Fireflies in the Field

by Elizabeth Bromke

  “No, no. I don’t mean terrorize, it’s just that I was in love with Nora. I never stopped loving her. Not after the baby was born, not after the baby left, not after your mother married and had you girls. I still loved her when you and your sisters made your way up to the high school, and I had to see you in the halls, little versions of Nora, floating about like lake fairies, reminding me of what I never had with her.”

  A hollow formed in Megan’s stomach. “Um,” she started to reply, but he went on.

  “I know. I know how I sound. I sound like a crazy old man. But you should know that even though I couldn’t move on, I finally did. I met Judith, and it was the best thing that could have happened for Nora, truly. It gave her an escape from me. She even came to tell me so.”

  Megan squinted across the water as a family deboarded and strode up the dock toward the marina office, bewildered about how to take the first step into Birch Harbor. Where do we begin? She imagined the mother saying to the handsome man who stood with an armful of life jackets.

  “What do you mean?” Megan asked, narrowing her thoughts on the pitiful idea of Nora—powerful, guttural, steely-eyed Nora visiting Gene, the tourist who turned local. What? Did she offer some sort of congratulatory speech or kudos? A thank-you kiss—chaste but teasing? Megan put nothing past the woman.

  “It wasn’t so long ago when I started my relationship with Judith, you know. Right after I retired. You girls had all left town. Just the little one was still here.”

  “Clara,” Megan offered, instantly regretting it. She didn’t want to let this man in. Not to her personal life or her family’s life. Despite all his help with figuring things out, he had a way of making her recoil. He didn’t sit right with Megan.

  “Clara, right.” He paused. “Well, Nora must have had her eye on me. I was in and out of town, still figuring things out. Wondering what I was going to do without the school, without her, and I spent a lot of time at my folks’. On my houseboat. That’s when I started bringing Judith around. Well, she’d been here, of course. But we really… anyway, I’m sorry. One night, Nora came down to my boat and told me she saw I had someone. She was happy for me, and she told me she expected to have the freedom I never gave her.”

  His voice grew pinched. Megan wondered if that’s what it sounded like for an old man to cry. She wouldn’t know.

  Remaining quiet, she again twisted to glance up at her family. They still watched. The sounds of lake gulls and foot traffic and boat motors vied for Megan’s attention. She pressed a hand to one ear, waiting for whatever he would say next.

  “I’m sorry,” Gene whispered through cracked syllables. “I shouldn’t be so emotional.”

  He was crying. Megan softened, but only enough to prod him along. Get him to his point. “It’s okay. I understand.” She willed herself not to cry now. Her mother’s death throbbed in her heart. A realization trickled in: there was so much more to Nora than an austere woman, dead set on making her way in the world. There was more than the hard work and the absenteeism from school events. There was much more there.

  “It was the last time I spoke to your mother,” Gene said. “And it was going to be a great conversation. I would have gotten closure. I could have apologized to her for being such a pest. For pining after her for too long. I could have said those things, and we could have maybe… it would have been better, I guess.”

  There was a but coming, and Megan braced for it. A small burst of wind curled up from the water, sweet and bitter. It cleared her airways and she sucked in a long breath of it. “What happened, Mr. Carmichael?”

  “Judith saw us.”

  31

  Kate

  “He said it wasn’t anything nefarious,” Megan relayed to them after the call had ended. As soon as they spied her lowering the phone and turning back to the porch, Kate and the others had beckoned her back up.

  “So, what happened?” Amelia begged, wide-eyed.

  Megan lifted her hands and dropped them. “Nothing, technically. He said nothing happened.”

  “Until now,” Kate pointed out, her voice filled with the wisdom of a woman who had loved and lost and loved again. A woman with two grown sons who she missed with a mother’s heartache. She put it all together even as Megan had started her reconstruction of the conversation.

  Gene and Nora had shared a twilight conversation at the helm of his boat, and Judith found them there and saw the history in Nora’s eyes and the affection in Gene’s and she made up her mind.

  She hated the Hannigans.

