The Shadow of Your Smile (10 page)

Home games had the power to dissolve her, to erase every day of victory Lee had managed over the past three years and reduce her to that raw, devastated woman she’d been standing beside Clay’s grave.

The sounds of the game emanated from the gym—the high-pitched scuff of shoes on a wooden court, the pop of the basketball being dribbled, the shrill whistle of the refs, the cheers of the home team. They lured Lee to the door and she took a breath, coaxing back her courage from the dark corners where it had scurried.

She could do this. Once inside, she’d see familiar faces, smiles now void of sympathy. Time did that—it erased the memory of another person’s grief from their countenance.

Sometimes she wondered if she was the only one who remembered Clay Nelson, hometown hero.

“One ticket,” she said quietly and held out a five-dollar bill. Amy, the athletic director, took it, gave her a ticket, and she edged into the gym.

Back in her day, they’d played their games in the smaller gym with the cement bleachers. She could nearly hear the echo of the cheers every time she passed by the closed doors. Now they used it for the middle school games and community activities.

This new gym could house the entire town. A sea of blue-shirted fans packed the home bleachers, waving signs, some with their faces painted. The Huskies weren’t undefeated, but this close to the end of the season, they had won enough to fight for a place in the play-offs.

Lee glanced at the scoreboard. The Huskies were up by two, still early in the game, but she hated that she hadn’t accounted for the extra time it would take to ease herself out of the car, hobble to the gym.

A slipped disk in her neck. In the ER, she’d had X-rays, and the doctor had given her a painkiller, but it was her chiropractor who gave her the most hope of recovery. And Eli.

What would she have done without his help? He’d not only plowed her driveway, but shoveled her walk and made a pot of venison stew that just might rival Chef Ramsey’s. In between chopping wood all day Monday to refill her supply, he’d brought her ice packs, then driven her to town for her appointment. He’d even offered to carry her again, but she could make it alone.

Really.

Today he’d come over too early for even the dawn and filled her wood bin, then let himself into her house and made a cozy fire.

She hadn’t heard from him the rest of the day, but as she scanned the crowd, she spied him on the Huestons’ usual perch, five from the top, wearing a long-sleeve black T-shirt with the Huskies logo emblazoned on the front. He was watching the game, leaning forward, arms on his knees.

Walking the gauntlet behind the basket to the bleachers, the eyes of the town scrutinizing her, could skewer a woman’s courage. Sometimes she imagined Clay beside her, holding her hand. How many times had they walked into this gym when Derek played JV, dreaming of the day when he’d start for varsity?

They’d had one son and wished the entire world for him, not to mention the dreams they had for Emma.

She swallowed, affixed her smile, and waved to Lou, the UPS man, and Jenny, her hairdresser. Joe, their local author, sat next to Mona, who owned the bookstore, as they cheered their son to victory. She glanced up toward Eli again as she approached the bleachers, searching for her empty spot. The Huestons and the Nelsons could practically carve their names of ownership on that row.

Eli erupted into a cheer as the Huskies sank a basket. She turned to see Derek grinning as he ran down the court.

Shoot, she’d missed it.

Beside Eli, wearing a black cap, her hair pulled back, sat Noelle. She had her hands tucked between her knees, her gaze intent on the game.

Maybe that’s why Eli hadn’t called. Maybe Noelle awoke this morning, her memories restored.

What might that be like—to remember afresh the grief? Oh, Lee wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Especially now that she’d grown some calluses.

And now that Lee had managed the walk to the bleachers and found her aisle, she discovered the breath that had abandoned her by the door.

She might be alone, but she was Derek’s mother. Emma’s mother. And she had a place in the stands.

As she reached the row, Eli glanced at her, a funny look on his face a second before a smile emerged. “Hey, Lee!”

She scooted in beside Noelle, glanced at her friend, and patted her knee. “Hey, Noelle.”

Noelle looked at her, then to Eli and back. Smiled.

Eli caught Lee’s eye, gave his head a tiny shake.

Oh.

Around her, the crowd cheered as the Huskies stole the ball. She leaned over to Noelle and spoke quietly. “I’m Lee. We’re friends.”

Something like relief crested across Noelle’s face. “I was starting to wonder if I had any friends.” She stuck out her hand and Lee glanced around before she took it, shook quickly.

How long did Eli think he could keep Noelle’s injury quiet?

“We’ve been friends for a while, since our boys started playing basketball together back in middle school. And of course, we knew each other from when Clay worked as one of Eli’s deputies.”

“Deputies?”

How could Eli not mention—?

“Eli was the sheriff here for many years. I’m sure it’ll come back.”

Across from her, a muscle pulsed in Eli’s jaw.

“Yes, that’s right. He mentioned that. Where’s your husband? Will he be here?”

For a second, it felt fresh and raw. She hadn’t had to tell anyone for so long. But the answer might raise too many questions. “No,” she said quietly.

“Which one is your son?” Noelle asked.

“Number eleven. He’s playing the baseline right now.”

“He’s got great hands for a forward. And boxes out really well. He just made a jump shot.”

“Your Kirby isn’t bad either. He’s been starting guard since his sophomore year. He’s really nailing his three-point shot this season. But basketball runs in your family. Kyle was all-state, and they won the state championship. I think there’s a trophy in the case. I’ll show you at halftime.”

“Thank you, Lee.”

Eli glanced at her too, warmth in his eyes.

