The Shadow of Your Smile

by Susan May Warren

  “There are broken rainbow moments,

  And dandelion wishes that don’t come true . . .”

  The voice sounded familiar. Not Kelsey, or maybe . . .

  Another memory brushed her, this one clearer, fresh, as if it had just happened. The hallway around her flickered away and she saw in her mind’s eye a young woman sitting on the beach, her guitar on her knee.

  “There are wishes on shooting stars that finally come true . . .

  For you.”

  The waves of the lake caressing the shore. It shimmered, deep blue in the sunlight, turning her hair to gold.

  “Don’t let the night leave you blind.

  Leave it all behind . . .

  He’s there for you.”

  She looked up, eyes so blue-green they took Noelle’s breath.

  “The star will come in the morning.

  Believe it’s true . . .”

  She wanted to reach out, touch her, wrap her in her arms, hold her. The girl looked at her and smiled.

  “’Cause I’ll be waiting there . . .

  For you.”

  She let the last notes linger, staring at Noelle, nodding as the music faded.

  Kelsey, don’t go—

  Noelle was standing in the hallway still, tears running down her face.

  “Mom?”

  Kyle appeared. Blessed Kyle. He’d looked triumphant, albeit rough around the edges, when he showed up at the hospital. “Did you remember something?”

  She stood there, breathed in the fragrance around her. Cottony, with a hint of lilac. Just like Kelsey’s blanket. Perhaps . . .

  “Yes. I think I did.”

  “I knew you would.” He took a step toward her. “Mom, I want you to meet my friend Emma.”

  The pretty girl holding Kyle’s hand, petite, with brown hair under a blue beret and shining eyes—this girl she didn’t know. But she wanted to. In fact, even as she held out her hand, smiled at her, a warmth filled Noelle’s chest—a peace, a familiarity, a joy.

  “Emma Nelson. I . . . I was friends with Kelsey.”

  Noelle glanced at Kyle’s hand, woven into Emma’s. “And my son, I see.”

  Kyle grinned at her. Then at Emma. There was something in his grin, the way he looked at this girl, that seemed so . . . right.

  “The nurse just came out, told us Dad was out of surgery. The doctor is on his way.”

  Oh, thank You, Lord.

  Kyle looked past her then, and she turned. The gray-haired doctor introduced himself as “Robert Mitchell, chief of surgery.” He wore blue scrubs, a puffy blue hat. “Eli is stubborn, and although his heart tried to give out, he fought back. We had him out in recovery earlier, but we had to take him back in, so we monitored him for a bit and now he’s awake. And he’s asking for his wife.”

  “That’s me,” Noelle said, glancing at Kyle. She took his free hand, then reached for Kirby’s. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She met their eyes, squeezing their hands. “Together, boys. We’ll get through this together.”

  She followed Dr. Mitchell down the hallway into a recovery room filled with beds, pink and blue curtains hanging between them.

  Eli lay on a bed, slightly propped up, tubes running from his chest, his arms, an oxygen mask over his mouth.

  He saw her and smiled.

  It was the smile that undid her. He looked at her the way Kyle had just looked at Emma. Like she gave him a reason to live.

  And that too felt familiar.

  She moved toward him, took his hand. “We gotta stop meeting like this.”

  He pulled his oxygen mask to the side, his eyes tired but teasing. “Who are you?”

  “You’re real cute.”

  His smile dimmed. “Are you okay?”

  “Are you serious? You jumped in front of a bullet for me, Eli. You saved me.”

  “Of course I did. I’m your husband.”

  Oh. Yes, he was. She didn’t need a declaration of love yet, but—

  “I love you, Noelle. I’ve always loved you, but . . . I know I blew it. If you’ll let me, I’ll try to help you remember our life and why it worked, and fix the things that didn’t. Marry me again, and let me be the husband you deserve.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh.” She heard surprise, even disappointment, in his tone.

  Noelle leaned close to him. “I’m already married to this guy I’m crazy about. He’s a little old for me, but I think he’s exactly the guy I’ve always wanted to be married to. So, you see, I’m taken.”

  She touched his hand to her face. He opened it, pressed it against her cheek.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the art institute.”

  “I’m sorry you had to hide it from me.”

  “I think we were hiding a lot from each other.”

  He drew in a breath.

  “Like ourselves,” she said, meeting his eyes. “I forgive you for Lee.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you forgive me for . . . Eric.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s nothing like that. It’s just . . . well, I don’t think another man should know more about my life and my dreams than my husband.”

  He nodded. “Your husband is going to start listening to them. Noelle, if you want to go to art school, I’m right behind you. We can sell the house, move to Duluth. I’ll figure out something to do.”

  “I was thinking you might teach me how to fish.”

  “You don’t like fishing.”

  “Really? I don’t remember that.” She winked at him. “Nor do I remember how to cut hair, but I am not married to a hippie. We’re tackling your curls the moment we get home.”

  “You’re frightening me a little,” he said as he drew her hand to his chest. His smile dimmed. “Do you think you’ll ever really remember me? Or our family? Kelsey?”

