The Cottage at Firefly Lake

by Jen Gilroy

  Her thoughts had dipped and whirled like a flock of sparrows, the pain in her heart worse than the pain in her leg.

  “Ty said Mia and the girls went to the band concert in town.” Sean pulled a handful of kindling into a small ball.

  “They needed time on their own.” She’d needed time away from them too; she’d never been good at family togetherness.

  “You’re still some tennis player.” Sean’s teeth flashed white in the growing darkness.

  “So are you.” She used a handful of sticks to make a tepee around the kindling. The kiss and then the tennis game had changed things between them. As much as she wanted to pretend Sean meant nothing to her, she couldn’t ignore the truth. She was still as attracted to him as ever, but that didn’t mean she’d act on it.

  “Here, let me.” Sean arranged larger pieces of wood around the sticks, building the campfire the way he’d taught her long ago.

  Charlie fumbled for the box of matches, lit one, and touched it to the kindling, sparks shooting into the summer night. “About that bet, like I said, you won fair and square.”

  “I did.” Sean sat beside her on the blanket and stretched his long legs in front of him. “So are you going to tell me why you’re really selling to that Tat Chee Group?”

  “Tat Chee Properties.”

  “Tat Chee Group’s the parent company. Headquarters are in Hong Kong with offices in London, San Francisco, and Vancouver.” Sean was dispassionate. “As well as a small office in Boston.”

  “You’ve done your homework.” Charlie shifted her legs away from his and drew in a shaky breath. “I know you don’t want us to sell to them, but with the economy the way it is, even if we found another buyer, they wouldn’t offer us what Tat Chee will.”

  Sean was silent for a long moment. “I can’t believe it’s only about the money. The girl I remember loved this place more than anywhere else. She’d never have sold her birthright to the highest bidder.”

  “That girl’s gone.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “The accident changed me. It could have been me who died by the side of that road. But it wasn’t, and I’ve got a second chance. As for the money, I have medical bills. Insurance didn’t cover some of the extras.”

  And you’re responsible for yourself, said her inner voice. You don’t have anyone else you can count on. And your career is all you have, so what will you do if you can’t go back into the field like you did before?

  Or ever. She pushed that thought away. She was going back to work in just over three weeks. As Max, her editor, kept reminding her on his weekly calls.

  Max said the calls were because they were friends. However, Charlie suspected they were really because Max wanted reassurance she was the same journalist she’d always been, willing to risk everything to get a story.

  “Apart from the medical costs, the money will give me options to move on, start over.” Even though the cottage was the closest she’d ever had to a home, it kept her stuck in the past. Kept her wanting things she had to let go—the things Mia had. A real home with a husband and family.

  “That’s what you said when you broke up with me.” Sean’s voice was harsh. “You needed to start over, move on.”

  His words ripped through her, the pain as fresh as on that cool August night she’d told him she was leaving. When, with each word that had come out of her mouth, she’d known she was hurting him, believing whichever choice she made she’d lose him anyway.

  “Don’t. We were kids. Your life was here. It’s still here. My life wasn’t.” Her heart swelled even as her stomach churned.

  “That had never been an issue before. It’s not like you ever lived in Firefly Lake year-round. Why then? Why did you say you needed to move on? Less than twenty-four hours earlier you said you loved me. You kissed me good night, the same as always.” The pain he’d buried still lurked in the blue depths of Sean’s eyes. Pain she’d put there.

  “I did love you.” Her voice rasped and her chest heaved. Between that last good-night kiss and the next day when her dad had ordered her to find Sean and tell him it was over, her whole world had changed.

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “I’m telling you the truth.” Despite the warmth of the fire, she shivered and her body crumpled inward. “But I’d just turned eighteen. We were headed in different directions. I was going to college. You were never going to leave here and I…I couldn’t stay.”

  “Okay.” He let out a breath. “I accept we were young. Maybe we’d have broken up anyway, but the way you handled it. That’s what I don’t get, and I can’t forgive or forget. I trusted you.”

