The Lights of Sugarberry Cove

by Heather Webber

  Watching my step, I moved toward the fridge, and my eyes began filling with tears when the image on the postcard came into view. It was a lake scene, with SUGARBERRY COVE written in swirling letters across the bottom. At the top was printed WISH YOU WERE HERE.

  I reached for the card, tugging it free, and was surprised to see a yellowed piece of paper fall free from behind it. I bent to pick the scrap off the dirty floor and brought it toward the light to read the faded lettering.

  As the words sank in, I started sobbing my heart out right there in the kitchen. I only pulled myself together and ran for the car when I realized I didn’t have much time to get home before the sun set—because suddenly I knew exactly where I’d find Iona.

  * * *

  I sped back to Sugarberry Cove, the lines on the roadway blurring, and the jazz had done little to hold my thoughts at bay, my hope.

  By the time I parked in the driveway, my heart was near to pounding straight out of my chest. Teddy jumped off the sofa when I came running in the front door.

  “Holy hell, Sadie! We were about to send the police after you. No one could reach you.”

  “I forgot my phone.” I went to the bottom of the stairs and yelled upward. “Mama! Leala! Hurry!”

  “What’s going on?” Teddy asked. “Did you find Iona?”

  I grabbed her hands. “I’ll tell you all about it in a minute. Help me gather everyone together. We need to hurry.”

  “All right, anything! But Buzzy went home to shower. Connor, Bree, and Tuck took Nigel for a walk. Leala’s out back. I’ll get Susannah.” She ran up the stairs.

  I hated that some of them were going to miss this, but we couldn’t wait until they returned. I tossed my purse on the sofa and went flying out the back door.

  As soon as I stepped outside, the scent of the lake hit me full force, twisting something deep within me, something that recognized this place as home. Home is where your heart is. I’d never been able to find another town with enough heart to suit me, because my heart had always been here, waiting for me to return. And with that thought, I suddenly had an idea on how to balance my job with the B and B, because I knew I couldn’t do it alone.

  “Sadie!” Leala jumped up. “Did you find her?”

  “Kind of. Come on, come on!” I held out my hand to her.

  She took one look at it and slipped her hand in mine.

  Mama and Teddy came running out of the house. Mama said, “Sadie! Good Lord, what’s going on? Did you find Iona?”

  “I did. Hurry!” I cast a look toward the horizon. The sun had started to sink. “We’re going to miss them.”

  “Them? Them who?” Mama asked, trotting after Leala and me as we ran for the dock.

  I scanned the water, then sat down, finally taking a deep breath. Leala sat next to me, and Mama next to her. Winded, Teddy plopped on the other side of me. We’d once again formed a small semicircle. “It’ll be anytime now,” I said.

  Mama breathed heavily. “Sadie, I love you, darlin’, but I think you’ve done lost your mind with the grief of it all.”

  I knew I looked crazy. Sounded it, too. But then I glanced at the clipping and postcard in my hand and joy welled up, brimming in my eyes. The postcard with two loons swimming together in the lake. “Just wait. Iona’s with Uncle Camp. Or he’s with Iona. Either way. Look! There!” I pointed to the water.

  Two loons came into view, their graceful black and white bodies gliding through the water, their necks bumping against each other as they hooted softly, reconnecting, reminiscing.

  Leala gasped as the pair made their way past us, pausing for a long moment in front of the dock before carrying on, swimming toward the cove. I snuffled, trying to hold in the tears that had gathered in my eyes, and I felt an arm go around me. Teddy. I leaned into her and handed Mama the yellowed clipping I’d found. It was an old marriage announcement from a newspaper.

  Mr. and Mrs. George Meaks

  announce the wedding of their daughter

  Fiona Alice

  to

  Mr. Whitman Camp Scott

  on Saturday, the twenty-first of June,

  Nineteen hundred and sixty-nine

  Wetumpka, Alabama

  I explained what I found when I’d gotten to Iona’s house, how a neighbor told me the woman who lived there had died decades ago, and how the postcard had led me to where we were right now.

