The Lights of Sugarberry Cove

by Heather Webber

  If all the struggles of the past year had led to this decision, this moment of him rediscovering what he’d always dreamed of, then maybe they had been worth it. “It’s definitely time.”

  He pulled back so he could look at me. “It means using a big chunk of our savings, cutting back some. It’s … a risk.”

  I swallowed over the sudden lump of fear in my throat. The fear of the unknown terrified me, but our marriage wasn’t going to last if we didn’t take a big leap of faith. “I hate risks, Connor, but I believe in you. And I can go back to work.”

  Clouds drifted into his blue eyes. “I don’t want you to have to do that. I know how much it means to you to stay home with Tucker.”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t mind. Really.”

  He tipped his head to study me more closely, obviously sensing there was more to the statement than I’d meant to share.

  I pressed on before he could question me about it. “I’m sure my old job will take me back—they said they’d always leave the door open for me to return.”

  Something twisted painfully in me as I spoke, at the thought of an hour in the car each day, business suits, my small office with its one window that overlooked the parking lot, of being away from Tucker all day long. Which didn’t make sense since I wanted to go back.

  “Let’s hold off on that for now,” he finally said, still looking at me with a question in his eyes. “We’ll make this work somehow. And I’ll be home more to help. Everything is going to be different. I promise. I’m going to be a better dad and a better husband.”

  I opened my mouth to argue about the job situation, but that pain in my stomach and the look of hope in his eyes stopped me. I’d give his way a try before I made any big decisions. It could be he was absolutely right, and that I’d be perfectly happy once he was home more.

  Ignoring the feeling that I was somehow hurting myself, I cuddled in close. My gaze drifted to the water oaks, and I smiled.

  Connor and I had bent, but we hadn’t broken.

  * * *

  Hours later, the sun shined weakly through feathery clouds, and the lake whispered, beckoning with its gentle pulse against the seawall. It was the perfect afternoon for a swim. The housework had been done, Connor was helping Uncle Camp finish the porch paint, and the rest of us—Teddy, Bree, Iona, Sadie, Tuck, Nigel, and I—had all found our way onto the back patio, having come together one by one throughout the day. The red umbrella had gone up, and we’d covered the table with snacks and drinks. It felt a bit like an extended coffee hour with friends, indulgent during the middle of a workday, but one much welcomed after the emotional ups and downs of these last few days.

  Tucker had invented a new game, one where I threw the tennis ball and he and Nigel raced to see who could retrieve it first. So far, Nigel was in the lead. Far in the lead. As in, Tuck hadn’t won once in dozens of attempts. Yet, he laughed each time, literally rolling with it at certain points, which served as an important reminder that sometimes winning wasn’t everything.

  “It’s hotter than a tenth ring of hell out here,” Teddy said, though she didn’t budge from her lounge chair that was positioned in direct sunlight. She wore a turquoise-colored tankini, and her face was lifted to the sun. Her bronze skin glistened.

  If I hadn’t seen her apply sunscreen, I wouldn’t have believed she had. She proclaimed she’d never had a sunburn in her life, that she was tan year-round, and that her dermatologist had said she had no sun damage any other sixty-year-old woman didn’t have. Mother’s words the other day about having suspected Teddy was Lady Laurel hovered in my thoughts, and I suddenly wondered if it was possible after all. Maybe Lady Laurel masqueraded as a sun goddess once a year, but then I remembered the drummer story and dismissed the thought.

  “Come on, now.” Iona looked up from her book. “It’s at least the eleventh.”

  Even she had abandoned her signature cardigan and sat in a white sleeveless blouse. Her peaches-and-cream skin hung loosely on her arms, lined with shallow wrinkles and dotted with playful freckles.

  “Twelfth,” Sadie said as she scribbled in a notebook. She had been jotting notes for close to a half hour as she interviewed Bree ahead of the mac and cheese video they planned to shoot on Sunday.

  “How many rings are there?” Bree asked.

  I laughed. “Nine. And none of them have to do with heat.”

  Sadie smiled. “I mean, it’s still hell, right?”

