Summer Light: A Novel (19 page)

“That was her concern about the hanged body—Richard Perry,” Dr. Whitpen said, reviewing the chart. “About the family left behind.” He looked up. “The investigation revealed that he’d been a suicide, right? A loner in trouble with the law. Parents out west, no wife, no kids.”

May nodded. “Kylie made his parents a sympathy card.”

“I remember,” Dr. Whitpen said.

“She’s compassionate,” May went on. “And she has an amazing imagination. I’m inclined to think that explains the rest. Or enough of the rest. I think we’re going to stop coming after this visit.”

“If that is your wish, I’ll respect it. Although I hope you decide to continue,” Dr. Whitpen said. “Let me talk to her, okay? Get a feel for how things are going from her perspective. I’d like to ask her about the mute angels in her dream.”

Carrying the blue notebook with him, Dr. Whitpen led May back to the play area. He took out the deck of cards, and Kylie watched him. She shuffled, then he did. The deck went down on the table, and he cut it in half.

“Top card,” he said.

“Red.”

He checked: red.

“Again,” he said.

“Blue.”

Dr. Whitpen showed her that she was right, and she clapped her hands. They went through the whole deck. Kylie got three wrong. He started from the top, but she seemed bored and wandered over to the dollhouse.

He crouched on the other side, joining in as Kylie arranged the doll family, their pets, and their furniture. May sat back, watching Kylie fly the girl doll around the house like a bird.

“Who’s that?” Dr. Whitpen asked.

“Natalie,” Kylie said.

“Her doll, you mean?”

“No, Natalie. My sister.”

“What’s she doing?” Dr. Whitpen asked, watching Kylie move her arms up and down.

“She’s talking.”

“With her arms?”

“Maybe,” Kylie said.

“Can’t she speak?” Dr. Whitpen asked, and May knew he was referring to the mute angels.

Kylie smiled at him, as if he’d just told a good joke. “She doesn’t need words with me,” she said. “I understand her.”

“What’s she saying?”

“ ‘Help me,’ ” Kylie said in a voice not her own.

“What kind of help does she need?” Dr. Whitpen asked, leaning closer.

“I’m not sure. She doesn’t want her hat. And some people can’t see with their eyes,” Kylie said, looking as if she might cry. Placing the doll back inside the playhouse, Kylie let them know the game was over. She ran to the low table where paper and crayons were kept, and she began to draw.

“Your mother got married,” Dr. Whitpen said, following her.

“I have a father now.” Kylie was drawing fast and hard. “And a sister.”

“Natalie,” he said.

“That’s right!” Kylie beamed with pleasure to hear him say her name.

“What does she look like?”

“Pretty.” Kylie started drawing again. “With wings and a white dress.”

“Like the other angels you’ve seen?”

Kylie shook her head. “No one looks like Natalie. She’s real.”

“The others aren’t?” Dr. Whitpen asked, smiling.

“No, but I love her, and that makes everything
more
real,” Kylie said, looking him in the eye. “I don’t know the others’ names, and I do know hers: Natalie Cartier.”

May watched her go back to work, drawing pictures on the white paper. Dr. Whitpen stood up, came to sit beside her. He raised his eyebrows. “Natalie Cartier? You married Martin Cartier?”

“Yes.” May had known Martin was famous, but somehow she hadn’t expected his name to mean much to the researcher. “You’re a hockey fan?”

“Not much of one. I know the name for another reason. His daughter died a tragic death.”

“You know about it?” May asked.

“Everyone in Canada does,” he said. “Her grandfather was responsible. He was a great player himself, and he became involved with criminals. He caused Natalie’s death indirectly, later went to prison for fixing games, hiding money. It was a national scandal.”

May watched Kylie, to see whether she was listening, but she was drawing furiously, talking out loud to herself. The picture took shape: the lake, the gazebo, pine trees, a girl, a cap floating in the water.

“Martin doesn’t talk about him. Or about Natalie.”

“At all?”

“Hardly at all. It’s too painful for him. Why?”

“That might explain why Kylie picked Martin out in the first place—there might be a connection,” he said, sounding excited.

“What kind of connection?” May asked, bristling.

“The terrible death, the father’s inability to face it—”

“What are you saying? That Martin married me because Kylie’s clairvoyant?” May stood up. “He didn’t even want to come inside. He’s on campus right now—he came into this building with us and wanted to go right out. He wants no part of this.”

“Ms. Taylor—I mean, Mrs. Cartier,” Dr. Whitpen said. “Please. Sit down. Forgive me, that’s not what I mean at all. Please.”

Not wanting to upset Kylie, May lowered herself into the chair again. She watched as Kylie drew mountains around the lake, clouds in the blue sky, one big fish under the water’s surface.

“What, then?” May asked.

“Your husband might not be aware of anything. He probably isn’t. It’s Kylie I’m thinking of.”

“Kylie?”

“Your daughter is gifted.”

“We knew that already.” May’s heart was racing. She wanted to leave and not come back. Martin would be waiting downstairs. She’d leave the notebook with Dr. Whitpen, let him make whatever he wanted of it.

