Snowfall at Willow Lake: Lakeshore Chronicles Book 4 (34 page)

“I don't know about you, but I didn't sleep a wink. Don't worry, it's not like they're going to tell your kids or anything.” Apparently deeming the shirt clean, he put it on.

“You know what I mean, and so will they.”

“They're my friends. They like you. They'll be happy for us.”

“I know. But it's just…I prefer to keep this—us—private.” She spied a flash of hurt and anger in his eyes. “Because of me,” she added hastily. “Not you. Because I'm new in town, and all people know about me is that I'm the ex-wife of the sainted Greg Bellamy, the woman who abandoned her children to live the high life in Europe. All I need is for people to find out I'm sleeping around.”

“You're not sleeping around. You're sleeping with me.” He found the cap he liked to wear, bill backward, when he played the drums.

“Yes, but—”

“Look, you didn't come back here to be a nun. You came back to be with your kids. And, I assume, to have a life. Besides, look at me. I'm a catch.” He spread his arms in a comical pose. He had the fashion sense of John Deere and a smile that took her breath away. And there was something about him that warmed her heart and made her feel good about herself, as though she could face anything. As though she could take on the world.

Her evenings used to consist of sitting alone in front of the computer, going over cases. Now she spent her evenings with friends or family, or with a man who might have just said he loved her.

S
ophie organized an afternoon at Mohonk Mountain House with Max and Daisy. Some of her fondest memories of being with them revolved around trips they'd taken over the years, when she'd shown them new places and introduced them to new experiences. She liked to remember that they had once been a happy family. She wanted to believe they could be happy together again. She wanted the two of them alone together, because she had some things to discuss.

She also had a surprise for them. Tariq was in New York on court business, and had arranged to meet them at the historic preserve. Sophie had been working hard at making a new life for herself, but part of her missed her other life desperately—missed Tariq, most of all.

The resort had been built by the Smiley family in the 1860s, and, to this day, still belonged to their heirs. While studying international law, Sophie had been an occasional guest at the resort. It was America's ultimate castle, with the grandest of salons and guest rooms, stables and a maze, an ice rink, formal gardens, a golf course, miles of trails through the Mohonk Preserve, and heart-stirring vistas through every window. Perched high atop the granite bluffs that towered over Lake Mohonk, it was a combination of Disney's Magic Kingdom, Mad Ludwig's castle and a vintage postcard, glittering with snow. She knew her children would have the same awed reaction to the place that she'd had.

As they surveyed the towering cluster of cut stones and spires, she watched their faces light with wonder. Daisy was grown, and Max nearly there, as well, but that Christmas-morning look reminded her that they would always be her children. She regarded them both, trying to see past Daisy's fragile beauty, past Max's studied nonchalance. Regrets washed over her in a wave. She wished she could turn back time, be there for them when they needed her, pay closer attention this time around. But regrets were a slow poison. She could only go forward. She focused on Charlie snuggled in his carrier, fast asleep from the drive. The chance to watch him grow up was such a gift.

“Mohonk means ‘the lake in the sky,'” Sophie said. “Currier and Ives did a series of prints of this place. I've been dying to show you around.”

In the vast library, amid soaring bookcases accessed by wheeled ladders, she showed them portraits of presidents and dignitaries who had stayed here. “The founders were two brothers,” she explained. “Albert and Alfred Smiley. They were Quakers, dedicated to world justice and peace. About a hundred years ago, the Permanent Court of Arbitration was created right here, maybe even in this room.”

Daisy regarded her suspiciously. “And we should care about this because….”

“Because the PCA is now headquartered in The Hague,” Sophie said. “I thought you'd be interested to know I was offered a position as an adjunct to that court.” She looked around the enormous library, and imagined she could practically feel the old collections breathing with wisdom. “I turned it down, and the next day, I came back here to you two and Charlie.”

“Do you wish you'd taken the job?” Max asked, visibly stiffening as though bracing himself for a blow.

“No, I don't. In fact, I'm incredibly glad I'm here now.” She paused. “I'm going to be looking for my own place in Avalon.”

There. She'd said it. Declared that she was no longer a visitor, but a full-time resident. A full-time mom. She was committed to this new life, to them.

“What kind of place?” asked Max.

She wasn't sure what he was asking. “I'm going to buy a home,” she said.

“Where?”

“In Avalon.”

“At the lake?”

“I don't know. I have an appointment with a real estate agent next week. Why, do you have a preference?”

“Yeah, I prefer where you are now.”

