The Shadow of Your Smile (22 page)

Noelle could fall in love with the life her former self had built. With the exception, perhaps, of the crow’s-feet around her eyes and the extra padding around her waist. But like pieces to a puzzle that had lain scattered a month earlier, suddenly, when she stepped back into her life as Eli’s wife, everything fit into place.

Like now, sitting beside him during the Huskies semifinals basketball game against the Eagles, their hands knit together like newlyweds in between the rush of taking to their feet to cheer.

Kirby landed another three-pointer. She turned to Eli and met his high five.

He had such beautiful eyes. Deep brown, with facets of gold when the sun found them. She loved to prop herself up on one arm, trace his jaw, the russet overnight brush of whiskers, his face so relaxed in sleep.

She loved being with him, his strong arms cradling her. Yes, this was how she’d dreamed marriage might be. Sweet. Safe. Intimate.

Other than in sleep, Eli never relaxed, his life so full of taking care of their family. In the past two weeks he’d hauled his ice house home, parked it in the woods near their house, then driven out the backhoe and smoothed over a pothole in their muddy driveway that just about swallowed her SUV whole. He’d turned in the recycling—the giant cans of plastic, glass, tin, aluminum, and paper nearly overflowing in the garage—then washed her car of the grime the dirt road had kicked onto her hatchback.

Small, manly things, but so thoughtful. So she’d responded by hauling out her cookbooks, finding a dog-eared recipe that he might like. Even Kirby smiled when she plunked a smoked ham with homemade au gratin potatoes on the table.

Indeed, their home seemed almost back to normal, or what might feel like normal, if she could remember anything.

One morning last week, she nearly had. She’d woken with the distinct sense of being late, rushed downstairs, and while putting on coffee, heard a voice call from the bathroom, something about fixing her a cup too. A high, sweet voice. She’d spun around to capture it, but it vanished in the dark silences at the end of the hallway.

Maybe she’d simply begun to heal, her brain settling down to a routine. Probably because she’d stopped trying so hard, like Kyle suggested, and started enjoying what remained, the life she had now.

Too many times, the verses she’d heard nearly a month ago resounded back to her.
“But I trust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me. I will sing to the Lord because he is good to me.”

God had been good to her—good enough to give her a husband who hadn’t quit on her even though he felt forsaken. Good enough to give her Kyle, who helped her find the music of her daughter. Good enough to give her this community filled with friendly faces that someday might have names.

And good enough to give her Kirby, the senior star making jump shots from the top of the key.

She’d even dressed the part tonight—a blue Huskies jacket, a pin that identified her son as a player. Kirby’s mom.

Yes, maybe the key to going forward with her life was simply being grateful for it.

Derek, playing near the baseline, caught the ball, shot it back to Kirby. He rimmed his shot, and it ricocheted back out. Derek caught it, put the ball up again. Swish.

Four minutes left on the scoreboard and they were up by four.

She breathed out as the crowd lit up around her. She’d noticed Lee sitting a few rows down and felt a strange pinch inside when the woman opted not to sit by her, by Eli. Hadn’t she said they were friends?

Another woman sat beside Noelle today, munching on a bag of popcorn. “Hey, Marybeth,” Eli had said when she sat down, running interference again.

Now Marybeth leaned over, popcorn in her hand. “I saw your picture in the paper with Kirby. Great shot of your family. I can’t believe your last one is graduating.”

“Me either,” Noelle said honestly. Kirby got the rebound from the Eagles shot bouncing off the board, took it halfway down the court, and passed it to Derek. It slapped out of his hands, out of bounds.

“Hang on to the ball!” Eli’s voice boomed out.

Marybeth looked past Noelle to Eli and back. “Such a dad—doesn’t just yell at his own son, but the rest of the team too.”

Well, that could be because Derek didn’t have a father to sideline coach him. The fact that Derek’s father wasn’t here to watch his son turn into a basketball star sent a curl of sorrow through Noelle. She’d have to hunt down Lee after the game and tell her what a great job Derek did. Maybe even invite her and Derek over.

Noelle watched the clock tick down as the Huskies worked their next play, finally tossing the ball to Kirby. He went up for the shot. It hit the rim, bounced out, and the other team grabbed it.

Less than two minutes. The crowd had started a defense cheer and she joined in, clapping next to Eli.
C’mon, Kirbs.

The Eagles swished a beautiful three-pointer, bringing their score one under. The Huskies threw the ball into play, and Kirby ran down to the key.

