That gives me plenty of time to find the lake. I should be able to find it quickly if I run fast, but I promised my uncle I wouldn’t risk exposing my abilities, so I just take my time.
After thirty minutes and four miles, I finally find the lake, and I can’t contain the smile on my face. It’s beautiful, secluded, and inviting. There are evergreens all around, giving it privacy. I see an open space in the trees that leads to a floating dock. I assume it’s for a paddleboat or canoe, because the lake is definitely not big enough for a motorboat. I shed my running clothes and take a running dive off the dock and into the water.
I love floating. It encourages a dreamlike state that is even better than sleep. It is where I find mental clarity—intensifying all my senses and deepening my meditation. That’s what I always did at Lake Placid—just floated for as long as I could, gaining perspective on whatever was going on in my life at the time. Floating is all I do for the time I have before I have to be home for dinner.
By the time I check my watch, it’s 4:30.
I swim back to the dock, and as I haul myself onto land, I realize I forgot a towel. I get my shirt on, but my shorts won’t come up over my soaking wet skin.
“Do you need a hand?”
I turn around as fast as I can, given my legs are bound in wet fabric. I stare him down and he stares back. His dark eyes don’t leave mine for one second. He’s taller than me, slim, fit, and I can see his strong arms under his black t-shirt. He rakes his hand through his thick brown hair, scratching his head in mock confusion. Something about him puts me on the edge—I bite my lip to keep my mouth from dropping open when I realize it.
I can’t read his feelings.
He raises his eyebrows and moves his lips as if he’s going to say something, but I don’t give him the chance to.
“Who are you?” I ask.
He tilts his head, his mouth slowly curving into a grin. “I am the owner of the lake you were just swimming in, but don’t worry, I’m not calling the cops; unless, of course, you do it again.”
“What?” I snap. “This isn’t your property. As far as I know, it belongs to my father.”
He shakes his head, letting his hair fall into his eyes. He walks in my direction; his eyes are set on me, making me a little intimidated. He’s closer now, and he keeps slicing down the comfortable distance that separated us. I take a step back.
Why can’t I read him?
“Well, it seems you don’t know much, do you? Because if you did, you’d know that this isn’t on your property.” The grin returns to his face, like he’s just scored a point in a game.
“I’m pretty sure that I’m not invading anyone’s property.” My tone is nowhere near as nice as his. I don’t like the grin on his face and I surely don’t like him staring at me like he can see right through me.
“Look,” he says, stuffing his hand in his pockets. “You don’t need to worry. I know you won’t make the same mistake again. You’ll ask for my permission to swim in my lake, and if you’re nice enough, I might just say yes.”
I wish I could slap the cockiness right off of his face. My gaze falls to my legs, and I realize I’m still holding on to my running shorts, which are stuck to my thighs. I manage to pull them up in one fast yank. I tie my shoes and walk past him without another word.
“Already leaving?” he asks. “You don’t like talking much, do you?
I turn around. Even though I’m burning with anger, I very calmly tell him, “I have no interest in talking to jerks like you.”
As I’m walking away, he calls out, “My name is Adam, by the way.” I just keep walking until I’m far enough to run as fast as I can.
I get home five minutes late, and I head straight upstairs, hoping nobody sees me to question why I am soaking wet.
“Livia, is that you?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’ll be right down. Just need to change my clothes.” With that, I slip into my room.
* * *
After dinner, I find Dad sitting in the living room, watching the news.
“Dad,” I sit next to him. “Do you mind if I interrupt you for a second?”
“Not at all,” Dad says, and I feel his concern. He turns the TV off. “I’m actually glad you came. I have something I want to ask you. But you go first.”
I try to ignore Dad’s emotions oscillating between anxiety and worry, and I ask him about the lake. “Are you sure that it’s on our property? I heard it still belongs to Mr. Cooper.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean, you heard it? Heard it from whom?”
I tell him about the encounter with Adam. I tell him everything, but withhold Adam’s rudeness—he always says that, because I’m so sensitive to people’s intentions, I tend to assume to worst about their behavior, and I don’t feel like listening to him dismiss my claim now.
My dad suddenly stands, pacing around the living room. “You didn’t empathize with him at all? I wonder why.”
“Dad, I don’t know, but you could answer my question.”
He looks at me, confused.
“The one about the lake?”
“Oh, that.” Dad says, still with creases between his eyes. “We actually own half of it.”
“The side that doesn’t have the dock?”
“Correct.”
Well, guess who was right? That cocky jerk called Adam. I hate that he is right, even if he’s only half right.
“Dad, can we have a floating dock, too? It would make swimming easier.”
“Livia, the water up here is deathly cold. It’s a deep lake and the sun only warms it for a short time each day. The trees cover most of it. You definitely don’t want to go for a swim.”
“Okay,” I say before he comes to his senses and realizes that I just told him I’ve been in the water already. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
Dad looks at me for a moment. He’s still hung up about my inability to empathize with Adam. I can sense the turmoil of emotions in him, and he finally settles on hope. He’s always hoping to find me some type of cure; I guess he sees Adam as another variable in the experiment.
“Yes, I do have something I want to ask you.” He reaches over the coffee table and hands me my cell phone. His concern flares again. “You left this on the kitchen counter this afternoon. Henry texted you saying that he needed to talk to you about the search. I didn’t mean to read it, but when I saw it was just a text from my brother, I didn’t see any harm. You mind explaining exactly what he meant?”
I try to come up with something fast, but Dad’s eyes see straight through me, and it takes me too long. “You went through my messages?” I say lamely.
“Does it have anything to do with your incessant search for your biological parents?” he continues. “Livia, as your father, I do not appreciate getting cut out of the loop.”
“We are not going behind your back! You know I’ve been searching.”
“Your mother and I have already asked you to stop,” his voice is dangerously low. “We have done everything we can, but there’s no trace of them. When you keep looking, it makes your mom upset. She feels like she isn’t enough for you.”