Starlight On Willow Lake

“How did you guess?”

“You could listen to music. Or audiobooks—I used to listen to them before I learned to read. You could also tell jokes and talk on the phone if you put it on speakerphone. You could tell me all your favorite flowers, and I would plant them in the garden so you can have a bouquet whenever you want one.” She shrugged matter-of-factly. “I can think up more stuff and make you a list if you want.”

The silence in the room felt like a storm about to descend. Mom looked mortified. If Cara’s rudeness had put the job in jeopardy, Ruby had finished it off. Poor Mom.

Then Mrs. Bellamy blew into her tube, and the chair glided toward an arched doorway leading to a long hallway.

No one moved. Mrs. Bellamy stopped, and the chair swung back. “Well?” she asked, eyeballing Ruby. “Are you coming?”

Ruby blanched. “Coming where?”

“To see where you’ll be living.”

* * *

The job posting had simply stated that the offer included “ample living quarters.” Cara thought she knew what was meant by ample, but this was definitely more than ample.

Mrs. Bellamy led the procession down the hallway and through the house. Each room they passed was pretty and sparkling with the light reflecting off Willow Lake. The rooms had old-fashioned names like the conservatory, the library, the card room, the solarium. The place at the end of the hallway was known as the quarters.

The quarters turned out to be bigger than most apartments they had lived in. It was a sunlit suite of two bedrooms, separated by a fancy bathroom with black-and-white tile, a deep claw-foot tub and a separate shower surrounded by clear glass. There was an antique-looking desk and, best of all, a deck on the outside, with a view of the lake. Everything was as elegant as a set on Masterpiece Theatre.

Ruby acted as if she had entered the Magic Kingdom, not that anyone in the McCallum family could afford to go to Disneyland.

“This reminds me of Mary Lennox’s house,” Ruby exclaimed. She turned to Mrs. Bellamy. “Mary Lennox is the girl in—”

“The Secret Garden,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “I’m a cripple, not an ignoramus.”

Cara wondered if it was politically incorrect to say cripple when you were the one in the wheelchair.

“Do you like books?” Ruby asked her. “I love books, and I can already read chapter books all by myself. I still like reading aloud, though.”

“So do I. We will have to begin reading together,” said Mrs. B.

“It’s beautiful, Mom,” said Ruby. “Do we get to stay?”

Mrs. Bellamy swiveled to face Mom. For the first time, the old lady seemed to smile. It wasn’t an actual smile but almost. A lightness in her eyes, like the sun reflecting off the lake. And Cara realized old Mrs. Bellamy really wasn’t actually old, and she wasn’t a total sourpuss, after all.

“I was just about to ask you the same question.”

8 (#ulink_c37283c7-3237-59d3-a2e5-ea5b5d84155e)

Mrs. Bellamy promised to be a difficult, angry patient, but Faith had dealt with difficult and angry before. The emotional roller coaster was part of the job.

The house and grounds were expansive, like something out of a magazine fantasy. Ruby made no attempt to suppress her delight in the situation. The beautiful gardens were just starting to bloom, ducks were nesting along the shore and the spectacular setting offered dozens of places for a little girl to play, hide, imagine...escape. They wouldn’t have to change schools, after all. Cara could keep her job at the bakery, and Ruby was looking forward to the long, lazy days of summer by Willow Lake.

The household ran like a precision clock, thanks in large part to Mrs. Philomena Armentrout, the exotic housekeeper. The Balinese family—Wayan, Banni and Donno—kept the kitchen running, and Banni was the evening aide. The weekly schedule included a physical therapist, psychological counseling and a sports trainer.

It was late at night by the time Faith finally found time to put away the last of her things—a few books and keepsakes, memorabilia of life before it got so complicated. It was interesting how little one actually needed on a day-to-day basis—a few changes of clothes, a decent bar of soap, toothpaste and toothbrush. It was hard to believe there had been a time when she’d daydreamed of having a house of her own, maybe one with a garden and a tree where she could hang a swing for Ruby, and sending Cara off to any college she chose. The future Faith had once imagined for herself was a distant memory from another life, a life she’d nearly forgotten. These days she didn’t have time for hoping and planning. She’d nearly forgotten what that was like. Lately, all she had time for was the daily juggling act of trying not to drop all the balls she had to keep in the air.