They just had to hold on to it until time ran out.

“What’s the guard’s name?” Noelle said.

“Cory. He’s a good ball handler. They got this.”

Cory passed it to Kirby, who passed it back to the other guard. Derek ran a pick and the guard drove to the basket, then turned and shot the ball back out to Derek.

He wasn’t watching for it and the ball hit his hands, flew out of bounds.

A groan rippled through the audience.

Eli’s mouth tightened.

The Huskies played man-to-man coverage and nearly stole the ball from the Eagles, who played the clock brilliantly. At four seconds left, they set a screen, and their guard dribbled up, faked, and banked in a two-point shot.

One ahead, Eagles.

The Huskies crowd went berserk, screaming for a score.

Cory grabbed the ball, threw it in to Kirby, who shot an overhand long ball to their basket. The buzzer sounded in midair. Noelle held her breath as the ball arched.

It hit the backboard and bounced into the crowd.

The Eagles erupted.

Noelle stood, hollowed out along with the other parents. She looked at Kirby. He had gritted his jaw, but she saw his mouth pucker as if he might be trying not to cry.

She started to go down to him, but Eli grabbed her arm. “Leave him. Trust me on this. We’ll wait outside their locker room.”

He slid his hand down to take hers as they made their way down the bleachers.

She spotted Lee a few feet ahead of her. “Hey, Lee!”

In the chaos, Lee must not have heard her.

They were stopped by Jerry, the mayor, whom she remembered from a previous game, and he talked shop with Eli. She half listened, watching the crowd. So this was her town, her people. Most wearing parkas, warm hats, mukluks. Some of them waved to her—she waved back.

“Sorry about the game,” said a woman with long black hair. “I miss you at the studio—come by; we’ll have coffee.”

The studio? Maybe she was from the art colony.

Another couple walked hand in hand, their other hands holding on to a pair of towheaded twin boys who bounded beside them.

“Yeah, I heard about Billy,” Eli was saying to the mayor. “Kyle mentioned they’d hit a dead end. Something about not being able to find the right footage from a pawnshop?”

Jerry nodded, and she heard him greet a young man wearing a Huskies football jacket and a blue stocking cap.

She wanted to tug on Eli’s hand, but he knew Kirby better than she did. Maybe he wouldn’t want his parents hovering.

The pastor had joined the threesome; she smiled at him, rooting for his name. David? Doug?

“I saw the picture too,” he was saying.

“I wish the
Herald
hadn’t run it,” Eli said. “The entire thing has me on edge.”

What picture? She turned now to the group, began to listen.

“The second Kirby brought it home, cut it out, and put it on the fridge, I wanted to wring Gloria’s neck.”

Oh, the newspaper picture—Kirby presenting her a rose for parents’ night. She could still glow when she thought about it.

“The suspect could be right here in Deep Haven.”

“What suspect?”

Every eye turned to her. Then to Eli. And Eli wore a look she hadn’t seen since that day she’d painted Kelsey’s picture. “What suspect?” she said again, slowly.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Eli said.

“Tell Kirby he played a good game,” the pastor said.

“Thanks, Dan.”

Dan. She’d remember that. But now she stared at Eli.
“What suspect?”

He shook his head. “Your accident wasn’t an accident. We didn’t tell you right away because we wanted to see what you remembered, and then when we realized your situation, we didn’t want you to have more trauma.”

She kept her voice even, ignoring the sting of being left in the dark again. “What do you mean, more trauma?”

He blew out a breath. “You were involved in a robbery while on your way home from Duluth. The clerk was killed.”

“And I got away.”

“Somehow. You ran into traffic and flagged down a semi. But you slipped and took a brutal fall.”

“Which wiped out my memory.”

He nodded. “The problem is, they don’t know who did it. He’s walking around loose.”

“But if I can’t remember him, then I’m not any danger to him, right?”

“He doesn’t know that.”

Oh. Hence Eli’s hovering. She could hardly be angry at him for wanting to protect her. Still, the fact that he’d hidden the circumstances of the accident from her churned inside her. She pulled her hand away from his.

A scream, then commotion from the hallway, spilled into the nearly empty gym.

“Fight!”

They heard more screaming, yelling, shattering glass. Eli took off for the hall, Noelle behind him.

A crowd surrounded two boys fighting, some of the adults around them yelling at them to stop, others—mostly kids—backing away. Glass from the shattered trophy case littered the floor.

Noelle pushed through the crowd on Eli’s tail, then froze.

