Charlaine tried not to laugh. She truly did. Honestly.
In the end, however, her good intentions were useless. Laughter spilled from her mouth, and her sides began to ache as tears streamed down her face. Not even when she closed her eyes could she shake the image of Nathanial all but tiptoeing his way down to the lake, trying not to get his shoes wet, as Daphne and Susan urged him on, making strangely high-pitched croaking sounds to lure their prey.
“Ribbit! Ribbit!” Susan sang as she twirled through the grass.
Daphne’s face scrunched into a frown. “You don’t sound like a frog.”
Susan stopped. “What does a frog sound like?”
“You don’t know?” Daphne asked with a shake of her head. Then she inhaled a deep breath and emitted a shockingly guttural sound that made Nathanial drop the net.
Charlaine’s legs could no longer hold her up and she dropped into the grass with a bit of thump. “Dear Daphne, how on earth do you manage to make such a sound?”
The girl shrugged, a wide smile upon her face. “I’m a lady of many talents,” she said, then turned and pointed at the net, her eyes looking at Nathanial. “You dropped it.”
With annoyance darkening his face, Nathanial picked it up. “Perhaps you would like a turn. I am clearly no good a catching frogs.”
Daphne’s little face lit up and she rushed forward, her hands eagerly reaching for the handle.
“Me, too! Me, too!” Susan shouted, waving her arms to make herself heard.
“You’ll have to wait your turn,” Daphne told her with a bit of a haughty expression upon her face as she took the net from Nathanial. “Watch how I do it.”
As the girls began to sneak along the bank of the lake, Nathanial walked over to where Charlaine rested near a cluster of trees, his face flushed and his mood nowhere near cheerful. When he reached her side, he looked down at her, sitting cross-legged in the grass, the expression on his face one of indecision.
“Sit,” Charlaine ordered, reaching up and tugging on his hand.
Nathanial gritted his teeth. “Perhaps I−”
“Sit!” Charlaine exclaimed with more force and her next tug saw him dropping into the grass beside her. “There. Doesn’t that feel better?”
Nathanial looked skeptical, to say the least. His gaze remained on his dirt-stained boots as a long sigh escaped him.
“I told you you should have taken them off.”
He turned to look at her. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Grinning, Charlaine nodded. “You cannot truly fault me for it. If you could see yourself, you’d be amused as well.”
His gaze narrowed, however, Charlaine thought she saw the desire to laugh with her, to laugh about himself, to make light of this as much as she did lurk in his eyes. “You truly enjoy this,” he whispered, his arms gesturing to encompass the lake, the gardens, the moment she had pushed him into.
“I think you did, too, once.”
His gaze held hers, and then he slowly nodded. “That was long ago.”
Snuggling closer, Charlaine slipped her arm through his and then rested her head upon his shoulder. “Today is today. Let’s not worry about tomorrow.” She smiled up at him. “Let alone yesterday.”
He smiled back at her, and she felt his shoulders relax as he inhaled a deep breath.
Together, they sat in the grass and watched as Daphne and Susan stalked along the water’s edge, their hems lifted−but soaked in spite of their efforts−and their faces scrunched up in concentration as they scanned the ground.
“Aren’t frogs nocturnal?” Nathanial asked into the soft stillness that hung over the lake.
Charlaine chuckled. “Yes.”
Smirking, Nathanial looked down at her. “Should we not tell them?”
“Why? They’re having fun.”
“But they’ll never catch a frog like this.”
Charlaine grinned. “Did you truly think they were ever going to catch one?” She arched her brows.
Laughing, Nathanial shook his head. “Then what are we doing here?”
“This is not about accomplishing a task,” she told him, looking at the girls whispering back and forth, their eyes aglow as they waded through the water. “This is about living in the moment, about feeling your heart beat faster, about feeling the sun warm your skin, about…” She sighed, remembering the long beach where she had played as a child.
