Starlight on Willow Lake

by Susan Wiggs

  “Yeah. Good to know.” He was suddenly unable to think about Eric Clapton or anything else...except maybe getting laid. “Hey, go meet your train. I’ll get this.” He signaled the waitress for the check.

  “Thanks, man. See you next week.”

  Mason nodded, but he didn’t even watch his friend go. He couldn’t take his eyes off Faith. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this, chatting with friends, sipping a drink from a stemmed martini glass. He wondered if he should mind his own business, or go over to her and say hi.

  As he was considering his options, Faith looked toward him, and a smile lit her face.

  Yes. He should go and say hi.

  Then he realized she hadn’t seen him at all. That smile was for someone else—the band’s keyboard player. The guy stepped right up to her table, bent down and said something to her. A moment later, she put her hand in his. They walked out onto the floor and started dancing to the getting-laid song, and for no reason he was willing to admit to, Mason felt a slow burn in his gut.

  The waitress took forever to deliver the check. It landed on the table just as the song ended. He put some cash in the folder and stood up. No point in sticking around now. He navigated through the crowd toward the exit...and came face-to-face with Faith. Her dance partner went to the bar as she moved back toward the table full of women.

  “Hey,” she said, her smile brightening. “I didn’t know you were here, Mason.”

  “Hey, yourself. Hazard of small-town life.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a hazard. It’s a perk.”

  She listed slightly to the side, and he realized she was tipsy. He’d never seen her tipsy before. Her smile was quicker, her gaze slower, as she looked up at him. She caught her lower lip with her teeth, and he noticed she was wearing lipstick. He’d never seen her wearing lipstick before, either.

  “You’re not driving tonight, are you?” he asked.

  “What? No. I’ve had three cocktails.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you a lift back to the house.”

  “Thanks,” she said, “but I’ve got a ride.”

  Shit, the keyboard guy?

  “Oh. Well.” Mason knew he sounded like a lunkhead. “I’m headed home now.” Home. When had he begun thinking of the lake house as home?

  “I’m not.” She shook back her hair and lifted it away from her neck.

  He tried not to stare at her neck. “Who’s with my mother?” he asked, feeling a flash of concern.

  “She went to the Hornets game.”

  “What?”

  “The Hornets game—they’re the local minor-league baseball team.”

  “I know what the Hornets are. Who’s with her?”

  “Rick Sanders.”

  “What the hell?”

  “She’s on a date, Mason.”

  “She can’t be on a date. She’s—”

  “She’s what? In a wheelchair? Old enough to be your mother?”

  “Yes. What’s the deal with this guy?” He had a nightmare image of the motorcycle guy with his mom. His defenseless mom.

  “The deal is, they’re on a date. She’s a grown woman. Dating is not reserved for the young and able-bodied, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I know, but—”

  “This seems to make you uncomfortable,” she observed. “I wonder why that is.”

  “I’m not uncomfortable. Just...taken aback, I guess.”

  “He seems like a nice guy. And it’s great to focus on something other than her injury and the challenges it presents.” She studied him thoughtfully, moistening her lips with her tongue. “One thing I’ve learned in my job is that the heart wants what it wants, when it wants it.”

  “Yes, okay. Still—”

  She touched her finger to his lips, startling him. “Hush, it will be fine. Trust me, I’m a professional.” She ruined the effect with a soft hiccup.

  At that moment the keyboard guy returned from the bar with two drinks. Mason offered him a curt nod and said to Faith, “See you later, then.” He tried not to look as though he was in a hurry as he made a beeline for the door.

  * * *

  Faith wanted Ray Tolley to kiss her good-night. She didn’t say so, of course, when he dropped her off at the front door. She didn’t just want the kiss. She wanted to like the kiss. She wanted the kiss to make her forget the kiss she really wanted.

  Stop it. Just stop.

  But he didn’t kiss her. And he didn’t make her forget.

