Return to Willow Lake (26 page)

Seeing the start of a new life up close and personal had a deep
and resounding impact on Sonnet. This was the essence of life at its most
elemental, made more precious by the risks and pain Nina had endured. Sonnet’s
heart swelled with gratitude. She viewed everything—her mother, the world,
herself, this town, through new eyes. She used to think Avalon was the smallest,
most insignificant town in the world, but she no longer felt that way. The
outpouring of strength that came from the community gathering around her mother
was amazing to Sonnet—the tenderness in a man’s eyes when he smiles at his wife,
the smells of fresh baked goods brought by a friend, the sounds so often drowned
out in the city—barking dogs, laughing children, the burble of a running creek.
She wondered why she’d been so eager to leave, growing up.

Chapter Twenty-One

Zach brought his smallest camera—the latest version of
the GoPro—to the wrap party for the series. Camp Kioga had always been known as
a place for celebrations of all kinds—anniversaries, reunions, weddings, family
gatherings—but it had never hosted an event quite like the
Big Girl, Small Town
farewell party. A local band called Inner Child
had been hired to provide the entertainment, but Jezebel herself was inspired to
join in. While their usual repertoire consisted of ’80s and ’90s cover music,
the band members were only too happy to change things up. An urban beat thumped
from the speakers, and the kids and crew filled the plank dance floor to
celebrate the conclusion of shooting.

Eddie Haven, the singer/songwriter at the heart of Inner Child,
seemed gleeful as he performed with Jezebel, backed by his bandmates Noah
Shepherd, Ray Tolley and a bass player named Brandi in a purple plaid miniskirt.
There had been a time when a girl in a miniskirt would cause Zach’s entire
prefrontal cortex to shut down, but instead of gawking, he found himself
scanning the crowd for Sonnet. It was weird, how even a pretty girl failed to
attract him now. He could appreciate a woman’s looks, but the pull was gone.
Sonnet had ruined him for other women, and she didn’t even know it. It was a
crazy position to find himself in. This person he’d known all his life, the
proverbial girl next door, had suddenly become his whole world.

Not seeing her, he went over to the refreshments table and
grabbed a beer. Jezebel took a break from the band and joined him. “Beer?” He
offered her the bottle.

“I’ll stick with water,” she said. “Saving my celebrating for
when I lose this piece of bling for real.” She lifted up her ankle with the
security bracelet. They’d filmed a ceremonial removal for the series, even
though it wouldn’t be official for a few more months.

“You made something great here,” he said. “That’s something to
celebrate. At least eat something.”

The food looked fantastic, including some of the stuff the kids
had learned to make alongside Jezebel—the rhubarb pie, buttermilk fried chicken,
a salad made of greens they’d grown themselves. There was a giant sheet cake
from the Sky River Bakery decorated with a ribbon of film wrapped around a
heart, not that film was in use anymore.

She grabbed a stuffed celery stick and lifted it in a toast.
“
We
made something great here,” she corrected
him. “Yeah, we did.”

He nodded, surveying the milling crowd. Shooting for the series
(they were already calling it Season One on the assumption that it would be
renewed) was done. Now the work would shift to studio editors, continuity
specialists, sound technicians and other techs to put the story together out of
the raw material created at Camp Kioga. Sonnet was nowhere in sight. Maybe she
was going to skip the wrap party. His hand went to his phone; maybe he’d send
her a quick text.

Then he took a swig of his beer. Maybe not.

“Call her,” Jezebel said. “What you waiting for?”

He didn’t even pretend ignorance. Jezebel had a freakish
ability to read his mind. “I’m going to take a few pictures of the kids,” he
said. “They look so different from the kids who showed up here at the beginning
of summer.”

“Yep, that’s plain to see. I swear, some of the boys are inches
taller,” she said.

They were so used to cameras and mics, they didn’t even seem to
notice when Zach turned his viewfinder in their direction. Today in particular,
the kids looked vibrant and relaxed. Friendships and alliances had formed
between them; time would tell which ones would withstand time.

“Don’t you forget that number, now,” Darnell was telling Anita.
“That’s how we’re gonna stay in touch.”

“Okay,” she said. “I still think Facebook is easier.”

“Facebook’s lame. I don’t want to be telling everybody in the
world my business.”

“I don’t think the world cares about your business,” she said
in her matter-of-fact way. “But I get what you’re saying.”