But things were looking up. Instead of standing in line and filling out humiliating forms at the Ulster County Housing Authority, she stood in an opulent bedroom with an antique poster bed, with the French doors open to a view of the starlight on the lake. The girls were fast asleep in the adjacent room, and the only sound Faith could hear was the pleasant chirping of frogs outside.

She finished arranging a small stack of folded clothes in a drawer. Then she drew herself a bath in the big claw-foot tub. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper bath. As she settled back into a cloud of scented bubbles, the sense of indulgence was so intense, it brought on a vague feeling of guilt.

Don’t be stupid, she told herself. This is where you live now. You have a bathtub. There’s no shame in using it. She noticed a bit of blood still caked under her fingernails. She found a brush and scrubbed away the last of it.

After the bath she slipped on an old jersey nightshirt and checked on the girls. Their room adjoined to hers through the bathroom and dressing area, and at the moment it was a minefield of their belongings, hastily hauled in from the van. As usual, Ruby’s bedside lamp was on, because she was afraid of the dark.

Cara had fallen asleep the way she always did, with a book still open to the page she was on. Faith picked it up and angled it toward the light—a novel called Saving Juliet. Cara was always interested in saving things that were doomed.

Faith bent down and quietly switched off the lamp. Moonlight streamed in through two dormer windows, and the shadows outlined the twin beds against the opposite wall. Ruby slept with her Gruffalo clutched in the crook of her arm, her sweet face pale in the bluish glow. Faith reached down and, with the lightest of touches, brushed the hair away from Ruby’s forehead and placed a kiss there.

Look at our girls, Dennis, she thought. Look how beautiful they are.

Studying Ruby’s face, she could still see him in the shape of the little girl’s mouth and the tilt of her eyebrows. You’re still here, Faith said to Dennis. Then why do I feel you slipping away? Time, said the widows in the grief group she’d attended for a while. It was both a healer and a thief. As the months and then the years passed, the pain of missing him faded—but so did the memories.

She returned to her own room, but she was too keyed up to sleep just yet. She walked outside, her bare feet soundless on the cool surface of the deck. Taking a deep breath, she gazed up at the stars and then broke down and wept with relief.

It wasn’t like her to cry; she wasn’t by nature a crier, but the pent-up tension of her past struggles had been sitting inside her like a time bomb waiting to go off. And now that the waterworks had been unleashed, she found she had no power to turn off the flood of relief.

After a few moments, or maybe it was an eternity, she heard a door open and shut; someone cleared his throat.

“Oh, hey...” She stood and turned, seeing Mason Bellamy silhouetted against the lights coming from the main house. She quickly wiped her cheeks with her bare hands. “Is everything all right? Does your mother need something?”

“No,” he said. “Everything is great. How about yourself? Is there something in your eye? Or are you just glad to see me?”

“I’m okay.” She knew she didn’t sound okay. Her voice shook. “These are tears of relief.”

He gestured at the glider placed at the edge of the deck, positioned for a view of the lake. “Have a seat. Stay there, and don’t move. I’ll be back in a minute. Ninety seconds, tops.”

She complied, pleased that he didn’t seem too freaked out to find a woman in a state of meltdown. Dennis hadn’t been good with meltdowns, so she had learned to control them, keeping her emotions in a tightly wrapped box and enduring her darkest moments in private.

The beauty of the moon and the stars reflected on the lake was so intense that she nearly cried again. Instead, she inhaled deeply, tasting the fresh sweetness of the air and listening to the chirping of frogs down by the water’s edge.

True to his word, Mason returned a moment later with two short glasses, clinking with ice. “Are you a whiskey drinker?” he asked.

“Not often enough. What are you pouring?”

“Scotch. I figure with a name like McCallum, you’d have a taste for it.”

“That’s my married name. But I’ll try the Scotch.”

“This one is called Lagavulin. I found a bottle that’s been waiting sixteen years for someone to open it.” With the dexterity of a seasoned bartender, he poured a shot into each glass. “Cheers,” he said, touching the rim of his glass to hers.

The whiskey was remarkably smooth, its flavor unexpected. “Oh,” she said. “I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.”

“Essence of peat smoke. They use peat to roast the barley.” He stirred the wooden glider with his foot, and they sat together in the nighttime quiet, savoring the whiskey.

“Well, thanks. I like it... I think. Warms my chest.”