Summer Light: A Novel (16 page)

“To love someone so much, and to have him taken away,” May said. She knew from experience, having lost her own father.

“He wasn’t taken away,” Martin said. “He
went
away. That was his choice. Not everyone in life has good motives.”

“Martin.” She was staring at the scars on his chest. “What happened to you? Was it something to do with your father?”

“Please, May. Don’t ruin a perfect day,” he said, frowning as he grabbed his shirt and put it on. “That story has no business in this boat, with you and Kylie. Okay, May? Leave it alone.”

The warmth had left his eyes, and he started to row harder, getting them home as fast as he could.

Two mornings in a row, they wakened with an uneasiness between them. They’d have great sex, and while May kept hoping for Martin to start talking, he kept jumping out of bed for his morning run. Then he’d tell her to sleep late while he took Kylie out fishing for the great-granddaddy trout. Lying in bed, she listened to them getting ready downstairs. Kylie was so excited, she talked nonstop.

May tried to appreciate the bond growing between her husband and daughter, but why did she feel Martin was using it to avoid spending too much time alone with her? Fishing with a six-year-old was much easier than opening up to her mother. Kylie, for her part, was being cautious: she had yet to call Martin “Daddy.”

After a long bath and two cups of coffee, May took a walk through the house. She hadn’t seen Natalie’s doll since the wedding, and she wanted to make sure Kylie had put it back where she’d found it. The doll seemed to have disappeared, but every time May entered a room, she saw something she hadn’t noticed the time before. Family pictures, a collection of fossils, an old leather-bound Bible, embroidered pillows on the back of a sofa, framed photos of the lake and mountains. Today she found a basket of knitting—a red sweater half-done—by an armchair in the living room. Crouching down to look more closely, she was surprised by a voice.

“That was Agnes’s,” said Genny Gardner. She stood in the doorway, holding a glass jar.

“Oh, hi!” May said, standing up.

“I brought you some strawberry jam that I made yesterday, and I was going to tell you about the great aphrodisiac qualities of Lac Vert strawberries, how all honeymooners should eat them, but let’s face it—it’s just an excuse to barge in!”

May smiled, watching Genny throw up her hands, as if she’d just been caught in the act.

“I saw Martin and Kylie fishing on the lake, so I knew you’d be home alone. I’ve been dying to come over and talk to you. In fact, I promised Tobin I’d stop by and make sure you were getting along all right.”

“I’m glad you did,” May said. “It felt so strange, meeting Martin’s best friends for the first time at our wedding. We should have given you a little warning. Tobin said she could have used about six months’ notice. Was Ray shocked?”

Genny laughed. “Surprised at first, but very happy for Martin. I thought it was wonderful. The most romantic wedding I’ve ever been to.”

“Really? Thank you,” May said, beaming. “Would you like some coffee? And toast for the jam?”

“Sure.” Genny followed May into the kitchen and took out the coffee while May rinsed out the pot. Then she set the jam on the table and started opening a drawer for a knife, but May watched her stop herself. Although she must have known where everything was, she wanted May to feel like it was her kitchen. May appreciated the gesture, and she let Genny know with a smile.

“Agnes was Martin’s mother?” May asked, settling down across the pine table.

“Yes,” Genny said. “She was a wonderful lady. Ray loved her almost as much as his own mother, and that’s saying something. It’s such a shame she died before meeting you. She would have been happy to see Martin settled down.”

“I thought Martin said she had died a few years ago.”

“She did. Oh, you mean because her knitting’s still there?”

“Yes,” May said.

Genny smiled. Petite, with short blond hair and wide gray eyes, she had a deep warmth about her. “Martin can’t bring himself to put it away,” Genny said. “That’s what I think. He’s tough as nails, the scourge of the NHL, but he misses his mother very much. She loved needlework of all kinds, but she also coached him and Ray when they were young, and she held him together after—God, after all of it.”

“Do you mean after his daughter died?”

“Especially that,” Genny said. “But in a way, everything was all tied together. The divorce, Serge going to prison. Martin almost lost his mind. He disappeared into the woods for two weeks, and Ray honestly didn’t think he’d ever come out.”

May had so many questions. She wanted to know everything, but from Martin himself. So she just poured the coffee and listened to Genny talk.

“Agnes was solid as a rock. Hockey mothers, hockey wives—you’ll see.”

“She was a hockey wife, too, right?”

“Yes, married to Serge. Poor Serge—he made some bad mistakes and hurt himself and everyone else. Martin hates him, you know.”

“I know.”

“That wasn’t always the way. Martin totally idolized him as a child. He was so proud—to have a father who could play like Serge! Both Martin and Ray worshiped him. Just imagine living in the sticks out here, reading about him in the papers, having all their friends talk about him.”

“But imagine Martin waiting for him to come home,” May said, aching for her husband as a child.

“That, too,” Genny agreed.

“Loving his father that much,” May said, remembering what she’d said in the boat, “must have made the disappointment much worse later. When he felt Serge had let him down.”

“Serge let
hockey
down,” Genny said. “His team, the fans, Canada. He liked to gamble, but it wasn’t until he bet against his own team and got caught that the trouble really started. He let down the whole NHL.”

