As the Light Fades (ARC)

by Catherine West

  Liz rolled her eyes. “The thing is, I have no idea how we’re going to make this work. You’ve seen the mess at Wyldewood, and they’re insisting on having it there. Not that we could find another location at this point. So I’ve been looking at some pictures. I guess you’re not really interested in weddings at your age but . . .” She showed Mia the ideas she’d pinned anyway. The girl scanned through Liz’s newly created wedding-board and gave a huff.

  “Don’t you think it’s dumb, the fairytale wedding dream and all that? Some of the girls at school sometimes, they talk like having a wedding is the most important thing in the world. Spending all that money, all that fuss for one day. It just seems so . . . fake. I mean, as if it’s going to last.” Mia sucked her teeth and took another drink. “Look how many people get divorced, right? It’s ridiculous to spend all that money on a day that means nothing.”

  “Well.” Liz drew in a breath and fiddled with the ring she wore on her right hand. A brilliant cut sapphire that Laurence had given her two Christmases ago. She thought he’d been about to propose, but he’d quickly set her straight. Oh no, she’d be getting the Hope Diamond when that happened. She didn’t know why she still wore the ring, except for the fact that she liked it. But maybe it was time to get rid of it. She’d probably get a good amount for it. “I happen to agree with everything you just said.”

  Mia sat back and stared. “Really?”

  A smile slipped out before she could stop it. “Yeah, sad as it is.” Liz scrolled through a few more photos. “But not every marriage ends in divorce. I know plenty of happy couples.” One or two at least.

  “What about you?” Mia asked. “Ever been married?”

  “I have not. Don’t think that’s in the cards for me.”

  “Too much trouble, huh?”

  “Something like that.” Liz laughed and wondered what the girl’s childhood had been like. “I suppose if the right man came along, I might consider it. But then, how do you really know if he’s the right man?”

  “Exactly!” Mia clapped her hands together. “My stepfather was the biggest loser on the face of the earth. But my mom thought he was all that. Married him, and off we went to Arizona. Boring as stink out there, by the way. Unless you like hot weather and cactus.”

  “Mm.” Liz realized she was seeing Mia for the first time without makeup. She took in the pale skin, wide eyes with thick eyelashes, and finely sculpted jawline. She was a pretty girl. In a couple of years, she’d be a knockout. Liz wondered if she’d ever believe that. “I was in Scottsdale for a conference once. I thought it was quite nice.”

  “Right. Probably at the Fairmont, weren’t ya?”

  “I think so. How long did you live in Arizona?”

  “Too long. We left Boston when I was seven. Came back last year. I was glad. My mom seemed happy too, for a while. To get away from him, you know? But then she . . . well. Same old same old. She’s been on and off drugs my whole life. Don’t know why I expected anything different.” She reached for the laptop and pointed at the screen. “I like the way they have the lights strung here. If you had a big room with beams, you could do that easy enough.”

  “Right. It gives a nice ambiance, doesn’t it? Let’s pin that one.” Liz swallowed sorrow and sipped from her mug. “So you didn’t like your stepfather much?”

  “Like him? There was nothing to like. He beat my mom all the time, and he . . .” Mia’s eyes shone too brightly as she shook her head in slow motion. “I hate his guts. I hope he’s dead.”

  She shouldn’t have asked. Oh Lord, she shouldn’t have asked.

  “I’m sorry.” Liz tried to recover from Mia’s truth-telling. Tried to extricate the awful lump in her throat and the strange emotion that made her just want to give the kid a hug and tell her it was all going to be okay.

  Wow, seriously? Where did that come from? She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She was a lawyer. She’d heard enough unhappy childhood stories. Life was terribly unfair sometimes. And some kids got a raw deal. But somehow, tonight, Mia’s story seemed different. And it made her feel things she’d long since convinced herself incapable of.

  They watched a movie. Liz didn’t pay attention to any of it, and by the time it was over, Mia was curled up under a blanket, sound asleep. Liz let out a long sigh and rubbed her tired eyes. Rain still pounded the roof. She couldn’t very well wake the girl and put her back on the path to the house. She reached for her phone and scanned through her contacts until she found Matthew’s number. Considered a text, but then stood and walked across the room while it rang through.

