Shore Lights

by Barbara Bretton

  “You should ask her,” Lucy said, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

  “I have,” Maddy said. “The most I get is some vague New Age-y kind of answer about changing lifestyles and following your bliss.”

  Lucy started to laugh. “Your mother never said she followed her bliss.”

  “No, but that’s what she meant. It just doesn’t sound much like the Rose I grew up with.”

  “She isn’t the Rose you grew up with. She’s changed and so have you.”

  “I want to know why.”

  “It’s not my place,” Lucy said. “This is between you and your mother.”

  “Wonderful, Lucy. After all these years, you pick today to become diplomatic.”

  “I had to start sometime,” Lucy said.

  “Come on, Lucy, what is it? Did she have a bad hair day? Did one of her boyfriends break up with her? Did she just get sick and tired of the old nine-to-five routine and decide to hang up her realtor’s license? Give me a hint, please, Lucy. Just a little hint.”

  But for the first time in DiFalco history, Aunt Lucy’s lips were sealed.

  KELLY WAS WAITING in the front yard when Aidan arrived. Claire’s street had been cleared, but the plows had managed to block every driveway with a mountain of snow that would take the homeowners hours to dig their way through.

  Her Tercel was stuck in the driveway for the duration—he recognized it under the heavy blanket of snow—but there wasn’t a blizzard on earth that could hold his daughter in the same house with her younger cousin for one minute longer.

  “You took forever!” she said as she leaped into the truck, spraying snow everywhere. “Billy was driving me completely crazy with that stupid Game Boy you gave him.”

  “Good morning to you, too,” he said, sounding like every father of every teenage daughter in the country.

  “Oh, Daddy!” She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Good morning.” She unwrapped the heavy green scarf that was looped around her neck and sighed. “You don’t know how great quiet sounds.”

  He grinned. “Gives you new respect for your aunt Claire, doesn’t it?”

  “How does she stand it?” Kelly said. “It’s like living in the middle of a tornado.”

  “It’s called parenthood.”

  She shot him a funny look, one he couldn’t read. Then again, that might have been a trick of the light. “I wasn’t like that.”

  “Really?” He started to laugh. “You were a great kid, Kel, but you weren’t quiet.”

  They rode a few blocks in silence until he turned south on Main Street.

  “Wrong way,” she said.

  “I’m swinging by the Candlelight.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Thought we’d say hello to your new employer.”

  She groaned. “I was going to tell you, Daddy.”

  “When?” he asked. “Your first day on the job?”

  “It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. I saw the ad and—” She shrugged her shoulders. “I figure the more I can save before college, the better. Then I won’t have to look for work the second I get to Columbia.”

  “Anything else you forgot to tell me?”

  There it was again. A look that came and went so quickly he wasn’t sure it had been there at all.

  “I’m serious, Kel. Something on your mind?”

  “What could be on my mind?”

  “School. Work.” He paused a moment, debating. “Seth.”

  “No, everything’s fine.”

  They glided to a stop at a traffic light, and he turned to look at her more closely. “You look tired.”

  “You’d look tired too if you spent the night under the same roof with that little maniac.”

  “You’ve looked tired for the last week or so,” he said. She was working too hard, asking too much of herself. Why hadn’t he been paying attention? “You don’t have to push yourself so hard, Kel. We’re not broke. I can help you out with expenses when you’re at Columbia.”

  Her face was turned away from him as she watched Sara Minelli shoveling her front walk at the corner of Bay Breeze Circle and Main Street. When was the last time they had had a heart-to-heart? Damned if he could remember. For a long time after the accident, the focus had been on his needs, his recovery. His strong and competent daughter had stepped into the breach and held them together with the sheer force of her will. Two years had come and gone since the accident that took Billy’s life. His little girl had gone from child to woman when he wasn’t looking, and he found himself wondering what he had missed along the way and how he could get it back.

  Was this how it was supposed to be? One day you wake up and discover that your child has a life of her own, one that doesn’t involve you. One you don’t even know about.

  “I’m okay.”

  “You don’t sound it.”

  “There’s a lot going on at school right now,” she said. “Yearbook meetings, the newspaper, band.” She shrugged but didn’t turn away from the window. “You know.”

  “And you want to add another job to the mix. Doesn’t sound like a great idea to me.”

  She was silent as they moved forward again. “So maybe I’ll quit one of my other jobs.”

  “Good idea. You work hard enough as it is.”

  “I like to try different things,” she said. “I thought it might be fun to see how a B&B works from the inside.”

  “It’s housekeeping,” he said, “just on a bigger scale.”

  “Are you going to tell me I can’t take the job?”

  “No,” he said, “but I’m going to ask you to evaluate how much is too much.” He glanced at her and they locked eyes. “Can you do that?”

  “Yes, I can do that.” She adjusted the zipper on her down jacket. “If you’re not asking me to quit the job, why are we going to the Candlelight?”

  “Mermaids,” he said. “We’re going to meet a mermaid.”

  “COME WITH US, Grandma,” Hannah said as Maddy zipped her into her bright blue parka. “Mommy’s going to make a snowman.”