  “Suppose so.” I threw the ball again for Tuck and Nigel, making sure to keep my aim away from the water. The pair went running, and I imagined that both would sleep quite well tonight.

  “Is Bree a nickname or your full name?” Sadie scanned her notes, as though looking to see if she’d already asked the question.

  Earlier she’d returned from her outing with Will looking drawn and unhappy, and when I asked what had happened between them, all she had said was, “Choices.” I hadn’t pushed, giving her time to mull it all over, but tonight I’d pull out some pints of ice cream and see if I could get her to talk.

  “It’s a nickname for Aubrey,” Bree answered. “The same name as my dad. He left my mom when I was only two, and she said she had trouble calling me by his name after that so she shortened it to Bree.”

  Sadie’s pensive gaze shifted to me, just as I realized that Mother had started calling me LC not long after my father, Leland Clark Scott, had passed away. I’d been named for him and had always been proud to share the connection. For me, it was a constant reminder that he was still with me. For Mother, I now suspected my name was a constant reminder that he was gone.

  “I don’t blame her.” Bree nibbled on a cookie. “I probably would’ve done the same thing. Bree works fine, but I kind of love when Tucker calls me ‘Bee.’ I could get used to that real quick.”

  I heard a loud splash and panicked for a moment until I realized it had just been a carp breaching the surface of the water, as they liked to do for seemingly no reason at all other than to scare the living daylights out of anxious moms. Tuck followed Nigel around the yard, both slowing down in the heat of the day.

  Iona peered at the water. “Fish are jumping.”

  “Don’t blame them,” Teddy chimed in. “A little splish-splash sounds good right about now. Anyone up for a swim?”

  Tuck ran up to the table, his cheeks red from exertion. “I swim!”

  “That’s two of us,” Teddy said. “Any other takers?”

  “I could do with a dip,” Iona conceded. “If no one minds that I do it in my shorts and blouse. I didn’t pack a swimsuit.”

  “If it weren’t the middle of the day, I’d say go au naturel. Live a little,” Teddy said. “Heck, who cares if it’s the middle of the day. Go for it.”

  Iona laughed. “The scandal! I think I’ll do my living with clothes on, but I appreciate the encouragement.”

  “I’m in.” Bree scooted back her chair. “We can finish later, right, Sadie?”

  She flipped closed the notebook. “Yep.”

  Bree pivoted to me. “Are you swimming, too, Leala? We can pull out the paddleboards and do a little yoga. Om.”

  I could use a little om right about now—and cooling off. Standing, I picked up Tuck, his body hot and sticky against mine. “I’m game. Shall we meet back here in five minutes?”

  Everyone agreed, and with that, almost everyone scattered. I faced Sadie, who hadn’t budged. “How about you?”

  She looked at the water. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s hot,” I said. “The-twelfth-ring-of-hell hot.”

  “It’s cool inside. Air-conditioning and all.”

  “Will’s inside.”

  She glanced at the lake again. “Maybe I’ll dip my toes in.”

  I left her sitting in the shade, staring at the water, while I ran inside with Tuck. We stopped on the front porch to tell Uncle Camp and Connor our plans, then changed into our bathing suits.

  We were back outside in no time flat. Bree and Teddy were already
freeing the paddleboards from the rack, Iona was floating blissfully on a pool noodle, and Sadie still hadn’t moved from the patio table, where she was now scrolling through her phone. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

  “Not yet.”

  I smiled and tightened the straps on Tuck’s life vest. “Good.”

  She set her phone down on the notebook and glanced at me. “I still reserve the right to change my mind at any time, though.”

  “Sadie, the lake misses you. Can’t you hear it? Sadie, Sadie,” I whispered in a gruff voice. “Where have you been? I’ve been so lonely without you.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “The lake needs to see a doctor about that frog in its throat.”

  “You know you’ve missed it, too. Go show it some love.”

  “Now you’re pushing your luck.”

  I grinned. “It’s worth a little pushing if it gets you in the water. I’ll shove you in if I have to.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  I grinned back, thinking I probably would if she hadn’t once fallen off that dock.

