by Katy Regnery
Looking up toward the end of the fourth verse, her eyes sought out Ian’s without permission, finding them easily as he gazed steadily across the flames at her.
“Oh, I loved too much, and by such, by such, is happiness thrown away.”
She breathed deeply, looking away as Jenny wiggled on her lap.
“Where are you going?” she whispered close to Jenny’s ear.
“I wanna sit with Mr. Haven.”
“Baby, he’s singing.”
“He won’t mind. We’re friends.”
Loosening her arms, Hallie watched as her daughter walked carefully around the crackling fire, standing in front of Ian for a moment before he slid over a bit to make room between him and his brother. And Hallie had to chuckle because there was her little girl, looking so tiny, nestled between the two giant Haven men, and happy as a clam.
But even as she took pleasure in her daughter’s happiness, it occurred to her that maybe she was making a mistake. Was it wise to let her daughter form a strong attachment to Ian? Would it foster expectations in Jenny that Hallie had no intention of meeting? There was no future for her and Ian, which meant that there was no long-term plan for Ian remaining in Jenny’s life. Wouldn’t she be devastated when the work on their cottage was finished and she didn’t see Ian every day? They would always have a connection to the Havens through Brittany, and if they were to be neighbors, there was space for civility, she guessed, but an attachment? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.
Tierney gave Bridey and Jenny tambourines and the little girls beat them joyously for the next song, “The Wild Rover,” with all of them singing “no, nay, never!” when the choruses came around. Britt put her arm around Hallie’s shoulders, rocking her friend back and forth, and if Hallie closed her eyes, she could have been fifteen again, harboring a wild crush on Ian Haven, the sweet smells of summer filling her senses.
Graham crackers were passed around, and more songs were sung until Bridey was asleep in her mother’s arms and Jenny’s head rested on Ian’s thigh, her little shoulders rising and falling in slumber.
Finian turned to his cousins and said, “One last song? Any requests?”
“‘Carrickfergus,’” said Ian softly, lifting his eyes to Hallie.
“Good one,” said Finian appreciatively, strumming the opening chords on his guitar.
“I wish I was in Carrickfergus only for nights in Ballygrand. I would swim over the deepest ocean, the deepest ocean, for my love to find,” Ian sang, his baritone blending with his family’s voices and creating a rich harmony.
And this time, too tired to fight, Hallie held his gaze, looking deeply into his eyes and letting herself remember how madly she once loved him.
“My childhood days bring back sad reflections of happy times spent so long ago.”
His lips moved to the words, his hand resting protectively on Jenny’s sleeping head.
What would it have been like, Hallie wondered, if she hadn’t found him with Vicky that morning? Would Ian have been Jenny’s father? And would they have been as happy as her sixteen-year-old heart had believed they would be? Would he have still become an alcoholic, or would her love for him have saved him from that terrible journey?
The last notes floated away and they sat around the fire in silence for a moment before Brittany said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but this mama-to-be is exhausted.”
Rory was up in a flash, sidestepping the campfire to get to her. “Why didn’t you say something?”
She stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “Because the music and the company were so good.”
Rory drew her into his arms. “Let’s get you to bed. ’Night everyone!”
Connor stood up, leaning down to take Bridey from her mother’s arms. “Thanks, everyone. Can’t remember the last time I got to sing all of those old favorites.”
Suzanne and Burr shared a hug, and he and Tierney walked his sister back to their cabin, leaving Finian, who was packing up his guitar, with Ian, Jenny and Hallie.
“Thanks for the music, Finian,” said Hallie.
“Ah, sure. No worries,” he said, flicking a glance at his cousin.
“Let me walk you home?” asked Ian.
“No,” said Hallie. “There’s no need.”
But Ian was already standing up, holding a sleeping Jenny in his arms. “It’s no problem. Let her sleep. I’ll carry her back.”
There was no way to refuse him without looking ungrateful and irrational, so she nodded, standing up and joining him. He walked slowly away from the campfire, effortlessly finding one of the paths that led through the woods to her cottage, even in the pitch dark.
And maybe it was the dark, she reflected later, that gave him the courage to say what he did.
“It was good having you two with us today,” he said.
“Jenny loved every minute.”
She put her cold hands in her pockets as the fall leaves crunched under their feet.
“She’s a great kid.”
“You’re really good with her, Ian.”
“Ha! That’s a trick. I’ve never been around a kid this much.”
“Well, you’re a natural. She adores you.”
They kept walking in awkward silence, their hips and elbows occasionally touching and sending a spark of recognition through Hallie’s entire body. He’s not the boy you knew. He’s a man now.
“Brittany told me that you worked really hard to quit drinking.”
He cleared his throat, the sound deep and low in the darkness. “Yeah. I’m, uh, six months sober now. Longest stretch since I started.”
“When did you start?”
“Long time ago,” he muttered softly.
She nodded, remembering the empty wine bottles in the barn loft that morning when she found him—found him with—
“Halcyon,” he said, his voice interrupting her awful thoughts. “I want you to know something.” He paused, the silence taut and heavy as she waited for him to continue. “I never stopped loving you. Never.”