  “It’s so… immature,” Clara added. “What grown woman gets jealous on a dime like that? I don’t buy it.”

  Kate considered what she said. “You have a point, Clar, but some women are just like that. Viciously jealous. Unhinged, even.”

  “I don’t think Judith is unhinged,” Amelia said. “Let’s be fair. Seems to me like Gene stirred the pot. I mean come on. If he all but stalked Mom for, what? Decades? Then it’s fair to say he might have more of a hand in this than we know.”

  “Maybe,” Megan allowed. “But it does answer the question of why Judith is blocking Brian and me.”

  “True,” Kate agreed.

  Clara shrugged. “True.”

  “Okay,” Brian broke in. “So, we’re dealing with a summer town rep who has a history of jealousy. What about the rest of the council? Does Judith Carmichael call all the shots? Is she Van Holt’s long-lost sister or something? I mean where does the soap opera end?”

  “We’re going to find out right now,” Megan answered.

  Michael frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Megan smiled at Kate then at the others. “Gene told me to come back to the town council building. They called another emergency meeting. Who’s coming?”

  They all went. Ridiculously. In Kate’s SUV. They crammed in together and caravanned up Harbor Ave to the grimy old building that wilted into the grass.

  Not ten minutes later, Megan and Brian stood there, hand-in-hand at the entrance to the building, facing the others, each of whom had found a little waiting spot. Clara perched nervously on a bench, Amelia and Michael huddled together under a leaning oak off to the side. Matt, who Kate had texted just before they left, had shown up, too. He stood behind Kate, a dutiful partner, his arms crossed in solidarity.

  Kate looked at her sister and her sister’s husband, the pair that almost wasn’t and wondered why. How? How did Megan, her moody little sister, stumble into such a perfect marriage? And how had she let it almost slip away?

  Of course, that was life. A wave on the ocean, ebbing out and flowing in along a rhythm that was dictated by a force beyond what they could control. Much like Kate’s own shattered past.

  It was a little funny how things turned out, how life pushed along, like a locomotive, making its perfunctory stops: college, marriage, kids. And then, perhaps surprising somehow, it carried her right back to Birch Harbor, depositing her at the depot as a tired traveler who’d seen the world and would be happy never to step foot on that train again.

  There she was, with her sisters, back home. Kate was living in her mother’s house and her mother’s before her. She was planning the beach party of the century like some local socialite queen. Her mother would be proud of Kate.

  And during all of it, Matt had waited for her. Not in the ways many men waited for their true loves, holding out, pining. After all, he, too, had built a life for himself, and a respectable one at that. They both had to, after all. How else could they have survived? But regardless of where they each had been in those interceding years, Matt had loved Kate since they were just kids. He was her first kiss. Her first everything. In some ways, their little story resembled Nora and Gene’s. But Kate and Matt had one thing that Nora and Gene did not.

  Kate loved him back.

  Matt’s love was exactly what she needed to find peace in Birch Harbor. And there was nothing wrong with it. There was nothing wrong with needing the love of your life, even if you had found another one to
hold your heart in the meantime. Even if you had a whole other life in the interim.

  Once Kate and Matt circled back to each other, everything settled into place like little grains of sand skittering into a safe, dry spot high up on the beach, never to be washed away by the surf.

  Kate’s dry landing place was there with Matt and her sisters. Birch Harbor was a cozy corner of the world where so many years ago she’d planted a seed. Now she was back, after building a whole garden elsewhere, and she was nurturing that long-abandoned seedling and finding in Birch Harbor what she always wondered about: a true and final sense of home. And that’s exactly what she wanted for her sisters, too. It’s what they needed. It’s what Megan and Brian needed if they were going to make this work.

  “Good luck, Megs.” Kate smiled up at Megan and Brian as she draped either arm over her other two sisters and pulled them in. “No matter what happens in there, just remember, whatever happens in there, you’re home now.”

  32

  Amelia

  Two weeks later.

  “There she is,” Amelia hissed to Megan from their perch at the corner of the backyard. She lifted her faux-crystal cup of lemonade toward the back door.