Kirby had slammed Derek into the wall. Derek pushed him away, following with a fist to his face. Kirby threw himself at the other boy, tackled him.

“Knock it off!” Eli charged in, grabbed Kirby by his belt, and hauled him off Derek. “Kirby!”

Blood dripped from Kirby’s mouth as he glared at Derek, who bent over and hung on to his knees, breathing hard.

“You shut up,” Kirby said, his voice lethal. “You just shut
up
.”

“Yeah, Kirby? Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Kirby stiffened, his jaw tight.

“’Cause you know the truth, don’t you? You know your dad’s been sneaking over to our house to be with my mom.” Derek turned to Eli. “Haven’t you?”

Eli went white, his body still as Kirby jerked himself out of his grip.

“For a couple years now. Isn’t that right, Mr. Hueston?”

“Derek!”

Lee emerged from the edge of the crowd, stepped close to Derek, but he narrowed his eyes at her. “You make me sick. Do you even notice that Dad’s gone, or has Eli filled in so well it doesn’t matter?”

She slapped him. Noelle winced, her heart tearing open at the sound. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“Isn’t that why you’re leaving Deep Haven, Mom? Because Eli has gone back to his wife? The wife who can’t even remember him? Maybe he thinks she won’t remember that he had his paws all over you. That he was going to leave her for you.”

“Derek, that’s enough,” Eli said, his voice bearing a heat that shook Noelle. But as he said it, it occurred to her that he wasn’t denying it either.

In fact, he and Lee looked at each other and something like guilt—or shame?—pulsed between them.

She might be ill. All this time he and Lee had been . . . and then Noelle and Eli had . . .
Oh.
Noelle turned, pushed her way out of the crowd. She heard Eli calling her name, but she didn’t turn. Nor did she when Kirby called out, because she wasn’t his mother. His mother had vanished, leaving her to pick up the pieces, to put their life back together.

A life that was probably broken beyond repair.

“How did I do?”

Kyle could see the adrenaline on Emma’s face as she launched herself through the door of studio B at Wingate Studios, a soundproof room with warm oak floors, a carpet in the center, a microphone dangling from the ceiling. She’d sat underneath it for the past four hours, pouring out her heart.

She landed in Kyle’s arms, nearly bowling him over. “That was so amazing.”

She’d not only laid down five demo tracks, but had been joined for an impromptu jam session by a couple local musicians practicing next door.

Kyle had even sat in on the drums, tired of waiting in the mixer room, studying this Ritchie guy, who was supposed to be her agent, and the record producer named Brenton, whom he’d probably have to run a search on.

Just in case.

But most of the time, he’d simply watched Emma through the glass, bursting inside.

Oh, he loved her.

The thought resonated through him as he curled her tight into his embrace, spun her around with joy.

He loved her.

He could even come up with reasons why.

Her smile, for one, slow and sweet like molasses as it slipped up her face and turned her eyes so warm he felt the burn clear through to his chest.

He loved her for her creativity and her ability to turn Kelsey’s words to something with heart and soul and verve and life. He nearly wanted to cry at the beauty of Kelsey’s words to Emma’s playing.

And what about her spontaneity? Like last night—after a hard day of playing, she’d made him drive her downtown to the art park, where she gave him a tour under the golden moon, dodging the melting puddles and making up stories about the exotic art pieces.

Maybe just the fact that she could sit and play for hours in a sweet pocket of blues riffs and licks, drawing him into a magic place with her.

She urged him out of himself to a place he liked.

Most of all, he loved how she trusted him. How she let him help her. How she let him into her life.

“You totally dazzled him,” he said, putting her down, cradling her face with his hands, kissing her.

She grinned, then stepped away from him and stooped to pick up her gear. “I don’t know. It still wasn’t my lyrics.”

“Oh, please. It was fabulous. And you may have used Kelsey’s words, but you made them fit with your song. Kelsey would have been beside herself with joy.”

She looked up at him through the curtain of her dark hair. “Really?”

He knelt before her, pushed her hair back. “Really.”

Brenton came out the door down the hall. “Okay, kid, that was pretty good. I’m going to get that demo back to my studio, give it a good listen, talk to my people, and I’ll let you know.” He held out his hand to her.

Emma rose, shook it, and he winked at her.

Yes, Kyle would definitely be checking out this record studio.

“Here’s a couple copies of the CD we made,” Brenton said, handing them to her. She took them and stared at them with a strange, euphoric smile.