  “Elizabeth? What’s wrong? Did Mia call you?” He was on full alert, sounding far more awake than she was at one in the morning.

  “Everything’s okay.” She tried to sound calm, but her mind was filled with images she didn’t want to think about. “She’s here. I guess the storm woke her. I was awake anyway. It’s fine. Anyway, she’s sound asleep on my couch. I don’t want to wake her. I just wanted to let you know, so you didn’t get home later and freak out.”

  “Ah.” A sound got stuck in his throat, and he didn’t say anything for a minute. “She doesn’t do so well in storms. Which kind of sucks considering where we live.”

  “No kidding. We do get some doozies. My brothers would make fun of Lynnie and me. We’d always hide under the covers and wait for it to be over.”

  “You don’t like to watch the lightning?” His voice slowed and he sounded a little less tense. She hadn’t meant to scare him, but she couldn’t very well not let him know where his niece was.

  “Not me. Gray’s the lightning chaser in our crazy clan. Speaking of, guess what he sprang on me today?” She curled into a chair and told him her tale of woe, not at all surprised when his soft laughter flooded through her.

  “He knew you wouldn’t turn down the challenge.”

  “You think?” Liz smiled and closed her eyes with a sleepy yawn. “It’ll be the best darn wedding Nantucket has ever seen, even if I have to move hell and high water to do it.”

  “I have complete faith in you, Elizabeth. Hey, this could even be a new career for you. You will be the ultimate wedding planner.”

  “I hate weddings.”

  “Of course you do.” He chuckled, and she heard the scrape of a chair and the thud of boots. He was probably walking around whatever building he was watching tonight. “Show me an unattached person who doesn’t.”

  “Right? I always retreat to the ladies’ room when the bride gets ready to throw the bouquet.”

  “Good call. I hang out near the bar and try to avoid unnecessary conversation with over-eager women.”

  She laughed. “Well, this shouldn’t be quite as bad as some I’ve attended. Gray said he wanted to keep it low key. Ironically, my brother wouldn’t know low key if it came up and kissed him.”

  “That’s why you’re in charge.”

  “An excellent point.” Liz yawned again. “Well, I’ll let you go. Enjoy the rest of your shift.”

  “What, you don’t want to stay up and talk to me for three more hours?”

  “Sure. I’ll just sit here and you can listen to me snoring in about two minutes.”

  “I doubt you snore.”

  “Hanging up now, Matthew.”

  “Probably a good idea. Goodnight, Elizabeth. Sleep well.”

  Oh, that was debatable. But she put herself to bed anyway, closed her eyes, and found herself imagining what Matthew Stone would look like in a suit.

  twenty

  Matthew rose with the sun on Sunday morning, pulled on shorts and a t-shirt, and jogged down to the beach. He ran for longer than usual, sneakers sinking into wet sand, heart pounding as he pushed himself beyond his limit. Finally, he slowed, leaned over his knees, and took a few deep breaths. He’d come home after his shift yesterday and crashed. Mia had woken him at one point to see if he wanted food. He hadn’t emerged until dinner and couldn’t even remember what they’d eaten. He wasn’t cut out for this line of work.
r />   He inhaled salty air, walked back toward the steps that led up to the house, and wondered what Elizabeth was doing today. He found his thoughts focusing on her more often than he liked. In the weeks they’d known each other, she’d somehow managed to infiltrate that high wall around his heart. He enjoyed talking to her. Enjoyed being around her. Not that they’d spent a whole lot of time together. The few chats they’d shared didn’t exactly count as anything close to a date.

  When was the last time he’d been on one of those?

  And if he asked her out? Matt grinned and wiped sweat off his brow with the bottom of his shirt. Elizabeth Carlisle would turn him down quicker than the loan officer at the bank. Nah. He had enough to worry about without putting a woman in the mix. Albeit an extremely attractive and interesting one. Of course, there were her issues to consider. Her wariness, the need for the alarm system, the distrust he saw in her eyes. He couldn’t help wonder what kind of past relationships she’d had. His head told him he was better off not knowing, better to steer clear. But he had a sinking feeling his heart had other ideas.

