The Shadow of Your Smile

by Susan May Warren

  “So that was the smell. Gym socks.” She grinned at him. “We’d head down there with bodies hanging out of windows, gobble down the buffet, and charge back up the hill before the bell rang for fifth hour.”

  “Jason and I used to go to the taco place during lunch. They had those puffed shells that could make my mouth water just thinking about them.”

  “It’s a Thai take-out place now.”

  “About time they added Asian food to the repertoire here in Deep Haven.”

  Emma took another square. “They make a cute couple—Jason and Nicole.”

  “Yeah. Lucky bum.” Kyle put pizza on his own plate and came around to sit on the other stool.

  But she got up. “Let’s eat outside.”

  He frowned, but she ignored it and grabbed a quilt from his sofa before stepping out onto the deck overlooking the lake.

  The brisk air seeped up under the quilt, but she wrapped it around herself and sat on the edge of the deck, conveniently under the overhang of the house.

  “It’s cold out there.”

  “Get out here, Heat Miser. I promise you won’t freeze to death.”

  He’d slipped into his boots, pulled on his jacket, and now dusted off the deck before he sat down. “My pizza is cold.”

  “But look at the stars.” They glistened against the night, and she reached out as if to grab one. “You can’t see stars like this in the Cities.”

  “I guess I never noticed.”

  “Never noticed the stars?” She shook her head, took a bite of pizza. Oh, even cold, his garlic chicken pizza could make her eyes roll back into her head. “Kelsey and I used to lay out in your yard on a warm July night and watch for shooting stars to make a wish.”

  “What did you wish for?”

  She glanced at him. “I’ll never tell.”

  He narrowed his eyes, a smile tweaking his face. He had pretty whiskers—light but with flecks of red. “Playing gigs in the Cities?”

  More like dating hometown basketball players, but—“Not really, no. Kelsey dreamed of doing something with our music; she had an entire future worked out for us. I . . . I used to like Deep Haven. I thought I would live here the rest of my life.”

  He considered her a moment, then finished off his piece. Put his plate on the deck. “I never wanted to live here.”

  This time, she was the one to frown. “I thought you loved Deep Haven.”

  He tucked his strong hands between his knees. Okay, so maybe it had been a bit foolish—albeit romantically hopeful—for her to drag him outside into subzero temperatures.

  “I did, but I thought maybe it was too small for me. I wanted to play basketball for the Timberwolves or, better, the Lakers or the Bulls. I only saw my future.”

  “It was a good future. Sports cars, big houses. Cheerleaders.”

  But he didn’t smile at her tease. “I was cut from the U of Minnesota, Duluth, Bulldogs after the first year.”

  “Cut? How can that be?”

  He looked away. “I took my fame too seriously. Started partying on campus, didn’t show up for a few practices. They benched me, and then I lost my scholarship.” He stared at his hands. “I was pretty selfish back then.”

  Oh, Kyle. She had a feeling that he had just entrusted her with little-known information. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, Kelsey’s murder sort of woke me up to the fact that I was derailing my life. I transferred to Alexandria Technical College’s law enforcement program and decided to return to Deep Haven, keep it safe.”

  Because he couldn’t do it for his sister. Suddenly his devotion to their small town made sense.

  “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Keeping it safe? How is your job going?”

  “I don’t know. I’m trying. I stopped a raccoon from eating Mrs. Schultz’s garbage yesterday.”

  “Had to use your weapon for that one?”

  That nudged out a small smile.

  “I’m also trying to solve the homicide in Harbor City.”

  “What homicide?”

  “You didn’t hear about it?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s the same incident where my mother was hurt. A robbery at the Mocha Moose there. The clerk was murdered, but my mother escaped.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible.”

  “We have very few leads and there are no suspects yet.”

  “Did your mother see them? Maybe she could identify them.”

  He shivered, and she was just about to suggest they return inside when he said, “My mother hit her head, and now she doesn’t remember anything.”

