Summer at Lake Haven Read online

  “We don’t have that many people in town with posh British accents who sound like they could be on Downton Abbey. Plus, the two of you look like you could be twins.”

  Gemma gave a faint smile. “We’re not. He’s the older by two years. But when we were younger, people often used to mistake us for twins.”

  “We saw the similarity between you two, and Hazel stopped him and asked straight out if he was related to you,” Eppie went on. “The children both were polite and well-mannered and your brother was ever so helpful. We couldn’t reach a can of tomatoes on the top shelf and he kindly agreed to get it for us and then we enlisted his help in the cereal aisle with that granola Ronald likes. He seemed like a lovely man,” Eppie said.

  “Inside and out,” Hazel piped up with a wink to the table in general.

  Everyone giggled except Sam.

  “I haven’t met this paragon of a brother yet,” Roxy Nash, the only other unattached female in the group, said in a voice that sounded like a purr. “Maybe I need to time my grocery visits better.”

  Sam chewed salad greens that suddenly tasted bitter. She usually liked Roxy but she didn’t care for that predatory tone. Anyway, Ian Summerhill wasn’t a topic she wanted to discuss. It was bad enough that she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the man, especially after their encounter with him in the moonlight the night before. She didn’t need to talk about him on her lunch break.

  She tried to come up with another topic but Charlene Bailey spoke before she could.

  “How nice that he can come in early. Is he helping you with all your wedding preparations?”

  That seemed to amuse Gemma. “I would like to say yes, but I’m afraid that’s not really the case. He would be hopeless at it. Ian is a biologist and he’s writing a paper on a species of salmon native only to Lake Haven.”

  “Oh, yes. The Lake Haven kokanee,” McKenzie said knowledgeably.

  “How on earth do you know that?” Charlene stared at her.

  Wynona, Charlene’s oldest daughter, laughed. “Surely you know that Mayor Kilpatrick knows everything that goes on within a hundred-mile radius of Lake Haven. She can tell you every rare bird that ever made a visit, even if it only stopped in a treetop for a few moments to eat a worm during its migration.”

  “I can’t help that I like to stay informed,” McKenzie said haughtily, though she looked amused at Wynona’s teasing. “There’s an entire book at the city offices on the flora and fauna in and around Lake Haven. Though it was written in the 1930s, it still contains valuable information about some of the unique species of the area.”

  “I’ll have to mention it to Ian,” Gemma said with interest. “I’m sure he’ll want to take a look at it. He’s trying to narrow down historical populations of the salmon as part of his research.”

  “I would be happy to show it to him. We only have the one copy, though, so I’m afraid we can’t loan it out.”

  “How wonderful that your brother could coordinate his research with your wedding and a vacation for his children,” Eppie said.

  “Did his wife come on the trip with him?” Hazel asked. “I didn’t see the children’s mother at the grocery store with him.”

  Gemma’s mouth tightened. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “Susan died last year.”

  “Oh, no.” Andie Bailey, married to Katrina’s brother, Marshall, looked sorrowful. “Those poor children. She must have been young. What happened?”

  Andie was one of the most compassionate people Samantha knew, maybe because she had walked a hard road herself. She had been a young widow when she arrived in Haven Point with her two children. Now she had a busy, joy-filled life and a houseful of children, including Marshall’s teenage son, a toddler and a new baby.

  “Cancer,” Gemma said, still with that odd, closed look on her face. Her expression wasn’t sorrow exactly. It was closer to anger, for reasons Samantha didn’t understand. “She was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years ago. By the time they found out, it had metastasized throughout her body.”

  What a horrible way to die, she thought again. Samantha didn’t want to think about it. Her mother’s death had been shocking, yes, completely unexpected. But at least Linda had died in her sleep of what doctors suspected was a massive heart attack and probably hadn’t even known what was happening. She hadn’t had to deal with a long, lingering, painful death, knowing she would be leaving behind those she loved.

  Those poor children.

  Her heart ached again for all of them.

  “It’s been a hard year for them all,” Gemma went on.

  “How nice that your wedding gave them a reason to take a vacation together,” Charlene Bailey said. “I’ve always found travel to be a great comfort.”

  “Yes. This is the first vacation Ian and the children have taken since she died.”

  “Well, they couldn’t have chosen a more beautiful time of year to visit our lake,” Barbara Serrano said loyally. “I was thinking this morning what a perfect June we’re having. I don’t think my flower garden has ever been this lush so early.”

  To Samantha’s relief, the conversation shifted to gardening and the next cruise vacation Charlene and her husband, Mike, were taking later that summer.

  Sam finished her lunch, her thoughts still centered on Ian and the children while she listened to the flow of conversation around her, which now focused on the Lake Haven Days celebration in a few more weeks and the group’s effort to raise funds to build a playground for children of all abilities at one of the city parks.

  Ian’s children needed to grieve for their mother and they couldn’t do that by ignoring her life or her death. She knew firsthand how that only led to more pain.