  “Matthew? What on earth are you doing? You’ll catch your death!”

  Speaking of women he didn’t understand.

  His mother stood at the top of the steps, huddled in an argyle blanket she’d pulled off the couch in the sunroom.

  “Coming.” He took the stairs two at a time, pausing at the top to give her a smile. It wasn’t all that bad, having them around. He hadn’t thought he’d missed his parents. Missed the relationship they’d once had. But now that they were here . . . “It’s going to get a lot colder than this in the next few weeks, you know.” They’d probably be on their way back to Boston before Thanksgiving anyway. Inside, Matt grabbed his sweatpants from the chair where he’d left them, pulled them on, and strode to the kitchen to get water. He stopped in his tracks. The mouth-watering smell of bacon wrapped around him. His dad was at the stove. Cooking.

  Sunday breakfast.

  A fleeting image of the four of them—him, Rachel, and Mom and Dad—sitting around the table, laughing about something Dad had said, flickered in the recesses of his memory. It was their tradition. Every Sunday, they’d eat breakfast together before going to church. He’d forgotten that.

  Mia glanced his way from where she stood setting the table, bare feet poking out under black skinny jeans, an oversized sweatshirt covering the rest of her.

  “What are you doing up?” He couldn’t help ask.

  “They woke me.” She actually grinned like that was a good thing.

  Coffee. He needed coffee.

  “Well, do you want to change first? Shower?” Mom hovered, holding a mug of steaming coffee toward him.

  “Uh . . . no. I’ll just take that.” Matt took the mug she offered, shook his head, and swept away the cobwebs in his mind. He sank into his chair at the table and stared at Mia. She shrugged and gave him a don’t ask me look.

  Dad served up fried eggs and bacon and pancakes. The four of them ate mostly in silence, his mother remarking on the weather and when it might snow, Dad grunting some tacit reply. It was hardly the happy family routine from his childhood. Then again, they hadn’t been a happy family for a lot of years.

  Matt suddenly dropped his fork and stared at Mia. “You’re eating bacon.”

  She raised her eyes mid-bite, crunched the whole slice up in her mouth, and swallowed with a smile. “So?”

  “You don’t eat meat.” Matt blinked. It wasn’t even ten in the morning. Could this day get any weirder?

  “Meh.” She shrugged and popped another piece into her mouth. “Changed my mind.”

  “Apparently.” Matt reached for the coffee pot. He needed more. And then some.

  “I’ve got homework.” Mia was the first to finish, pushing back her chair.

  “Plate in the sink, please,” Matt muttered.

  She raised a brow that said she’d been going to do that, stood with her empty plate, started toward the sink, then turned back toward them, her eyes fixed on her grandfather. “Thanks. That was really good.”

  Matt watched color creep into his father’s cheeks. They hadn’t spoken of Dad’s outburst that awful night. Easier not to, he supposed. And from the looks of things, Mia was ready to move on.

  Dad cleared his throat, took off his glasses, and blinked at his granddaughter. “You’re very welcome, Mia.”

  She nodded, loaded her plate into the dishwasher, and scooted out of the room.

  Mom poured more coffee, and Matt concentrated on the clock on the wall.

  “Matthew, we’ve been talking.” His mother’s voice cut through the silence, and Matt swallowed a groan.

  “About?” He faced them, mentally ticking off any number of directions the conversation could go.

  “Why are you working two jobs?” she asked quietly, clear eyes studying him. “Why are you renting out the coach house? Are you really that strapped for cash?”

  He inhaled, propped his elbows, and steeled himself for the impending conversation. “Well.” Matt let out his breath. “Actually, yes. As you may know, Mother, living on Nantucket is not cheap. I inherited the house, yes, but that’s put me in a whole new tax bracket, and my salary doesn’t match it. I had to take out a loan to make some repairs to the main house and then the coach house before I leased the place. So I’m still paying that off. And it’s not just me anymore. I have Mia to support.”

