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“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.”
“It’s love. Trust me.”
Great. The last item Liam needed on his substantial to-do list was dealing with two lovesick teenagers. Especially now.
“Speaking of young love...” Alec gave him a sideways glance.
Liam held up a hand and sighed. “Don’t start. Please.”
He’d thought, hoped, he could avoid talking about Posy. At least with Alec. Alec was a transplant. He’d been in Aurora for only six months or so. But he was also married to one of Posy’s best friends, so the notion that he’d have no idea about Liam and Posy’s tumultuous history had undoubtedly been a pipe dream from the start.
“So long as you’re handling it well. And clearly you are.” Alec shot him a wry smile.
Liam handed him a bucket. “Here. And yes, you are most definitely slave labor.”
Alec laughed, and crunched through the tightly packed snow and onto the surface of the pond. The fine layer of ice atop the snow was due to the unseasonably cold drop in temperature the night before, as were the chips on the surface of the ice. In severely cold weather, ice grew brittle. Brittle ice chipped.
Liam knew that much now. His learning curve since he’d purchased the skating pond had been a big one. He’d taken the plunge as simply a moneymaking venture. Youth pastors weren’t exactly overpaid, and the pond was a key component in Aurora’s nightlife. Its only component, for all practical purposes. When the for-sale sign had gone up, Liam had cashed in the college fund he’d never used and become a skating-rink owner.
But it had quickly become a labor of love. He’d always had an attachment to the pond, like most everything about Aurora. About Aurora itself.
When he’d landed here as a teen, he’d had enough of the nomadic lifestyle that came with being a circuit preacher’s kid. Enough of moving from one village to the next, each one somehow seemingly more and more remote. Enough of being a guest in other people’s homes instead of sleeping in a bed of his own.
And enough of planes. Planes, planes and more planes. The smell of airplane fuel still made him feel a little sick inside.
He’d wanted a home. A town. A place that was his.
He’d told his parents as much the day they’d unpacked their bags in Aurora. He was staying put. He wanted to make friends, go to a regular school, try out for the baseball team...do all the things normal kids did. He’d seen virtually nothing of the town yet. Just the tree...that fateful tree. Stretching its beautiful blue, snow-laden boughs over everything. Welcoming arms.
His mom and dad had prayed about his announcement, discussed it for days on end. Finally, they’d agreed to buy a house and stay put for three years. Just until he graduated from high school. His dad would come and go as his job required, but Liam, his mother and his brother would stay right there in Aurora.
Liam had been elated. He’d thrown himself into life in Aurora. He’d loved that town. And it had loved him right back. And in time, Aurora—its people, its icicle air, its permafrost ground—had become home.
And now he owned a piece of that town. A piece of its heart. At times, he couldn’t believe it. Then something would happen. The temperature would drop suddenly, and the surface of the ice would crack. Or they’d get an unexpected heavy rain, a layer of shale ice would cover the pond, and he’d have to scrape the entire surface. Undoubtedly, Liam would be reminded that he was indeed the owner and operator of an outdoor skating rink.
“No more chips. Everything looks good.” Alec stepped off the ice and tossed the empty bucket into the snow.
Liam wound the hose and turned the water faucet until it was just shy of the off position. A fraction of an inch could make the difference between being stuck with frozen pipes and maintaining his sanity. “Thanks, man. I appreciate the help. There’s never a shortage of things to do around here.”
“No problem.” Alec grinned in Ronnie’s direction. “With any luck, your boy over there will keep getting in trouble, and you’ll have so much help you won’t know what to do with all of your free time.”
Sundog flopped on his back and shimmied in the snow, sending a wave of powder flying ten feet. In two seconds flat, Liam was buried up to his shins. “Bored? Doubtful.”
“Pastor? Pastor!” Ronnie called from midway across the ice. He skidded toward the edge while juggling his empty red bucket.
“Don’t look now, but that trouble I mentioned is about to rear its ugly head,” Alec muttered under his breath.
The crunch of tires on snow caused Liam to turn around, and when he saw the familiar silver truck, he knew at once why Ronnie was in such a hurry to get off the ice.
He turned back around, and sure enough, Ronnie stood before him, red-faced from exertion, scowling at Melody’s truck. “What’s she doing here?”
Liam inhaled calmly. “Melody practices here sometimes before the pond opens up for the night. You know that.”
Ronnie rolled his eyes. “She thinks she’s going to be a real skater one day. Please.”
“She already is a real skater.” Graceful. Almost balletic. Sometimes it was like watching a memory glide over the frosted mirror surface of the ice. “Why don’t you stick around while she skates? I think you’ll be impressed.”
Ronnie looked at Liam in abject horror. “No. Way.”
Behind his back, Alec stifled a grin.
“Ronnie.” Liam lifted a brow. A warning.
“I mean no, thanks.” Ronnie shoved his hands in his pockets and looked everywhere except in the direction of the truck, where Melody was climbing down from the passenger seat, her skates slung over her shoulder by their laces. “I’ve got homework.”
Sure he did.
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow after school, then,” Liam said.
“See you, Pastor.” Ronnie trudged toward his rust bucket of a car.
Liam called after him, “Thanks for the help fixing the ice.”
Ronnie waved, steadfastly avoiding Melody’s gaze as she walked past him. Once he’d just about reached his car, he turned slightly. He ventured a glance at Melody right as she looked at him over her shoulder. She smiled. He smiled in return, then seemed to realize what he was doing. He scowled. She scowled back and stomped toward a bench to sit and put on her skates.
“What did I tell you?” Alec muttered. “Young love. It’s a classic case.”
Liam’s gut tightened. Alec was right. How had he not seen it before? The two of them were about as subtle as a moose in striped pajamas.
Then again, what had Liam ever known about love?
* * *
Posy had never felt so exhausted and yet so awake at the same time. Three hours and four cups of coffee after arriving at the Northern Lights Inn, she finally left and headed to her parents’ house.
Her house. At least she still thought of it as her house, even though she hadn’t darkened its door in seven years.
Six. Not seven.
She wanted to strangle Liam. She kept thinking about him sitting beside her, across from Lou, making his case for why she shouldn’t be teaching ballet at the church.
I’m just not sure ballet is the answer. Posy hasn’t set foot in Alaska in seven years.
It wasn’t a crime. People were allowed to leave home. It was normal. Natural. Liam just felt differently about it because of the way he’d been brought up, always moving from place to place. Home was a sacred concept to Liam. Aurora was sacred.
The town was sacred to her, too. Didn’t he understand that?
How could he possibly when you left and never looked back?
She slid her key into the lock on the front door, but it was unnecessary. The knob turned and the door fell open, just as it always had. There were no such things as locked doors in Aurora. Just one of the many differences between a tiny Alaskan town and a big city like San Francisco.