  “A mermaid,” Maddy corrected her daughter. “We’re making snow mermaids.”

  Rose threw back her head and started to laugh. “Not the infamous snow mermaids again!”

  Maddy winked at her over Hannah’s head. “A G-rated version this time around.” She adjusted Hannah’s cap, then handed her the red mittens Lucy knitted for her. “Why don’t you join us?”

  “Lucy’s going home soon and we still have guests.” One more day. Please, God, just one more day.

  “I think they’re all taking a siesta,” Maddy said. “You’re allowed to enjoy the fresh air, aren’t you?”

  “We’ll see,” Rose said. She reached out and adjusted Maddy’s collar. “Don’t forget your camera. Hannah’s first snowmaid is a very special occasion.”

  They hurried out the back door, across the plowed driveway, then down the snowy slope to the boardwalk. The B&B owners on the south end of Main Street paid dearly for special services, and it was on days like this when they were grateful for every penny spent. Driveways were clear. Paths. Steps. The parking lot. Sand had been scattered liberally. It would take another twenty-four hours for the rest of the township to catch up with them.

  She heard footsteps behind her followed by the scent of her sister’s gardenia-scented perfume.

  “I thought you’d be down on the beach with them,” Lucy said, joining her at the window.

  “I made a decision.” Rose turned to face her sister. “You’re not going to like it.”

  “I was afraid of this.” Lucy headed straight for the coffeepot. “You’re not going to tell her about the breast cancer, are you?”

  “That’s right,” Rose said, preparing for battle. “I thought about it long and hard last night. I had the perfect opportunity to tell her the truth and I didn’t.”

  “You couldn’t.”

  “Couldn’t. Didn’t. What’s the difference? Things are better between us, Lucia. For the first time since—
well, maybe the first time ever, we’re enjoying each other’s company. She laughs at my jokes! Do you know how wonderful it feels to see my daughter laugh at my jokes? I wouldn’t jeopardize that for the world.”

  “Just because she laughs at your jokes, don’t think she’s forgiven you for not being there when she needed you. That’s not the kind of hurt a daughter forgets, honey. Not without one damn fine reason.”

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” Rose said, wishing Lucy would try to see things her way just this once. “If things stayed exactly the way they were today, I could be happy.”

  “What about Maddy?”

  “What about her? She’s moving ahead with her life. We’re rebuilding our relationship. Why belabor old grievances?”

  “If you don’t understand, Rose, there’s no point to this conversation.”

  “If it’s the family medical history you’re concerned with, she’s still young. I know she does a monthly self-exam. She goes to the doctor. I’m not worried.”

  “You should be and not because of the cancer.”

  “She’s my daughter, Lucia. This is my decision.”

  “Same old Rose,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “I thought you were making progress the last few years, but I was kidding myself.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s always about you. It’s always about what you want, what you think, what you need.”

  Rose’s temper started to simmer. “It’s called self-sufficiency, Lucia. I think we all subscribe to the theory.”

  “It’s called selfishness,” Lucy shot back. “You’re so busy planning how you’re going to handle things, how you’re going to cope, that it never occurs to you that maybe part of the process is letting yourself ask for help.”

  The statement caught Rose by surprise. “I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s put the rest of the family aside for the time being and just talk about Madelyn. You denied her the opportunity to help you, Rosie. You didn’t give her a chance to step up to the plate and be there for you. Being needed is one of life’s joys.”

  Angry tears welled up from nowhere and spilled down Rose’s cheeks, but she refused to acknowledge their existence.

  “Go ahead, Rosie,” Lucy urged. “Say it. I can take it. Say whatever you need to say. Get it out in the open.”

  The words ripped their way up from the center of Rose’s gut. “Damn you, Lucia, I didn’t tell her because I didn’t think she would care.” Better to be alone by choice than have to face the fact that your only child can’t stand to be in the same time zone with you.

  “She would have been here.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I think I do. That girl loves you. Maybe more than you deserve. And she’s been looking for your approval since the day she was born.”

  All of Rose’s energy seemed to vanish at once, and she sank into one of the kitchen chairs and rested her elbows on the table. She closed her eyes against the glare of reflected sunlight crashing through the window.

  “I could override you, Rosie. I could walk down to the beach and tell her everything.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “I should.”

  “But you won’t,” Rose repeated. “Give me the chance to get to know my child again. Maybe in a few months I’ll feel differently, but I’ve waited over thirty years for this. Let me enjoy it, please.”

  “What do you think she’ll do when you tell her? Turn away forever? Rosie, if she didn’t turn away from you forever after you blew off the birth of your granddaughter, she’ll never turn away. When are you going to understand how much she loves you? How much we all love you.”

  “I wouldn’t have told you if you hadn’t been with me when I got the news.”

  “And I thank God every night I was there. We’re not meant to go through things like that alone, Rosie. That’s why we’re a family.”

  They had been down that road a thousand times before and would never agree on the matter. Lucy believed a burden shared was a burden halved. Rose believed burdens grew heavier with each pronouncement. How much easier it had been to go through the lumpectomy and the months of treatment afterward keeping the truth a tightly held secret. No sad eyes watching your every move. No endless “But how are you really?” refrains coming at you ten times a day. No counting you out before you had a chance to be counted in.

