Cassie shook her head, murmured, “My god.”
“I remember bits and pieces. My dad’s face in mine, shouting at me, except I couldn’t hear him. The ski patrol loading me up on their stretcher. The snow blowing hard, landing on my face as I lay there. I have no recollection at all of the ambulance ride or the first day in the hospital. They rushed me into surgery immediately. My knee was destroyed.”
The lump in Cassie’s throat wouldn’t go down, no matter how many times she swallowed. The thought of what Emerson must have gone through, watching her dreams slip slowly away while she lay there immobile had to have been heart wrenching, and Cassie’s eyes welled up in sympathy.
“Over the next year, I had three more surgeries. Pins, metal, plates. My dad took me all over. The best hospitals. The best orthopedic surgeons.” Emerson smiled bitterly. “I’d made a real mess of things. It was pretty clear, despite how kind and smiling the doctors and nurses were, that my skiing career was over. Just like that. One run. One stupid teenage mistake.” She shook her head. “When I finally came back here, I couldn’t face anybody. My father made it clear that he had no reason to stick around either. My mother fussed over me so much I wanted to scream. I’m sure I did. The shaking heads…the questioning eyes asking how I could have been so reckless. How could I crush the dreams of Lake Henry doing something so selfishly stupid? And the pity…” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “The stares of pity were the absolute worst. I couldn’t take it. Everybody who looked at me was just so…disappointed.”
“They felt awful for you,” Cassie said quietly.
“I know, but it made me feel like a leper. Like a huge failure. Like they were all whispering behind their hands, ‘That’s Emerson Rosberg…she had such potential…’ I have never cried so much in my life as I did those six months I was stuck in the house recovering. I could have been out and about a lot sooner, but I just couldn’t bring myself to face anybody.”
“So you left.”
“I did. I had never failed at anything in my life. Ever. So I ran.” Emerson’s voice was tinged with defensiveness. “It was all I could do if I wanted to keep my sanity.”
Cassie nodded slowly, trying to understand, but she was unable to picture herself leaving her entire life and family behind. “Why Los Angeles?”
Emerson laughed without humor. “It was as far as I could go from here and still be in the U.S. And my dad was there on and off. Since he was familiar with the city, he helped me get settled before jetting off to his next adventure. And his next wife.”
“Your mom must have been crushed when you left.” Cassie said it gently, trying hard not to sound accusatory, because she knew firsthand that Caroline had indeed been crushed. She missed her daughter terribly.
“I wanted her to come with me.”
That was news to Cassie. “You did?”
Emerson turned to meet her gaze. “Of course I did. I didn’t intend to just run away from her. I intended to run away from this town. These mountains.” She pointed at the ski lift. “That. I’d hoped that she’d come, too.”
It was so interesting to see it all from a different angle. Cassie had never thought about the possibility of Emerson not actually wanting to leave her mother behind. She was pretty sure the rest of the town hadn’t either. As far as most people were concerned, Emerson had run away and left Lake Henry and Caroline behind without so much as a glance over her shoulder.
“But she always said that Lake Henry was in her blood, that she was part of it and it was part of her.”
Cassie nodded, having heard Caroline say that exact thing. She’d nodded then, too, because she felt exactly the same way.
“And I think I understood that,” Emerson went on. “But I couldn’t share it. I didn’t want to. Everywhere I turned in this town, I saw failure and disappointment.”
“And you do understand that that’s your issue, right?” Cassie squeezed Emerson’s hand in her own, kept her voice gentle. “That it’s not reality? That nobody in Lake Henry saw you as a failure?”
Emerson cocked her head, her expression skeptical.
Cassie held up a hand, palm forward. “I get the pity thing. I do think people felt terrible about what happened to you, and keeping that expression off your face is hard. But nobody saw you as a failure, Emerson. Nobody.”
“And you know everybody in town?” Emerson asked with a chuckle.
