Summer Light: A Novel (29 page)

May nodded, wiping her bleeding knee. Then she looked straight into Tobin’s eyes. “I don’t want to lose our friendship, ever.”

“Me, neither.” Tobin stared back into May’s eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“He wants you back. No matter what happened, he doesn’t want to do this.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was at your wedding, May. I heard him say his vows. He meant them. I know it. Go pull him home by the hair.”

They hugged, then pulled apart and gazed over at Paradise Ice Cream, the small white building that had been there forever. The same family had owned it all that time, had been making ice cream since before they were born.

“Ready for a cone?” Tobin asked.

“First of the year.”

“Let’s go.” Tobin helped May to her feet. Limping over, feeling her friend’s arm around her waist, May stood at the window. The world seemed large with hope and possibility. Tobin ordered vanilla, May maple walnut with chocolate sprinkles. Some things never changed. And, luckily, May thought, some things did.

She had always been intimidated by the Fleet Center, with all the players, guards, and groupies, but two days after eating that ice-cream cone, May drove straight into the parking lot and took a deep breath. Locking her van, she strode across the lot. There was Martin’s Porsche in his regular spot. The sight of it made her dizzy, but she just kept walking.

The security guard nodded hello, not very friendly, but at least he didn’t turn her away. Did that mean Martin hadn’t spread the word they were separated? Smiling, May said hi back.

She was struck by the similarity of her visit to Estonia. Signing in, she was allowed through the special entrance that led to the locker rooms. Walking down the long corridor, she felt alone and nervous. She rehearsed the words she would say to him—
I’m sorry, Martin. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back. I didn’t mean to hurt you
—and wondered what would happen. What if he refused to forgive her? What if he had found someone new? She thought of Tobin assuring her he wanted her back, that he had meant his vows, and she felt strong.

Rounding the corner, she met Ray Gardner in a pack of Bruins coming off the ice. Suited up and sweaty, he looked surprised to see her.

“May!” he exclaimed.

Music blaring from speakers overhead made it hard to hear.

“Is he here?” she asked, her lips dry.

“Out there.” He gestured at the ice. “You sure you want to talk to him here? Why don’t I tell him you’re waiting, and you can meet somewhere more private—in a conference room?”

“I’m sure,” she said, hugging herself. “I’ll just wait.”

Ray nodded, kissing her on the cheek. He walked into the locker room, and May faded back against the wall. Other players nodded as they passed. A few gave her friendly hellos, and May waved and tried to smile. Cold air poured off the ice, and she shivered in her spring cotton dress.

Martin was the last player to pass through the door. Standing in a shadow, May watched him come. His shoulders were enormous, his face angry and set. Still squinting his left eye, he reminded her again of a rageful pirate. Her heart pounding, May reached out her hand.

“Martin,” she said, the loud music drowning out her voice.

He walked straight by, disappearing into the locker room without even a second glance. May stared with disbelief. It had all happened so fast: He was there and gone in two seconds. She stood in place, frozen for an eternity, then ran straight into the locker room.

“Martin Cartier!” she screamed.

“Excuse me,” a guard said, coming forward, grabbing her arm. “How’d you get in here?”

Players stood around, some in their jerseys and others bare-chested, some in their jockstraps and some totally naked. She glanced wildly around, ignoring them all.

“Where’s Martin?” she asked.

“Mrs. Cartier,” the guard said, hauling her toward the door. “Wives aren’t allowed in here. I’ll give him your message and—”

May didn’t wait to hear. Wrenching her arm free, she walked away. Martin’s teammates were laughing nervously, calling after her, telling her Martin was already in the shower room. May’s ears were buzzing. She thought of Tobin saying he wanted her back, and she shook her head. Best friends didn’t know everything.

The third Saturday in May, May had given up on hearing from Martin again. He didn’t want to talk to her: That was very clear. She and Kylie drove up to the Gardners’ house in New Hampshire. They lived far out in the country, on thirty acres reminiscent of the land around Lac Vert, and the clear air smelled like new leaves and spring flowers.

“It’s so peaceful out here.” May stood on the front porch with Ray while Genny took the kids out back to fly kites.

“Genny and I are country people,” he said. “Always have been.”

“Like Martin.”

“I consider him a brother,” Ray told her, “but right now I think he’s an idiot. I don’t know what he’s doing—he’s not even acting like himself.”

“Because he left me?”

“Especially that. But in other ways, too. He seems like a different person.”

The memory of Martin walking by her at the Fleet Center, her chasing him into the locker room, was still so raw and painful, May cringed to think of it. The man May had married, loved for a year, would not have done that to her.

“He can’t forgive me,” she said.

“For going to see his father?” Ray snorted. “His father was everything to him. Let me tell you a story.”

