islands?”
• 137 •
RADCLY fFE
“Too much water trafÞ c.” The engine noise had quieted enough for Dev to be
heard without shouting. “Even with only a couple of boats coming in with
campers every day, the turbulence from the prop wash stirs up the bottom. Can
you drift in from here?”
Leslie cut the engine ten feet from shore. “I’m going to get out and pull her in.”
“Forget it. You’ll get soaked.” Dev clambered up on the bow and before Leslie
could protest, jumped into the knee-deep water to grab the towline. In a minute,
she’d waded to shore and secured the boat with a line around a nearby tree.
“Does the wake really make that much difference to what you’re studying?”
Leslie asked, intrigued. She’d grown up on the lake, but she’d never really
thought about it in such microcosmic terms.
“Yes. Here, start passing me the gear,” Dev said. As Leslie handed down crates
and Dev’s tent, sleeping bag, and other supplies, Dev explained. “We’ve looked
at water velocity at lake bottoms with Dopplers and measured the water
turbidity with optical backscatter sensors—even motorboats running as slow as
six miles an hour stir up the sediment and change the water clarity and nutrient
composition.”
“And?”
“Aquatic plant growth is altered, which affects the Þ sh feeding patterns.” Dev
glanced out at the lake, then back at Leslie. “And the backwash makes it easier
for contaminants in the water to be transported to other regions of the lake.”
Leslie climbed down from the boat and hefted Dev’s duffel. “What are you
doing for food?”
“K rations. Dehydrated meals. I’ve got water-purifying tablets so I can use
boiled lake water. I’ve done this before, Les. I’ll be Þ ne.” Dev took the duffel
from her. “There’s no point you getting torn up too. I’ve got long sleeves. I’ll be
Þ ne from here.”
Leslie scanned the island. It was isolated from the others, densely forested and
rocky, and not designated for normal camping. Dev would be here alone. The
thought made her uneasy. “Do you have extra batteries for the two-way?”
“In my dry pack.”
“I’ll wear the radio. If you don’t check in with me twice a day, I’ll be out.”
Dev frowned. “Besides the fact you’ll contaminate my test waters, there’s
nothing for you to worry—”
• 138 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
“I’m really not interested in negotiating this, Devon. Either check in, or I’ll be out
here stirring up your sediment.” Leslie gestured toward the woods. “Your other
option is that I stay.”
“To protect me?” Dev couldn’t help herself. She grinned.
“You think I couldn’t?”
Dev knew Leslie was capable of doing any number of things to her, and
protection wasn’t at the top of the list. Still, Leslie’s concern made her feel
good. Too good.
“I’ll call in. Thanks.”
Dev stared at Leslie across the pile of gear, aware of the sudden awkwardness.
Leslie, in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty, shufß ed one foot in the sand
as she scanned the woods behind Dev.
“You sure about this?” Leslie asked softly.
No. I’m not sure about anything where you’re concerned. Dev nodded,
grateful for the barrier between them. Sunlight slanted across Leslie’s face, and
she was so beautiful. Because looking at her was sweetly painful, Dev knew it
was time for them to part.
“Yeah. I’ll be Þ ne. You should take off.”
Reluctantly, Leslie climbed back into the boat. Dev waded into the water and
pushed her out from shore, then re
turned to the tiny beach.
“I’ll pick you up in Þ ve days, right?” Leslie called.
“Right.”
“Be careful.”
Dev waved and Leslie started the motor, carefully backing away from the
shallows before revving up the power. Dev followed the boat until it was just a
tiny speck in the distance. She hoped that when Leslie returned, the ache of
longing she felt every time she looked at her would Þ nally be gone.
• 139 •
• 140 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
How are things going?” Leslie asked, four days after she’d dropped Dev off on
the island. She leaned against the porch railing and breathed deeply of the cool
morning air, picturing Dev in the woods in her jeans, boots, and T-shirt. The
radio transmission was remarkably good, and it sounded as if Dev were right
next to her. She looked forward to their twice-a-day communications, not only
because she worried with Dev working alone, but also because she enjoyed
their brief shared updates.
“On schedule. I’m working my way around the southern tip of the island today,
and should Þ nish up tomorrow. How about you?”
heard Dev laugh and realized life was good. Once her mother had returned, the
two of them had been able to handle things at the lodge with enough time left
over for Leslie to look over the cases from the local ofÞ ce. She worked, she
walked on the beach, and she’d started to sleep more than three hours a night.
“Sounds good,” Dev said. “So I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Will do. Take care.”
“Always.”
Leslie clicked off the radio, smiling as she envisioned Dev at work on the island.
She never would have predicted Dev as a scientist, and a Þ sh expert at that,
but now it seemed so natural. So Dev, really. Dev had always been an
observer, apart from things, so very private. It had always been special when
Dev had shared her thoughts and feelings, because Leslie knew it was rare for
her. Being Dev’s friend had made her feel special.
• 141 •
RADCLY fFE
“Was that Dev?” Eileen asked.
Leslie jumped. She hadn’t heard her mother come out onto the porch.
“Yes,” Leslie replied, aware that her mother was studying her intently. “She’s Þ
ne.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re checking in with her,” Eileen said casually.
She crossed the porch, carrying a cup of coffee. “How come I never met her
when the two of you were teenagers? You’re obviously very good friends.”
Leslie contemplated some neutral explanation and then thought perhaps it was
time to bridge another rift in her life. “We weren’t friends like I was friends with
the other girls. We didn’t do social things together. We just…talked.”
“But you were close, weren’t you? I can tell from the way you talk to her. And
the way she looks at you.”
“What do you mean—the way she looks at me?” Despite herself, Leslie felt
herself blushing.
Eileen sipped her coffee and smiled softly. “I think even if you hadn’t told me
you were a lesbian, I would have noticed that she follows you with her eyes the
way I’m used to seeing men watch women.”
Leslie snorted, thinking of Mike and the few men after him she’d dated. “I doubt
it. Dev is nothing like a man.”
“There are some men who truly do appreciate women,” Eileen said gently.
“Your father is one.”
“I know,” Leslie admitted. “You’re right. Still, Daddy is special.”
She braced her hands on the railing and leaned out, letting the sunlight strike her
face, enjoying the warmth and the smell of summer. “Dev always treated me as
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
• 142 •
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.”
“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,