“Earth to Emma.” Kyle picked up her guitar case. “Ready for some food?”

“I’m famished, absolutely ready to keel over.”

“I can’t carry you and the guitar.”

“I’ll bet you can.”

Oh yeah. Kyle grinned at that. He led her outdoors to the dark parking lot. A streetlamp pooled shiny light onto the lot. Traffic splashed by. Across the street, a Chinese place flashed an Open sign. “What do you want for supper?”

“Pizza?”

“Attagirl.”

“Yours?”

“Even better.”

She slipped her hand into his. “You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

“Yeah, actually, I did. I can afford a couple days off.” He opened the door to his truck, put her guitar in the back. “And by the way, I have couch privileges at my buddy’s house for as long as I need.”

He didn’t regret missing Kirby’s game, but he expected a call from his father any minute with the score. He had no doubt Kirby would be heading to the state finals next weekend.

He climbed into the truck.

Emma was opening the CD case. “Want to hear it?”

“Absolutely.” He backed out, heading onto the street. He hated March, the dingy snow piled along the curbs. Even Deep Haven, crawling out of the icy grip of winter, seemed harsh and uninviting. No wonder all the resort owners closed their lodges for cleaning by the end of March.

“So how soon do you think we’ll know?” Emma asked. She leaned forward, trying to find his radio controls. He pressed the CD button, and her first track came on.

“The sky cried, and I wept,

for the hope I had lost in time . . .”

“I don’t know.” He glanced at her, her pretty profile, those amazing blue eyes, her lips—he could be entranced by her lips. “Emma, what if . . . and this isn’t saying I don’t think so, but what if Nashville doesn’t work out?” Oh, he shouldn’t have said that. Immediately he saw her cringe, nod.

“You’re right; it probably won’t.”

“Hey, I’m not saying that. I’m just . . . Well, would you consider . . . ?”

It was too early. He couldn’t voice what was in his heart—how he’d yearned for her to move back to Deep Haven. But wasn’t that what he wanted? To marry a hometown girl? To start a life there?

He looked at Emma, leaning back against the seat, clearly replaying the gig.

No.

The realization rattled through him.

What he wanted was Emma. With or without Deep Haven.

The thought took his breath away, and he stared ahead, shaken. What about his plan?

“Would I consider what?”

He managed a small smile. “I . . . I was just . . . I don’t know.”

“You still want me to move to Deep Haven, don’t you?”

He made a face. “No.”

“Baloney. You love Deep Haven. Your life is in Deep Haven. I’ve never met anyone more hometown than you. Or maybe my mom. Although even she’s leaving, so I guess people can change their minds.”

“Your mom’s leaving?”

“Moving.” She played with the knitting on her gloves. “Right after Derek graduates.”

“Why?”

Her silence made him look at her, but she had turned away and was staring out the window. “I guess she just thinks it’s time.”

Oh, he knew a lie when he heard it. But he said nothing.

The Nelsons leaving Deep Haven?

“I never understood my mom. It’s like life just doesn’t faze her. Did you know that when she and Daddy first built the house, they lived in the garage? And then the basement? They worked their way up, building the house as they went. She didn’t have plumbing or electricity or hot water . . .”

“She’s a true north shore gal.”

Emma hiked up a shoulder. “Even after my dad died, she was always so tough, so steady. She dove into volunteer work, ran the booster club, helped at the church. And she kept the house going. Do you know how hard it is to heat a house with wood?”

“I’m sure Derek helped her.”

She drew in a breath. “Yeah, she had some help. . . . I think I didn’t want to go home because I saw how she had her life together. I had nightmares for months afterward—still do sometimes. I couldn’t just pretend it never happened.”

“I’m sure your mom doesn’t pretend it never happened.”

“Feels like it. And when I go home, it’s a reminder of what a mess my life is.” She looked at him, a wry smile on her face. “Maybe this Nashville thing will change all that.”

“You think getting a record contract will make you feel better about your dad’s death?”

He hadn’t meant it to come out quite so harsh.

“No. Of course not. But then at least I’d be living my dream.”

“Your dream or Kelsey’s?”

“That’s not fair. You said you loved the songs I put together with her lyrics.”

“I do love them. Of course I do. You’re amazingly talented. But you still haven’t finished ‘Emma’s Song.’ Or written your own. Getting a contract isn’t going to fix what is holding you back.”

“Here we go again, Mr. All-Knowing.”

“Sorry. I just . . .”