Spring was spilling over to summer, and as night fell over the New Hampshire hills, May listened to the peepers and watched the stars come out, waiting for Ray to begin. He was smaller than Martin, but broad in the shoulders and back. He was very dark, with almost black hair and eyes. Although May knew he was very gentle, when he was deep in thought, he wore a glowering expression that deepened as he started talking.

When Ray and Martin were fifteen, they had decided to hitchhike six hundred miles to Toronto to watch Serge play hockey. Martin hadn’t seen his father in five years, and by then Serge was at the top of his fame. Toronto was leading the league, and Martin was convinced that if they could get to the door at Maple Leaf Gardens, he could get someone to take them to Serge.

“Agnes wouldn’t even hear of us going,” Ray said. “And who could blame her? You’ve seen the scars on his chest. Martin never talks about the details, but Genny and I have a pretty good idea of how they got there.”

May nodded.

“Well, by that time she despised Serge. Martin wanted to respect her, but…”

“He was fifteen.”

“And his father was the top scorer in the NHL. So we set out to hitch twelve hours from Lac Vert to Toronto, middle of January, during a thaw.”

“Twelve hours,” May said with disbelief.

“Well, the snow was piled high, but the sun was out, so we felt good and warm. Caught a trucker going all the way from Quebec City to Montreal, then another most of the way to Ottawa, then a few rides to Toronto. It wasn’t till we arrived that it got hard.”

Ray told of going to the Gardens, talking to someone in the ticket booth, being turned away. Trying to get in through the players’ entrance, telling the guard Martin was Serge’s son, showing him school ID, everything they could think of.

“We couldn’t get anyone to believe us. Serge had the reputation of being a swinger, big single guy hanging out in Las Vegas. None of the news stories ever mentioned a son, because Serge knew Agnes would kill him if he ever brought attention to Martin. She wanted her son raised right—no fame and fortune…”

May nodded, sympathizing with the mother-in-law she’d never met.

“So the rink personnel didn’t even know Martin existed. Later, we found out Serge had two people fired for not bringing us back to the locker room. But that day, we never got past the gate.”

“I know how that feels. Martin must have been crushed,” May said.

“To put it mildly, eh? We started back home, just as the weather turned. Got a ride as far as Belleville, where the wind whips off Lake Ontario, when the storm turned into a blizzard.”

“A blizzard?” May asked.

Ray nodded. “Bad. Snow so hard we couldn’t see each other standing two feet away. We were freezing. Never in our lives had we felt cold like that. Never.”

May closed her eyes, thinking of the lengths Martin had gone to to meet his father. To go so far and then not see him!

“We had jackets and boots, but the snow was over our knees. The roads were deserted, no one passing by. It got dark. Our fingers and toes were numb, our faces frozen to the zippers of our jackets. We were bleeding, and the blood froze. I thought we were going to die.”

“What did you do?”

“Martin never let me lose hope,” Ray said. “I’ve always believed his faith kept us both alive that night.”

May felt Ray staring at her, but she couldn’t look up.

“Saved my life.” Ray was glaring out at the low hills. “We knocked each other around, then we built an igloo and stayed there till the blizzard ended.”

May closed her eyes, picturing a shelter made of frozen snow and ice. Martin lived in one still, she thought, wondering about her husband’s faith now.

“Don’t give up on him,” Ray said, touching May’s hand. May squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe. He had given up on
her
.

“What did he say about my coming to the ice that night? He walked straight past me.”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“You’re protecting him,” May said, glaring at him.

“No, I’m not. I told him he’s an asshole, and he said he agreed. One guy kidded him about you walking into the locker room, and he grabbed his throat so hard he left handprints.”

“What’s going on with him?”

“I don’t know,” Ray said, staring at Genny reeling in the kite. Dark against the darker sky, it dove and bobbed like a bat. “He’s my best friend, and I don’t have a clue.”

Genny and the kids approached the house, and May heard Kylie talking about her skating party the next day. She was nervous because she couldn’t skate well, and the Gardner kids were telling her to be fearless and go for it.

“Want to come?” she asked.

“I can’t,” Charlotte said. “I have to decorate for a dance at school.”

“And I have a baseball game. Sorry, Kylie,” Mark said.

May wrapped Kylie in her sweater and held her on her lap. Kylie hid her disappointment deep inside. It came out late at night, during her sleep, when she’d call out for Martin. She would wake up, sweaty and crying, mumbling those words that had started it all: “Bring them together. Natalie says we have to…” May wrote everything down in the blue notebook.

“First star.” Charlotte pointed at the sky.

“Make a wish,” Genny told her.

“I wish for the Bruins to win the Stanley Cup,” Mark said.

“Good boy,” Ray said, laughing.

“I wish…” Charlotte began, typical teenage girl, making her wish in silence.

Holding Kylie tighter, May kissed her hair. She leaned down, to ask what Kylie was wishing for on the eve of her birthday, and she heard the fierce, almost inaudible whisper her daughter had intended no human ears to hear:

“I wish for Daddy to come home.”