  “Nothing?” Her mother had mentioned something about Noelle falling.

  He drew in a breath, blew it out like smoke in the air. “Actually, she’s forgotten the last twenty-five years.”

  Emma stilled, no words in her.

  “She doesn’t remember marrying my father, or any of us kids.”

  “Kelsey.”

  He shook his head. “She doesn’t remember her life or her death.”

  Emma pressed a hand to her mouth. Stared out at the blackness. “I’m so sorry, Kyle. Your family must be devastated.”

  “Of course, she doesn’t remember the accident either, which puts her at risk because we don’t know who the suspect is. If he figures out who she is, he might come after her, not realizing that she can’t identify him.”

  He shivered again, and the action, along with his words, made her open the quilt to draw it around him. “You’ll find him, Kyle. I have no doubt.”

  He caught her eyes for a moment. The high school hero had vanished, leaving someone she liked better. A real hero.

  He scooted in next to her, his leg warm against hers. “During the daytime, you can see the entire town from here. The harbor, with the lighthouse along the break wall, and the Coast Guard station. The fish house—”

  “I used to think all towns smelled like hickory smoke.”

  He laughed. “The municipal campground, with all the motor homes, and even Artist’s Point.”

  “Kelsey and I used to hang out there, compose songs. She said the water made her think better.”

  “You’re an amazing guitar player,” he said. “I wish I’d known you back in high school.” He glanced at her, so close she could see the moonlight in his eyes. “I mean really known you. We would have had some fun jam sessions, you and me and Kelsey.”

  “She always wanted to invite you, but I wouldn’t let her.”

  “Why?”

  She gave him a look.

  And that’s when he kissed her. Sweetly, just like in the parking lot, his fingers against the line of her jaw, drawing her close. He tasted faintly of garlic and sweet basil and smelled like a man in jeans and cotton, strong and able to protect and serve, just as he claimed. She wove her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, just as sweetly.

  Kyle pulled away, a smile tipping his lips, and bumped his forehead to hers.

  “Because you were too tempting,” she whispered. “I would have stopped playing and simply started watching you play the drums.”

  “Drummers are hot, you know.”

  She opened her mouth, leaned back. “What?”

  “Kelsey would stand in the doorway to my room, listening to me practice, and say that. Like it was an incentive to learn or something.”

  “She always said guitarists were hot, too.”

  “They are,” he said softly and kissed her again, this time letting his touch linger.

  She’d stopped being cold but didn’t mind when he tucked her under his arm, drew her close to his chest. “Maybe Kelsey was trying to set us up, all those years ago.”

  “Maybe,” he said quietly, “it finally worked.”

  Kyle didn’t want to be jealous, but the beast prowled around, nipping at him as he watched Jason dance with his bride.

  Twilight had begun to descend, spilling amber light across the tables, a fire crackling in the hearth of the cozy rece
ption hall. With the hurricane candles and the smell of the pine boughs, he could imagine himself outside, a campfire burning.

  Even better would be if Emma were pillowed up against him, her head on his shoulder, swaying to the harmony of the waves on the shore.

  Sort of like how Nicole rested her head against Jason’s chest, his eyes closed as Emma sang Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.”

  It took every ounce of discipline not to grab Emma, pull her out onto the dance floor. But then who would play the music? He’d have to come up with something.

  “Don’t wanna close my eyes, I don’t wanna fall asleep,

  ’Cause I’d miss you, babe, and I don’t want to miss a thing. . . .”

  Indeed every word could belong to Emma. He might never forget her cute frosty nose peeking out of the quilt his mother made him for graduation or the way she’d let him kiss her, then tucked herself against him.

  Maybe Kelsey was trying to set us up.

  He should have listened. But a few years ago, he hadn’t been ready for a girl like Emma. He’d wanted a big-city girl, someone who fit into the sports-car life he’d dreamed for himself. But Emma . . . unraveled him in a way he found intoxicating. Like sitting out in the cold last night under the full smile of the moon.