  She let herself in, quietly shutting the door behind her. In the dim light of the foyer, she leaned back against the door and shut her eyes, letting out a sigh as she touched her fingers to her lips. She should have kissed him. Why hadn’t she gone for it?

  “It’s after midnight.”

  She gasped, and her eyes flew open wide. “Mason. You startled me. And I know what time it is.”

  He was carrying Bella under one arm, probably so the dog wouldn’t wake the household by barking. He set her down, then stood very close to Faith. His hair was mussed as if he’d run his fingers through it. His shirt was open at the collar, the sleeves rolled loosely back. As he planted his hands on the door frame, effectively imprisoning her, she caught a whiff of fine, smoky Scotch whiskey.

  “I don’t like you staying out so late,” he said. “I want you here, Faith. I want you home.”

  It was a ridiculously possessive thing to say, even borderline appalling. Yet she found it exquisitely provocative. The fantasy part of her knew exactly where she wanted this moment to go.

  “Mommy?” A faint, shaky voice whispered through the foyer. The reality part of her came crashing down.

  Ruby. She stood there in her summer cotton pajamas, her Gruffalo held loosely in one hand.

  Faith ducked beneath his imprisoning arms. “Hey, baby,” she said, sinking to one knee and taking her daughter by the shoulders. Immediately, she felt the child’s unnatural sweat, the shaking. “Is everything all— Damn it.” In one movement, she scooped up the little girl and rushed with her into the great room, depositing her on the sofa.

  “What’s wrong?” Mason demanded, right behind her.

  “Hypoglycemia,” Faith said. “Honey, just relax. It’s going to be okay.”

  “How can I help?” asked Mason.

  “Stay with her. I need to grab her kit.”

  He knelt down beside the sofa, tucking an afghan over her and the Gruffalo. “Hey, you,” he said softly.

  “Hey, you,” she echoed, her whisper thready and strained.

  Faith raced to the kitchen and returned with the emergency kit. Ruby’s symptoms were all too familiar—shaking, sweating, agitation—and they wouldn’t go away on their own.

  “Should I call someone?” Mason asked.

  She knew he meant 911, but didn’t want to say so in front of Ruby.

  Faith shook her head. “We’ve been down this road before. Ruby’s a trouper. Here, I’ll let you do the fun part. You get to squirt the cake icing into her mouth.”

  “Seriously?”

  Faith handed him the tube. “Ruby, don’t fall asleep on us, okay?”

  Her face was as pale as the moon, her eyes enormous and full of pain. “My head hurts.”

  “I know, baby,” Faith murmured as she prepared the injection. She mixed the powder with the diluent and shook the tiny bottle, then filled the syringe, holding the clear tube up to the light to make sure it didn’t change color.

  Meanwhile, Mason fed Ruby the icing, which she was almost too weak to swallow. With quick, practiced movements, Faith tapped the syringe, pinched up an area of Ruby’s thigh and injected the Glucagon. The child had so little fat that the needle had to go in at a slant to keep the medicine from going into muscle.

  Ruby winced and then whimpe
red. Mason’s face mirrored her pain. “Sorry, Ruby Tuesday. I’m really sorry,” he said.

  “Give her some of these pretzels,” she said, dropping the syringe into the sharps disposal box. “I’m going to go make you a ham-and-cheese sandwich, Ruby. Your favorite. Be right back.”

  As she worked hastily in the kitchen, Faith was on adrenaline-induced autopilot, the sensation familiar, circling her heart and her mind back to incidents with her mother, with Dennis, past spells with Ruby. Every drop of alcohol Faith had consumed at the Hilltop had evaporated the moment she’d realized something was wrong with Ruby.

  Suppose this was a punishment for neglecting her kid and haring off to a night at a bar? Maybe it was a punishment for craving the forbidden fruit that was Mason Bellamy.

  She was just finishing up with the sandwich when she heard faint music drifting sweetly from the great room. The melody was as soft and delicate as a whisper, expertly played. Grabbing the sandwich and a tea towel, she hurried back to Ruby.

