Summer at Willow Lake (43 page)

Still, hope sprang eternal and they went out yet again, probably for the last time of the summer. At least it gave her plenty of time to daydream about Julian. He was like no other guy she’d ever met. Inhumanly good-looking, but that wasn’t what was so special about him. It was the way he made her look at things like her life, her family. A few months ago, she figured her life was in the toilet, what with her parents splitting up. Julian made her see that there were all kinds of definitions of a family, and it didn’t only have to be people who were related, who lived under the same roof. He also made her see that there was no such thing as a perfect family, but that didn’t mean giving up on the whole idea. Here he was, this guy who had lost his father, whose mother sounded like a loser, coming all the way across the country just to be with the one person he could count on—a brother he barely knew.

“What’re you looking at?” Max said. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“Just appreciating the fact that I have a brother,” she said.

He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

She shook her head, knowing she’d never convince him she was sincere. Then the unthinkable happened. The bobber on Max’s line dipped. Daisy thought she was seeing things, but there it went again. It trembled and dipped down.

“Are you watching, Max?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he said. “Dad, check it out. I’m getting a bite.”

“You sure are, son. You want some help?”

“Nope, I got it.”

“Remember to give a quick tug. You have to time it just—”

“Got it.” As if he’d been doing it all his life, Max whipped his pole back. Then he started cranking the reel. The fish put up a fight, jumping clear out of the water, spraying diamond droplets across the surface. Max dropped down on his knees in the bottom of the canoe, his face a mask of total absorption. Smoothly, with a patience hard learned over the course of the summer, he reeled in the fish. Dad scooped it into the net and it flopped down in the boat, lying on its side as if in exhaustion.

The fish had been neatly hooked through the lip, a clean catch. It was a good size, too. Definitely big enough to keep. “Finally,” Max said, gently lifting the nylon line and holding up the prize.

Dad snapped a picture. “How about that?” he said. “Fresh trout for supper. Or maybe we should have it stuffed and mounted.”

Three concentric circles outlined the trout’s eye. The fish was strangely beautiful, definitely worthy of its name: rainbow trout. Along its slender length were all the colors of the spectrum, shimmering in the sunlight.

Within moments, the fish started to die. It was drowning in air, its gills fanning out with what looked to Daisy like desperation. She could see the delicate structure of the gills, a series of bright red petals, working hard to find water to breathe.

The trout’s mouth worked in a silent plea: Oh. Oh. Oh.

“Throw it back, Max,” Daisy said with sudden urgency.

“What? No way. I’ve been trying all summer to catch a fish.”

“And now you have. But you should throw the thing back before it dies.”

Max looked at their father. “What should I do, Dad?”

“Up to you, buddy.”

No, it wasn’t. God, just once she’d like to see her father step up and make a decision. Instead, he retreated behind his usual, “Up to you.”

Gritting her teeth, Daisy picked up the fish. It was shiny and writhing in her hands, almost impossible to hold on to. She tried to be gentle as she carefully extracted the hook, wincing as she pulled the sharp barb through.

“Say goodbye to the fish, Max,” she said.

He didn’t protest. He touched the fish with a grubby index finger and said, “It’s okay to let it go now.”

She leaned down and put it in the water. To her horror, the trout didn’t go anywhere but instead floated crookedly, its mouth still gasping. “It’s too late,” she said. “We killed it.”

It was just a stupid fish. She wondered why its death felt like such a tragedy.

“We did,” Max said despondently. “We killed him.”

Dad didn’t say anything, but leaned down and gently took the fish between his hands. He didn’t pick it up out of the lake, though. He ran the trout through the water, nose first in long strokes, and then released it. The tail swayed and propelled it slowly forward, and then the fish glided away.

Daisy felt a welling of emotion. Max gaped at his father.

“You have to get the water flowing through their gills to revive them sometimes,” Dad said.

“Cool,” said Max. “You saved it.”

“No, Daisy did.” Dad dried his hands on his shorts.

Daisy felt limp with relief. “Sorry about that, Max,” she said. “I just figured we should let it go.” She couldn’t explain the compulsion, not without digging into the pain she had endured over the coming divorce, a pain that was out of her control.

