Summer Light: A Novel (12 page)
Read Summer Light: A Novel Online
Authors: Luanne Rice
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I am.”
Martin was like no one she had ever known before. He was so determined, yet very gentle. They rode along the quiet lane, side by side, until they came to a junction with a much busier road. May held the handlebars, her feet planted on the ground. Traffic whizzed by.
“Are you sure you want to go this way?” he asked.
“Just for a little while. I want to show you something.”
Nodding, Martin got on his bike first. He wheeled across the busy road, watching over his shoulder as May came right behind. They rode single file behind the painted line, with May’s heart beating faster with every turn of the pedals.
She wasn’t even sure why she was doing this. Aunt Enid would never understand. Tobin would, but May didn’t plan to tell her. Something was happening inside herself that made her want to move faster, to get this part over with, to tell Martin about the most important secret in her life.
A steady but sporadic stream of vehicles passed by, the drivers mostly workmen and local residents. Vans, sedans, and station wagons. When one huge dump truck rattled past, May felt shaken inside. They passed a pond on the left, a farm on the right. The road curved, granite ledges rising on both sides.
“Here.” She stopped, her eyes fixed on the road.
“What is this?” he asked, looking around. His eyes were filled with anticipation; May had shown him so many beautiful places, the high points and garden spots of her beloved Black Hall. But this was not one of them.
May climbed off her bike, and Martin followed suit. Leaving the bicycles leaning against a crumbling stone wall, Martin laid the backpack on the ground. She walked back to the road, with Martin close behind. The traffic rushed by so close, she could feel the hot wind and exhaust in her face.
“This is just a busy road,” he said.
“It’s not just a road,” she said quietly.
“What, May?”
“My parents were killed here.”
“Here?”
She nodded, staring at the spot. The truck had hit their car head on, spinning it off the road and into the rock ledge. They had been killed instantly, and for years, on the school bus, May would come through here and think she heard them calling her name.
“Their blood was on that road,” she said.
“How long ago?”
“Twenty-four years.” Maybe she and Kylie weren’t different at all. Seeing ghosts and angels, hearing voices…forget the magic of roses and herbs. The real similarity lay in how they listened for the dead, opened their hearts to ghosts.
“You lost them so young.”
“Much too young!” she said, her chest hurting. She felt wild inside, as if she had to explain this to Martin so he would understand. What had happened to her parents on this curve had made her who she was, carved out the parts of her she didn’t comprehend and couldn’t get away from.
He tried to hold her, but she stepped back, away from the traffic.
“Everything looks one way, but it isn’t,” she said. “I’m strong, like you said. I’m there for my daughter, every minute, every day. I run my family’s business, I help other women have the weddings of their dreams…”
“You’re all those things.”
“But I’m something else, too.” She gazed at the pavement. She could almost see that dark blotch—blood or oil, she’d never been sure—that had been there for months after the accident. How she had prayed for the snow and rain to leave it alone, to never wash it away.
“What, May?”
“I lost part of myself here,” she told him.
“That’s understandable, for you to think that way. You were a young girl, from a close family. Losing your mother and father—of course you feel as if you lost some of yourself.”
May shook her head. “No, Martin. That’s not it. Not all of it, anyway.”
He waited, watching her lift her eyes.
She wasn’t seeing him at all just then, but her father. His face was as handsome as ever, with those high cheekbones and straight nose and laughing hazel eyes.
Hiking along the Connecticut River to Selden’s Castle, he had carried his baby daughter in a backpack. He had taught her to sail, to read the sky and tell the weather. Although she had loved being in the barn with her mother and grandmother, the outings with her father had been more special than anything.
Tobin had loved him too, and she’d been with May that last day. Two twelve-year-old girls, wanting to go to the store with May’s parents for candy. In a hurry, May’s father had told them they couldn’t come.
May took a deep breath. “When my father died, I was angry with him. It was something stupid, just the kind of fight parents and kids have every day—he wouldn’t let me go with them to the store.”
“He saved your life.”
“I know that now,” she said. “But when he walked out the door that day, I hated him. Really, Martin. I was that mad. In a dumb, twelve-year-old rage. He said ‘I love you,’ and I didn’t even turn around. He wanted to kiss me, and I wouldn’t.”
“You didn’t mean anything by it.”
“No,” she agreed. “I know he’d forgive me, deep down.”
Martin didn’t reply. Did he think she was a fool, carrying this around all this time? May felt embarrassed, as if she wasn’t sure why she’d brought him here, why she had told him this. All she could do was keep trying to explain. “It’s everything to me,” she said.
“What is?” he asked as a car hauling a boat trailer whizzed by.
“Sometimes I think I’ve lost the way to connect.”
“You?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes. As if I lost it that day—here, with them.”