“It's really nice there, Mom,” Daisy said. She went to the window, aimed her camera at the snowy scenery outside. “This is amazing.”

“What about Opal? She stays at Noah's when you're not home. Where will she go if you move?” Max asked.

“Soon she'll be big enough to stay home by herself,” Sophie told him. Truth be told, Sophie would miss living near Noah, too, but this was about her family. “If I get a place in town, you won't need to ride the school bus to come see me,” she pointed out.

“I don't mind the bus.”

This was new. Initially, Max had declared that he hated the bus. Maybe he'd made some friends on the route. “It'll be fine, Max,” she reassured him. “Promise. Okay?”

“Okay.” He went to study a ship in a bottle.

Sophie took a deep breath. The news about finding a house was the easy part. She spent several nervous moments working up to the topic. “I wanted to ask you something about your hockey game tomorrow.”

“What about it?” Max asked.

“I'm bringing a friend to watch the game with me.” She'd thought about it throughout the previous night and all day, and she'd come to the conclusion that Noah deserved public status. He'd never been less than wonderful to her, and she was through trying to hide their relationship. It was silly, juvenile and pointless.

Max kept his attention on the ship in a bottle, but Daisy lowered her camera and turned toward her mother. Sophie was nervous about explaining Noah to her kids. She told herself not to be silly, that she'd kept company with royalty, scoundrels, great men and criminals in conjunction with her job. She'd never had trouble before, yet the moment her heart was at stake, she choked. “Would that be okay, Max?”

“Depends. Who're you bringing?”

She glanced at Daisy, who looked intrigued. “Noah Shepherd. Do you mind?”

He shrugged. “Fine with me. He's told me before he likes hockey.”

“Moron,” Daisy said. “He likes
Mom.
”

Finally, Max straightened up. “So is he, like, your boyfriend or something?”

Or something. That was the standard term, though Sophie didn't have a word for what Noah was to her. But she couldn't deny he was important, and Max and Daisy were entitled to know it.

“I suppose you could say he's my, er, boyfriend.” She stumbled over the word. It felt wrong, like trying on her daughter's jeans.

Neither of her children spoke. “Well?” she prodded when she couldn't stand it anymore. “Does that sound all right?”

“How do they get the ship in the bottle?” Max asked.

“The real question,” Daisy said, “is what's the point of putting it there?”

“The point of a ship in the bottle,” said a smooth, English voice, “is that there is no point.” Tariq walked into the room, even more handsome and urbane than Sophie remembered.

With a cry of delight, she ran and threw her arms around him. “There you are,” she said. “I was afraid you weren't coming.”

“I'd never go back on a promise to you,” he said.

“I can't believe you're here. Max and Daisy, you remember Tariq.” Glowing with pride, she showed him Charlie, sweetly sleeping in his carrier. By any measure, he was the most beautiful of babies, with velvety pale skin and a bow-shaped mouth, a swirl of auburn hair.

Tariq was properly impressed. “Oh, well done,” he said, beaming indulgently. “Well done indeed. Brilliant, in fact.” Then he straightened up and faced Daisy and Max. “I miss your mother. I'm a selfish bastard and I wish we were still working together, but seeing her with you two and the little one, I understand. And I've brought you something,” he said to Sophie. “I wanted to give it to you with your children present.” He opened his briefcase and took out a flat, hinged box. “This was awarded to your mother the night of Epiphany,” he said.

Cold tension gripped her. She'd never shared the details of that night with her children. “Tariq—”

“Mom, that's awesome,” Max said, admiring the engraved medal on its multicolored ribbon.

With studied solemnity, Tariq placed the medal around her neck. This was just a tiny glimpse of her old life, but seeing her children's expressions now made Sophie glow with pride. Daisy insisted on taking pictures.

Sophie caught his eye and mouthed a thank-you. It was a moment she knew she would close into her heart, keeping it there forever.

The baby awoke, and while Daisy tended to him and Max went to explore the snowy gardens, Tariq ordered drinks. “It's glorious here,” he said. “And you seem happy, Petal. I'm glad to see that. I wasn't sure you would be.”

“I wasn't, either,” she admitted. “I do miss you, Tariq. I can't say I want that life again, but I do miss the work.”

“Come for a visit,” he suggested. “Better yet, visit Umoja. I'm going there myself in a month.”

She fingered the medal hanging from its colored ribbon. “That's tempting, but I'm needed here. It feels strange, saying that, but I am.”