  And she’d betrayed him. Charlie’s head spun and spots flashed behind her eyes. “I did what I had to do.” For him, even more than for her.

  “Was there someone else?” Sean’s voice was rough.

  “No.” Her eyes watered, and she blinked away hot tears. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d never had kids or fallen in love again after she left Sean. She’d never let any other man see into her heart or touch her soul. She’d never let herself trust.

  “Then why?”

  Charlie’s heart pounded. There it was. The opening she needed. Part of moving on, part of her second chance at life, was putting right the past, and she owed Sean the truth. She pressed a hand to her throat to hold back a whimper. Her stomach hardened, and time slowed so it almost seemed to stop.

  Beyond the circle of firelight, water lapped against the dock, and still Sean studied her. In his expression, there was hurt, anger, and, most of all, distrust.

  Her lungs constricted until it was hard to breathe. “When I left, I was eight weeks’ pregnant. With your baby.”

  Charlie’s words hit Sean like a kick to his solar plexus, winding him. He tried to work moisture into his dry mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Fury rolled over him in a wave. She’d broken his trust, but he’d never imagined deception of this magnitude.

  “I was scared.” Her voice was small and she scrubbed a hand across her face. “Then in a few weeks, it didn’t matter.”

  “You lost the baby?” Sadness mixed with his anger, the same gut-wrenching sadness reflected in her eyes.

  “Not lost.” She wheezed as she sucked in air. “When you lose something, you can try to find it again. I couldn’t because I miscarried. At eleven weeks and three days, when I was at school in Montreal.”

  “God.” Nausea churned through him. “I’m sorry—”

  “My roommate helped.” She broke in as if he hadn’t spoken. “She went with me to the ER when the bleeding wouldn’t stop.” Her voice was a flat monotone.

  He reached for her hand, cold and unresponsive in his.

  “The doctor said I was young. I’d have other kids.” She pulled her hand away and curled her knees up to her chest. “But I never did.”

  Sean’s throat was sore. “Charlie—”

  “The doctor even said it was a blessing, as miscarrying meant there was something wrong with the baby.” She made a low moaning sound, like an animal in pain. “Miscarriages are common, no big deal, he said, but it didn’t happen to him, did it? How could he know? I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t and…” She dropped her head onto her knees.

  His anger receded to leave a leaden ache in his heart. “I can’t imagine what you went through, but you still could have called me.” He touched her rigid shoulder. “I’d have gone wherever you were, anytime, day or night.”

  Charlie raised her head, moisture shimmering in her eyes. He’d only seen her cry once. Back when she’d told him it was over between them she’d turned away, but not before he’d glimpsed a trickle of silent tears on her face.

  “I couldn’t make you feel responsible. Your grandfather was sick and your dad was having problems keeping the business going. You and Trevor were working nights at the creamery to earn extra money.”

  All that summer his grandfather’s life had ebbed away until he was a shallow husk of the man Sean had looked up to all his lif
e. His dad’s blond hair had turned silver almost overnight, and still the bills piled up in the marina office. And all summer Sean had known he was the one his family counted on.

  But none of that mattered, then or now. “You were having our baby. Don’t you think you should have given me the chance to take responsibility?”

  “Maybe I was wrong.” Her eyes pleaded with him to believe her, to understand. “But I didn’t want to trap you. Trap either of us. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, we were growing apart. We hardly saw each other. When we did, we didn’t talk a lot.”

  “I thought we wanted to do other things than talk.” He gave her a knowing look. “All those times out on the lake in Dad’s old cabin cruiser, in the woods or in my truck parked on the dirt road behind the arena in town. You wanted me as much as I wanted you. Or was it all a lie?”

  Her face went white. “That was sex.”

  It was great sex, but he’d been young, stupid, and crazy in love, so he hadn’t always worn a condom. “I guess your safe times weren’t safe.”

