Back Home at Firefly Lake

by Jen Gilroy

  “I only went out into the hall for a minute.”

  “Were you with Coach Luc?” Despite its softness, Amy’s voice held a sharp edge.

  “Yes, and now he’s in the waiting room. It’s snowing too hard for him to drive back to Firefly Lake tonight.” Except, no matter what the weather, Luc would still have stayed here. He was that kind of man.

  Amy reached for Cat’s hand. “Lie beside me so I can go back to sleep.”

  “Sure.” Cat pulled off her boots, then eased onto the narrow bed beside her daughter.

  “Tell me a story.” Amy rolled onto her side and into the curve of Cat’s body.

  “What kind?” Cat’s breath brushed the soft tendrils of hair near Amy’s ear.

  “About when I was little.” Amy’s blue eyes were fuzzy from the painkillers the doctor had given her. “About us. You, me, and our family. The story you always tell me.”

  A dense mass settled on Cat’s chest. “Once upon a time there was a little girl called Amy Gabrielle. She lived with her mommy and two cats called Darcy and Bingley. They lived in Boston in a brick building near a park.”

  “Her mommy loved her more than anything.” Amy’s words were muffled.

  “I do.”

  “Even though Amy’s daddy went far away before she was born, she didn’t miss him because she never knew him. All she ever needed was her mommy.” Amy snuggled into Cat’s neck and her breathing steadied as she slipped into sleep.

  Cat lay still. She’d had to be everything for Amy because Jared had lied to her from the moment they’d met. Then when he’d gotten himself killed, Cat had no choice but to go on alone, so she’d done the best she could, like she’d done after her dad left.

  “Mom?” Amy nuzzled Cat’s cheek.

  “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Although Amy was all Cat had, she was all Amy had, too. The heaviness entrenched itself in her heart. No matter what she felt for Luc, even if it was a love that went bone-deep, Amy had to come first.

  His skate blades cut into the ice with a hollow whoosh as Luc rounded the corner of Firefly Lake near Old Harbor Park. The frozen lake, enfolded by the small town and dark green hills, sparkled in the Sunday afternoon sunshine. Even when everything else in his world was upside down, Firefly Lake had always been as solid as Vermont hard rock maple. It still was. And today, like it always had, the same tinny sound system belted out a mix of country and pop tunes, and the same friends and family still thronged this outdoor rink. Two weeks after Amy’s accident, it was March, and there wouldn’t be many more days of skating on the lake left this winter.

  Luc waved at Liz, who stood near the snack bar with Michael, before circling back toward the other side of the rink near Carmichael’s Marina. Sean and Charlie sat on a park bench by the edge of the ice with little Lexie bundled up in a pink snowsuit and tucked into a sleigh. His heart squeezed. Lexie was still too young, but in a few more winters, she’d be out here laced into her first pair of skates, gliding along beside her mom and dad. Like he’d once imagined skating with Maggie and their child. He made himself wave and smile, then sped up until the wind stung his nose and cheeks.

  “Slow down. I’m not as young as I used to be.” His mom’s dark blue eyes, the same color as her puffy blue parka, twinkled beneath her white stocking cap as she skated up beside him.

  “You still caught me.” Luc skidded to a stop and gave her a one-armed hug.

  The woman who’d had him on his first skates on this same rink hugged him back, then studied him. “I left your father with Gabrielle and Ward so I could talk to you alone. You’ve been avoiding us these past few weeks.”

  “I see Dad at the office every weekday. You too, whenever you can leave the creamery store and drop by.” Luc stroked forward across the ice and his mom followed. “Between coaching and work, I’ve been busy.” The lie clogged his throat. Because of whatever this thing was with Cat, he had avoided his folks, not because he cared what they thought, but because he didn’t want to talk about something he didn’t understand himself.

  “You’re so busy you’ve only come to dinner once since the winter carnival. Your dad tells me you hardly say two words all day long.” His mom’s skates made a crisp sound as she kept pace with him. Beneath her cap, wisps of silver-blond hair fluttered in the wind.