  “Hot dang!” Mama cried. “Fiona Meaks, Iona Teakes. They’re one and the same, aren’t they?”

  I nodded, so sure of it no one would ever be able to tell me otherwise.

  Leala covered her mouth and pointed at the clipping, then at the birds floating out of view. “Iona, Fiona, is the lady of the lake? She’s our … aunt?”

  “Oh my heavens!” Teddy exclaimed. “So it is true that she can walk among us. Bree is never going to believe this.”

  “I didn’t know Uncle Camp’s real name was Whitman,” Leala said, taking the clipping out of Mama’s hand.

  “I knew his real name was Whitman, but I had no idea Camp had been married,” Mama added. “He’d never said. I’m not sure your daddy even knew, since this marriage happened when he was just a little kid, and those Scotts were always so tight-lipped about tragedies.”

  Leala slid her a wry look, and I read it perfectly. This from a woman who barely spoke about Daddy’s death.

  Mama glanced at us as if knowing what we were thinking and simply smiled.

  The truth was that there was a lot Uncle Camp had never shared with us, and I realized it was probably the source of the somberness I’d always sensed within him. His young bride had died shortly after they married. It was a situation too tragic to comprehend.

  “She’s been waiting for him all this time,” I said. “Waiting and calling for him, to let him know she was still here.”

  He had to have known she was the lonely loon, and it was no wonder why he’d decided to stay here at the cottage all those years ago. I smiled through my tears, recalling how he always claimed that he’d found happiness here, among the only family he had left. Which, unbeknownst to us, had included the love of his life.

  I ran my finger across the pair of birds on the postcard, hoping they both knew how much I loved them. It was only then that I flipped over the postcard and saw that there was writing on the back.

  You’re welcome, Sadie.

  Chapter

  30

  Sadie

  The loons never returned.

  When I was home, I still looked for them, even though I knew they were gone. However, sometimes, in the still of the morning or the peaceful hush of twilight, I swore I could hear them calling to each other, their hooting playful and light, and it always filled me with joy. The joy of knowing that love never died.

  On the desk, my cell phone buzzed, and I checked the message. It was from Mama, to both Leala and me.

  Just landed in Spain. No rain on the plane!

  Which was followed by a dozen emojis and #SeeWhatIDidThere. She was an emoji fanatic, a hashtag lunatic, and I had become extremely grateful for all the years she had been unplugged. I couldn’t help smiling as I typed back about hurricanes in Hartford, like the song in My Fair Lady, but then deleted it and sent her back six emojis. She didn’t like to be outshone on the emoji front.

  She and Buzzy had been traveling since I officially bought the cottage in October, but they promised to be back for Christmas, just over a week from now.

  I swiveled to look at the painting on the wall. It was the mandala canvas that used to hang in Mama’s room. I stared at the three twisted hearts in the center and fought the urge to paint over them, opening them, just like Mama, Leala, and I had opened our hearts to each other. Leaving them as they were on the canvas was a good reminder not to rewrite history but to learn from it as Buzzy had once said.

  My gaze went to a framed photo that sat on the built-in bookcase Will had installed in the small office. It was a wedding photo of Uncle Camp and Fiona that I found in a lockbox whil
e going through his things.

  He’d been a soldier in uniform at the time, and she’d been in a gingham dress, nipped in tight at the waist. It looked to be at a picnic, and I would have bet my last dollar that the plate in Uncle Camp’s hand held ambrosia salad.

  Iona—Fiona—was the lady of the lake. My great-aunt. Once we put all the pieces together, Leala shared how once, Iona had mentioned never having children but that she had the comfort of living near a big extended family who constantly reminded her of what was important in life.

  She’d been talking about us.

