Snowfall at Willow Lake: Lakeshore Chronicles Book 4 (12 page)

Daisy could only imagine what the O'Donnells had had to say about that. Logan's parents had never come to see the baby. They were in total denial, and believed Logan should simply cut all ties with Daisy, counting himself lucky that she wasn't demanding a fortune in child support. They blamed her, of course, for the entire situation.

“I suppose I could put off school for another semester,” she said.

“You don't want to do that,” he remarked. “I can tell.”

She hated that he knew her as well as he did. “I'll figure something out.”

“I want to help,” Logan said. He'd been saying that ever since he discovered she was pregnant. At first, she thought he'd quickly get past the initial surge of manly responsibility. Instead, he had surprised her and probably everyone who knew him, and stuck around.

“I can figure this out on my own.”

“Damn it, Daisy. Why are you so set against letting me help?”

“Because I don't trust you, okay?” She saw no point in trying to spare his feelings, not when it came to her son. Despite being the American Prince Charming, Logan had his dark side. He was—and by definition always would be—an addict. He'd done cocaine all through high school, somehow managing to keep disaster at bay until senior year. After a weekend of partying—the same weekend he'd gotten Daisy pregnant, he'd been arrested for possession and ordered into rehab. Defying the odds, he'd stayed clean ever since, going to meetings and, as far as Daisy could tell, living a life of sobriety.

She was proud of him for sticking with his program. She was gratified that he was so determined to be part of Charlie's life. But sometimes she wondered if he came around because he wanted to or if it was part of his twelve-step program and he felt obligated.

“I don't know what else I can do to make you trust me,” he said, his jaw working in agitation. “And I don't know what you're so afraid of.”

She felt bad, being so cautious with Logan. But Charlie was her child. She couldn't take chances. “I'm afraid he's going to get attached to you, and one day you'll just quit coming around.”

“Hey, don't you get it? I'm here to stay, Daze. I'm in Charlie's life to stay and I deserve to be here. So get used to it.”

Another thing she was afraid of—that he would keep his promise. And then she just might find herself having to deal with the fact that, because of all that had happened between them, he was going to be a part of her life forever.

All right, so that was admirable, but it was also…she didn't know quite how to deal with it. At their age, how could they be certain of anything? Would having Logan in her life leave room for anyone else?

Not that there
was
anyone else, but one day there might be. Two summers ago, before Daisy's family had fallen apart and everything had changed, she'd met someone. Sure, they were kids and nothing had happened, but it was one of those meetings when you knew in an instant that this person might be important. A freeze-frame moment. As a photographer, Daisy knew how the camera could freeze a particular moment for its beauty or importance. That was how she felt meeting Julian Gastineaux, and he was…wonderful. She barely knew him but she knew he was important in her life.

And then there was Logan. Meeting him had not been a freeze-frame moment. They'd been in kindergarten in Manhattan, and he had dabbed blue paint on her pigtail and had to do a time-out as punishment. As teenagers, they'd had wild times together. She used to fantasize that he
was
Prince Charming, and that she was in love with him. It wasn't real, though. It was beyond bizarre to think the two of them now had a baby together.

Correction, she reminded herself. They now had a baby. They weren't together.

S
ophie stood at the window of her borrowed house on the lake, watching Noah Shepherd finish shoveling off the front steps. She was finding her neighbor a remarkably pleasant diversion. Earlier, he had attached a snowplow blade to the front of his truck and cleared her driveway. She'd followed him in the rental car, which he'd pulled from the ditch with his pickup truck. He'd insisted on giving her a few basic groceries from his own pantry, since the roads were still impassable and probably wouldn't be plowed for another day or two. He had also made a fire for her in the wood-burning stove and promised to bring more split wood tomorrow.

The man was one-stop shopping, she thought, watching the way his breath came in rhythmic, frosty plumes as he worked.

“I can't thank you enough,” she said when he finished and came inside, shaking the snow from his jacket.

“Sure you can,” he said over his shoulder. “I'm easy.”

You are,
she thought.
So easy to like.

“Did you get hold of your kids?” he asked, adjusting the vent of the wood-burning stove.

“I left voice mails. I'll try again later.” She refused to let her worry and uncertainty show. Her children had become so casual about her absences. Her comings and goings were routine by now. Dear Lord, how was she ever going to fix this?

“So they live in town,” Noah said.

She nodded. “Daisy recently got her own place on Orchard Avenue, and Max lives with his father at the Inn at Willow Lake.”

He straightened up, gave her his full attention.

She twined her hands together until her fingers knotted tightly—a sign that the witness was nervous and about to crack. “And I have to tell you, this part of the conversation never gets easier, the part where I say my children live with their father. I'd find it easier to say I have an STD or a felony record.” Did Noah—did anyone—get how deeply humiliating this admission was?

