Summer Light: A Novel by Luanne Rice

the barn,” he said.
    “We grow our own herbs,” May said. “Our own roses.”
    “I know.”
    “That’s why we’re having dinner tonight, isn’t it?” she asked, laughing. “Because my roses brought you luck, and you want me to give you more.”
    “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe that’s why. But keep talking. Tell me more.”
    May told him about making beeswax candles from the bees they raised, about drying herbs and making sachets and perfumed oils, about supplying the brides with homemade products for love and luck, how she still had her grandmother’s tattered book of potions and recipes.
    “We like the big space for designing ceremonies, rehearsing processions, trying on gowns. My mother collected old gowns, and once a year we hang them from the rafters, every one—” May loved the tradition; it was one of her favorites. She could tell Martin was really listening, hanging on every word, and she suddenly felt embarrassed.
    “Do you like barns?” she asked.
    “Yes. I grew up on a farm in Canada, and we had plenty of barns. My grandfather flooded one once, and we had the first indoor rink in my part of the province. So we both had innovative grandparents….”
    “You lived with your grandfather?”
    “My mother, and my father’s parents, yes. After my father left.”
    “He left?”
    “To play pro hockey,” Martin said. “He was a great player. A great role model for me, when all I wanted to do…He taught me to skate before I could walk. But that was a long time ago.”
    “He’s still alive?”
    “Yeah, but we don’t speak. Never mind about him. What about you? You lived with your grandmother?”
    “Yes,” May said. “My parents died when I was twelve. A truck hit their car. Moving so fast they never saw it coming. At least, that’s what my grandmother told me, what I’ve always wanted to think…”
    “Things happen fast.” Martin covered her hand with his when he saw the tears in her eyes. His own face was filled with emotion, as if all his features were connected straight to his heart: his eyes, his mouth, his jaw.
    “They missed out on seeing a great girl grow up,” Martin said, holding her hand.
    “Thank you. That’s what my friend always says.”
    “Your friend?”
    “Tobin Chadwick. We were inseparable then, and she’s still my best friend. She knew my parents well; I can’t explain why that means so much to me.”
    “You don’t have to. I have a friend like that—Ray Gardner. He’s like my brother, always has been. He knows the whole story, inside and out. I don’t even have to talk—he just knows. We’re teammates now.”
    May touched her glass of water, felt the icy drops with her hand. She saw the shadow pass across his eyes, the darkness she had seen that first time.
    “I lost my daughter, just as you lost your father,” he said. “I have many regrets myself.”
    “You can tell me.” May was watching his eyes.
    “I have the feeling I can.”
    May waited.
    “Some things are meant to be,” he said steadily, using the words he’d said on the phone last night.
    Her hands were trembling, and she didn’t reply.
    “There was a connection I can’t explain,” he said. “I looked back and saw you. And then your daughter came over, spoke to me. She knew about Natalie.”
    “Natalie?”
    “My daughter.”
    “Kylie’s very imaginative,” May said, not wanting him to have the wrong idea. “She’s extremely sensitive; she picks up on things. Maybe she overheard you talking about Natalie.”
    “I don’t talk about her.”
    “Or maybe she saw you looking at a picture…”
    Martin pulled out his wallet. He placed a photo on the table between them, a color snapshot of a bright, smiling little girl with curly hair and one tooth missing in front.
    “Did you have it out on the plane?” May asked. “Even for a second?”
    “Someone gave me a business card,” Martin said, frowning. “I might have put it in my wallet.”
    “Kylie probably saw Natalie’s