Zach moved on to the twins and Jaden, who were tying colorful
handmade friendship bracelets on everyone, cast and crew alike. Whether the
series ever made it to a network or not, this experience had meant something to
the inner-city kids. Each one had planted a maple seedling, marking the site
with a rock etched with their name and the year.

Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy arrived to see everyone off. Out of
instinct, Zach filmed the significant details—their aged hands, tightly clasped
as they walked together. The subtle way Charles slowed his pace to match Jane’s.
The shine in her eyes as they stepped up to the mic, where the band had
paused.

“I hope you’ll come back often and see them,” said Mrs.
Bellamy, beaming with pride. “There will always be a place here for you.”

“Serious?” one of the kids piped up.

“Word,” said old Mr. Bellamy. Only on a reality TV show would
the old married couple find themselves hanging out with kids like this.

In the background, he could see Sonnet arriving from the main
pavilion, and it was all Zach could do to keep the camera trained on the
Bellamys. She looked fantastic in tight faded jeans, sandals and a white top
with a wide gold belt and gold hoop earrings. When the kids spotted her, they
swarmed her; they always did, and his viewfinder followed. After Jezebel, Sonnet
was their favorite.

With the kids, she wasn’t cautious or tentative at all. She
hugged them and laughed with them, and insisted on having several friendship
bracelets for each arm. This was Sonnet in her element, not in some cubicle in a
New York high-rise. He wondered if she realized that.

Jezebel finished her water. “I’m gonna do a few more numbers,”
she said. She stepped up and rejoined the band. “This is for my boy Zach,” she
said. “Mr. Camera Man.”

He was chagrined, but not surprised, when she launched into
“Don’t Make Me Wait to Tell You.” Glancing over at Sonnet, he saw her tilt her
head to listen, and he set down the camera. Her gaze connected with his and he
didn’t blink. He had plenty he wanted to tell her. She looked completely
vulnerable, though she offered him the tiniest of smiles. It wasn’t even a
smile, but a softening of the eyes. Then, with unhurried deliberation, she
turned away and started dancing with some of the kids.

After a few more numbers, it was time to go. The van was
waiting to drive them home. Everyone trooped over to the parking lot to see them
off.

“Doing okay?” Zach asked Sonnet. He recognized the tremor of
emotion in her chin.

“It’s just really hard to see them go. This show was a lot of
hard work, but I never wanted it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to end,” Jane Bellamy said, joining them for a
final round of hugs. “Certainly, we won’t miss the cameras and the commotion,
but children are always welcome. We’ve long wanted a program for children from
the city, but still haven’t found the right person to make it happen. Unless
you’re interested in organizing something…”

“This was a temporary situation for me,” Sonnet said.

“I understand. Still, if you’d like to discuss it further, come
see me and Olivia anytime.”

* * *

Sonnet changed her outfit at least four times, getting
ready for a date with Zach. No, she told herself. It wasn’t a date. She simply
wanted to see him. She’d sent him a text:
Meet
me at the Hilltop Tavern. I have something to celebrate
.

Now she wondered if the cool jacket and cowboy boots were a bit
much. Did she look as if she was trying too hard? Primping too much?

“You’re overthinking again,” she reminded herself as she parked
and headed into the tavern. “It’s not a date.”

Yet it felt like a date. She had the butterflies, the sense of
anticipation, the sweet tug of yearning deep inside, just at the prospect of
seeing him. Maybe it
was
a date. They were getting
together like two grown-ups getting to know each other, maybe even like two
grown-ups falling in love.

His work van rumbled to a stop in the parking lot, so she
stopped to wait for him. He got out, and he looked wonderful, his long hair
shining, his shirt pressed.
Pressed
. The butterflies
intensified, and she felt a little silly. She’d been on plenty of dates; she’d
met guys who arrived in limos and sports cars, but she’d never felt this crazy
melting sensation inside when she saw them.

“Hey,” he said, then stooped and gave her an awkward hug. Yes,
it was awkward. “What’s up? You’re celebrating?”

“Yes, oh, Zach, yes. It’s the best news ever.”

He held the door for her. “You gonna clue me in?”

“Order me a drink first.” She took a seat in a booth. The bar
was dim and familiar, yeasty-smelling, music drifting from unseen speakers.

“Oh, I like drinking with you. Beer?”

“Please. This is champagne news.”

“Let’s make it a kir royale,” he said to the waitress who
approached. “Utica Club for me.”

“I’m impressed that you know what a kir royale is,” she
said.

“It’s a way to make average champagne taste better.”