“Man, you really like beating yourself up,” Noah observed.

“I don't.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because—” She broke off. She wasn't used to simply blurting out everything to a virtual stranger. “No one's ever asked me that.” She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling a mixture of resentment and distrust.

“Do you have an answer?”

“I'm going to have to think about it.”

“You think too hard, you'll lose the truth.”

“Thank you, Dr. Freud.” She sent him a sideways glance. “Are we done with the ugly, personal stuff?”

“Up to you. If you want to talk, I'm all ears,” he said with a grin. “Don't want to pry about your family situation. I figure you'll explain when you're ready.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Or not.”

“You shouldn't feel lousy about the way you're raising your kids,” he said.

“Again, thank you.”

“And guess what? There are women who stay home with their kids every day, and the kids are still wrecked. Then there are kids who chill in day care every day, and they're fine. Whether you stay home or go to work is not the determining factor. It's how you love them.”

“I didn't know they taught human psychology in vet school.”

“Nice, Sophie.”

“I mean—”

“Figuring you out is not that hard,” he said. “Believe me, feline distemper is a lot harder. Anyway, no offense meant.”

“None taken,” she assured him. She found herself studying him, and wondered why she found him so wildly attractive. He wasn't conventionally handsome, but big and hearty, with an openness that was uncommonly appealing. And he had the most incredible eyes, brown, with long thick lashes. And his lips…
Oh, Lord,
she thought. She already had a crush on her neighbor. A crush? Yes. That was exactly what this felt like, a too-pleasant inner fluttering, the sort of thing a high-school girl might feel. Sophie had nearly forgotten the sensation, but meeting Noah reminded her that a person never outgrew some things.

“I'd better be going—”

“I won't keep you—”

They both spoke at once, and both stopped at once. “Thanks for everything, Noah,” Sophie said, blushing as though he'd read her thoughts. “I really do appreciate it.”

“I'll see you tomorrow.” He took her mobile phone from the counter and keyed in his number. “Call me if you need anything, anything at all.”

There was a moment, a heartbeat of time, when it would have been the most natural thing in the world for her to lean into him, lift her face for a kiss. A kiss? Where had that thought come from? It wouldn't leave her alone. She pictured it so clearly that she felt foolish. At the same time, she wondered if he'd felt it, too, that same momentary connection, an urge that came out of nowhere.

“You take care now,” he said. “I'll drop off some firewood in the morning.”

He was an exceedingly nice man, she thought, watching from the doorway as he got in his truck. Some kind of crazy luck had been with her when she'd driven into the ditch in front of his house.

A chill wind blew across the surface of the lake, gusting drifts of snow up against the house. She shivered and turned on the heat, then went to familiarize herself with the place and unpack her things.

The stick-built house had a simple layout, with every room oriented toward the lake. There were two bedrooms and two baths, and a main room that incorporated the kitchen, dining and living areas. The furnishings were simple, too. Rustic tables, overstuffed chairs, lamps with painted shades. There was a closet with a selection of snowshoes and ice skates. At one time, the inhabitant of the house must have had a dog or cat. There was a padded mat on the floor near the stove, and in the pantry, she'd noticed a set of feeding bowls.

She spent some time setting up her laptop and synchronizing it with her mobile device so she would have an Internet connection. She sent a quick e-mail to a few friends, including Bertie, to let them know she'd arrived and all was well. No need to mention the car versus deer incident.

Then she unpacked her suitcases, shaking her head at the inappropriateness of her wardrobe. The tailored suits, with their creased slacks and skirts, the designer shoes and silk stockings were not going to work in this environment.

Good,
thought Sophie. This would give her an excuse to invite Daisy to go shopping, help her find some clothes for the snow. Assuming Daisy wanted to do anything at all with her.

That was completely the wrong attitude, Sophie told herself. Almost defiantly, she grabbed her phone, scrolled to Daisy's number and hit Send.

This time, Daisy picked up right away. “Mom,” she said. “Hi. I saw you'd called earlier, but I didn't have my phone with me.” As always, she sounded cautious. Pleasant, but cautious. That tone, Sophie realized, was her own doing. She had trained Daisy to be cautious around her, to expect to hear that, once again, Sophie was going to be delayed or not show up at all, to miss a field hockey game or swim meet, an art show or teacher conference. To miss her entire childhood. Sophie's children had learned to expect nothing of their mother. She'd told herself that with the proper nannies and household help, the kids would not even miss her. It had taken many years, a painful divorce and finally an international incident for Sophie to realize just how much she had truly missed.