  He’d make her love Deep Haven, make her long to return—in fact, he thought he might be halfway there. And then he’d walk her down the little Deep Haven Chapel aisle.

  Start the life that he’d plotted out in his mind that terrible day Kelsey died.

  He’d seen it all as if it might have been his own day as he sat in the back row during the wedding. The tiny church held about thirty-five guests, a small group for a hometown wedding, but perhaps they had their reasons.

  Jason and Nicole didn’t even have a dance at the reception, just this sway in the middle of the floor. That bum, Jason, he had his life planned out. No surprises. No derailments.

  When Emma finished the song, Jason released Nicole, smiling into her eyes.

  “How about a little Righteous Brothers,” Emma whispered to Kyle as the couple kissed to the tinkling of glasses.

  He found his beat chart as she stepped up to the mic.

  “Oh, my love, my darling,

  I’ve hungered for your touch . . .”

  He kept the beat. Wanted to nod.

  What was it about Emma Nelson that had consumed him? More than her smile or her music . . .

  Kelsey would have approved.

  He swallowed. Wait. He didn’t like Emma just because she’d been Kelsey’s friend, did he?

  She glanced at him, smiling. Her eyes seemed to settle on him, and he felt his throat tighten.

  He was ready for this, right? Ready to woo Emma back to Deep Haven, into his life? When she’d kissed him in the alley outside the 400 Bar, his life had clanged right into place.

  The last of the song faded. The guests began to gather their things as the bride and groom made their way to the door. He heard shouting, then cheers as they left the building.

  Emma started to pack up her guitar. “Thanks for playing with me, Kyle. You were fabulous. I’ll give you part of what they pay me—”

  “I didn’t do it for pay, Emma.” He knelt next to her. “And you’re not leaving that fast, are you?”

  “I should stop in and see my mother before I leave town. She was upset last night, and I got home too late to talk to her about it. It’s been hard for her with my dad gone, only Derek here. He’s gone a lot with basketball.”

  “Don’t go yet. Please.”

  She looked at him, a smile crawling up her face. “Why?”

  “We haven’t had our dance.”

  “Um, we’re the music, Kyle.”

  “I have my iPod.”

  “You’re so romantic.” But she rose and he pulled out his iPod, searching desperately for something that might draw her close. Oh, good, an old Lonestar album. He called up “Amazed.”

  He took out his earbuds, wiped one off, then handed it to her. She raised an eyebrow but put it in, and he pushed Play.

  “See?”

  “Country music?”

  “You’re in the country, baby.” He wrapped his arm around her back, took her other hand. “My mother used to dance with me in the kitchen.”

  She fit into his arms and let him lead her as they did a gentle two-step.

  “‘Every time our eyes meet, this feeling inside me is almost more than I can take . . . ,’” he sang softly. He stood a head taller than her, and she looked up at him with eyes that could name every reason why he couldn’t let her go.

  She giggled, and it turned him inside out with joy. “My dad would dance with me sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry he’s not here to dance with you,” he said quietly.

  “He would have been happy about us, Kyle. He chased off every boy who tried to date me, but I think you would have met with his approval.”

  “I would have tried. And I think I’m terribly jealous of every guy you ever dated.”

  “There wasn’t a big list, I promise. I was pretty consumed with my music.”

  “Me either. My MO was to ask out a girl for prom about four days ahead of time.”

  “I didn’t go to prom my senior year.”

  He leaned back. “What?”

  She shook her head. “It just felt . . . with Kelsey gone, I . . . No, it wasn’t right.”

  No prom. “Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Deep Haven holds so many memories I’d like to erase.”

  “Even the ones this weekend?”

  The slow grin she gave him warmed his toes and worked its way up. “What do you think?”

  Perfect. He rested his chin on her head. “So admit it: you’re falling just a little bit in love with Deep Haven again.”

  But she stiffened ever so slightly at his words. “I don’t know, Kyle. This thing with you . . . it feels so perfect, but it’s not real.”