  At least she had spared Maddy that. She hadn’t tarnished the joy of pregnancy and childbirth with the harsh reality of cancer. Maddy had been joyous those nine months. Astonishment had turned to wonder and wonder to joy, and there she had stayed. Rose wouldn’t have changed any of it, not for the world. No matter how badly she yearned to be with her daughter when she gave birth to a daughter of her own.

  What was done was done. She had no regrets.

  And if she did, she would never admit it, not even to herself.

  THE BEACH BEHIND the Candlelight was crowded with kids and parents. At least a dozen snowmen were in progress and at least twice as many snowball fights. An impressive pair of snow forts were being erected at the south side of the shoveled pathway by a group of Kelly’s classmates. She quickly chose sides and set to work.

  His daughter was laughing with her friends, perched atop the snow fort next to a stack of snowballs. Her hair glowed in the sunlight like golden fire. She was her mother all over again, filled with energy and enthusiasm and more love for life than anyone he had ever known. She was breaking free of the connection. That was what she was supposed to do. And he would have to let go because that was what he was supposed to do. But he had never understood how hard it would be until that moment. One more blink of the eye and she would be gone, launched into the future with all of his hopes and dreams for her tucked inside her heart.

  Seth stepped away from the knot of teenagers, and Kelly launched herself at him, flying across the snow and into his arms. He swung her around, and the sound of his daughter’s laugh was her mother’s laugh before her when Aidan caught Sandy in his arms on their wedding day and spun her around on the top step of the County Court House.

  Full circle, O’Malley. They’re in love and there isn’t a damn thing on earth you can do about it.

  That was when he saw Maddy and Hannah, not more than twenty feet away from where he stood. Mother and daughter. Snow-covered. Bathed in sunshine. Laughing.

  Maddy caught sight of him and she waved her arm in a wide arc. “Join us!” she called. “I promised you a snowmaid and I’m a woman of my word.”

  He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He felt his heart crack open as sorrow, joy, regret, passion—every emotion under the sun—broke free, crashing against his chest with the force of last night’s storm. It was like waking up after a long sleep and discovering that the world was still there waiting for you and you hadn’t lost your place in line.

  It was a little like falling in love.

  Good Samaritan Hospital

  “Look!” the nurse said. “She’s smiling. I think she’s coming back to us.”

  “Reflex,” said the other nurse. “Doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “She’s dreaming,” the first nurse said. “Can’t tell me she isn’t thinking happy thoughts right now.”

  NIKOLAI DANCED HER through the ballroom, past her parents, who were whispering together near the ice sculptures, past her sisters and their boring beaux, past the other handsome soldiers wooing the prettiest girls in St. Petersburg. He danced her out into the garden, into the shadows.

  The night air was chill, but she didn’t care. He was so tall and handsome in his uniform with his golden hair shimmering in the moonlight, his blue eyes blazing with desire.

  They were young and in love and they believed the future was theirs for the taking.

  “I love you, Kolya,” she said.

  He murmured sweet words against the curve of her throat, the creamy pillows of her breasts, hot breath against cool skin until she thought she would die of
the love she felt for him.

  Deeper into the shadows . . . past the ice house . . . past the pond . . . until no one could see them.

  She was afraid, but because she loved him she gave herself to him. “Nothing will ever part us,” he told her as she trembled in his arms. “No matter what happens, we’ll always be together.”

  Kolya . . . her sweet Kolya . . .

  “KOLYA,” HANNAH SAID. “I love you, Kolya.”

  Maddy looked up from the mermaid’s torso. “What was that, honey?”

  Hannah looked dreamy, different in a way Maddy couldn’t define.

  “Hannah,” Maddy said again. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing, Mommy. I was talking to my friend.” She patted snow along the mermaid’s right hip.

  Maddy sighed and looked over at Aidan, who was busy working on the mermaid’s snowy flippers. “Did Kelly have friends, too, when she was Hannah’s age?”

  Aidan grinned at her. “A pocket horse named Ivor who lived in Barbie’s Dream House.”

  Maddy burst into laughter. “And what did you think about that?”

  He shrugged. “I left a cup of shredded wheat ‘hay’ on her nightstand every Saturday until Ivor went off to join the circus.”

  “The first time I brought home one of those friends, Rose took us all off to family therapy.”

  It was his turn to burst into laughter. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

  Hannah was having trouble making the mermaid’s scales, so Aidan gently guided her hands until she caught on. Within minutes she was beaming from ear to ear, proud of every scale that appeared beneath her fingers. Most men hadn’t a clue what to do with a four-year-old girl. They either talked over her head or treated her like a tiny doll. Aidan did neither of those things. He saw Hannah as Hannah, an individual child with likes and dislikes and quirks all her own, and Hannah responded in kind.

  You’re a good father, she thought. She had assumed so by virtue of his daughter’s many accomplishments, but now she had the proof. He seemed to effortlessly hit just the right note with Hannah and soon had her giggling the way she used to do before grown-up problems turned her life upside down.