“Of course, but—”

“I’ve had enough of this,” May said. “Cards, dolls, keeping track of her dreams. Kylie’s gifted, I agree. Our whole family believes in magic—a certain kind, anyway. As long as Kylie’s not ill, not schizophrenic.”

“No, she’s not. But she’s not like anyone in your family either. She sees through the veil.”

“The veil?” May had never heard this before.

“Between worlds,” Dr. Whitpen said. “This world and the next.”

May sat very still.

“What made you take that trail at the Lovecraft the day you and Kylie came upon the hanging?” he asked. “You had to hike through some deep woods to get there. The body had been hanging there a long time. It wanted to be found.”

“No,” May said.

“Kylie told you, didn’t she? She picked a trail and told you she wanted to take it.”

May closed her eyes, remembering the day. It had been cool, autumn leaves falling all around. Kylie had grabbed her hand, pulled her through thick brambles, down a twisted path to the clearing where the body hung. Richard Perry, the loner from California, dealing drugs in Worcester, with no family around to wonder where he was, to worry when he didn’t come home.

Dr. Whitpen went on. “Kylie was drawn to Martin because Natalie has something to tell her. Something she wants her father to know.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Maybe it’s about Natalie’s grandfather. Maybe it’s about the way she died. Maybe it’s a message, or even a warning, for the living—for Martin himself.”

“I’ve been very open to your ideas. But this is too much.” Rising, May waved at Kylie. “Come on, honey,” she said. “We’re going home now.”

“The veil is thin, Mrs. Cartier,” the doctor said. “So thin any one of us can see through it. That scares most people, and they have to look away. But not Kylie—she’ll keep looking whether you help her or not.”

“Come on, Kylie,” May said, her blood pounding, taking her daughter by the hand. Suddenly Ben Whitpen seemed like a mad scientist, suggesting that she and Martin were together for such a far-fetched reason. Her ego felt very bruised. Fumbling, she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. Kylie looked surprised, but she didn’t resist. May saw the notebook on the floor beside her chair. Hesitating, she snatched it up and stuck it in her bag.

The bride business was back in full swing within minutes of returning home. Tobin brought May up to speed, handing her six new client files.

“Wow, you’ve been busy,” May said.

“Just proving we can do it without you if we have to.”

“Well, I’m back now.”

“How’s married life treating you?” Tobin asked.

“Great.” May grinned, trying to show that everything was wonderful. She didn’t mention Natalie, Martin’s father, the study in Toronto. After her last call, she’d felt guilty for confiding too much. Weren’t certain things supposed to stay secret in marriage? Now Tobin would be judging Martin, remembering everything May had told her about their fight.

“Really?”

“Yes. We’re staying in Black Hall till hockey season begins, and then we’re moving into Martin’s house in Boston. On Beacon Hill.”

“Beacon Hill, way to go,” Tobin said. “You’re in the big time.”

May frowned.

“That’s a joke, May.”

“I know,” she said, waving. “It’s just, we’re so happy. The lake was wonderful, we’re so lucky to have each other. I can’t wait to move into Boston.”

“To Beacon Hill,” Tobin reminded her.

May went straight to her desk, to catch up on work and get away from the awkwardness she suddenly felt around her best friend. It made her uncomfortable, not knowing where to draw the line on what to tell her and what to keep private. Could she tell her what Dr. Whitpen had said without divulging too much about the Cartiers?

Later that morning a nurse from a Dr. Hall’s office called, to confirm Martin’s appointment on Tuesday and to remind him to bring his X rays. Puzzled, May said she’d pass on the message. Tobin glanced over, but May didn’t say anything.

When Martin came home from working out that night, May told him about the call.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Just my usual physical. The team wants to make sure I’m still worth the money they’re paying me, eh?”

“That’s all it is?” May asked.

“A physical,
c’est tout
.”

“But she mentioned X rays.”

Martin laughed. “I play hockey, eh?” he said. “I’ve had so many X rays, I glow in the dark. Come on, let me take you upstairs. I’ll show you.”

“I’ve seen—” May began, falling into his arms. They kissed, and then he pulled her onto the sofa.

“I’ll tell you what we really have to worry about,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “Reporters. I think they’re on to us—the word has been leaking out, and I think the story of our marriage is about to break. We’re so lucky that the people at the lake respect our privacy. They let us have a great honeymoon.”

May had a strange gut feeling that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth, that he was trying to distract her from asking about the doctor. But there was no reason for him to lie to her about X rays, about a team physical. He was a pro hockey player, after all. Injuries and doctors’ visits were everyday things.

But deep inside, she knew there was something Martin wasn’t telling her. She would have liked to call Tobin, to confide her fear, but it seemed that talking about it might make it real. Instead she went to check on Kylie, and stood there staring at her sleeping child.

Lying beside May later that night, Martin listened to her steady breathing. She had seemed anxious since the visit to Toronto. He had thought returning home would settle her, but if anything she seemed more worried. Tonight, though, they had made love, and she had finally fallen asleep in his arms. Wanting to be sure, he watched the rise and fall of her chest. Then he climbed carefully out of bed.