“Hi, honey,” Sophie said. “I just got into town. I'm in Avalon.”

“I didn't realize you were coming so soon, Mom,” Daisy said. “I figured you'd stay in the city until the storm is over.”

“I didn't feel like waiting. I'd come see you right this minute if the roads were better.”

“Don't go out. It's not safe. Are you staying at the Apple Tree?”

Sophie visited Avalon frequently and usually stayed at the Apple Tree Inn, a luxury B and B near the historic center of town. “Actually, I have news. I'm at the Wilsons' cabin, up on Lakeshore Road.”

A pause. “I don't get it, Mom.”

“I have so much to tell you, Daisy. And I can't wait to see the baby.” Charlie had been born last summer. Sophie had been present for the birth, thank God. To see her child give birth had been overwhelming, to hold her grandchild even more so. Since then, she had visited four times, but it wasn't enough. She'd found out that night in The Hague that it was not enough.

With the phone pressed to her ear, Sophie went to the window. She looked out across the lake, a picture of cold white magnificence. It was a scene out of a fairy tale, of ice palaces and frozen estates, a separate world of glittering splendor, as inhospitable as it was beautiful.

“I actually arrived last night,” she said. “I drove up from JFK.”

“That's nuts, Mom. You could've been killed.”

Sophie's lips twitched at the irony. “I'm fine. But I would have waited if I'd known I was going to be snowed in.”

“Are you all right?” Daisy asked. “Do you have food? Heat?”

“I have everything I need here, but I'm dying to see you. The roads on this side of the water are terrible, though.”

“That's the lake effect.”

“Right,” Sophie said. “As soon as the roads are clear, I'll come see you.”

“It's a date.”

Sophie detected an edge in her daughter's voice. “Is this a bad time?”

“Um, no. But…I've got company.”

“Oh! I'll let you go, then. Call me later. I want to hear all about Charlie and your new place…” In the background, she heard a murmur of male laughter followed by a baby's squeals.

All right,
thought Sophie.
I get it. I've got company
was code for
my boyfriend's here.
“Is that…?”

“Logan's here,” Daisy said.

Logan O'Donnell. Sophie wasn't sure if he was the boyfriend or not, though she definitely had a preference for
not.
Spoiled, rich, an alumnus of an expensive rehab school. Not her favorite person.

“Call me later,” she said.

“I will, Mom. Promise.”

Well,
thought Sophie.
How about that?

She checked the time and tried Max's number. He had his own mobile phone, which seemed a bit much for a twelve-year-old, except Sophie insisted on it. Once again he didn't answer, so she left a brief voice mail and said she'd call him later. For good measure, she also sent him a text message. Today's phones and gadgets allowed a person to keep in touch with everyone. You could download your kid's schedule. You could run your whole family. You could be in touch and out of reach. She wasn't sure this was such a good thing.

Sophie knew she could always call Greg's house and ask for her son, but the idea didn't appeal to her in the least. There were few things she despised more than calling Greg. It wasn't that she hated her ex-husband. Not at all. In fact, there was a small, pathetic part of her that loved him still, would always love him. Theirs had not been a bitter divorce. It had simply been inevitable and sad, and they both understood that.

Still, she hated having to call him, hated it more than anything.

Except, perhaps, talking to his wife, Nina. She hated that most of all.

She didn't hate Nina, either.

But she sure as heck didn't like talking to her.

Sophie spent her first night in the lake house alone, almost wishing she still had that warm puppy in bed with her. When she awakened, she flashed on haunting memories of The Hague, but they instantly dissolved in a flood of white light. She got up to see that more snow had fallen. A lot more snow. On the lake side of the cabin, it had drifted up to the windowpanes.

To her surprise, it was midmorning. Never had jet lag affected her like this. She attributed it to being snowed in. She'd quit keeping track of time—why bother, when she couldn't go anywhere? She checked for messages. Max had IMed her that there would be a half day of school today and he had hockey practice this afternoon. She digested the information, feeling her nerves burn with apprehension. Her son had his own life, his own schedule—and she wasn't a part of it.

Yet, she reminded herself. She wasn't a part of it
yet.
She wanted—needed—to matter to her kids. Not just for her, but for them. Max surely had the usual kid problems, and not having his mother around couldn't make life any easier. Now that she was here, would he be glad? Resentful? Indifferent? He would be glad to have her back, surely. Even though she'd been busy with work all of Max's life, she still remembered the funny little boy he'd been, the way his face would light up when she got home from the office, the stolen time they'd spent together on weekends. She prayed he remembered those times, too. She wanted to know both her children better, wanted to see who they were becoming as they grew up and hoped it wasn't too late to do that.