  “I’m learning the business, so I need to focus.” He softened his voice. “You know what Dad’s like. He’s such a details guy, and he wants me to know Simard’s inside and out. I don’t want to let him down—let either of you down.”

  “You’d never do that.” His mom pivoted to skate backward in front of Luc, which meant he couldn’t escape her searching gaze. “I know what you’re like, too.” She paused and looked him up and down. “That’s why I want you to invite Cat and Amy to join us for dinner next weekend. Saturday or Sunday, whenever all of you are free.”

  “How… why…” Luc stared at his skates. Any denial would be pointless and make him feel worse than he already did. “Cat has a lot of work right now.” Which was true, plus he couldn’t make himself take that next step to ask Cat to join his family for something as significant as dinner. If she sat next to him at his folks’ dining room table, it would be like she was taking Maggie’s place in his life and heart.

  “Cat still eats dinner, doesn’t she? She’s a sweet woman, and I’m so proud of you the way you’re helping Amy. Gabrielle says Amy can get back on the ice this week.” His mom’s eyes clouded. “I’m glad you aren’t playing anymore. Every game, I worried about you getting hurt, and when you did, I worried even more.”

  “Mom.” He let out a breath and it made a swirl of steam in the frosty air. He’d been hurt far worse off the ice than on it—the kind of hurt he’d learned to live with but that would never fully heal.

  “I know it’s none of my business.” His mom’s expression was both worried and tender. “But I want you to be happy again, and Cat—”

  “Cat’s a friend, like she’s always been.” Luc turned away and stared at the bluish-white expanse of the lake.

  He was a truthful guy, but now he’d lied to his mom twice in less than five minutes. His stomach rolled. Cat was a whole lot more than a friend, and, although he was trying to be patient, never being alone with her was driving him crazy. Amy was attached to her like a baby kangaroo snug in its mom’s pouch, and because before this weekend Michael had been away on a buying trip, whenever he dropped by the gallery, Cat was too busy to stop and chat.

  “If you say so.” His mom quirked an eyebrow and said, “I didn’t know Cat could skate,” before she went into an elegant spin as easily as a woman half her age, and with the same grace as the champion figure skater she’d once been.

  “What?” Luc blinked as his mom spun in front of him. “She can’t, not really.”

  His mom came out of the spin and took his arm. “Maybe not, but she’s over there with Amy. See?” She gestured to the town side of the lake.

  Cat stood at the edge of the rink close to shore. She held Amy’s hand and teetered in a pair of white figure skates.

  “Even if she can’t skate yet, she’s sure giving it a good try.” His mom gave him a speculative look. “When are you going to admit to yourself how you feel about her?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There was lie number three. Bile rose in Luc’s throat as the sound system sputtered into the Beatles’ “Yesterday.”

  “If you don’t, you’re not the son I raised.” His mom’s voice had a sharp edge to it that Luc guessed he deserved. “Folks are talking about you. Maybe you spent so long in the fast lane you forgot what it’s like here, but if you’re spending time with a woman like you’re doing with Cat, you either make a commitment to her or you don’t. Is she your girlfriend or whatever you call it nowadays?”

  “I… not exactly. It’s only been a few months. We’re taking things slowly.” Luc glanced across the ice.

  Cat put one foot in front of the other like he’d taught her all tho
se weeks ago. Then she loosened her hold on Amy and marched forward in small steps all by herself. Fierce pride and an unexpected, but familiar, warmth welled up inside him.

  “Even though he couldn’t skate back then either, I knew within five minutes of meeting your dad that he was the one for me.” His mom’s eyes softened. “He said the same thing about me. When you know, you know, and there’s no reason to hide it. Or hide out.” She patted his arm before she spun around and skated away.

  Luc’s stomach went rock hard. He could never love anyone as he’d loved Maggie. She wasn’t only his past. Even though she was gone, she was still part of his today and she’d be part of all his tomorrows, too. He wasn’t hiding out in Firefly Lake. He was fond of Cat, sure, but it was way too soon to go public with anything as official as calling her his girlfriend. Besides, a “girlfriend” was someone you dated in high school or college, not in your thirties.