“I don’t mind,” Max said amiably enough. “I wouldn’t have wanted to eat it, anyway. And we got a picture, so there’s proof.”

“You guys are two amazing kids,” Dad said. “Good job on the fish.”

Daisy laughed. “It only took us all summer.”

“There was never any hurry.”

Dad picked up his paddle. “Ready to call it a day?”

“Yes,” said Max. “I’m starving for a peanut butter and baloney sandwich.”

They paddled back in tandem, their rhythm in sync now, with strong, assured strokes. “We might suck at fishing,” Daisy said, “but we sure can paddle a canoe.”

Their dad, who had a good memory for lyrics, sang every fish song he could think of, from “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog” to “Octopus’s Garden.” Max and Daisy joined in, no longer required to be quiet, because they didn’t care how many fish they scared. Their voices carried across the flat, beautiful water and seemed to float upward, and in that moment, Daisy felt more buoyant and hopeful than she had in months.

It was kind of dumb, of course, because nothing different had happened except that Max had caught a fish and they’d let it go. What was so uplifting about that?

Then she looked at the laughing faces of her father and brother and realized the reason didn’t matter. Sometimes it was enough just to be happy, for no reason at all.

Thirty-Five

T
he excitement in the air was palpable. Guests had been arriving all week, some of them people Olivia hadn’t seen since she was a child. As visitors arrived and settled in, the camp came to life once more, reflecting the glory days of a more innocent time. Olivia watched families falling into their old patterns as life took on a different, slower rhythm. The younger generation, unfamiliar with camp life, took delight in discovering a whole new world. In the days leading up to the celebration, there were footraces and water sports, pranks and late-night kitchen raids, all imbued with a sense of nostalgia.

The day of the anniversary was favored by perfect weather, just as everyone had hoped. Guests emerged from their bunkhouses and cabins, dressed to the nines. Others drove up from the city for the day. The town of Avalon was represented by the mayor, who presented the Bellamys with a special citation in their honor.

Olivia was moved by the number of people who showed up. That her grandparents had so many loyal friends was a testament to the way they’d lived their lives. There were moments of poignancy as well, when they reflected on the people they had lost.

In the midst of all the preparations, she had no time to indulge in daydreams about Connor Davis, although she yearned to do just that. It was probably for the best. Her daydreams usually turned into worry and sometimes full-blown paranoia. Had it been a one-night stand? Would they part ways now that summer was over? The misgivings were already starting, so when the Sky River Bakery truck backed up to the kitchen, she welcomed the distraction. Jenny Majesky and her assistant, the blond teenager named Zach Alger, brought the cake in sections to assemble on the center table.

“It’s going to be beautiful,” Olivia said.

“Thanks.” Jenny smiled at her. She was dressed with discreet professionalism, in a sleeveless black A-line dress and low-heeled pumps, and no jewelry except a pair of small gold earrings. Over the dress, she wore a fitted caterer’s jacket and her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

Looking around the dining hall, Jenny said, “You’ve made it really beautiful, Olivia.”

“Thanks. I had a lot of help.” She hesitated, wanting to say more. She and Jenny were still so new to each other, still cautious. She heard the low growl of an engine and craned her neck to look past Jenny. It wasn’t Connor, but Rourke McKnight, the chief of police.

Jenny was watching her. “You look as if you were expecting someone else.”

Olivia conceded with a nod. “Connor Davis.”

Jenny opened a box of small white roses in tiny glass bulbs and started arranging them around the base of the cake. “Is he your date for the party?”

Olivia stepped up to help with the roses. “I’m not sure what he is,” she admitted. To her horror, her throat suddenly felt thick, as if she was on the verge of tears. “We’re just…not good together.” She swallowed hard, took a deep breath. “No, that’s not right.
I’m
not good in a relationship, not even with Connor.”

Jenny took out an antique silver cake server and tied a satin ribbon around its handle. “I don’t know much about Connor,” she said. “A little, though. In a town this size, everybody knows a little of everything. He’s always seemed lonely to me.”

Olivia thought about the big piece of property on the river, the tiny Airstream trailer. “Maybe he likes being a bachelor.”