Cassie gave the same answer she’d given last time. “Pretty much, yeah.” She was serious. “People didn’t know how to approach you. I remember. I was sixteen at the time. They didn’t know you; you were this familiar stranger, this untouchable, revered piece of our town. Nobody knew what to say, so they kept their distance, gave you space. But when you left, we lost our tragic hero.”
Emerson studied her, then hummed a response and was quiet.
They sat in comfortable silence for a long while after that. The sun sank lower in the sky and the breeze picked up, but neither of them was in a hurry to move. The change in weather had brought the tourists back and soon there were another dozen people milling around, ooo-ing and ahh-ing and taking pictures of the view and of each other. All it took was a shared glance to understand it was time to go.
They stood up together, their hands falling back down to their sides.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
At seventy-three, Mary O’Connor was no spring chicken. This was a fact that became clearer to her each morning as her muscles ached and her bones crackled and ground together while she hauled herself out of bed promptly at six a.m. Not that she even needed the alarm clock since Caroline died. She was awake long before the alarm. Some nights, she’d gotten no sleep at all. She’d simply lain in bed and vacillated between being angry that Caroline was gone and being absolutely devastated.
Had she been this emotional when her husband, Bill, had passed away? She wondered this often, and had no idea why. Honestly, her brain had begun to take strange pathways at night, especially if she made it past one or two o’clock without sleeping. She wondered about Bill, about where he was, if there really was a life beyond death. She wondered if she made the right choice to not have children, especially now that she was alone. She wondered if she should have traveled more often, seen more of the world instead of being so completely content to stay in her little Adirondack Mountain town.
Mostly, she wondered what would happen next. Emerson would sell the inn. She was certain of that. What other option was there? She could leave it open, let Mary run it, hire one or two other people, and check in from afar. But that wasn’t Emerson. She hated this town, hated being here. Frankly, Mary was surprised she’d stuck around this long. More than a week. Nearly two! It was shocking. If only she’d thought to make this long a visit while Caroline was still alive.
Caroline.
The tears started again, and she wiped them away angrily as she washed her face in the small bathroom sink, then chose her clothes for the day. She lived barely a quarter of a mile down the lake from the inn, so she didn’t need a lot of time to get herself up and ready before walking down the cobblestone path to the inn’s office, the smell of Caroline’s famous blueberry muffins catching her nose before she even opened the door.
God, she missed that woman. Her best friend, despite their age difference. People tended to think Mary was younger than she actually was, when in reality, there was actually a sixteen-year gap between the two women. Still, Mary never thought of Caroline as a daughter. She was a friend, the best one she’d ever have. How was she going to go on without her?
Bracing herself against the bathroom wall, she slowly sank down to the toilet seat and allowed herself a good cry. This had become the regular morning routine. Get out of bed, brush her teeth, wash her face, cry her eyes out, get on with her day. She expected it to be better by now, though that was probably silly. She had quite literally lost her best friend. That wasn’t something one recovered from quickly, especially at this age.
When she was finished, she pulled herself t
ogether, got dressed, filled Bill’s old green travel mug with coffee, and locked her little house behind her.
It was November, and the smell of fall was melding into the smell of winter. There was no doubt. The earthy scent of leaves and wet dirt filled her nostrils, a smell she’d loved her whole life. The trees were almost bare, and pretty soon, the mountainsides would be brown, then white. Many people mourned the loss of summer, the leaching of all color from the trees, reminiscent of death in many ways. Not Mary. She loved the impending winter. Hell, you couldn’t really stay in Lake Henry full-time if you didn’t. Many locals despised the tourists, but Mary enjoyed them. She and Caroline would laugh over the various guests at the inn, try to figure out their stories. She loved talking to people from faraway places, and they got a lot of them. Last year, they’d had a couple from New Zealand, and the year before, a man from Turkey. There were also countless guests who’d returned yearly, over and over again, a testament to how Caroline ran the place, how she took care of her guests.