  I still wondered to this day if in his final days Uncle Camp had somehow known Iona was his Fiona, especially with the way he’d been taken with her straight off. I rather hoped so. During these past few months I’d come to believe that Fiona had somehow known Uncle Camp’s death was near, and that’s why she’d suddenly decided to make a personal appearance in our lives. First, by reaching out to me about doing a piece on the ambrosia salad. And then by showing up here at the cottage to spread her love and kindness to help heal our family before we faced yet another tragedy. It was the only thing that made sense to me about the timing of all that had happened.

  My gaze wandered to the postcard I’d found on the fridge in Wetumpka, sandwiched in a frame made of two pieces of glass so both sides were visible, and as always, I couldn’t help thinking about the last conversation I’d had with Iona before she disappeared from our lives.

  The light from all those wishes, those wishes so pure of heart that they sparkled like life itself, was used to bring you back to them.

  I’d drowned on a summer night a little more than eight years ago in Lake Laurel, at just eighteen years old. But I’d been saved. Brought back to life. Brought back to a new life. To a new normal. All these years later, I was finally figuring out who this new Sadie Way Scott was exactly. And I had finally learned why I had been saved.

  I’d been saved by the wishes of the people who loved me most in the world so I could learn to live a meaningful life. Learn to love life.

  Blinking away tears, I turned back to my computer screen. I wasn’t sure why Uncle Camp had never told us of his pretty bride who’d drowned in the lake, and I wondered if it had something to do with wanting to keep his ties to lake magic a secret or if some memories were simply too painful to share. I’d never know, but I was grateful for the time I’d had with both of them, the lessons they’d taught me. The love they’d given me. And knowing they were together again had lessened the weight of my grief.

  There were footsteps in the hall, and I smiled when Will appeared in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a tight long-sleeve T-shirt. “What time are we leaving for the thing tonight?”

  I stood and walked over to him, unable to resist the pull. I looped my arms around his neck, and his hands circled my waist. “I’m not sure. I need to double-check. Why?”

  “A client has an emergency plumbing problem.” Kissing behind my ear, he added, “I promised I’d be right over, but maybe it can wait awhile longer.”

  Reluctantly, I pushed away from him, but my hands lingered on his chest, and the diamond in my engagement ring glinted in the light thrown by the desk lamp. Will had asked me to marry him this past weekend, and I’d said yes. “No, no. Go. I’ll text you the time of the concert. And stop looking at me like that or I’ll change my mind and won’t let you leave.”

  He continued to look at me, heat flaring in his eyes. “Don’t be tempting me like that.”

  Laughing, I took a big step back. “Besides, I need to get back to work, too.”

  “The book?” he asked, eyeing my desk.

  The desk that had once belonged to my father. Will had worked magic on the old oak beast, taming it to fit the room better, to fit my style. I hadn’t let him sand out the scars, though, thinking of how they told the story of my daddy and his dreams.

  I shook my head. “A video.” But I smiled thinking about the book I’d started. I was tentatively titling it Hey, Y’all: A Southern Hankerin’ Collection of Food Memories. My creativity was coming back, roused from its lengthy dormancy. I’d barely started the book, but I was already enjoying writing up short essays, featuring people who had great stories and food memories to share but were camera shy, like the mother of the young woman I’d met at the hardware store.

  “Good luck with it. I’ll see you later on.” He leaned forward to give me a proper kiss and lingered. And I let him.

  “Whoa-ho!” Teddy said as she came around the corner. “Did it suddenly get right hot in here or is it me?”

  Will and I drew apart. He laughed and said, “Real hot,” before heading for the door with a wave and a look of regret.

  Teddy fanned her face with one hand and held a box against her side with the other. “You two are going to light this place on fire one day, I swear.” She held the box out. “This just arrived for you. No return address. So mysterious. I’m off to the market. Do you need anything?”

  I took the package out of her hands. “No, thanks. I think we’re good. What time is Bree’s concert again?”

  “Seven. She says we’re under no obligation to go.” She laughed, and the loose bun on top of her head wobbled. “As if.”

  Balance.

  I’d found it in Teddy and Bree. When I offered the job of live-in manager to Teddy, she’d thrown her arms around me and cried. Bree, too. And recently Bree had confessed that her wish on the night of the water lantern festival had been to stay in Sugarberry Cove, because it had felt like home to her, too, and that we felt like family.