  “You have a trust fund.” Dad sat back, folded his arms, and stared him down. Even he was beginning to look like he might belong on the island. He’d done away with his starched button-downs, opting for more casual polo-neck shirts and a navy cable-knit sweater that made him look far less formidable.

  “The last time we had this conversation I told you I didn’t want it.” Matt sat back, clenched his fists, and stared out the window at a collection of clouds moving slowly across the gray sky. “That hasn’t changed.”

  “The last time we had this conversation you were twenty-one, and you were not the sole guardian of a teenage girl,” Mom reminded him astutely.

  “She’s not lacking for anything.” It was hard not to resent the insinuation. “There’s food on the table. She’s in school. She’s . . .” His heart rate sped up and he drew in a breath. “She’s fine.”

  “Is she?”

  “I just said, she’s fine.” He lowered his voice. “She’s got some issues, for sure, but so would you if you’d gone through what she has. I love my sister, don’t get me wrong, but Rachel’s got a lot to answer for. A lot.” He dragged a hand down his face. He needed to shut up. It wouldn’t do any good to dredge up the past. To give them all the details. And he was pretty sure Mia wouldn’t want him telling them anything.

  Unspoken words passed between them in a glance he couldn’t interpret. Mom fiddled with the gold buttons on her wool cardigan, brushed back her hair, and gave a small sigh. Dad looked like he had a bad case of indigestion.

  “Better tell him, Phyllis.”

  “Tell me what?” Matt straightened.

  Mom met his eyes with a pained expression. “The other night, when Mia was so upset . . . remember?”

  “She’s upset pretty much every night, Mom,” he growled. “Which night?”

  “Tuesday, I think? The day you took the kids to the old folks home?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Well, it’s just . . . that I . . .” she blinked, her eyes unusually moist. “I found a razor blade on the bathroom floor that night. It had blood on it.”

  “A razor blade?” Matt shook his head. “You mean a disposable razor?”

  “No.” Mom sighed and glanced at his father again. “Just a blade.”

  “Was it yours?” He swung his gaze to his father. But he knew Dad was using the bathroom on the other side of the house.

  “Sorry.” Dad raised a hand. “I use an electric razor anyway.”

  If there was a razor blade on the floor of the bathroom he shared with Mia . . . he scrambled to think of any other possible
reason for her discovery. There wasn’t one. Could he insist on denying the very thing they were trying to tell him?

  “Do you think Mia is capable of hurting herself?” Dad asked in a low voice, glancing toward the door.

  “Hurting herself?” A buzzing sound started in Matt’s ears.

  “Cutting, Matthew. You know when—”

  “I know what cutting is, Dad. I teach high school.” They couldn’t be right . . . Matt took a shaky breath and lowered his head. If Mia were cutting, he’d know. Wouldn’t he?

  He raised his head to meet their worried faces, his vision blurring. “No. I think you’re wrong. There must be another explanation.” Had to be.

  “I know it’s not a possibility you want to contemplate, Matthew,” his mother interjected, “but when I worked with Big Brothers, we—”

  “Stop!” Matt slammed a hand on the table and shot to his feet. “Mia isn’t one of your charities, Mother. And you can’t come into my life now and act like concerned parents, okay? You’re a few years too late. You can’t throw money at us and make it all better!”

  “Matthew.” Dad leaned forward in that annoying way when he wanted to get a point across. “Calm down and try out a little civility. We’re just trying to help.”

  “Help?” Matt placed his palms on the table and stared him down. “You? You want to help? I can’t handle the irony of that statement. I don’t even know what to say to you.” His breath raged along with his feelings, so many years of bottled emotions begging for release.

  Dad cleared his throat. “Despite what you may think of me, I have been convicted of no crime.” The pointed words were a direct hit. A subtle attack on Rachel.

  “This isn’t about you, Harrison.” Mom put a hand on Dad’s arm. “Matthew, we’ve been here a few weeks now, and whether you believe it or not, we are concerned. You’re clearly exhausted, and Mia is . . . well, frankly, I think she’s got more problems than any of us know how to deal with. I don’t sleep all that well myself these days, so I’ve heard her up during the night. Heard you get up to go to her and try and calm her down. How long do you think you can carry on like this?”