“May,” he said seriously, pulling her toward him. “I think you connect better than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I bring other people together, help them get married.” Tears welled up as she pressed her head into his chest. “But sometimes I think that what I know most about is missed chances.”
She thought of her father’s back as he walked out the door. She thought of the men she had chosen, of the disappointments she had brought to herself and Kylie. Although Martin had said she was strong, deep down May felt afraid. Fearful and hollow, as if all of her courage had leaked onto this small patch of road, twenty-four years earlier.
Silently they walked back to their bikes. The rock walls cast long shadows across the road, and they rode along with even greater caution than before. May started off leading the way, but once they reached a straight stretch, Martin pulled alongside and rode beside her as long as he could.
They passed fields through which they could observe the river flowing by, clear light slanting through tall trees. May’s throat ached with the beauty and emotion of the day. When they got to the Bridal Barn, they turned up the dirt road and cut behind the gardens.
Climbing off her bike, May started to show Martin where to put his, when he stopped her. Taking her in his arms, she let the bicycle clatter to the ground.
“You think about missed chances,” he said.
She held him, not speaking as she waited.
“Well, I’m not going to let you miss this chance.” Martin held her even tighter.
“What?” She stepped back so she could see into his eyes.
She saw him digging in his pocket. He had the box open, the ring out, before she could protest. They were standing in the same spot as before, just over a week earlier. “We’ll try this again. May, will you marry me?”
May looked from the ring into Martin’s blue eyes. His nose and cheeks were speckled with road dust; dried grass clung to his shirt from when they had had their picnic. This time she didn’t hesitate.
“Yes,” she said.
Martin put his arms around her again. His eyes were wild with emotion, and suddenly May realized she had never wanted anything so much in her life. She stood on her toes and kissed him very hard. Longing rushed from her head down her spine and made her dizzy.
“I’ll make you so happy,” he said when they stopped kissing.
“I believe that,” May said. “And I’ll do the same for you.”
“We’ll have a wonderful life,” he promised. “Here, Boston, Canada. Kylie will love Lac Vert. Wait till you see it.”
“I can’t wait.”
“We’ll never leave Black Hall,” he said. “We’ll live everywhere.”
“We can do that.” May was smiling.
“Do what?” Aunt Enid asked, and then they realized that they had an audience.
“Oh, wow.” Tobin was standing in the open doorway of the yellow barn. Aunt Enid hovered just behind her.
“You must be Tobin,” Martin said.
“You must be Martin.”
“Aunt Enid,” May said. “This is Martin Cartier.”
“We were just talking about you…” Aunt Enid shook his hand.
“Enchanté,”
Martin said, “to meet you both.”
“Where’s Lac Vert?” Tobin asked.
“Canada,” he told her. “My home.”
“You’re not taking her to Canada, are you?” Tobin asked, linking arms with May.
“Part of the time there,” May said. “And part here.”
“Where’s Kylie?” Martin looked around. “I have something to ask her.”
“Not home from school yet,” Aunt Enid said. “Now where, when, how many guests…my, I don’t know where to start!”
“Take it slow,” Tobin suggested. “May looks like she’s about to levitate.”
“Oh, I wish your mother and grandmother were here,” Aunt Enid said to May, wiping her eyes. “This is a wedding they would love to plan.”
Chapter 6
M
OMMY
’
S WEDDING DIDN
’
T HAPPEN IN
the usual way; at least not the way that she and Aunt Enid and Granny planned for other brides.
When Kylie came home from school that day, Mommy and Martin told her they were getting married. They met her at the bus, and together they walked through the field, and when Martin said, “I feel as though I should ask someone for your mother’s hand in marriage, so I’m asking you,” Kylie threw her arms around his waist and said, “YES!”
Later, when she was alone, she did a little dance to a song she wrote: “I’m going to have a father, I’m going to have a father, we like him a lot, he likes us, too.” Kylie tended to dance often, as a way of getting somewhere slightly faster than walking, and her step looked like something between skipping, waving with both hands, and stepping on a bug. But she wasn’t allowed to talk about the wedding at school because Mommy and Martin weren’t ready to tell the world yet.
Kylie told her other friends, the ones who came to her at night. Her dreams were filled with angels and ghosts. Kylie told them all: Mommy was getting married, she was going to have a daddy.
At night, Mommy went out with Martin or stayed home sketching bridal gowns. Kylie had watched her doing this for other brides forever, and at first, Kylie was very excited to see her doing it for herself. Tobin seemed pleased, but not as much as Aunt Enid: She kept leaving picture suggestions on Mommy’s desk—of dresses that would look beautiful, veils that seemed just right for Mommy’s face.