“Can’t help but fix things. Well, maybe God doesn’t want me to write. Maybe it’s my punishment for not—”

“You have got to be kidding me!” He turned to her, glanced at the traffic, then cut off the street and pulled over at the curb. “Do you seriously think God is holding it against you because you lived and Kelsey didn’t?”

“No. But why would He take Kelsey and not me?”

“You’re operating under the belief that God is disappointed that you lived. That He’s somehow keeping score. As if He’s given you this one chance and if you blow it, then your life isn’t worth what it took to save. Guess what—you’re going to keep blowing it, over and over and over, and He’s going to keep loving you, over and over and over.”

“How can He possibly love me—He took my father!”

“And He spared you!”

She blinked at him, almost horrified. “I didn’t ask to be spared.”

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Going back to Deep Haven isn’t about the memories of all who died. It’s the fact that you lived. And because of that, you had to change your life, do something noble and big—live Kelsey’s dream—because if you didn’t, if you did your own thing, then it would be selfish and not worthy of the life God spared, right?”

“You’re one to talk. You wanted to play basketball. Now you’re a small-town cop.”

“I don’t want to waste my life either. I want to protect people. But not out of some sort of guilt trip. I want to be the guy I know I can be, every single minute, because that’s who I’m supposed to be.”

She folded her arms across her chest. Looked out the window. “I wanted to live in Deep Haven, teach music to the kids, maybe play some gigs around town. I wanted to live my mother’s happy life. To grow old in our small town with a man I loved. But then Kelsey died, and she had no one else to carry on her dreams.”

“Has it occurred to you that God didn’t want you to live Kelsey’s dreams? That yours were perfectly acceptable to Him?” He softened his voice, reached out to touch her. She didn’t move. “If God wanted Kelsey to live her dreams, then Kelsey would have lived.”

Her jaw tightened. “I don’t like that God didn’t spare her.”

“Neither do I. Life can look like everything is a mess; I admit that. And it can look like God doesn’t love us. But I keep thinking about what Kelsey said, how faith is about trusting God when He seems farthest away. I’m wondering if, in those moments, we have to remember what we know about God, about what He’s done for us.”

He almost didn’t recognize himself, the words issuing from him as if with power. But perhaps they were in him all along.

God hadn’t abandoned him. Kyle just didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to admit that God could be there with his sister as she was dying and that He could hold their family together as they grieved.

Didn’t want to admit that yes, he could trust God in every moment. Still, it felt right to take Emma’s hand, to speak the words churning inside, for himself as much as for Emma. “Let’s just ignore for a second—if it’s even possible—that because of God’s love for us, we’ll see Kelsey again. Let’s stay here on earth and look at the treasures He gave us to carry us through the darkness. Don’t you have any good memories?”

She wiped her cheek with her mitten. “Of course.”

“Like what?”

“Um . . . like the time I was fishing and flung myself off the dock into the water and my dad had to dive in to save me.”

He smiled, picturing her soggy and cute.

Oh, she was so difficult to remain angry at.

“And the time I made a chocolate cake for my mother at your house and then came back after jamming with Kelsey only to discover your dog had eaten it.”

“That’s Riggins. She’s a little oinker. Her face swelled up for a day and we thought she might die. Thankfully she just threw up the cake on our living room carpet. Yeah, that’s a great memory.”

She smiled. “And then there was my junior prom. My dad did a drive-by, even came in and stood at the doorway, just to see me dancing.”

“And to put the fear of Deputy Clay Nelson into your date, no doubt.”

She laughed, sniffed. “Yeah, I have good memories.”

He swallowed, ran his thumb over her hand. “After Kelsey died, I started going to this little church. Some of my law enforcement pals went there, and the preacher always started the service with a psalm. I loved it because David had a lot of messy emotions. Sometimes he’d get angry at God, lamenting that God had abandoned him. Sometimes he’d whine about mistreatment of others. Sometimes he’d talk about all the great things he’d done for God. Regardless, he’d always end with a statement of faith. Something about trusting in God even when it’s the darkest.”

She looked at his hand. “Right before the morning star shows up.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Emma drew in a breath. “Maybe that’s what Kelsey was talking about. Trusting when things seemed darkest.”

“I’m sure it was. Because she was a believer in Jesus showing up.”

His cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out, stared at the display. Kirby.

“So you going to state?”

But Kirby’s voice sounded strained, even sharp, as if he might have been crying. “No, we’re not. But I don’t care. Did you know . . . did you know Dad was having an
affair
with Lee Nelson?”