Alaskan Homecoming

“I’m sure it is. Give them our regards the next time you talk to them, okay?”

Liam nodded, not wanting to make any outright promises. Conversations full of static from his dad’s satellite phone didn’t leave much room for small talk. Besides, he wasn’t here to talk about his parents.

“Posy’s back,” he said, his voice sounding altogether too raw and vulnerable for his liking.

“Yes, she is.” Mrs. Sutton nodded. “We haven’t seen her yet, but she should be home in time for dinner.”

“She’s staying here?” he asked. A dumb question. Where else would she be staying? Why was his brain suddenly on vacation?

“Yes.”

“Good.” His smile felt strained. He was just going to have to bite the bullet and say what he’d come here to say before he ran out of time. Or lost his nerve. “Look, I know you told her about the job at the church.”

Mrs. Sutton’s gaze suddenly shifted to the floor.

“I also know that you didn’t tell her I worked there,” he said quietly.

“I wasn’t sure she’d take the job if she knew, and it’s the perfect place for her to be while she gets better.”

They were getting to the crux of the matter. Finally. “Why is that?”

Nervous laughter spilled from Mrs. Sutton’s mouth. “Working at the church will be good for her. She’ll be surrounded by the love of God and the girls...”

Liam leveled his gaze at her. “And me.”

Her only response was a quiet sigh, followed by uncomfortable silence.

“I can’t do it, Mrs. Sutton. I just can’t.” His throat burned all of a sudden. Seared with memories of words that he would not, could not, utter again. “I can’t be the one to keep an eye on her. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you sent her to the church, and that’s why you didn’t tell her I’d be there.”

He waited for her to admit it, not that he really needed confirmation of his suspicions. Everything about Posy’s return was a little too coincidental to be believable.

“You’re right.” Posy’s mother gave a slow, reluctant nod. “I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you about it first. I’m worried about her, Liam. So is her father. Did she tell you about her injury?”

Guilt hovered around the edges of Liam’s consciousness. Posy hadn’t told him a thing because he hadn’t asked. “No.”

“It’s a fracture.” Mrs. Sutton gulped. Her eyes grew shiny with the threat of unshed tears. “Her fifth metatarsal.”

Fifth metatarsal.

Despite the fact that Posy’s health was no longer any of his concern, Liam felt those two words like a blow to his chest. In medical circles, a fracture of the fifth metatarsal was sometimes called the Dancer’s Fracture. Liam didn’t run in medical circles, but he knew plenty about such an injury.

“So it’s the same injury as last time,” he said.

“Worse, I’m afraid. She broke it all at once, in the middle of a performance.”

Morbid images of Posy falling to the ground in an agonizing twisted cloud of tulle and sequins flooded Liam’s imagination. He squeezed his eyes closed until they faded. “She told Pastor McNeil her foot would heal in six weeks, then she was returning to the ballet company.”

“That’s what she says. She’s up for a promotion, and if she can’t dance in six weeks she’ll lose her chance.” Mrs. Sutton had begun wringing her hands.

Liam’s headache made a swift return. So Posy’s body had a deadline hanging over it? Six weeks to heal or else? Perfect. Just perfect.

He dropped his head in his hands.

Why, God? I don’t want this. I don’t.

Posy’s mom spoke again, dragging him back to the present. “I’m not asking you to save her from herself. I know that would be expecting too much, especially after all this time. But you’ve always known Posy better than anyone else does. You see her. She can’t hide from you like she can from the rest of us. She never could. Can’t you just watch her? Simply be there and let us know if something seems wrong?”

She made it sound so easy, so simple. No more complicated than making sure a child stayed out of harm’s way. Don’t play in the street. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t run with scissors.

But Posy wasn’t a child. She was a grown woman. A grown woman with a new name and a new life. A new life that didn’t include Liam. How could he sit here across from Posy’s mother and tell her that what she was asking was impossible? Even if he wanted to take on such a role—which he most definitely did not—it would have been utterly impossible.

He might have known her once upon a time. But things were different. She wasn’t his girl anymore. He wasn’t sure she ever had been.

Chapter Four (#ulink_78b0d091-b450-52c6-861e-367dea3bde0d)

A few hours after leaving Posy’s house, Liam stood at the edge of the pond—his pond, a concept he still sometimes found difficult to believe—and watched Ronnie walk gingerly across the frozen surface carrying a bucket of warm water. Sundog sat at Liam’s feet, tail wagging, ears alert, and on Liam’s other side, his friend Alec Wynne stood shaking his head.

“That kid is going to fall on his backside,” Alec said.

Liam frowned. “Not if he’s careful.”

He didn’t want Ronnie to get hurt. Of course he didn’t, even though the boy had been driving him a little nuts lately.

“Now what do I do?” Ronnie asked, staring down at the ice at his feet.

“Look for the chipped spots and pour some water over them.” Liam pointed to the far right end of the pond where Melody did most of her jumps when she came by to practice, which was becoming a more and more frequent occurrence. “They tend to accumulate over there, mostly.”

“Got it, Pastor.” Ronnie tightened his grip on the bucket and started slipping and sliding in that direction.

Alec shook his head again. “Are you paying him, or is this slave labor?”

“I’m paying him. A little.” Liam picked up the hose and filled another bucket. Sundog bit at the stream of water, as if he could catch it in his massive jaws. “It’s also a penance of sorts.”

Alec laughed. “For?”

“For intentionally throwing a snowball at Melody Tucker’s face.”

“Ouch.” Alec winced.

“Yeah. This thing between him and Melody is becoming a problem.” Thus far, Liam’s only strategy for solving the problem involved chores. Fortunately, there was no shortage of chores that needed to be done at the pond.

Alec crossed his arms. “Let me guess. Young love?”

Liam forgot what he was doing for a moment, and water sloshed over the edge of his last bucket. He threw the hose down and turned off the spigot. “Young love? I sure hope not.” He hoped not with every fiber of his being.

Alec’s eyebrows rose. “Constant bickering? Unmerciful teasing? One minute he’s nice to her, and the next minute he’s throwing snow in her face?”

That sounded uncomfortably accurate. “Pretty much, yeah.”