  “Hey, Leala!” Bree shouted, her arm motioning me forward like it was the blade of a windmill. “Come quick. You have to see this!”

  “I want see!” Tuck said, running ahead of me, stiff legged, always eager for a good show-and-tell.

  Curious, I hurried toward the dock, and when I heard Sadie fall in step behind me, I let out a sigh of relief. “What is it?”

  Bree’s eyes were wide with excitement. “It was sitting right there, plain as day.”

  Nothing could have prepared me for seeing my cell phone sitting on the corner of the dock, as if I’d set it down and forgotten it. I picked it up and turned it on, and it worked. It worked perfectly. “Thank you, Lady Laurel!” I called out loudly, my voice carrying far and wide.

  Bree’s voice was filled with wonder. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.”

  “Lake magic,” Sadie said, standing next to me with a big smile.

  I gave her a nudge with my elbow. “Sadie, Sadie,” I said again in that gruff whisper. “You know you want to jump in.”

  She laughed and cast a longing glance at the water. Finally, she said, “All right, all right. But only if you go with me.” She held her hand out to me, palm up.

  I gave my phone to Bree, met Sadie’s gaze, and put my hand in hers. Our fingers wrapped together just like when we were little girls and would skip along the sidewalk, all our problems forgotten behind us.

  Wearing matching smiles, we jumped.

  As we resurfaced, I laughed with pure joy when I saw her huge grin and the light that shone brightly in her eyes. I’d never seen Sadie more alive.

  Chapter

  23

  Sadie

  The tile saw echoed through the cottage as I walked down the stairs. I’d showered and changed after my impromptu swim. The feel of the water, as if I were one with it, had brought me so much joy.

  The saw silenced, and I fought the urge to go down the hall and tell Will that I was willing to give a relationship a try. My heart was all in. But my mind was stuck on his dark place, and how I never wanted to be the source of his pain ever again.

  Leala was still upstairs, trying to convince Tucker to nap while Connor had gone to his office to clean out his desk. Iona, Bree, Nigel, and Teddy had biked into town for a late lunch, and I was debating which project to work on while I waited for the internet installer to show up.

  The floral scent was becoming overwhelming in the great room, and I was considering sharing Mama’s flowers with people at the hospital tonight. I doubted she would notice a few missing arrangements—or mind sharing if she did find out. She was usually the first person to donate to a good cause.

  Uncle Camp was in the kitchen rooting around in the fridge, and I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with ice, then water from the fridge dispenser. “Did you hear what happened with Leala’s phone?”

  He set sandwich fixings on the counter. “Surely did. Lady Laurel must be in an especially giving mood this week. Bodes well for the lantern festival.”

  There were splatters of white paint on his blue shirt, a smudge of dirt near his nose, and crumbs in his beard, and my heart swelled with my love for him. I pulled a plate from the cabinet and handed it to him. “Are you going to set any wishes afloat this year?”

  He spread horseradish onto his bread, then added roast beef and cheddar cheese. “I believe I will.”

  I gave him a knowing smile. “Your wish wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain fair-haired guest, would it?”

  “Nigel?” he asked, after taking a big bite of his sandwich. “Nah. Though I have grown mighty fond of the little imp.”

  I laughed. “You know who I mean.”

  “Suppose I do, and I suppose I’m not sayin’ one way or another. And what about you?” He jerked his head toward the end of the hall. “Is your wish going to be about a certain contractor?”

  It had been eight years since I’d made a wish, and honestly I never thought I’d ever make another. But now … I wasn’t so sure. “Do you think a long-distance relationship can work?”

  He thought about it for a fair bit before saying, “I think if two people are committed to making a relationship work, it’ll work. Near or far.”

  I set my glass on the counter. “I’d be on the road a lot.”

  “You could cut back some.”

  “I’d have to get a place here in town.”

  “You still have a room upstairs that ain’t going no place.”

  “I hurt him when I left before. What if I do it again?”

  “What if you don’t? What do you have to lose? Either of you?”