S
ophie sat in Noah's living room after dinner, trying to keep an open mind about the lighted beer clock that hung above the fireplace. Noah had promised that he would try to like her kind of films—a Fellini retrospective was playing in Kingston this weekend. Maybe she should try to like the clock. She certainly had no trouble liking many things about him, including his insistence on doing the dishes. He was in the kitchen now, finishing up.

How quickly they had fallen into certain habits. They'd taken to having dinner together more often than not. They were learning each other's taste in music—his was markedly different from hers, though she was beginning to appreciate the sound of groups with names like the Bad Pennies and Mastodon. They went jogging together with the dogs and sometimes rode horses. They were learning how to be in each other's lives.

She was starting to regret having to move somewhere else. It was lovely, having him so close. It was…
gezellig.

Stepping over the sleeping puppy, who was always welcome at Noah's house, she straightened a stack of science fiction novels on the coffee table. He was a fan of Ben Bova, Theodore Sturgeon, Philip José Farmer. There was a sheaf of printouts from the Internet—articles by Brooks Fordham. The discovery sent a chill across her skin. Why was he reading Brooks's articles?

She heard him approaching, and quickly stacked the books on top of the printouts. She came across an ancient phone directory that should have been recycled three years ago. When he came into the room, she was about to scold him about the clutter. Instead, she flipped the phone directory open. “Adams, Anna,” she read aloud. “Six forty-seven Mill St. 372-3858. Ammon, Bradley, 74 South Maple…”

“What are you doing?” asked Noah.

“Reading the phone book. You once said it would be interesting to hear me reading the phone book.”

“Naked,” he qualified. “Reading the phone book
naked
is what I meant.”

“You didn't say that.”

“I'm saying it now.” He grabbed her, unbuttoning her shirt.

She batted his hand away and kept reading. “Anderson, Barbara. Twenty-one forty Lakeview Terrace, apartment 9-B. Archer—hey!”

She laughed helplessly, until the humor played out and heated into desire. Moments later, he was making love to her, right there on the sofa. His touch made her feel young again in a way she had never been young. When she was with him, she felt transformed. She was more full of hope and possibility than she'd been in…maybe ever.

Much later, she lay in his arms, quiet but teetering on the edge of something. “I need to ask a favor of you.”

“Anything. I'd do anything for you.” His matter-of-fact statement was more convincing than flowery promises. “What do you need me to do? Walk across hot coals? Follow you to the ends of the earth? Yeah, that'd be good. I've always wanted to travel.”

“Worse. I need you to sit through a kids' hockey game.”

“Ouch.”

“As my date. I told Daisy and Max about—I told them I was seeing you. It was awkward, but they seem to understand. So will you?”

“It'll cost you.” He whispered a suggestion in her ear that made her blush.

“I suppose I could accommodate that.”

“I'll hold you to it.”

While he made a fire in the grate, she went to the window and looked out at the glowing blue twilight, spreading darkness across the snow. A black silhouette was cut starkly against the landscape. It was a deer, browsing on strips of bark from the trees in the yard. She remembered the night they'd met. She liked to think the deer she'd hit had survived.

He finished making the fire, then circled his arms around her from behind. She turned in his embrace, feeling open and calm. “There's something I've been wanting to tell you,” she said. “It's about what happened to me in The Hague…”

“Yeah? What about it, honey?” His voice was terribly gentle.

She told herself it was safe to trust him. She had never trusted anyone the way she did Noah, but then again, she had never loved anyone this way.
Tell him.

“I haven't told this to anyone.” She indicated the printouts on the coffee table. “Not even Brooks. You won't read about it in any of his accounts. I thought it wouldn't matter if I kept this to myself, but I was wrong. It matters, Noah. So much.”

He opened his arms. “Would it help if I hold you?”

She nodded. “That always helps.” She settled against him, feeling his warmth and the strong, steady rhythm of his breathing. “Remember when we first met, and I told you I'd survived worse than a cut knee?”

“You made some joke about being taken hostage at gunpoint and plunging off a bridge in a speeding van,” he recalled. “And…you weren't joking after all, were you?”

“I was glad you thought so. It made it…less real. And that helped, for a while. But it did happen, and what you read about the incident is all true, every word of it. The lie was in what I left out.” She stopped to catch her breath, knowing there was no going back now. “There's a part of that night I never told anyone, not even the doctors who treated me. It's the one thing I couldn't face. I still have nightmares, though. I still think about that night. When it was over, there was no diagnosis of PTSD, but I'm still at risk for it, and sometimes I worry so much about that. People depend on me here—”

“And people love you here, Sophie. Never forget that.”