The words hit her hard, and stole her breath, leaving her lungs empty and her heart stuttering. Was he saying he loved her? Right here? Right now? How was that possible? And yet, she already knew. She knew because part of her still loved him too. Because, when you love as teens, as wildly and as passionately as they did, it’s not something you ever forget or that dies an easy death.
But there wasn’t room for an adolescent love in her adult life. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to answer?
After a few seconds had ticked by, she forced herself to breathe.
“Is this—is this part of making amends?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “I don’t think so. I think this is just…sharing the truth, without any expectations.”
She gulped, her eyes stinging with tears. And what she’d been thinking about earlier at the campfire, about how Ian was getting too close to them too fast, skittered through her mind. It felt so comforting: a responsible and sound reason for pushing him away—and she clung to it, clearing her throat as they neared the front gate of her cottage.
“It’s good there are no expectations, because I can’t love you back,” she lied, turning to face him, keeping her eyes averted from Jenny, who slept peacefully between them.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Good. Because it’ll never happen.”
“Hallie—”
“You can’t make me forget,” she continued. “You can’t make me forgive. You can’t fix something you broke ten years ago.”
“I didn’t—”
“Help me with my house. That’s all the amends I need,” she finished sharply, her voice ringing like a slap.
“Truce over,” said Ian softly.
She nodded, opening the gate and heading for the front door. After it was open, she turned to face him, taking Jenny from his arms.
“Thank you for carrying her.”
“No problem,” he said, taking a step a
way from her, his eyes hooded.
“I think it’s best if we avoid each other from now on,” she added, ignoring the way her heart ached with every word she said. “Mr. Carlson should be free to help me by now. I could—”
“No,” he said, taking another step away. “I’ll leave you alone.” He gulped softly, his face drawn and serious. “Let me finish up.”
She sniffled, hating that her sinuses were filling from the tears deluging her eyes. She needed to get inside. Now.
“So um…I’ll be back on Monday,” he said.
“I’ll leave a note in the mailbox indicating the roofer bid I’d like to accept.”
“Great.”
“Okay, then,” she said, almost unable to see him, her vision was so blurry. She sniffled again. “Good-night.”
“Oíche mhaith agus—” he started, but Hallie purposely closed the door before he could finish the beautiful words.
With tears streaming down her face, she put Jenny to bed and changed into her own pajamas, trying to convince herself that she’d done the right thing, while the words I never stopped loving you haunted her thoughts until she finally found sleep.
THE PLAN
(Part 4)
Waking early on the morning of her seventeenth birthday, Hallie slipped down the stairs of Colby Cottage, careful not to wake up her parents, who were still asleep in their downstairs bedroom. They’d be up soon enough to drive back to Boston, but Hallie had already said her good-byes last night.
Tiptoeing through the cozy great room, she pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders before opening the front door. Even in the middle of summer, New Hampshire mornings were brisk.
When they’d arrived back at Colby Cottage after the cruise, Hallie had decided to stay overnight with her parents, at their family-owned cottage on the border of Summerhaven. She kept a change of clothes, pajamas, and toiletries in her room, and after all, if she stayed with her parents, she wouldn’t risk waking up her Lady Margaret roommates who were already asleep.
This morning, she had woken up to thoughts of Ian, hoping that he wasn’t too disappointed when Vicky told him she wasn’t coming last night. She grinned as she walked through the misty morning woods, following the path back to Summerhaven. She wanted to find him right away to explain what had happened and to tell him that they could celebrate tonight instead.
As she approached the campfire ring, located near the water in front of the Oxford Row cabins, she caught sight of Rory Haven securing the bowline of a canoe to the dock.
“Morning, Rory!” she called.
With the morning sun glistening off his black hair, he looked so much like Ian, her heart squeezed a little. She couldn’t wait to see her love and make their plans for tonight.
“Hey, there, Hallie. Coming from your folks’ place?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Stayed over last night.”
Rory put his hands on his hips. “I’m bringing over canoes for the race this afternoon. You signed up?”
“Ha!” she exclaimed. “Have you seen me with an oar? It’s not pretty.”
“Well, find Ian sometime today. He’ll be in charge of the cheering section, and I’m sure they could use your enthusiasm!”
Her heart leapt at Ian’s name, but she was careful not to react. “Speaking of Ian, have you seen him this morning? I wanted to sign up to help with the talent show. As long as I’m already up, maybe I’ll go track him down.”
“Good luck with that.” Rory chucked softly. “He never came home last night.”
“What?” she asked, blinking at Rory. “He didn’t—”
“Come home,” he repeated, still grinning. “Left a note that he went to a party down in Weirs Beach and might stay overnight at a friend’s, but he wasn’t in bed this morning. And I happen to know he didn’t have permission to stay out all night. So if you do run into him, tell him to get his story straight before he sees my mother, okay?”
Hallie forced a smile, though her mind was racing. Why hadn’t Ian come home last night? “Um. Yeah. Sure.”
“Gotta go get another canoe,” said Rory, heading in the direction of the boathouse. “Reconsider the race!” he threw over his shoulder.
“Right,” she murmured, turning away from the dock, toward the main path.