  The Heirloom Inn-Warming Party was in full swing, and Amelia couldn’t have pictured a more perfect event for Kate. For them.

  The whole town seemed to meander up from the harbor, and Kate and Matt were furiously keeping food on trays and drinks refilled.

  Earlier in the evening, after things had just begun to pick up, Ben and Will—Kate’s sons—made a surprise appearance. Amelia had spent an hour chatting with them and their girlfriends, acting like a welcome wagon and inviting them to stay with her for the weekend. This was quite a point of contention, as Kate fretfully insisted she’d make room for them in the Inn—somehow, somewhere, even if it meant she slept in the parlor or kicked out another set of guests. That was when Amelia stepped in and declared she had space.

  Sarah had niggled her way into the conversation. “They could stay with Clara,” she’d offered, but Amelia had given her a sharp look. She was trying to take the whole Aunt thing more seriously.

  “You can stay with Clara.” Amelia chided Sarah. “She won’t want these four crazies in there. I’ve got the second room and the futon. And lots of energy,” Amelia had beamed at her sweet nephews and their girlfriends.

  Sarah had rolled her eyes and wandered off to her girlfriends, crushed to be excluded, but oh well. Amelia knew how important it was to welcome Ben and Will into the Birch Harbor fold. After all, it had been the original plan, and with the Inn still under reno (the basement was so close to being ready), Amelia knew she had to protect her sisterly promise and be the perfect hostess.

  When she saw Sarah later, she had grabbed her elbow and whispered, “Listen, girl, you’re not a tourist anymore. You’re a townie, now. You gotta act like one, okay?”

  Sarah, charmed and intrigued, no doubt, threw Amelia a sidelong look and asked, “And what does that mean?”

  “It means that when a tourist comes to town, you make room.” She winked, and Sarah had just laughed and drifted back off, giggling and gossiping with the younger set. The next gen of Birch Harbor babes.

  Presently, Megan squinted next to Amelia. “Where?”

  “Look, right there.” Amelia spun to face Megan and nodded her head behind her. “Literally coming out the back door.”

  “Oh,” Megan answered, her eyes widening. “She’s not with Gene, though.”

  “Just give it a minute,” Amelia bet. “She’s not the sort to trail behind her man, but he is the type to let her take the lead.”

  They were being a little mean. A little petty. And it wasn’t a flattering look. Amelia swigged the last of her drink and cleared her throat. “I say we turn the tide. Are you with me?”

  Megan frowned. “Turn the tide, how?”

  “This is a housewarming. And it’s our house,” Amelia answered.

  “Inn-warming,” Megan corrected.

  “Whatever. We have a chance to call a truce. Don’t you want to do that? Might be good for business.” Amelia wasn’t only thinking of Fireflies in the Field. She was also thinking of her museum project. Her theater troupe. Her shows. She was thinking of all the things that the Hannigan women needed to protect now that they were back in the fold, back in Birch Harbor society. The protection could only come from doing exactly as Nora had learned to do: play nice. Even if it wasn’t always sincere. Her mother’s words trickled into her mind. Fake it till you make it. They had a new meaning now.

  “True,” Megan allowed. “All right, I’ll follow your lead.”

  Amelia took in a full breath and started toward the porch where Judith was now standing, somewhat awkwardly, just as Gene came up behind her and snaked an arm around her waist.

  Squeezing in and out of the clumps of guests, Amelia and Megan made it halfway to the porch when Amelia looked up to see Judith and Gene were gone.

  She searched the crowd on the porch and then combed the grass with her eyes, but nowhere did she see the sleek A-line or cheesy Hawaiian shirt.

  “Crap,” she hissed.

  “There you are,” Michael’s voice rose up behind her as his hands slipped around her hips and he pulled her into him.

  Before she’d moved home, such a move might have lured Amelia into some stranger’s fleeting life. Weeks with the wrong guy, too young to know she was too old for him.

  Now, it was different. Michael’s arms were strong and firm and safe. He’d had a glass of champagne, and it was enough to loosen him up, but not too much to render him useless.