  “I guess they weren’t.” Her expression would’ve broken his heart, except he’d never let her or anyone get close enough to break his heart again.

  “Wasn’t a baby a reason to start talking to me instead of breaking up with me?”

  “I was young. I wasn’t thinking straight. And my dad—”

  “He knew?” His breath caught in his throat.

  She hugged herself like a little girl, lost inside the baggy sweatshirt. “I didn’t tell him, but my mom found the pregnancy test. She wanted to help me, but she couldn’t stand up to Dad. She said she had to tell him. Mia tried to help—she was always the peacemaker—but Dad was so angry none of us could reason with him…He…he…hit me.” She put a hand to her cheek.

  The sweet smell of the wood smoke choked Sean. If Dr. Gibbs hadn’t already been dead, he’d have killed him. With his bare hands. “He had no right to do that.”

  “The names he called me were worse. He said I was a disgrace to the family. A disappointment. And he told me I couldn’t see you, talk to you, or write you ever again.” She opened her mouth, then closed it again like she couldn’t find the right words.

  “You were an adult. You could have done what you wanted.”

  “He said he’d take away my college money if I didn’t do what he said.” Her jaw clenched. “I never told you much about what it was like growing up because I was ashamed. I was never good enough for Dad. Mom loved me, sure, but Dad controlled her, controlled all of us. And Mia was so perfect. In Dad’s eyes, she never did anything wrong. I didn’t belong. I had to get away from home, and college was the only way out. I needed that degree to go to journalism school. Being a journalist is what I’d wanted my whole life.”

  “I thought you wanted me too, and a life here. I thought you belonged with me.” Sean tasted bitterness. Although he hadn’t truly grasped what was wrong in her family, he’d wanted to give her the family she didn’t have. The sense of belonging and security he’d dimly recognized she craved. But she’d turned her back on him.

  “I did want you.” Her brown eyes were bleak. “But Firefly Lake was my summer life. I had this whole other life too. I ran track at school, I was on the debate team, and I wrote for the paper. I went to Bermuda every spring break because Dad golfed there. We skied at Aspen after Christmas. It’s not that I didn’t want you to be part of that life.” Charlie bit her bottom lip. “But my dad…he…kept Firefly Lake separate, like that life wasn’t real or important. We were summer people, you were town, so I didn’t really belong here either.”

  Sean’s stomach dropped. “Our baby was sure real and important.”

  “Yes, it was.” Her voice cracked. “But what if I’d told you I was pregnant? You’d have done the right thing. You’d have stood by me, maybe even offered to marry me. How could you have supported a wife and child?”

  “I’d have tried.” Because back then he’d wanted to give her the world and everything in it.

  “I know you would.” Her voice softened. “But what would that have done to us? My dad would have cut me off, and Mom and Mia would have had to go along with him. As for your family, your mom never understood what you saw in me, and your parents had such high hopes for you.”

  “None of that would have mattered to me,” Sean said.

  “It would have and you know it.” She gave him a sad smile. “Besides, I’d have always wanted something else, somewhere else. I’m not domestic, settled. Not like Linnie.”

  “I never thought you were. I loved you for who you were. Or who I thought you were.” An owl hooted, a gentle nighttime sound at odds with the feelings that churned inside Sean. Anger, disappointment, and betrayal. Maybe the two of them wouldn’t have made a go of it, but she’d lied to him about a child that was as much his as hers.

  “I don’t think you knew who I was.” Her gaze pinned his. “You didn’t ask about the classes I planned to take at McGill or my writing.”

  “I was working all the time to keep Carmichael’s from going under.” Sean rubbed his taut neck muscles.

  “See? Everything with you was always about Carmichael’s, what the business needed, what your family needed, but I was changing.” She drew in a breath. “You weren’t changing, didn’t even see any reason to change. Remember when I wanted you to go to that concert in Burlington with me? I won free tickets, but you had to work on some big order.”