  “I know I will. I already have, I think. But you know, Eli, I never did forget you.” She leaned close to him, her lips a breath from his face, kissing him in his favorite spot, in the pocket right below his eye. “In the back of my mind, I always remembered—and always loved—the shadow of your smile.”

  A Note from the Author

  Ever look back on your life and think, What happened? I know I do. Where is the woman who wanted to work in a New York ad agency? Where is the runner, the outdoor enthusiast, the girl who wanted to own a ranch in Colorado? (I clearly had mixed goals!) Oh, wait, she married this cute guy who wooed her from the back of his motorcycle and whisked her off to be a missionary in Russia. Then she had these four kids. And then she started writing books (and spending a lot of time in her office rather than outside!). I’m not complaining—I love my life. But looking back, twenty-two years ago I couldn’t have imagined being where I am today.

  What if you could reset your life? Would you do the same things? And what parts of your life would you keep . . . or cut out? These were the questions that hounded me as I began to write The Shadow of Your Smile. I read an article about a man who had fallen and lost his memory of the past twenty-five years, and from his story I launched my own exploration into the what-ifs of starting over. It also happened to be my daughter’s senior year of high school, and watching her prepare to be on her own, while exciting, also strummed sorrow in my heart. I will miss her. I let my imagination wander into dark places a bit and wondered how, if anything should happen to her, I might go on without her. I’ve met women who have lost their children, and their wounds are deep and abiding. I myself have lost four children to miscarriage. That dark place of grief made me wonder—would it be better to start over, or would the joy of the memories be worth the pain?

  Maybe our grief comes not from the loss of a child, but from a different loss, a regret, a mistake . . . anything that has wounded us so deeply we long to erase it all. But we can’t erase it, so what do we do?

  That question drove me to Psalm 13: “How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart every day? . . . But I t
rust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me. I will sing to the Lord because he is good to me.”

  What does it mean to have the Lord be good to us—especially with our open wounds? I think the answer lies in this passage also: because of God’s unfailing love for us, because He has rescued us from death, we have hope.

  One of my favorite verses is Romans 15:13: “I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.” Our job is to trust. God’s job is to overflow us with joy.

  That’s hard to imagine when we’re sitting in dark places. I know—I’ve been there. If you’ve read any of my other books, you’ll find some of my stories in the author’s notes. But even in those dark places, I think hope is found in something Noelle discovered: “Maybe the key to going forward with her life was simply being grateful for it.” Being grateful for all we have, grateful for all we will have, grateful for the unfailing love of God—this is the foundation of hope.

  Psalm 16 says, “Apart from you, I have no good thing.” This is the one thing I hope to never forget. This is the one thing that I take with me into the future. I have God. I have good things.

  I hope you’ve been encouraged by the power of love through Noelle and Eli’s story. There are new beginnings even for “worn-out” marriages. There is hope because of God’s unfailing love.

  In His grace,

  Susan May Warren

  About the Author

  Susan May Warren is the RITA Award–winning author of more than thirty novels whose compelling plots and unforgettable characters have won acclaim with readers and reviewers alike. She served with her husband and four children as a missionary in Russia for eight years before she and her family returned home to the States. She now writes full-time as her husband runs a lodge on Lake Superior in northern Minnesota, where many of her books are set. She and her family enjoy hiking, canoeing, and being involved in their local church.

  Susan holds a BA in mass communications from the University of Minnesota. Several of her critically acclaimed novels have been chosen as Top Picks by Romantic Times and won the RWA’s Inspirational Reader’s Choice contest and the American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year award. Four of her books have been Christy Award finalists. In addition to her writing, Susan loves to teach and speak at women’s events about God’s amazing grace in our lives.

  For exciting updates on her new releases, previous books, and more, visit her website at www.susanmaywarren.com.

  Discussion Questions

  1. At the beginning of the story, we see Noelle Hueston heading home on snowy roads after doing something she doesn’t want her husband to know about. What is it and why does she keep it from him? Have you ever kept a secret like this from someone you love? Why, and how did it affect your relationship?

  2. We first meet Eli Hueston as he’s fishing in his ice house. What does he believe about his marriage as the story opens? What factors have contributed to this situation? Have you ever been in a place where you felt like Eli does?

  3. Noelle wakes up from her accident having lost her memory of the past twenty-five years. When she sees Eli, what does she think about him? What is her reaction to the fact that he is her husband and that she has children? What would you have done if you found yourself in her situation?

  4. When Noelle returns home, she discovers that her life has turned out differently than she expected. What dreams did you have as a younger person that turned out vastly different? What dreams came true?

  5. Eli can’t believe his wife has forgotten him—and their family—and makes a radical decision to keep information from her. What information does he hide? Why? Given his situation, do you agree or disagree with this decision?

  6. When Noelle returns home, she begins to “sense” her daughter without knowing it. What are some examples of this? Do you think it’s possible for a parent to truly forget his or her child?

  7. Why doesn’t Emma want to live in Deep Haven? Have you ever been afraid or reluctant to return somewhere? Where and why?