Now, that would all change.
She pulled her coat tightly around her as an unexpected chill shook her body.
Mary greeted various neighbors as she walked, nodded a hello to Joan Norris sitting on her side deck despite the cold of the morning, waved to cars that drove past. She knew almost all the locals. How could she not? She’d lived in Lake Henry her entire life, and she would die here, and she was okay with it. Content. She’d never wanted more.
But that was supposed to happen first. She was supposed to go before Caroline.
Okay, maybe she did think of Caroline as a bit of a daughter every now and then.
The smell of blueberry muffins was the first thing Mary noticed as she slid her key into the lock of the main office, and for an instant, she almost believed it had all been a dream, that Caroline had not died, that she was in the kitchen right now making muffins for their guests. Boy would they laugh about this later today!
But no. It wasn’t Caroline making muffins. It was Emerson, and she glanced up and smiled at Mary when she walked in. “Good morning.”
Mary stood and simply blinked. It was all so surreal. Emerson there in the kitchen. Emerson already dressed and baking. Emerson saying good morning. Mary cleared her throat and found her voice. “Good morning,” she replied, moving to the sink to leave her mug there.
“I was up early and came in here to start the coffee. I thought I might as well throw in a batch of muffins.” She gestured to the freezer. “You’re almost out. I’ll make some more this afternoon.”
Then she smiled, and for a split second she looked so much like Caroline that Mary almost burst into tears right then. But she held it together, swallowed twice, and nodded once. “Okay.” Before she could say any more, a polite bark sounded from the front desk. Then the kitchen door opened and Gordie came in like a shot, his entire body wagging with joy at not one, but two, people in the kitchen he could lavish his love on. It was amazing how quickly the dog could elevate her mood, and Mary felt the corners of her mouth pull up into a smile as she squatted slowly down to Gordie’s level and let him shower her with kisses. Her heart felt instantly lighter.
“Good morning,” Cassie said cheerfully from the doorway.
Mary looked up to see her smiling across the kitchen at Emerson, who was smiling back. All this smiling. It was strange. Not for Cassie. That girl was rarely without a smile. But the way she was smiling, and the recipient of that smile, that was strange.
“Morning,” Emerson said back. “Muffin?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Cassie crossed the kitchen and took a warm blueberry muffin from Emerson’s outstretched hand, their fingers lingering a titch longer than necessary, their gazes holding tightly to each other.
Hmm, Mary thought as she stood, her knees cracking and popping, the sound so loud it actually pulled Cassie’s attention.
“Mary, have you been taking your arthritis medicine?” she asked as she stretched out a hand to help.
“Yes, Mother, I have,” Mary replied with a laugh.
“Hey, don’t you smart mouth me,” Cassie said, pointing at her and grinning. She took a bite of her muffin, made some noises of enjoyment, and gave Emerson a thumbs up. “How are your legs today?” she asked.
Emerson grimaced. “Let’s just say I’m really glad there are no stairs in the cottage.”
Cassie laughed, then took another bite of her muffin. Once it was down, she turned to Mary and said, “I have a couple hours and came to help. What can I do?”
Mary gestured for her to follow into the front room. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Cassie look back at Emerson.
“I’ll find you later,” Cassie said, pointing at her.
“I’m counting on it,” was Emerson’s playful reply.
Uh-oh, Mary thought this time. It wasn’t that both girls were lesbians. Mary had made her peace with that long ago. She didn’t understand it, but she was a woman who enjoyed harmony and love and she didn’t see what all the fuss was about when people protested same-sex couples. Why just last night, she’d seen an ad for a new reality show that had straight couples marrying at first sight. How did that not mess with the “sanctity of marriage,” but two men or two women who loved each other deeply did? Mary would never understand that; she and Caroline had had many a discussion about it. But no, that wasn’t what worried her. What worried her was that Caroline would not like this. Emerson and Cassie? Oh, no, she wouldn’t like this at all. Caroline wouldn’t be worried about Emerson, her daughter. She wouldn’t be trying to protect her daughter from Cassie. No, Mary knew Caroline well, and she was very certain about this fact: Caroline would be trying to protect Cassie from her daughter. Emerson was too much like her father, and poor Cassie didn’t stand a chance.