  “One time.” Mixed with his anger was guilt. He’d known the concert was important to her and he’d wanted to go, but his dad couldn’t manage without him.

  “What about when I wanted us to go camping for a weekend?”

  He poked at the fire with a stick. “This isn’t about some trips we didn’t take. It’s about you having so little belief in me, so little trust, you didn’t talk to me and you destroyed us. It must have taken you all of five minutes. Hi, bye, it’s over. Then you ran up the path behind the marina and I never heard from you again.”

  Her chest heaved. “I panicked. Maybe I didn’t handle things right, but back then I didn’t see any other way. Carmichael’s was always more important to you than me, so I’d have lost you in the end anyway.”

  “That’s not true.” A steel band tightened around Sean’s chest. When Charlie left him, she’d left behind an emptiness that, despite making a success of Carmichael’s, making a success of himself, and becoming a father, he’d never managed to fill. “I loved you and—”

  “You loved the business too. I wanted to be a journalist like you always wanted to take on Carmichael’s.” She glanced around as if she’d find answers in the woods or on the beach. “Besides, I thought you’d forget me.”

  “Never.” Sean gave a harsh laugh. “Even though I wanted to.”

  “You didn’t get in touch or come after me.”

  “You told me we were finished.” His stomach knotted. “Even so, I did come after you.”

  “When?” She stiffened.

  “Six months later I went to Montreal.”

  “You didn’t call. I didn’t see you.” Her shoulders sagged.

  “I saw you.” He looked at the inky sky carpeted with stars. “You were coming out of some class in one of those old buildings at McGill, laughing and talking with your college friends. Your arms were full of books and there was a light in your eyes I’d never seen before. A light that told me you were going after all those big dreams you had.”

  “I—”

  He held up a hand. “I didn’t want to stop you from going after those dreams, so I got back in my truck and came home. You wanted to do important things, and you have. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d gotten in the way of everything you wanted to achieve.”

  “I never knew.” Her voice was a whisper in the night. “But you went on with your life. You got married, and you had Ty. You’ve made a big success of Carmichael’s.”

  “You went on with your life too. After McGill, you went to Columbia Journalism School. You’ve achieved a
lot. You should be proud. I am.”

  “You are?” Her eyes widened.

  “Sure I am.” Although it didn’t change the fact he couldn’t trust Charlie, he respected how she’d set her sights on a goal and worked for it. It wasn’t surprising that goal had taken her beyond Firefly Lake. Ty might not want to talk about it, but Sean suspected his son struggled with that same push and pull.

  The firelight cast shadows across her face. “Despite everything, you were my best friend and I missed you. Every so often I’d check to see if Carmichael’s was still here. It was and I knew you’d be here too. And I hoped you were doing okay.”

  Charlie had been his best friend too, almost since the day she’d turned up at the marina with her mom and Mia and he’d pulled her in his red wagon up and down the boat ramp to the lake.

  “Faster,” she’d said, and her brown eyes framed by thick lashes melted his six-year-old heart. “I want to go faster.”

  That long, lazy summer afternoon while Mia cut out clothes for her paper doll family and his mom and Charlie’s mom sat on the shaded porch, drinking lemonade and talking, he and Charlie had built sand castles on the beach.

  He’d shown her the frog that lived under the porch and the fossils his grandfather had given him. He’d let her ride his new bike, running alongside, holding the handlebars so she wouldn’t fall.

  And every time she’d smiled, an endearing, gap-toothed grin that made him smile back, he’d known she wasn’t like other girls. Not like his big sisters. Not like the girls at Firefly Lake Elementary School either.

  Charlie Gibbs was special, and she’d kept on being special right until she’d run out of his life.

  “You were my best friend too.” Sean’s voice was low and hoarse. “What if the baby had been born? Would you have told me then?” His words dropped into the thick silence between them, and his throat closed.

  “I don’t know. My dad was already talking about adoption, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Her chin trembled and she stared at the moon that hung low and dipped into the dark treetops.