  “It’s real to me.”

  “You don’t know everything about me.”

  “I know that I like you. That I am a fan.”

  She met his eyes then, with something that looked like pain, and disentangled herself from his arms. She handed him back the earbud. Walked over to the window to stare out at the dark lake.

  “Every time I even think of Deep Haven, all I see is Kelsey, lying so perfectly in the coffin as if she’s sleeping. Everywhere I go in town reminds me of her. The coffee shop where we hung out during third hour, when we skipped class, and Artist’s Point, where we’d sit and compose songs as the waves hit the shore. I think about the prom party your mom threw us our junior year at the supper club and watching fireworks over the harbor, snuggled in a blanket even during July.”

  Her voice shook a little, and a hot feeling of panic slid through him.

  “I haven’t written one song since Kelsey died. I can’t seem to find the words.”

  He had the precarious sense of standing on the edge of dark, ragged cliffs, a hand slowly pressing to his back. Especially when she glanced at him, her expression wretched.

  “And then there’s my dad. He’s not here, and I can’t think of living here if he’s not.”

  He wanted to weep at her words. Because, yes, he understood how it felt to return home to find no one waiting.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I remember the day I came home about three months after . . . after she died. My mom was still barricaded inside her grief, and Kirby and my father barely spoke to each other. I lay there in my room, listening for Kelsey’s voice across the hallway.”

  “She said you two always talked at night, before bed.”

  “We’d tell each other the best and worst of our days; then we’d cheer each other up, remind ourselves that tomorrow it might be better. Sometimes she’d sing me that stupid chicken song.”

  “I remember that song.” She sang softly, “‘Oh, I had a little chickie, but she couldn’t lay an egg—’”

  He laughed. “�
��So I poured boiling water up and down her leg.’”

  Emma turned, and his throat tightened at her shaky smile. “‘Oh, my poor little chickie, how she hollered and she begged.’”

  “‘Then my poor little chicken laid a hard-boiled egg.’” He wanted to cry now too, because suddenly he saw Kelsey in Emma’s eyes. Bright, funny, beautiful.

  He turned away, hating the sudden rush of emotion over a stupid song.

  And how impossibly soft Emma’s voice was when she tiptoed up to him, put her hand on his shoulder. “I know how hard it was for you to come home after she was gone.”

  He closed his eyes, finding them wet. Wow, this wasn’t quite the picture of romance he’d envisioned.

  He could still hear the Lonestar song playing softly in the background.

  Kyle shut it off, stared at his iPod. “It was awful. But what was harder was knowing I wasn’t here. I felt so helpless.”

  She looked at him a long moment. Then she eased his iPod from his hand. Ran through the playlist. “I can’t believe you’re a Garth Brooks fan.” She found a song, picked up his earbud, put it in her ear.

  “‘Looking back on the memory of the dance we shared ’neath the stars above . . . ,’” she sang, her beautiful eyes in his.

  He gathered her into his arms, something breaking inside. “Deep Haven is more than the sad memories, Emma. I have to believe that—you have to believe that. You don’t have to remember only the tragedies. Maybe . . . maybe we can help each other remember the happy times too.”

  She stared at him as if his words had pinged inside her.

  “Don’t you have happy memories?”

  She drew a breath. “Of course I do. I just . . .”

  “Let me help you find them, please. Don’t say good-bye, Emma, not yet. Not until we finish our dance.”

  Not until we finish our dance.

  Emma drove home with the stars winking at her and the memory of Kyle’s scent, his amazing arms around her.

  In two days, he’d managed to mute the haunting memories of Deep Haven, to make her listen for something more.

  So maybe she’d stay in Deep Haven just a little longer.

  She pulled into the driveway of her dark house. After the wedding, Kyle had driven her to his cabin, tucked her into a baggy snowmobile suit, and lured her onto the back of his sled. With her clinging to his parka, he’d motored them through the woods down to town and over to Honeymoon Bluff, where they could watch the moon trace silver ripples on the lake.