But Kylie began to notice that all Mommy’s sketches were winding up in the trash. “Don’t you like that one?” Kylie would ask. “Too formal,” Mommy would answer, frowning, or “too fussy.” Kylie was beginning to worry that Mommy didn’t like any dress, that maybe she didn’t want to get married at all.
After they’d been going out a month, one Saturday night in mid-June, they were waiting for the Chadwicks to come over, when Kylie found out the truth. She was sitting between Mommy and Martin on the front porch watching lightning bugs in the field.
“There’s another,” Kylie called, counting lightning bugs. “And another. Eleven, twelve, flying over from Firefly Beach.”
“Wait till you see the fireflies in Canada,” Martin said. “My mother used to tell me they were stars come down to earth. When we go there, I’ll show you.”
“When will we go there?” Mommy asked.
“Whenever you want.” Martin tried to pull Mommy closer. He was holding her hand behind Kylie’s back, and it felt so good, leaning back into their arms.
“Whenever?” Mommy asked, looking over Kylie’s head, her eyes shining like those earthbound stars Martin had mentioned.
“Yes,” he said. “If Tobin won’t mind too much.”
“I think she’ll understand,” Mommy said. “We’ll come back eventually, right?”
“Eventually.” He laughed.
“Let’s elope there,” Mommy said.
“Elope?” Kylie asked. “What’s that?”
“It’s getting married without a wedding planner,” Mommy told her, and Martin laughed again. Mommy turned so her back was leaning against the porch rail and she was facing Martin, leaning forward with excitement. “It’s doing the important part and leaving out the rest.”
“The rest?” Martin asked. “But that’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Mommy agreed. “And sometimes it seems incredible. To help someone plan the rest of her life with the one she loves…it’s great. But calling the church, choosing the readings, deciding on the invitations, having programs printed, choosing attendants, buying a guest book…”
“A guest book.” Martin started to grin.
“Does that sound like us?” Mommy was grinning back.
“What else happens when you plan?”
“I choose my gown, I have fittings, I get to practice my hairstyle with my headpiece.”
“Headpiece?” Martin asked. “We wear those in hockey.”
“I don’t feel like having fittings,” Mommy said, climbing across Kylie to sit on Martin’s lap. She kissed him lightly on both cheeks. “I don’t feel like wearing a headpiece.”
“No?”
“Yesterday I spent two hours with a young bride, trying to decide whether to wrap the stems of her bouquet or not to wrap them. Whether to use pink or ivory satin ribbon. Whether to leave them bare. Peony stems showing or wrapped? Two hours.” Mommy giggled, kissing Martin again. “Usually I’m patient, mostly I can listen to brides all day, but yesterday all I could think about was you. Just you.”
“Are you going to wrap the stems of your bouquet?” Martin asked, and Kylie liked the way he smiled as he teased Mommy.
“I don’t care about my bouquet,” Mommy told him. “I only care about you and Kylie.”
“We could elope,” Martin said, agreeing now, and Kylie watched him hold her mother as if she was the lightest, most precious thing in the world. Kylie wanted to climb up on his knee too, but she was too entranced, just watching. “I could take you to Canada, to LaSalle, and show you the mountains and lake where I grew up.”
Just then, the Chadwicks pulled up in their old station wagon. The boys—Michael and Jack—jumped out and ran right over to the porch, their parents right behind them. Mommy and Tobin hugged, and then they introduced Martin to John and the boys.
“My friend goes to all the Bruins games.” Jack was staring at Martin with huge eyes.
“You play hockey?” Martin asked.
“Yeah, sometimes,” Jack said.
“Me, too,” Michael chimed in.
“Well, we’ll have to shoot the puck around some,” Martin said. “You play, John?”
“In high school,” John said, his eyes almost as big as Michael’s. Kylie had noticed how weird people acted around Martin. Just because he was famous, on TV, he was still a normal person. Kylie liked how happy he seemed around her mother; he had lost that air of loneliness he’d had when they’d first met him.
“Fishing’s his sport,” Tobin said, sitting on the top step. “He brings me fish to cook every summer night. When he’s not building a race car.”
“I go for trout,” John said. “Mainly.”
“We’ll have to have you up to Lac Vert.”
“Lac Vert?”
“Where I grew up in Canada,” Martin explained. “I kept the family cabin. We’re just talking about—”
“A trip up there,” Mommy said, her eyes shining. She was looking straight at Tobin, and Tobin gazed back.
“When?” Tobin asked.
“For the summer,” Martin said.
“We’re thinking about eloping.” Mommy touched Tobin’s shoulder. “I wanted to tell you first.”
“Congratulations.” John shook Martin’s hand.
“You mean really elope? No guests at all?” Tobin looked as if she might cry.
“Just me, Martin, and Kylie.” Mommy’s voice was small, and Kylie watched Tobin look away.
“That’s the way to do it,” John said.