  Yet, as Paul McCartney sang on and the words of “Yesterday” echoed in Luc’s heart, he wove through the skaters, pulled toward Cat as if by an invisible force. “Hey.” He stopped at her side.

  “Luc.” She stared at the ice.

  “Where did you get the skates?” He softened his voice. Her rigid body stance told him something was up, but what?

  “They’re an old pair of Georgia’s. They were packed away with stuff she left in Mom’s attic.” She raised her head to look at him and squinted in the sunlight.

  “I’m teaching Mom to skate.” Amy wedged herself between him and Cat. “Even though I can’t get back on my skates for a few days yet, she says I’m a great teacher.”

  “You’re sure a great coach, the way you’ve helped me out with the team over the last few practices.” Luc smiled at Amy, but she didn’t smile back. Instead, she looked through him like he wasn’t there.

  “Amy, please.” Cat’s voice was tired and her eyes were gray-shadowed.

  “What?” Amy glared at Luc.

  “Why don’t you go and talk to Grandma for a minute?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” Amy crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “Of course not, but Grandma could use your help.” Cat gestured toward Gabrielle, who stood at the edge of the lake with a wriggling Pixie in her arms. “If you hold the dog, she can skate for a bit.”

  “She should have thought of that before she brought Pixie with her, shouldn’t she?” Amy’s voice was sullen and she scraped her boots against the ice.

  “Amy.” Cat’s tone was firm. “You know that’s not the way to talk.”

  Amy made a sulky face. “Whatever, but I’m coming right back.” She gave Luc a hard stare. “In five minutes.”

  “You’d think she was already a teenager, wouldn’t you?” Cat’s brittle laugh turned into a sigh. “I’m trying to make allowances because not being able to play hockey is hard for her. The doctor also said concussions can make kids sad and angry. Ever since Amy got hurt, though, it’s like she’s an entirely different girl. She’s never been this mouthy and rude before.”

  Luc glanced at Amy as she stomped away from them, stealing sly glances over her shoulder. Amy hadn’t been herself at the rink, either, but he hadn’t said anything to Cat because he didn’t want to worry her more than she already was. But the expression on Amy’s face was clear. Stay away from my mother. Or else.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cat rested her chin in her hands and stared at the computer without seeing the text on the screen. What was wrong with her? Amy was at school, the gallery was quiet apart from the soft strains of an Irish ballad, and Michael was unpacking a delivery in the storeroom. She got a lot more satisfaction than she’d expected from her work here, and she thrived on the challenge of helping make Michael’s business thrive, but today her head was as fuzzy as if it was filled with cotton batting, and she couldn’t put two coherent sentences together. Although it was Tuesday, this was Monday morning brain fog on steroids.

  Outside the gallery, fat icicles dripped from the overhanging eaves. Despite the snowbanks that still lined Main Street, the sun was warmer than it had been only a week ago, and she’d put a trio of wooden Easter rabbits and several wicker baskets filled with colorful eggs in the gallery’s front window earlier. If she didn’t get her head together soon, she’d be back teaching from contract to contract before she knew it, and so much for that security she wanted to give Amy.

  She looked up as the bell over the front door jangled. “Liz?”

  “Something’s happened to Michael.” The older woman wore a red diner apron dusted with flour.

  “What do you mean?” Cat got up from the desk and met Liz by a table of local pottery. “He’s back in the storeroom.”

  “He’s not answering his phone, and I have a bad feeling.” Liz’s voice cracked.

  “I’m sure he’s fine.” Cat took Liz’s arm and steered her toward the back of the gallery. “If something was wrong with him, I’d have heard it. I’ve been here all morning.”

  Beneath her apron, Liz’s chest heaved. “I know what I’m feeling. My Scottish grandmother had second sight.”

  Cat pushed open the stockroom door. “He…”

  “Michael!” Liz dropped Cat’s arm and darted to where he lay on the floor beside the worktable, colorful quilts scattered around him.

  “I fell.” His right arm was twisted. “One minute I was standing there unpacking a box, and then I got dizzy and had this pain and… I don’t know how I ended up down here.”