  “Hey,” Amelia whispered as she slid her hand around his neck and twisted into his arms. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Anything for you,” he murmured back before pecking her on the cheek and relaxing his grip back to a state of decency as he greeted Megan, a sheepish expression crossing his face.

  “Can you look around and see if you can spot Judith or Gene?”

  He raised up on the balls of his feet, which was unnecessary at his height, and scanned the crowd, giving them a play-by-play.

  “I see Sarah and her friends—” he paused and glanced down at Megan. “They are chatting up a group of shirtless boys on the sand.”

  Megan’s face turned to alarm, and Michael chuckled. “I’m kidding. They are talking to some boys, but I recognize them from around here. Harmless, I think. Also, they’re wearing shirts.”

  Megan rolled her eyes and slapped Michael’s arm half-heartedly.

  “Go on,” Amelia said, bracing against him and trying to look above the throng of people.

  He twisted around and searched the porch and in through the windows and doors. Floating tea lights and lines of tiki torches lit the whole area, but night was falling fast. “I see Kate and Matt in the kitchen window. It looks like… yep… they are kissing.”

  “Like, making out?” Amelia asked, surprised.

  Again, Michael chuckled. “No, it was a quick kiss. Very discrete. Still,” he tilted his head to her and winked.

  “Oh, come on,” Amelia replied, growing impatient.

  “Okay,” Michael continued, lifting his hand to shield his eyes as he pretended to look harder. “There’s Clara, in the doorway. She’s walking with that girl, Mercy, is it? And… she’s… smiling… for once?”

  Amelia play-punched him on the shoulder. “Enough with the snarky observations. Just find our targets.”

  “Fine, fine,” he answered, swooping around to study the beach. “Ah-ha! Twelve o’clock and halfway down to the water.” He pointed, and Amelia followed his finger to Judith and Gene, striding slowly through the sand, dodging an evening sand volleyball match.

  “Thank you,” Amelia pushed up and kissed him on the cheek, grabbed Megan’s arm and took off down to the lake.

  Once they were through the seawall and past the danger of getting pegged in the heads with a volleyball, Amelia spotted Judith and Gene at the water’s edge. “There,” she pointe
d for Megan.

  They were walking fast now, as if they were afraid Judith would slip into the water and leave forever.

  Not before Amelia righted things. Not before they made peace.

  “Mrs. Carmichael,” Amelia called over the noise of the party behind them.

  The woman turned her head, and when they locked eyes, for a brief moment, Amelia saw her mom. She shook the image and grabbed Megan’s hand.

  “Hello,” Gene answered for the both of them. “Lovely party you girls have organized,” he added. If Amelia didn’t know any better, she’d say he nudged his wife toward them.

  Amelia thanked him, then elbowed Megan.

  Her sister took the cue, “Actually, I also wanted to thank you both again,” she started, glancing quickly at Amelia, who nodded her on.

  “Whatever for?” Judith asked, her voice louder than it needed to be. Amelia saw the plastic champagne flute in her hand, almost empty and dangling in the woman’s bejeweled fingers.

  “For granting my permit,” Megan answered. Amelia squeezed her hand.

  Judith lowered her plastic flute. “Oh, right.” She took a step out of the surf, and Amelia looked down to see she was barefoot. Behind her, Gene was holding her sandals in his hand. He stood barefoot, too. Amelia felt awkward now, finding them like this, in some private moment, barefoot on the beach. She started to open her mouth to excuse them and head back in, but Judith took another step.

  “I suppose I owe you an apology,” Judith said when she was just inches away.

  Amelia’s mouth turned dry. “You do?”

  Judith nodded, her lips a thin line.

  Megan released Amelia’s hand. “We accept.”

  Taken aback at her sister’s bold response, Amelia tried to cut in, “No apology necessary. Things got a little conflicted with all of this.” She tried to laugh and wave her hands around as if to reference the Inn-Warming party and everything else her sisters were doing that probably upset poor, old, jealous Judith.