  8. Kyle Hueston started out with dreams of being a sports star but changed his plans to become a cop like his father. Why does he want to be a small-town cop, and what are some of the challenges Eli talks to him about? Do you agree with his concerns?

  9. Why does Eli spend so much time with Lee? Do you think they crossed lines they shouldn’t have even before the surprising moment in the art studio? Do you believe what they did constituted an affair? Why or why not?

  10. Do you think Emma should have told Kyle about what she knew about Lee and Eli? What would you have done in her situation?

  11. After the blowup at the basketball game, what does Lee finally realize about how she’s handled her grief? What part did she play in her relationship with Eli? How do you think things will change for Lee after her conversation with Liza?

  12. What realization does Eli have that allows him to rekindle his marriage? Likewise, what realization prompts Noelle to try to make their marriage work?

  13. Have you ever longed to forget something in your past? Would you be willing to forget everything in order to forget that one thing?

  14. How have you seen God come to your rescue despite difficult circumstances you have faced?

  For two hours a night, Monday through Saturday, Isadora Presley became the girl she’d lost.

  “Welcome to My Foolish Heart, where we believe your perfect love might be right next door. We want to send special greetings out to KDRT in Seattle, brand-new to the Late Night Lovelorn Network. BrokenheartedInBuffalo, you’re on the line. Welcome to the program.”

  Outside the second-story window of her home studio, the night crackled open with a white flash of light and revealed the scrawny arms of her Japanese plum, cowering under a summer gale. Issy checked the clock. Hopefully the storm would hold off for the rest of her show, another thirty minutes.

  And the weather had better clear by tomorrow’s annual Deep Haven Fisherman’s Picnic. She couldn’t wait to sit on her front porch, watch the midnight fireworks over the harbor as the Elks launched them from the campground, and pretend that life hadn’t forgotten her.

  Tomorrow, she’d watch the parade from her corner of the block, wave to her classmates on their annual float as they made their way toward Main Street, then linger on the porch listening to the live music drift up from the park. Maybe she’d even be able to hear the cheers from the annual log-rolling competition. She could nearly taste the tangy sweetness of a fish burger—fresh walleye and homemade tartar sauce. Kathy would be pouring coffee in the Java Cup outpost. And just a block away, the crispy, fried-oil tang of donuts nearly had the power to lure her to Lucy’s place, World’s Best Donuts. She’d stand in the line that invariably twined out the door, around the corner, and past the realty office waiting for a glazed raised.

  She’d never, not once in her first twenty-five years, missed Fish Pic. Until two years ago.

  She’d missed everything since then. She swallowed down the tightening in her chest.

  “Thank you for taking my call, Miss Foolish Heart. I just wanted to say that I listen to your show every night and that it’s helped me wait for the perfect man.”

  BrokenheartedInBuffalo had a high, sweet voice, the kind that might belong to a college coed with straight blonde hair, blue eyes. But the radio could mask age, race, even gender. Truly, when Issy listened to her podcasts, sometimes she didn’t recognize her own voice, the way it softened with compassion, turning low and husky as she counseled listeners.

  She could almost trick herself into believing she knew what she was doing. Trick herself into believing that she lived a different life, one beyond the four walls and garden of her home.

  “I’m so glad, Brokenhearted. He’s out there. What can I do for you tonight?”

  “Well, I think I found him. We met a few weeks ago in a karate class, and we’ve alread
y had three dates—”

  “Three? Brokenhearted, I know that you’re probably smitten, but three dates isn’t enough to know a man is perfect for you. A great relationship takes—”

  “Time, trials, and trust. I know.”

  So Brokenhearted listened regularly. Good, then maybe Issy could slow her down, help her to part the heady rush of the “love fog”—another of her coined terms.

  “Then you also know you don’t develop that in three dates, although Miss Foolish Heart does advise calling it quits after three if there is no visible ten potential.”

  “But it feels like it. He’s everything I want.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I have my top-ten list, just like you said. And of course, the big three.”

  “Big three essentials. Sounds like you know what you’re looking for.”

  “That’s just it—he has most of them, and I’m wondering if it’s essential for him to have all of them. Isn’t . . . let’s say, seven out of ten enough?”

  “You tell me, Brokenhearted—would you settle for a seven romance? Or do you want a ten?”

  “What if I don’t know what a ten feels like?”

  What a ten feels like. Yes, Issy would like to know that too.

  “Good question, Brokenhearted. I think it must be different for everyone. Stay on the line and let’s take some calls and see if anyone has a good answer. Or you can hop over to the forum at the My Foolish Heart website—I see that Cupid27 has posted a reply. ‘Love feels as if nothing can touch you.’ Nice, Cupid27. Any other callers?”

  She muted Brokenhearted and clicked on another caller. “TruLuv, you’re on the air. What does a ten feel like?”

  A gravelly, low voice, the two-pack-a-day kind: “It’s knowing you have someone to hold on to.”

  “Great response, TruLuv. Here’s hoping you have someone to hold on to.” She muted TruLuv. “Go ahead, WindyCity.”

  “It’s knowing you’re loved . . . anyway.”