“That’s not half as bad as letting down his son.”

“Oh, Martin’s lucky to have you,” Genny said, nodding. “I’m glad you see him this way.”

“What way?” May asked.

“As a real person. An ordinary man who used to be a sweet little boy. Most of the world sees him as the Gold Sledgehammer, the great star defenseman, the sexy killer who loves to fight. At least, most of his other women saw him that—” Genny stopped herself abruptly. “I’m so sorry, May.”

“That’s okay.” May served the toast to Genny, opening the jar of strawberry jam. “Well, we both have pasts. I know he was married before. Plus, yesterday he got a sackload of fan mail, and I couldn’t help noticing all the envelopes with women’s handwriting.”

“You’ll have to get used to that,” Genny said. “Even Ray gets plenty, and he’s never been voted ‘sexiest athlete alive.’ Plus, he’s been married to me for fourteen years.”

“You must think I came out of nowhere,” May said. “Marrying Martin so quickly.”

“We’re thrilled,” Genny told her. “I’ve known Martin nearly as long as Ray has. I grew up in Ste-Anne-des-Monts, up the valley from here. They were great skaters even back then, and we joke that I was their first groupie. Then they joke that they were mine, too—I skiied in the Olympics.”

“Another great athlete.” May was impressed.

“Years and years ago.”

“You’ve been together forever,” May said.

“And that’s why I’m so glad you’ve come along,” Genny told her. “I’m tired of worrying about Martin all by myself. And sitting at games with no one to talk to. Just wait till the press hears about you, though. They won’t leave you alone.”

“They won’t care about me,” May said. “I’m just a wedding planner who fell in love.”

“With Martin Cartier,” Genny said. “Just wait and see.”

May laughed, but right now she wanted to take the chance to speak to Genny about Natalie.

Just then, she heard voices outside. The screen door creaked open, and Kylie came running in. Martin was right behind her, holding the rods, looking worried.

“Mommy, I caught a fish. He wasn’t the great-granddaddy,” Kylie said, her face pale. “But he was pretty big.”

“Where is he?” Genny asked, smiling.

“Kylie wanted to let him go,” Martin said. “So we did.”

“Fishes have families too.” Kylie sounded upset. “It was okay to catch him as long as I let him go, right, Mommy?”

“Right, honey.”

“She put her hands over her ears,” Martin said. “She said the crying was so loud.”

“It stopped, though.” Kylie stared up at May with worried eyes. “As soon as we put him back in the water. He had speckles everywhere. He swam away, straight back to his kids.”

“You heard the fish crying?” Genny asked, smiling. “What an imagination!”

Kylie stared at May. “Don’t take me to the doctor again. I don’t want to go. He doesn’t believe me, but you do, right? You believe I heard the fish crying?”

“I do, honey.”

May hugged Kylie, her sensitive girl. As a child, May had never liked killing bugs, even mosquitos. The last time she’d taken Kylie to the psychologists, she’d felt Kylie was treated like a specimen. What was the truth?

“I’m glad we let the fish go,” Kylie said.

“So am I,” May told her.

All of May’s anxieties dissolved in the heat and light of summer on Lac Vert. The Gardners’ daughter Charlotte offered to baby-sit Kylie overnight at their house up the lake, and May said yes. The three of them—Martin, May, and Kylie—spent the day fishing and picnicking on the island, Martin and May looking forward to their first honeymoon night all alone. Rowing north on the lake, toward the Gardners’ house on the far shore, they felt sunburned and happy.

“Is she sleeping?” Martin asked, looking down at Kylie, who was curled up on the picnic blanket in the stern.

“Out cold,” May said, smiling. “She’s having so much fun, she’s knocking herself out.”

“That’s what growing up on a lake will do for you. Everything’s an adventure,” Martin said. “When you’re six, anyway.”

“Or thirty-six.” May touched his toe with her bare foot.

“Careful, woman.” Martin grinned. “Don’t get me going.”

“Okay, okay,” May said, pretending to be disappointed. “Tell me about being six and having adventures.”

“You know, snapping turtles in the mud, the fox family in the dead tree, panther tracks that turn out to be Ray’s father’s dog, the fish that grows a little every time he gets away…”

“I think that’s the guy Kylie’s been after.”

“Yes, she likes to fish—as long as we file down the hook and let him go. She’s got the knack for a real good fish tale. An excellent imagination on her, just like her mother. You would have been great growing up here, fit right in. What’d you look like at six, May? Let’s see…”

Feeling Martin stare at her, May began to blush. She ducked her head, but he stuck one oar under his arm and reached over to tilt her face up.

“Freckles,” he said. “Definitely freckles. And braids, right?”

“Right.”

“Let me see.” Martin watched her separate her hair into two pieces, start to twist the strands on the left. She was halfway done when he stopped her with a kiss. “I love you, May. I wish I’d known you all our lives, since we were six.”

“So do I,” she whispered, wondering about his secrets. They started to kiss, but just then Kylie stirred, waking up slightly. She seemed to be having a dream, and she tossed and turned, crying out. Martin drew back, smiling ruefully, letting May tend to her.