  It might’ve been the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me.

  The cottage had been closed for the whole month of October, undergoing a big remodel, top to bottom. By the time it was done, there was barely a surface untouched. Having a website with online bookings had increased our occupancy tremendously. Our big, grand relaunch had been a huge success.

  After the renovations, Teddy had moved into Mama’s old room and Bree into mine and Leala’s. I had moved into Uncle Camp’s old suite, and it wasn’t long after that Will moved in with me.

  Teddy had flourished as the manager of the cottage, loving the new people who came into our lives nearly every day. Bree voluntarily helped out whenever she felt she was needed, in between her schoolwork, extracurriculars, and babysitting Tucker. Nigel had become the house dog, a mascot of sorts, though he spent a lot of time next door at Leala’s.

  “Will and I will be at the concert,” I told her. “Leala and Connor, too. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Bree had surprised us all with her decision to enroll in the local school system for her senior year instead of homeschooling, and she was thriving. She’d joined the chorus and drama club and had made some new friends. She and Teddy had been looking at colleges, and I was already dreading the day when I would wake up and she wouldn’t be here, under the same roof.

  My phone dinged with an incoming message, and Teddy said, “I’ll be back in a bit. Text if you need me, darlin’.”

  I heard the front door close and the truck start up as I set the package on my desk and picked up my phone. It was a message from Leala: In Hartford, Hereford, and Hampshire? Hurricanes hardly happen.

  I couldn’t help laughing. Sometimes we were more alike than either of us ever realized. Mama quickly sent a dozen laughing faces, and I sent only three. Putting down the phone again, I sat and turned my attention back to the video I’d been uploading, watching the progress bar move slowly. I’d cut my videos back to twice a month, and so far there had been no big issues with doing so. I was away from the cottage a day or two at most, then back again ready to greet new guests, though I took more of a background role in that regard while Teddy took the lead.

  Instead of watching the progress of the upload, I scooped up the package and carried it into the kitchen and set it on the quartz countertop. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nigel trotting ahead of Leala and Tuck, who were walking through the backyard hand in hand. Moo was once ag
ain in a headlock, trapped in the bend of Tuck’s elbow. That poor, beloved cow.

  They’d taken to coming over in the afternoons when I was home for a quick visit, a chat, a cup of coffee, cookies, connection before Connor got home from work at five thirty. I adored every minute of the time we spent together.

  A second later, the slider squeaked, and Tucker raced to a counter stool and climbed up. “Auntie Sadie! I have cookie?”

  Leala closed the door behind her and said, “I’m surprised he doesn’t call you Aunt Cookie at this point.”

  “Give it time.” I smiled and handed him two cookies, one for him, and one for his best friend, Moo. Nigel raced through the great room and then up the stairs, no doubt looking for Bree or Teddy or perhaps smelling the adopted kitten that Bree was caring for—and hiding—until Connor could gift the sweet little baby to Leala for Christmas.

  I found a box knife and slit the tape on top of the package.

  “What have you got there?” Leala asked, nodding to the box, her curls falling forward as she leaned in. Her face glowed with happiness that came from deep within, from being loved, from being fulfilled, from being herself. She and Connor had moved into Buzzy’s house about the same time I had moved in here, but their renovations hadn’t been nearly as all encompassing as mine—mostly new paint and converting the room above the garage into a yoga studio.

  “I’m not sure. It just arrived.”

  Leala was loving her yoga certification classes and was hoping that by this time next year she’d be using that new studio as a home business. There were already a few people interested in taking her classes. Word of mouth was powerful in a small town.

  Tucker chomped his cookies while happily playing with the set of jacks I kept on the counter for his visits, and Nigel returned to inhale any dropped crumbs. One day I’d tell Tucker all about the man who’d owned those jacks before him.

  “Did I see Will leave a few minutes ago?” Leala asked. “He’ll be back for the concert, right?”