“I heard that,” said the waitress, serving their drinks.

“All right,” said Sonnet. “A toast.”

“Sure.” He clinked glasses with her. “What are we
toasting?”

“My mom.” To her surprise, Sonnet felt a wave of emotion. “Her
latest tests came back this afternoon. No further evidence of cancer.”

His shoulders sagged and he set down his beer. “Jesus,
that’s…Christ, that’s the best news. I’m happy for her. For all of you.”

“It’s great. I mean, she’s not completely out of the woods.
There’ll be further tests and checkups, but this is good.
So
good.” She studied his face, the face of a guy she’d known
forever. Even in the dim light, she could see a sheen of tears in his eyes.
“Zach…”

“Yeah, I know.” He wiped his eyes, took a quick slug of his
beer. “It’s such a damn relief. I just…hell.” He pushed his glass away. “I just
need to kiss you.”

Without hesitation, he took her in his arms and kissed her with
a fervor that took her breath away. Good grief, it felt amazing. She never
wanted it to stop. She kissed him back, moving against him, shamelessly
forgetting they were in a public spot. He tasted like heaven, and she was swept
back to the night of the wedding, the night that had changed everything between
them. How was it that he had been in her life for so long, and she’d never
realized they could be like this together? Her goals and ambitions had blinded
her to the simple power of passion with the right guy. No wonder she hadn’t been
able to make her heart fit together with Orlando. Her heart was smarter than her
head; it was waiting for
this.

He moved back, smiled down at her. “You’re being nice to me
tonight.”

“I’m always nice to you.”

“Right.”

“Ah, Zach. What’s happening to us? Have we both gone
crazy?”

“Maybe. I can’t complain, though.” He kissed her again, very
tenderly. “I want you to come home with me.
Now
.”

“But—”

“And I want to put on some good music and fix you another kir
royale, and then I want to take your clothes off, and—”

“Okay,” she said in a rush, “that sounds good to me.”

He signaled for the tab. While they waited, she got a call from
her father. God, the timing. It was as if his disapproval came vibrating through
the phone.
Later
, she thought, dismissing the
call.

“Everything all right?” Zach asked.

“Everything’s fine.” She resisted the urge to check her voice
mail. Her dad could wait, just this once.

Then a text came in from her mother. Without hesitation, she
checked the message.
I’m fine, but I need you
to come home. I’ll explain when you get here.

“That’s weird,” she said to Zach after he paid the bill. “My
mom needs me to come home.”

“Hey.
I
need you to come home.
My
home.”

“My mom needs me. Tell you what. I’ll go check on her, and then
I’ll meet you at your place.”

“Okay, that works.”

In the parking lot, he kissed her again. His hands skimmed over
her, and it was all she could do not to wrap her legs around him and never let
go.

“See you soon,” she said.

One more kiss. A soft promise. She drove home, but it felt more
like floating.

* * *

Sonnet sailed into the house. Her mom and Greg were
waiting for her at the kitchen table. Jolie, the little dog, was curled in her
nest by the stove. These days the kitchen was perpetually littered with baby
things—extra bottles, toys and burp pads. She took one look at their faces and
asked, “Who died?”

“Ah, baby.” Nina offered a wan smile. “Somebody put a stupid
video up on the internet to try to damage your father’s reputation.”

Her heart sank, but she wasn’t surprised. “Johnny Delvecchio’s
people fight dirty. Dad’s known that all along. I’m sure he can handle it. What
is it this time?”

“It’s…” Nina glanced from side to side, seeming as though she
would rather be anywhere but here in her own kitchen.

“Just show her,” Greg said.

“Yes,” Sonnet said. “Show me.”

He turned the laptop toward her. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said.
“I’m sorry as hell. I wish I could make this go away.”

Sonnet stared at the screen. Horror spread over her like a
sudden frost, icing every inch of her skin. She blinked at the title of the
video on the site: Candidate Jeffries’s bastard daughter’s sex video.

Her mouth went dry. Despite the cold, her cheeks burned all the
way up to her scalp.

“It’s staged, of course,” Nina said, her voice very faint.
“Someone’s trying to pull a dirty trick.”

Her mother was wrong about that. Perhaps the most shocking
thing of all was that the girl in the video really was her. Despite the darkness
of the candlelit boathouse, the dashboard camera had picked up telling details
of her night with Zach, right down to the whispers and giggles, the bared flesh
and hands skimming, the unmistakable sounds of surprised ecstasy.