  She really didn’t want to talk to Ian about what Amelia had told her, that he was discouraging the children from talking about their pain. It was none of her business. She barely knew the man and was only connected to him at all because he was renting a temporary home near hers.

  She couldn’t forget how much it had wounded her when her mother tried to erase the memory of Samantha’s father.

  She wished her mother had given her an age-appropriate explanation about how mental illness and depression could sometimes lead unhappy people to take desperate action.

  If she could have talked about Lyle more, remembered good times, received counseling when she was a vulnerable teenager struggling with the loss and pain and missing her father, perhaps she wouldn’t have this gaping hole in her heart.

  How could she bring it up to Ian? And how would he respond to having a woman who was virtually a stranger question his parenting skills?

  She knew one thing at least. Once she told him she thought he was wrong to discourage his children from dealing with their grief, he would probably no longer look at her with that glimmer of awareness in his eyes.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE WAS BECOMING addicted to these mountain evenings.

  After the children were in bed, Ian walked outside the house toward the allure of the lake, with the gently lapping water and the glitter of stars overhead.

  The grass was wet and rustled under his feet, the air sweet with the scent of pine and water and night.

  He drew it deeply into his lungs, wishing he could bottle that scent and take it back with him for those times when the demands of the life he was stepping into became too much.

  In England, he didn’t take nearly enough time to simply be. He was always too busy caring for the children, working with students, handling the day-to-day details that filled a life.

  He was not sure the last time he had a moment simply to think.

  The owners of the house he was renting had thoughtfully placed a bench just on the lakeshore. He sat down and looked out at the moon reflecting on the water, its glow shimmering on the surface of the lake.

  A fish jumped in the water and he smiled a little,
wondering whether it was one of the salmon he was studying.

  He felt tension trickle out of him with every passing moment. Ian released a breath, closing his eyes and listening to the water and the breeze.

  The children seemed to have had a good day. The best in a long time. They had returned home from caring for the puppies with a new energy, bubbling over with stories about what the little dogs had done and how cute they were.

  “They’re the most precious puppies in all the world,” Amelia had said firmly.

  “I wish we could take one home,” Thomas said, his tone wistful.

  “I would choose Coco,” Amelia had declared.

  “No, Oscar. He’s the littlest and the cutest.”

  He had loved seeing their animation as they debated the merits of each puppy. It made him realize how subdued they had all become, as if afraid to let too much light and joy into their lives.

  He would have to seriously consider getting them a dog, as he had promised, when they moved into the small cottage at Summerhill. His parents had their four dogs at the main house that would fill some need in the children to have an animal to love and care for, but his parents’ dogs were older, set in their ways. Perhaps the children needed a dog of their own to train, to feed, to walk.

  What sort of dog? A retriever was a good family pet, hardy and calm. He’d had one himself when he was young and had adored it.

  Would it be better to find a dog shortly after they moved or wait until the children had a chance to acclimatize to their new schools, new home, new surroundings?

  He sighed, looking out at the water and considering his options.

  Trying to, anyway. There was a small chance he may have become too comfortable out there on the bench. One moment he was thinking about the lake and about the children and retrievers and fitting the demands of a puppy into their life when they would already be dealing with so much upheaval; the next he gradually became aware he wasn’t alone.

  He opened his eyes to find a little brown-and-black dog watching him, as if his canine musings had conjured her.

  Samantha’s dog, Betsey, he realized.

  “Hi there.” He scratched her ear and was touched when she immediately jumped up to settle beside him on the bench.

  Where was her owner? He looked about for Samantha Fremont and couldn’t see her. Not quite sure what to do with the dog, he continued to pet her and she rested her chin on his thigh, seeming perfectly content to snuggle next to him.

  It wasn’t a bad thing at all to sit out on a cool evening next to a vast lake, petting a little lapdog. Perhaps this was the sort of dog they needed, something small and cute and cuddly.

  “I think you’re supposed to be somewhere,” he said to Betsey. In answer, she edged closer to him.

  A moment later, he heard Samantha calling her. Betsey lifted her head but didn’t move from his side.

  “Over here,” Ian called softly. He should probably send the little dog on her way but he was enjoying himself too much for that. If he were honest with himself, he could admit he didn’t mind the idea of her owner coming out, as well, to share his bench and the beautiful night.

  Samantha approached him, carrying a leash. “Betsey. What are you doing, bothering our neighbor? I opened the door for only a second and she raced out here as if she were late for an appointment. I’m sorry.”

  “She’s no bother. I’ve been enjoying her company.”

  I would enjoy yours more, Ian wanted to say but the words caught in his throat.

  “She is very calming, isn’t she? I thought so from the moment I brought her home. Until I found out she was expecting puppies, anyway, and would deliver them in less than a month. Since then, I’ve been the opposite of calm.”

  “Seems like a fairly important detail her previous humans should have shared.”

  “One would think, right?”