  It wasn’t a recording, but Mason, seated at the Steinway, gently stroking a Chopin nocturne from the instrument. He glanced up as she entered, but didn’t stop playing. Ruby lay placidly on the sofa, her color already better as she munched on a pretzel. Next to her were Bella the dog and her Gruffalo, looking cozy and content. Faith sat down on the floor next to her and did a quick check of her levels, then fed her half the sandwich. At some point, Ruby drifted off to sleep.

  Faith stood up, gazing down at the beautiful child, her angel face relaxed now, and flush with color. The music trailed off into silence, and she felt Mason step up behind her, closing his hands over her shoulders. She collapsed against him, melting into his strength. It felt incredible to simply surrender, even for a few seconds, before reeling herself back in.

  “Okay. It’s okay, Faith.” His whisper was warm in her ear.

  “I know. Sorry. I’m being silly. Like I said, this is nothing new for us. But each time... It never gets easier.”

  “And it shouldn’t, so don’t apologize. What the hell was that, anyway? Explain to me.”

  “Hypoglycemia is another name for low blood sugar. Even when we’re careful, it can happen if Ruby gets too much insulin, or exercises too much, or doesn’t eat enough. Maybe she was excited about the movie tonight and didn’t eat her dinner. Could be she was running around with the dog. Anyway, it can develop quickly in people with diabetes. She was right to come and get us... I mean, me. By now, she’s familiar with the symptoms—weakness, sweating, shaking, headache.”

  “And if she hadn’t come to us?” he asked softly.

  “It can get bad, fast. If it goes on too long, it could cause seizure, coma or death.” She nearly choked on the word as she stepped away and turned to face him.

  He was gazing down at Ruby, his expression one of stark pain. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured.

  “It’s a lot,” she said. “But I just do it. I always have. This is what it feels like to love a child more than you love your own life.”

  He furrowed his fingers through his hair in the familiar gesture, then looked deep into Faith’s eyes. “How can we keep this from happening?”

  “Keep this...” Did he mean them? Or Ruby? Faith went with the safe assumption. “There are no guarantees. It’s something that can happen to someone with her condition. We’re vigilant, we try to keep the levels right, but sometimes it goes off track.”

  “So taking her to a specialist, maybe getting different equipment...?”

  “There are some new technologies, like an implanted pump or even an artificial pancreas, but since they’re so new and specialized, they aren’t covered by my insurance program,” she said. “And there’s a jet injector that’s more advanced, but it’s not covered, either. The nozzles, jets and other parts have a high price tag, but I’m saving up for one.”

  “We’ll get one tomorrow,” he said. “And we’ll find a specialist to look into the other therapies.”

  She bristled then. “We will not. I appreciate your concern, but—”

  “It’s not concern,” he snapped. “It’s just common sense. You’ve heard of that, right? Common sense?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re doing. You do this a lot—you’re trying to convince the world that you’re a jerk. Why is that?”

  “Because I am a jerk.”

  “Who rescues people.”

  “What? Bullshit.”

  “Don’t look so surprised. I’m the help, remember? We talk among ourselves. I know you saved Phil from an abusive relationship, and Wayan’s family from being separated. Lena said you paid for all her schooling and green card—”

  “I’m always in the market for a tax write-off,” he said with an arrogant wave of his hand.

  “Then don’t bother with us. We aren’t interested in being anyone’s write-off.”

  22

  Faith was still getting used to her new image in the mirror. It was momentarily startling to get up in the morning and see her face framed by the long, styled cut and highlights. She dressed in white crop pants and a sleeveless checkered blouse, and even applied a touch of makeup, trying to emulate the technique of the salon.

  Ruby had had a restful night. Unlike Faith. As she went downstairs, she struggled to turn off the replaying reel of last night with Mason.

  “Very nice,” said Alice, who was in the kitchen, just finishing her breakfast.