He wasn't letting her forget that. But just by shutting her eyes, she could take herself back to that night, to the scene inside the van, the chaos and rage, her desperation and determination to survive. “When the van went off the bridge, three of the men inside died.”

“Ah, Sophie. I'm so sorry. I hate that you went through that—”

“Noah, listen.” She turned to him, forced herself to look him in the eye. “It was my fault. I was the reason the van went off the bridge.” She explained about how things had gone wrong for the terrorists that night, and how they'd been forced to abort their plan and flee, bringing her along as a hostage. She told him what was said in the van, and how her certainty that she would die led to her act of desperation. She was crying now, and shaking. “They died, and it's my fault, Noah. How do I live with that?”

“They died because they were murderers,” he said, framing her face between his hands, catching her tears with his thumbs and wiping them away. “And you survived for the sake of your family, Sophie, and because you're brave, and you have a heart as big as the world.”

After making her confession to Noah, she felt drained but, somehow, unknotted. Telling Noah about that night, about the terror and the trauma that had shot her life off in a different direction, had unfurled the tension inside her. He was a good listener, simply holding her, asking nothing but accepting everything she had to say. She told him about André and Fatou, and how helpless she'd felt. He didn't pretend to understand, he didn't try to offer advice on how to fix it, but by simply listening, he helped her. Outwardly, nothing had changed. Yet she felt like a new person. It was late, although she didn't feel tired in the least.

Noah held her cheek cradled against his chest, so that she could hear the beating of his heart. “I don't know what to say.”

She smiled. “You're already saying it. The experience completely changed me. It's the whole reason I gave up my career at the ICC and came back to my kids.”

“I don't blame you. I'd do exactly the same thing.”

She hugged him tighter. “I wish just one of my colleagues in The Hague would have said that. I was so torn up about it.”

“You need a glass of wine,” he said.

“Maybe the whole bottle,” she replied.

While he went to the kitchen, she switched on the TV. She found herself looking at a heart-tugging infomercial about orphans in Bolivia. Although she didn't consider herself vulnerable to such pitches, she found herself grabbing a pen from the coffee table. There was no paper, so she jotted the toll-free number on the back of her hand. For the price of a cup of coffee each day, she could save little Matteo from starvation. What she really wanted to do was scoop him up and hold him in her arms the way she held Charlie, making him feel safe in the world.

She muted the sound on the TV but it was too late. The inevitable guilt set in. It must've shown on her face.

“What's wrong?” Noah asked, returning with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Here I am, all warm and cozy, while children are suffering. I should do something—”

“You have. You spent your whole professional life doing something.”

“But I could do more.”

“You are. You're raising Max and Daisy. Charlie, too. You're teaching them to be like you—compassionate, dedicated. And I imagine one day they'll do their part.” He handed her a glass of wine. “That's how you change the world, Sophie. One person can't do it all. Believe it.”

He had a way of looking at things that struck Sophie as spectacularly sane. She couldn't change anything that had happened, but she could change from how she
was
in the past. She had been so locked into the idea that she had to be working directly on a problem or issue. Now here was Noah, telling her she could make a difference simply by being a good mother. No one had ever explained to her before that raising your family was the most important job in the world.

She set down her glass and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Noah. I love the way your mind works and the things you say.” She paused, leaning back to look up at him. “I love you.”

“Damn. You really mean that, don't you?”

“I do. I'm sorry, but it had to be said.”

“Sorry.” He laughed at her. “Sorry?”

“And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.”

“That's okay. That way, I'll always have something to lord over you—I said it first.”

Always.
He seemed to have no trouble making the assumption that they would have an
always.
When he pulled her close, kissed her as though sealing the deal, she wanted it to be so. And it amazed her to want such a thing. It amazed her even more to discover that she believed it was not only desirable, but possible.

He backed off a little, smiled down at her. “And here I thought you only ever wanted me for the sex.”

“Is something the matter with the sex?” she asked.

“Lord, no. The sex is unbelievable.”

No one had ever said such a thing about her before. Perhaps because no one had ever had that opinion of her, in bed, anyway.

He aimed the remote, clicked off the TV and slipped his arms around her. This night had set something free in her, igniting a new heat between them. There was an element of complete trust…and complete abandon. With Noah, she found herself doing things that would have made the old Sophie blush. With Noah, and her heart full of love, everything seemed exactly right.