Jenny set the server on a bone china plate and stepped back, eyeing the arrangement critically. “He’s planning to build a place he designed himself, did you know that?”

“I saw the plans.”

“Then you saw that he’s building a four-bedroom house. Guys who like their bachelorhood don’t build four-bedroom houses.” She adjusted the groom on top of the cake.

There was something calm and reasonable about Jenny, and somehow it quieted the flurry of butterflies in Olivia’s stomach. Maybe she was going to like having a sister.

She looked out the window again as a limousine pulled up and recognized the tall, silver-haired man who emerged. “Is Senator McKnight any relation to Police Chief McKnight?” she asked.

“They’re father and son.”

Wow. Now there was a puzzle. The senator was one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the state. The chief lived in an apartment in an old brick building in the town’s historic district, and when he was off duty, drove an El Camino that had seen better days. The two men passed each other on the walkway, barely acknowledging one another. Olivia noticed the way Jenny was watching Rourke McKnight, with his golden hair, full lips and brooding eyes that was not such a puzzle. A sharp perception tingled through her. “Are the two of you…?”

“God, no,” Jenny was quick to say. “I mean…God.” She shuddered.

“Is there something wrong with him?” Olivia offered an ironic smile. “Doesn’t he look enough like Ryan Philippe for you?”

“There’s nothing wrong, except he’s…Rourke. He dates women who look like lingerie models and have the IQ of a zucchini.”

“Oh. Not good.”

“No.” She grinned. “Do you really think he looks like Ryan Philippe?”

“I’m guessing there’s a reason half the women in town park illegally. Probably hoping he’ll handcuff himself to them.” Catching Jenny’s look, she added, “Other than his taste in women, he seems like a good guy.”

“I suppose.” There was a world of wistfulness in her sigh.

They left the dining hall and headed outside. “He helped me figure out that you…that we’re related,” Olivia said.

“Rourke did?” Jenny looked amazed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, Olivia heard a car door slam, and there was something in the sound that made her turn. Suddenly, a more immediate dilemma presented itself. “Okay,” she said, taking Jenny by the elbow and steering her to the side, “don’t freak out.”

“What?”

“My mother Pamela just arrived. She’s with her parents—my grandparents—Gwen and Samuel Lightsey.”

As awkward moments went, this one was bound to make family history. “Do they know about me?” asked Jenny.

“I told Dad it was up to him to explain it. He’s a lawyer, Jenny. He’s good with words. It’ll be all right.”

Jenny squared her shoulders. “Then I’ll let him introduce me.”

Olivia felt an unexpected sense of solidarity with Jenny, yet she couldn’t deny a flood of relief that she wouldn’t have to be the one to make the introductions. Jenny had gone back inside by the time Olivia’s mother and grandparents approached. “Hello, Mom,” Olivia said. “Grandma and Grandpa.” She kissed each of them. Then she noticed her grandmother’s complexion resembled the dull white of chalk. “Grandma?” she said, taking her arm.

Gwen Lightsey practically slumped against her husband. They helped her to a bench.

“I’ll get a doctor,” Olivia’s mother said.

“Pamela, no,” Gwen said. “It’s not…I’ll be all right.” She fanned her face. “It’s just a rather unpleasant surprise to see her, looking so much like that woman….”

Pamela frowned, looked at Olivia and back at her mother. “You’ve seen that girl’s mother?”

Samuel waved a dismissive hand. “It was ages ago.”

“You never told me you’d seen her,” Pamela said.

“There was nothing to tell.” Some of Gwen’s color began to return. “She was a horrid woman of low morals, and Philip was well rid of her.”

“Here’s an idea,” Olivia said, forcing a bright smile. “Let’s let today be about Nana and Granddad, all right? That’s what we’re here for, right?”

“Of course.” Pamela completely surprised her by giving her a hug. “You’re absolutely right.” She pulled back and studied Olivia. “And you’re absolutely glowing. What’s going on, Olivia?”

Olivia laughed. “It’s a long story, Mom.”

Her mother pulled her aside. “Just make it short.”

“Let’s see. I discovered I have a half sister, restored an entire wilderness camp, and oh, yes, I fell in love with Connor Davis for the second time in my life.” She laughed again at the expression on her mother’s face.