Her heart had started beating faster while talking to Rory. Yes, she understood why Ian left a note that he was going to a party in Weirs Beach and might not be home until morning. It was his excuse to cover being with her all night. But he wasn’t with her. So…where was he?
Stopping by her cottage, which didn’t stir with the sounds of her friends’ voices yet, Hallie checked to see if there was a note for her thumbtacked to the bulletin board on the front door, but there was nothing. Her legs moved quickly as she headed up the path to the phone booth, slipping behind the rectangular structure to squat down and pick up the large flat stone where Hallie and Ian hid their messages to each other. But there was just dirt underneath. No note there either.
She stood for a moment, wondering what might have happened, and her mind slid seamlessly to her conversation with Vicky and Vicky’s syrupy-sweet promise that she’d tell Ian that Hallie couldn’t make it. Was it possible that Vicky had never told Ian anything? Maybe he’d waited for her all night, wondering where she was, worried or hurt, believing that she’d stood him up. Maybe he’d even fallen asleep waiting for her.
That must be what happened.
Half walking, half running toward the barn, she made quick time to the old wooden building, worried about Ian and eager to reassure him that she’d had no choice about abandoning their plans.
Damn Vicky Lafontaine for lying that she’d help out, but truly, what did Hallie expect? There was a reason she and Britt called Vicky and her crowd “the Fakes.” And after this? There would be no love between Lady Margaret and Pembroke. None. That was for sure.
Hallie opened the barn door and stepped inside, looking around but finding nothing amiss. Dust motes floated in beams of morning sun that poured through high windows, and the sound of a meadowlark outside made for a soothing morning lullaby.
“Hello?” she called.
She scanned the room for signs of Ian but saw nothing, heard nothing, and was just turning to leave when her eyes landed on the stairs in the right corner that led up to the loft.
Of course.
Ian wouldn’t have met her down here where anyone could have found them. He would have brought her upstairs for their intimate celebration.
She placed her hand on the bannister, taking the creaking steps one by one.
“Hello?” she called again. “Ian?”
Halfway to the top, she heard a sound. Loud breathing or light snoring, she wasn’t sure, but a smile burst forth on her face, and she quickened her footsteps.
He stayed here all night! Waiting for me! Hoping I’d show up! Oh, Irish, I’m so sorr—
She stopped at the top of the stairs, her eyes falling to the jumble of blankets on floor. She stood frozen, all of the breath in her lungs expelled from her body as if she’d just taken a jump kick to the chest. Her lips parted. Her hands flew up to cover them as she blinked in shock and disbelief at the scene before her.
Candles lay on the floor in pools of melted wax.
Two empty bottles of wine littered the floor.
Various articles of clothing lay discarded.
And in the middle of it all, with a blanket covering his lower-half, was Ian—her Ian—completely bare-chested, with Vicky Lafontaine cuddled up beside him. Her cheek rested against the tan skin on Ian’s chest, just over his heart, the strap of her bra drooping down her shoulder.
Hallie struggled to take a breath, but she felt like she was drowning or choking, the whole room spinning mercilessly as she looked for anything to steady her.
But there was nothing to grab on to.
There was nothing but an empty loft holding Hallie’s sleeping boyfriend, the girl who’d spent the night with him, and the anguished
crack of Hallie’s heart breaking inside her chest.
She gasped, finally filling her lungs but left weak from the effort.
“Ian,” she sobbed.
“Halcyon,” he murmured, his eyes still closed, his voice ragged and raw.
Her eyes landed on something glistening beside Ian’s head on the wood floor. The ripped, square, silver packet read Troj. A condom wrapper.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered in stark and utter horror.
Her eyes, filling with tears, slid to Ian’s face, watching as his eyes fluttered open. She lifted her chin and tried to blink back tears, but it didn’t work. They coursed down her cheeks in rivulets. “Why, Ian?”
“Hallie?” he murmured, reaching up to rub his eyes with the hand that wasn’t anchored under Vicky. He blinked at her, then winced before narrowing his eyes, like he was surprised to see her standing there over them. Like he was confused.
“Why?” she asked again, fisting her hands by her sides and letting her tears fall at will.
He blinked again then groaned, reaching up with both hands to rub his head, then quickly lowering his hands when Vicky sighed in her sleep, resettling herself on his chest. Ian reached for Vicky’s head, touching her hair, before looking up at Hallie again. He reached toward her. “W—Wait. What’s going—”
“Fuck you, Ian,” she whispered, turning toward the stairs. Just before her descent, she pivoted and locked eyes with him. “Don’t ever speak to me again.”
And then she ran, as fast as she could, down the stairs, away from the barn, through the camp to the path in the woods, not stopping until she reached Colby Cottage. Her parents were outside, packing up the car to go home to Boston.
She was out of breath and dusty, her cheeks soaked, her nose running, and her heart broken. Barely able to form a coherent thought, she only knew one thing. She needed to get away. She needed to get as far away from Ian Haven as possible.
“Mom,” she sobbed, falling into her mother’s arms.
“What, baby? Sweetheart, what happened?” her mother asked, her voice filled with worry.