  “You, too,” Faith said. “I love that haircut on you.” She did a quick check of Ruby’s chart to make sure her levels were all right. Next to Ruby’s kit, she noticed an unopened box. Contents—a jet injector, and a supply of disposable injection chambers. “Where did this come from?”

  “Donno picked that up at the twenty-four-hour pharmacy last night,” Alice said.

  Faith gritted her teeth, trying not to let her exasperation show. She was not going to let Mason play fairy godfather. Then she scanned Alice’s care chart. There was another appointment with the neurologist and surgeon today to discuss the nerve transfer procedure.

  “Shall we compare notes, then?” asked Alice. “How was your evening?”

  Faith kept her head down, hoping to hide the flush in her cheeks. “It was great. I had a little too much to drink, and just the right amount of fun.” That much was true. She’d enjoyed hanging out with the girls and listening to the local band. Her dance with Ray Tolley marked the first time she’d danced with a guy since a friend’s wedding reception last year. He seemed like a nice-enough guy, a local musician. When he’d asked for her number, she’d gotten flustered. It was silly. She was thirty-four years old, far too mature to get flustered.

  Seeing Mason at the bar had only made things worse. Unlike Ray, Mason wasn’t simply “nice.” He was...complicated. And taken, she was quick to remind herself. Last night’s spat was proof that they didn’t get along. She needed to remember that for those times when they seemed to be getting along too well.

  “I need details,” Alice said.

  “What?” Faith knew a moment of panic. “Oh, about the Hilltop. Let’s see. I had three cocktails—something called a blackberry fizz. Fresh blackberries, honey, lemon, vodka and seltzer. They were excellent, so I had a fourth one, without the vodka. The group playing was called Inner Child and they were fantastic, too. Lots of nineties cover songs, and some original stuff.”

  Alice yawned audibly. “You’re boring me.”

  “Okay, I made some new friends. I danced with one guy. His name is Ray, and he plays keyboard with the band. I gave him my number.”

  Now her eyebrows shot up. “And when he calls...?”

  I’ll wish he was someone else. “Then we’ll see. Now it’s your turn. I need details, too. Not the boring ones. What is Rick Sanders like?”

  Alice’s mouth softened into not quite a smile. “The game was
far more entertaining than expected. I had a beer and a hot dog, and it wasn’t weird at all that he helped me eat. After the game, we went up to Blanchard Park for ice cream.”

  “Now who’s boring whom?” asked Faith. “You haven’t told me what he’s like.”

  “He had a career as a photojournalist for the Associated Press, and it turns out we’ve been to many of the same places. Now he’s a stringer, working freelance and living in Woodstock.”

  Faith mimicked her exaggerated yawn. “That’s his résumé, Alice.”

  “All right.” She sighed, and her smile blossomed. “He’s lovely—interesting and interested. We got along very well, and we’re going to a movie next week. And he wasn’t the least bit disconcerted about me being a quadriplegic. And having a man hold my ice cream cone for me was oddly...gratifying. How’s that?”

  “Much better.” Faith paid as much attention to Alice’s face as she did to her words. Everything about Alice seemed softer, more engaged. It could be due to her anticipation of today’s appointment. Or it could be her new friendship with Rick Sanders.

  “Morning, ladies.” Looking impossibly put together, in khakis and a fitted shirt, Mason came into the kitchen. He bent and kissed his mother’s cheek in a gesture that seemed natural and unforced—a gratifying change for them, Faith observed. Then he turned to her, and a beat passed. It was brief, just a blip, but in that moment, a thousand questions crowded into her mind. What did they do now? Pretend nothing had happened last night? Make a silent pact to avoid mentioning it? Ever?

  “How’s Ruby?” he asked.

  Faith let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Fine. She had a restful night.”

  “Did something happen to Ruby?” Alice’s eyes filled with fear.

  “Low blood sugar,” Faith said. “It happens. She bounced right back.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Alice looked at Mason. “There’s coffee,” she said. “I’ll take a refill, please.”

  “Sure.” He looked from Alice to Faith. “Did I interrupt something?”