  I slid my glass back and forth between my hands. I’d already lost so much these past eight years, more than I’d ever imagined.

  “All I’m sayin’, Sadie, is that given a chance at love, take it. It’d be a fool who walks away, and last I checked, you ain’t no fool. Anymore.”

  I shot him a wry look and he chuckled. And even though he’d called me out for my foolishness, I couldn’t stop myself from walking around the counter and giving him a hug. “Thanks, Uncle Camp.”

  “Anytime, darlin’.” He motioned with his head again toward the hallway. “Go on with you. Let yourself be happy.”

  Let myself be happy.

  Yesterday, I’d told Uncle Camp that I hadn’t been unhappy. Yet … now I realized I had been. So lost in it I’d been helpless to see it. I hadn’t felt real joy in years until jumping into the water earlier with Leala. I wanted more of it, that happiness. And to get it, I had to be willing to take a risk. “All right. I’m going.”

  He raised his glass in a mock toast, and I smiled weakly.

  A window at the end of the hall let in the afternoon light, and it soaked into the pine floors, making them look golden. The door to the room Will was working in stood ajar, and I slowly pushed it open.

  His back was to me as he worked on the bathroom floor, setting tile after tile in a neat row. I leaned against the doorjamb, watching him until he noticed me. He pulled out his earbuds and tucked them into his pocket as he stood up. As he searched my face, he began to smile.

  So did I.

  Finally, I said, “Can I suggest we explore the possible chance that we might possibly still have something worth—”

  With two steps, he was in front of me, his hands reaching for my face to cup it gently between two rough palms. I was still smiling as he kissed me, a kiss I’d been waiting for since I was fifteen years old. Because I’d suspected even then that if our hands fit together so perfectly, our mouths would, too.

  I hadn’t been wrong.

  * * *

  My reunion with Will had been briefer than I’d have liked, thanks to the arrival of a laptop I’d ordered online for Mama, followed by the internet installer, who came armed with cables, router, and modem. All of which were now housed in Mama’s office.

 
I sat in Mama’s wobbly desk chair, wondering how she got any work done when constantly checking her balance; then after a quick glance around, I realized she probably didn’t work in here often.

  This room was so unlike her. There weren’t any bright pops of color, no patterned fabrics, no personality. The curtains were sheer white, though they’d grayed from neglect. The beige walls offered no brightness; even the desk itself was a clunky, old solid oak beast scarred from use that had to have been a hand-me-down for Mama to have kept it this long.

  The only things in this space that spoke of Mama were the utter and complete lack of organization and the dust-covered framed photos on the filing cabinet, which I suspected had been placed there to remind Mama that she was in her office, not a prison, even though it felt a little like a jail cell. I didn’t understand why she hadn’t changed up the décor in all these years.

  I’d cleared a small space on the desk and was working on the laptop setup when Leala popped her head in the office doorway. “I finally got Tucker to nap. And I just saw Uncle Camp. Anything you need to share with me? About Will?” She made kissy noises.

  As I hadn’t told Uncle Camp about the kiss, I could only imagine she’d deduced what had happened by the goofy smile on my face. “Nope, nothing to tell.”

  “Liar, liar.” She grinned, then pulled a kitchen stool into the room and sat down. “I’m happy for you, Sadie. It’s been a long time coming.”

  It was nice to see Leala happy, too. She’d been floating since late this morning, buoyed by the news of Connor’s resignation and the changes they were committed to making to their marriage. Yet, I knew she harbored a secret longing to go back to work, and I worried she was setting herself up for disappointment again if she didn’t bring it out into the open. I leaned back in the chair, almost fell over, and put a catalog under the short leg to keep the chair steady. “You never said if you told Connor that you wanted to go back to work.”

  She picked up a picture frame from the filing cabinet, wiped the dust from the glass, and smiled. “I remember when this was taken. You were just learning to walk.” She turned the frame my way. It was a photo of our family having a picnic on the back lawn, with Leala chasing after me and Mama and Daddy laughing from a blanket nearby. “I never realized how much Tucker looks like you at that age. You look a lot like Daddy.”