  “You didn’t know about the puppies when you got her?”

  She sighed. “No idea. I didn’t have a clue. If I had known, I would have been a nervous wreck and probably wouldn’t have taken her.”

  He couldn’t hide his smile as he imagined what a shock that must have been. “How did she come to live with you? Is she a shelter rescue?”

  He was further delighted when Samantha Fremont settled on the bench beside him, much as her dog had.

  “That’s a very long story.” She gazed out at the water. “I suppose you could say it started when my mother died unexpectedly in January.”

  She probably wasn’t even aware of the thread of sadness twisting through her voice. He heard it, though, and fought the urge to hug her as compassion seeped through him like water through limestone.

  “I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.” He adored his parents and couldn’t imagine his world without their supportive presence.

  She accepted his sympathy with a nod. “Thank you. She died in her sleep. For her, I suppose it wasn’t a bad way to go, but I’ll admit, I haven’t been handling it well. My father died when I was young and for most of my life it’s just been me and my mother. Living without her has been an adjustment.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  She sent him a swift look. “I’m sorry. That probably sounds pathetic to you. I’m a grown woman. I understand that losing my mother, while difficult, is not the same as you losing a wife and Amelia and Thomas losing their mother.”

  Guilt pinched at him, as it always did when someone showed him sympathy. “I’ve learned on this journey that you can’t compare your pain to someone else’s. We all have hard things.”

  “But I didn’t lose the love of my life.”

  Neither did I, he wanted to say, but swallowed the words. “I would never tell you that I had more right to grief than you do,” he said instead.

  “My mother made a sampler when she was a girl that said, If all our troubles were hung on a line, you’d take home yours and I’d take home mine. It’s still hanging in her bedroom.”

  What if they all simply left their troubles hanging on that line and let the wind eventually carry them away? He was tired of wearing his, like a too-tight hat always pressing against his skull.

  “It sounds as if you were very close to your mother.”

  She released a sigh, pulling her dog onto her lap, and said nothing for a long time while small waves licked against the dock.

  “I wanted to be close to her. I suppose we were in a way since we only had each other to lean on after my father died. But my mother was a...difficult woman.”

  “She and my ex-wife had that much in common, then.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

  She stared at him. “Ex-wife? The children’s mother was your ex-wife?”

  Instinctively, he wanted to jump up and hurry back to his house, feeling horribly exposed.

  Why had he told her that? Ian never talked about his marriage with anyone. It was the reason he went along with the fiction the world had created about him, a man who had lost the love of his life.

  Now that he had brought it up, he found he wanted to tell Samantha the truth.

  “Her name was Susan and she left me for another man months before she was diagnosed with cancer. We had just signed the papers when she found out she was ill.”

  “I thought you were a grieving widower.”

  This time it was his turn to sigh. “It’s easier than trying to explain the whole story.”

  “She left you.”

  He found her shock rather gratifying, he had to admit. He was certain it was his imagination but he thought Samantha sounded as if she couldn’t quite understand why any woman would do such a thing.

  “We were never a good fit,” he admitted, something he had come to see early in their marriage. “She taught at Oxford, as well. Psychology. We met when we were both graduate students.”

  They had dated onl
y a few times but had slept together one night when they’d both had too much to drink after a party with friends.

  She’d become pregnant with Amelia. While he had used protection and she had told him she was on birth control, he suspected she had lied.

  He wasn’t necessarily much of a catch, a too-serious biology student obsessed with his research. But his family was wealthy and not without influence and she had adored that part of their life far more than the quiet world of an Oxford professor.

  She had never said so outright but he suspected that wealth and influence was the main reason she had dated him in the first place.

  “We tried to make it work for the children’s sake,” he said now to Samantha. “Whatever else I could say about her, she was a good mother who loved her children. We might have stayed together and figured out a way to cobble together a happy life but three years ago she fell passionately in love with a visiting guitar instructor from Spain.”

  “Oh, no.”

  Samantha sounded so distressed he had to sigh. “My heart wasn’t broken, I promise. At least not for myself. Divorce is always hardest on the children. Thomas was young enough he didn’t really know what was happening but Amelia was struggling to process all the changes. We were figuring things out together and then Susan was diagnosed with cancer after a routine mammogram.”

  “What happened to her guitar instructor?”

  “He decided radiation and chemotherapy weren’t what he signed up for and went back to Barcelona.”

  “I would say that’s just what she deserves but that seems a little cold since she was dealing with such a hard diagnosis.”

  He had thought much worse than that, he had to admit. “Susan was devastated, of course. On both counts. By then I was mostly numb. My brother had died a few months earlier and Gemma was seriously injured in the same accident. Our family was still reeling from that.”

  Again, he couldn’t believe he was telling this woman he scarcely knew all his deep, dark secrets. If they had been sitting beside the lake in the warm light of a sunny summer afternoon, he probably couldn’t have been able to be so honest, but there was a quiet intimacy here in the dark.