***
They were interrupted twice by people checking out, but nearly half an hour later, Mary had gone over a quick list with Cassie regarding rooms needing to be cleaned and laundry needing to be washed, and returned to rooms awaiting new guests. Cassie nodded, taking it all in, asking few questions.
“You do know how much I appreciate all the help you’ve been giving me, especially since Caroline’s been gone, right?” Mary asked quietly, her eyes on the computer screen.
Cassie squeezed her shoulder. “I do.”
Mary turned and made eye contact. “I mean it.”
“I know.”
The kitchen door swung open and Emerson peeked out at them. “I’ve got a batch of muffins in. I’m going to grab a quick shower. I should be back before they’re done, but if you hear the timer, could you just take them out?”
Mary waved in acknowledgement without looking back at Emerson. When she glanced at Cassie, Cassie’s eyes were glued to the now-closed kitchen door. Mary slid the two keys for the empty rooms across the counter to her and said simply and poignantly, “Careful there.”
Cassie blinked at her, but said nothing.
***
“Oh, that’s no big deal at all,” Mindy Sullivan was saying as she examined the front tire of the bike Emerson was renting from her.
“You’re sure? Because I don’t want to screw up your merchandise. I’ll gladly pay for any damage.”
Mindy shook her head. “No way. It’s fine. I’m going to replace the rim. No problem. Happens all the time.”
“I didn’t realize that path was as rough as it was.”
“The one up Jones Mountain?” At Emerson’s nod, Mindy chuckled. “Yeah, that one’s a bear. I’m surprised you didn’t do more damage than bend the rim. Did you make it all the way?”
“I did. Just ask my quads. They’ve been quietly crying all morning.”
Mindy looked at her with even more respect. “Nice. You’re in great shape then. Most people stop about three quarters of the way up and have to walk the rest of the way.” She raised her hand. “Me included.”
Emerson was still inexplicably basking in that compliment when the bell over the door rang and a vaguely familiar looking young m
an walked in.
“Hey, Mind. My chain here?”
“Got it this morning,” Mindy said and disappeared into the back room.
The man smiled at Emerson. “Hi again.”
Emerson squinted at him. “I’m sorry, we’ve met, right?”
“Well, sort of, yes. On Halloween. You were with Cassie and her niece and nephew.”
His face finally clicked for her. “Oh! You sold me the cider.”
“I did.” He held out his hand. “Jake Collins. It’s nice to officially meet you.”
“Emerson Rosberg,” Emerson said as she grasped his large hand.
“Oh, I know.”
Mindy returned, handed a package to Jake. “Of course he knows who you are. You’re our famous skier. Careful, he’s going to try to recruit you to work for him this season.”
Jake laughed, but nodded in agreement. “She’s right. Don’t know how long you’re staying, but we’d be happy to have somebody of your stature at our slope. You’d bring in the customers, that’s for sure.”
Emerson now remembered Cassie saying something about Jake working at one of the ski slopes. “Ah, well, thanks for the offer, Jake. I’m not staying, though.”
“Too bad,” Jake said, disappointed.
“Emerson’s got herself a life in the City of Angels, Jake. I don’t think we compare with our one main road, subzero temperatures, and tiny shops.” Mindy said it with a chuckle as she clicked keys on her computer, and though there was no malice or sarcasm in the statement at all, Emerson still felt a little sting at the words.
Later, after the bike had been repaired and she’d taken several very slow laps around Lake Henry, she still wondered about Mindy’s words. Why did they bother her? Were they true? She couldn’t seem to shake the feeling they left with her.
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