  “I’ll call an ambulance.” Cat sped back to the desk and found her phone. If she’d been paying attention, she’d have heard something. Her stomach heaved as she made the emergency call, then ran back to the storeroom, her heels tapping on the wood floor. “The paramedics are on their way.”

  “We have to get ready for the exhibition. It’s opening in May.” Michael tried to sit up, but Liz eased him back.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Cat grabbed a quilt and tucked it under Michael’s head.

  “I’ll help you.” Fear pooled in Liz’s brown eyes as she patted Michael’s cheek. “You’re all sweaty and cold.” She grabbed another quilt and covered him from his chin to his tasseled loafers.

  “I’m fine.” Michael winced. “I don’t need you two fussing over me.”

  “You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine for weeks, and I should have insisted you see a doctor before you went on that last buying trip. I can’t lose you.” Liz’s voice broke. Tendrils of hair escaped from her neat French twist and, with her free hand, she scrubbed at her face.

  Michael levered his good arm above the quilt to snag Liz’s wrist. “You’re not going to lose me.” His voice was faint.

  Liz gulped and rested her face against Michael’s arm. Silent tears coursed down her face to leave a damp patch on the quilt.

  Cat stood frozen in the storeroom doorway, her knees shaking. “The paramedics… I’ll wait out there for them.” She made herself step back. This was a private moment, too intimate for her to share.

  “No.” Liz’s voice was thick with tears. “Don’t go. If something happens to him… I can’t…” She gulped and her eyes were desperate. “I’ve been so silly.”

  “If anybody’s been silly, it’s me.” Michael raised his hand and brushed the tears off Liz’s cheeks with a gentle finger.

  “We live in different worlds. We always have. Your mother hired mine to clean that fancy house of yours up on the hill.” Liz’s smile was wistful.

  “They’re both gone and most of those old prejudices with them.” Michael made a feeble sign of the cross. “I loved my wife like you loved your husband, God rest their souls, but that fancy house is empty and… if you could… it’s not too late for us.”

  With a soft sob, Liz buried her face against Michael’s neck.

  Cat’s eyes watered. Although he hadn’t said the words, Michael’s expression was full of tenderness and love. What would it be like to have someone look at you that way?

  “Oh, Michael.” L
iz’s voice was muffled.

  “I don’t have any intention of dying just yet, so let’s look ahead, not back. I’ve always hankered to go to Australia. What do you think, Lizzie?” His laugh was weak, but it was still Michael’s laugh.

  “I’d go to the moon if that’s where you wanted to go, but Australia sounds mighty nice. I’d have to get a passport and some new clothes, but… oh…” Liz raised her head and her brown eyes shone like stars in her careworn face. “Can you see me in Australia?”

  “I can see both of you there.” Cat’s heart squeezed tight against her ribs and she pressed a hand to her chest. The happiness on Liz’s face was palpable. The same happiness that was on Nick’s face when he looked at Mia, and also between Charlie and Sean. The kind of happiness her romantic, childish heart had once yearned for until she’d grown up and, except in the pages of books, logic trumped romance and her head ruled her heart.

  “No waterworks from either of you.” Michael’s gaze swung from Liz to Cat and back. “If you’re going to cry about anything, cry about putting two Maura Fitzpatrick quilts on this dirty floor. Maura’s the best quilt designer Vermont ever produced and thanks to you two, my head’s lying on several thousand dollars’ worth of fabric, and there’s another few grand on top of me.”

  “You’re worth more than any quilt.” Liz touched Michael’s ashen cheek. “Besides, this floor isn’t dirty. Cat swept it yesterday and she’s as neat a housekeeper as me.” She sat back on her heels and fumbled in her apron pocket for a tissue.

  Michael grunted. “That may be, but I’m still lying under ‘Evening Rest,’ aren’t I? It may sound like a funeral home, but there’s no need to start planning for my passing anytime soon.”

  A siren keened, and Cat’s tense breathing eased.

  Michael turned back to her. “You always were a good girl, and you’ve turned into a fine woman. I’m leaving you in charge.”

  “I’ll do my best for you.” Cat pushed the words out.