“I loved our wedding,” Tobin said.
“But you didn’t love our mothers fighting over the guest list, the food, the church. You didn’t like my uncle getting drunk and fighting with your dad’s friend.”
“I loved having May as my maid of honor.” Tobin’s eyes were glittering.
“I loved being your maid of honor,” Mommy told her.
“You’re not having any attendants?”
Mommy hesitated.
“You’re not,” Tobin said, as if she could read Mommy’s mind.
“I’m thirty-six,” Mommy said. “I don’t want a big wedding.”
“Thirty-six isn’t old,” John protested. “You make us feel old.”
Martin was holding Mommy in his arms, but Kylie watched her ease away, moving closer to Tobin.
“You know, if I had anyone I’d have you,” Mommy said softly.
“It’s not just that I won’t be in your wedding.” Tobin was now crying openly. “I’m not even invited.”
“Oh, Tobin…”
“Maybe we should change our minds.” Martin looked worried. “If we’d known it would hurt you…”
“I should have told you when we were alone,” Mommy said. “Talked to you about it.”
“Boy,” John said, handing Tobin his handkerchief. “Wonder what you must think of us. We meet you for the first time, and it’s the waterworks.”
“I don’t want you to change your mind.” Tobin honked as she blew her nose. “And I’m not the waterworks.”
“I’ve already changed my mind,” Mommy said. “If it’s okay with Martin, we’ll have a normal wedding. Will you be my matron of honor?”
“No,” Tobin said, blowing harder.
“What?”
“I said no. You’re eloping. I’m giving you something borrowed to pin to your dress, and that’s about it.”
“Tobin—”
“Honey,” Martin said, pulling Mommy closer to him. “She’s giving you what you want.”
Now it was Mommy’s turn to be the waterworks. Starting to cry even harder than Tobin, she buried her face in her best friend’s shoulder. They clung to each other, sobbing hard. The Chadwick boys slunk away, embarrassed by all the tears. Kylie sat with Martin, and the strangest thing happened: She had a vision of her mother and Tobin when they were young, her age, best friends sitting on these same steps.
“It is what you want, isn’t it?” Tobin asked, kissing Mommy’s cheek. “To elope?”
“It is.”
“Then do it.”
“Really?”
“I give you my blessing.” Tobin kissed Mommy again, and then she leaned over to kiss Martin.
“That means a lot to me.”
“She doesn’t have parents anymore,” Tobin said. “Think of me as their stand-in.”
“Then your blessing means even more to me,” Martin said.
Kylie saw the look in Tobin’s eyes, as ferocious as a mother bear’s as she whispered: “Take care of her.”
“
Toujours
—always,” Martin promised. “Both of them.”
Over the next days, Tobin put May at ease about eloping. Not only did she forgive her for it, she came to believe it was a good plan. Summer was one of the Bridal Barn’s slowest times. Proposals occurred in summer, planning began in September. Tobin and Aunt Enid could cover the business while May went to Canada.
“You haven’t told Aunt Enid yet, have you?” Tobin asked.
“No,” May confessed. “As hard as it was to tell you, I can’t even imagine telling her.”
“She’ll be crushed,” Tobin agreed.
“The look in her eyes—I can see it now,” May said, shaking her head to dispel the vision. “Now I know why girls climb down ladders to avoid telling their parents.”
“Are you planning to climb down a ladder?”
“Help me tell her, will you, Tobe?” May glanced at the house.
“You want me to tell her for you?”
May shook her head. “No, I know you can’t. And I know she’ll try to talk me into doing it the Bridal Barn way.”
“How true that is. But you have a respite—she’s taking a nap right now. Okay, let me see the ring.” Tobin grabbed May’s hand. “I’ve been dying to get a better look.”
May couldn’t help it: She felt proud. After years in the wedding business, she had a practiced eye for diamond rings, and Martin had given her a beauty: platinum, with one large emerald-cut diamond flanked by tapered baguette diamonds, all dancing with fire.
“Holy shit,” Tobin exclaimed. “Nice rock.”
“Thanks.”
“The tide has changed,” Tobin said, laughing. “Spoiled brides, eat your hearts out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, May,” she said. “You know. All these years, you’ve been so humbly serving the rich brides of the shoreline. Unmarried May, the wedding planner. Not that they looked down on you, but you made it possible for them to feel, well, one-up.”
“I know,” May said, remembering some of the condescending looks and comments, the big rings and lavish budgets, the stories of how they’d all fallen in love.
“This is delicious.” Tobin was grinning as she tapped the ring. “I can just imagine Page Greenleigh’s face. Can’t you stick around, just till she has her final fitting?”
“Don’t tempt me.” May laughed.
But Tobin’s expression was serious again. “Maybe I just don’t want you to go at all.”