“About enjoying oneself,” Nathanial finished for her.
Charlaine looked up at him, surprised. “You may not be a lost cause after all, Mr. Caswell.”
Nathanial chuckled. “How kind of you to notice.”
The day passed quickly and pleasantly but, as expected, they returned to the house with empty hands. However, not even Daphne and Susan were disheartened by their lack of success. Instead, new plans were made for the next day.
And the one after that.
And the one after that.
And…
While Nathanial tried his best to keep his boots clean and his breeches and shirt from soaking through, he slowly came to realize that he was fighting a losing battle. With every day that passed, his attempts became less determined. His eyes were no longer glued to the tips of his boots in concern, but rested on the girls as they splashed through the water, a wide smile upon his face.
Charlaine loved to watch his transformation for it was only too obvious that he longed to break free of this persona he thought he needed to be.
And then one day it happened.
Daphne and Susan were once again wading through the water, the net leaning long-since forgotten against a tree trunk, when Charlaine almost slipped on a smooth rock below the surface and lost her footing. Her heart jumped into her throat a moment before two warm hands settled upon her arms, righting her before she tumbled into the water.
Looking up, she found Nathanial’s concerned gaze meeting hers. “Are you all right?” he asked before his eyes swept over her as though looking for injuries.
“I’m fine,” Charlaine exclaimed. “Thank you. You saved me.” She glanced down. “But not my hem.” Laughter spilled from her lips as she lifted her dripping skirts out of the water.
Nathanial frowned. “Or my boots.” Water sloshed over the rim, soaking them from the inside out.
“You should take them off,” Charlaine suggested, not for a second believing that he would.
To her utter shock, however, Nathanial nodded. “I suppose I better.” As he stalked back to shore, Charlaine stared after him, watching like a child on Christmas morning as he sat down in the tall grass and then pulled off his boots, poured out the water and then set them aside to dry.
A moment later, Nathanial came wading back into the lake. “What?” he asked as he found her staring at him.
Quickly, Charlaine shook her head. “Nothing.” A part of her worried that if she drew his attention to what he had just done, everything would be ruined.
From then on, Nathanial always removed his boots before going into the lake and, every once in a while, Charlaine caught him sighing contentedly as he wiggled his toes in the fresh grass.
“Mr. Caswell is a very patient man,” Emma remarked one day as they watched Nathanial teach the girls how to bounce a pebble across the lake. “Look how determined they are.”
Seated on a picnic blanket under a large tree, Charlaine and Emma observed the girls’ rather slow progress. “Oh, I believe he enjoys it as well.” She grinned at her friend, setting aside her charcoal drawing of the scene before her. “He simply prefers to pretend otherwise.”
Emma chuckled. “You seem to know him well.” Her gaze narrowed in thought. “May I ask−?”
“We’re friends,” Charlaine rushed to say, surprising herself with her eagerness to clarify their relationship. “I mean, I do care for him, but there’s nothing between us beyond friendship.” She grinned at her friend. “I can see what direction your thoughts are running.”
Emma chuckled. “How can they not?” She frowned, her gaze thoughtful as she looked at her. “Are you certain you’re not hoping for something more?” Once again, she glanced at Nathanial. “He seems quite taken with you.”
Charlaine could not deny that she had never felt more comfortable in a man’s company than she did in Nathanial’s. But…he was her friend, was he not? “When first we met, he made it very clear that he had no interest in any kind of romantic attachment.” She chuckled, remembering his attempts to rid himself of her presence. “He was quite rude, to tell you the truth. It took great effort to break through his defenses.”
Emma frowned. “And yet, you never gave u−”
“He wants a friend,” Charlaine interrupted, knowing where Emma’s thoughts were at. “More than that, he needs a friend. Someone who is open and honest with him. Someone who does not pursue a hidden agenda. He’s been hurt, and he needs to learn to trust again.”
“I think he trusts you.”
Charlaine smiled. “I hope so.”