Lee let it sink in, possibly too much, as she turned back to the game. Noelle had no idea what a treasure she had in that man.

Kirby managed to swish five three-pointers, Derek driving for the basket for sixteen points before the first half ended. The Huskies topped the Blue Streaks by four points going into the locker rooms.

Lee nudged Noelle. “C’mon. I’ll show you those trophies.”

“I could go for a bag of popcorn. It smells fabulous.”

Noelle hated popcorn. At least ever since she’d cracked her tooth on an unpopped kernel at a game a few years ago, when Kelsey played volleyball.

Lee led her down the bleachers, Eli rising behind them. They hit the floor as the band began to play.

“Hey, Noelle, wait up!”

Lee turned to run interference as Jill Markson caught up. Her son played fullback for the Huskies but rode the bench most of the basketball games.

“I was wondering if you’d fill in on concessions for me next week,” Jill said. “Brandon is playing on JV and their game is scheduled during the slot I volunteered for.”

Noelle’s eyes widened and she drew in a breath.

“I’ll do it,” Lee said quickly. “No problem.”

“Thanks, Lee,” Jill said. She made to turn away but then glanced back at Noelle. “I heard that you fell on the ice or something. Are you okay? I missed you at spinning this morning.”

Noelle nodded, but Lee could see her smile didn’t touch her eyes. “Just fine. Thanks.”

Jill scooted off and Lee looped her arm through Noelle’s. “Jill Markson. She runs the fitness center. And is the spin instructor.”

“Spin instructor?”

“Stationary bicycles. We call it spinning.”

“So that was my 8 a.m. appointment at the fitness center. Eli and I spent the day poring over my weekly schedule. I do a lot of volunteering—the school reading program, the library committee, the thrift store, and I also work at the care center?”

“You read to the folks there. And help some of the more able seniors in assisted living with art projects.”

“Art? So . . . I haven’t completely given up painting?” There was a desperation in Noelle’s tone that stopped Lee.

“Uh . . . Noelle, I’ve only known you well for about five years, but really, you’ve mostly been a mom. I don’t know anything about you doing any painting.”

Noelle swallowed, her face pale.

Eli had come to stand behind her, wearing a stricken expression.

It almost looked like guilt.

Noelle drew in a long breath. “Show me the trophies.”

Lee glanced at Eli as she led Noelle to the hallway. Jammed with people, it smelled of popcorn oil, pizza, and hot dogs on a roller grill, and her stomach roared. But she still had venison stew on the stove and would eat with Derek after the game.

She refused to let him eat alone.

She pointed Noelle to the display case. Inside, each sport had its own shelf, except for the football team, which spilled over. Yet there in the center sat the display for Kyle’s championship basketball team, their picture emblazoned on a plaque, the names of the team listed below it. Their trophy sat in the case next to the picture.

Noelle seemed to drink it in. She began to examine the other trophies, moving to the football section, the volleyball team.

The same team that had placed second in state during Kelsey’s junior year.

Oh—

Lee glanced at Eli, who had gone pale.

“Hey, there’s a girl on this plaque with our last name. Hueston. Kelsey Hueston.” Noelle turned to Eli. “Do we have relatives here?”

Lee wanted to cry for him. Because as much as she disagreed with this abhorrent idea of keeping Kelsey from Noelle, how much more tragic for Eli to have to erase his daughter too.

“Not anymore,” he said quietly.

Lee closed her eyes. She let the noise of the crowd, the kids’ voices, the sounds of the community fill her. Life went so brutally on, left others standing in the dust.
Not anymore.

“I’m going to get some popcorn,” Noelle said.

Lee looked at Eli as his wife moved to the concession line. He appeared bereft.

Perhaps she wasn’t the only one alone at this hometown basketball game.

Eli felt like he’d brought home a stranger.

No, worse, he felt like he’d taken her prisoner, returning her to a life she didn’t recognize. A life she didn’t want.

That counted as twice Noelle had asked about painting. Sure, she’d been an art major when he’d met her, but he’d considered it a fill-in major until she might decide to do something real. And to his knowledge, she hadn’t painted anything besides the kids’ rooms their entire marriage.

Who was this woman he’d brought home from the hospital?

He sat in the truck, motor idling, flakes peeling from the dark sky and skimming across his hood, watching Lee move around inside her house. He’d just wanted to make sure she’d arrived home all right after the game.

Today’s excursion into Noelle’s schedule had made him wonder if he knew her at all. Even before the accident. He knew about the spinning, the thrift store, and the school. But her appointments simply didn’t add up. Like the space of time on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 2 to 4 p.m. She designated the time as
fitness
, but when they’d gone to the athletic center in hopes that it might trigger a memory, he checked the schedule.

There were no spinning classes scheduled in that time slot.

And then there was this memo on Friday mornings.
Classes.
But as she’d stood in the elementary school hallway, examining self-portraits the fourth graders had painted, he’d asked the secretary, who confirmed that no, she didn’t volunteer on Fridays.

It didn’t take his skills as a sheriff to realize that Noelle’s calendar contained unexplained holes.

He watched Lee picking up before she went to bed. Wow, he’d nearly hugged her at the game today when she slipped right into her role as Noelle’s friend . . . and when she stood with him after the potential bomb about Kelsey.

Do we have relatives here?

He cupped his hand over his eyes, let out a trembling breath. Not a flicker of memory about their beautiful daughter.

A knock at the passenger-side window startled him.

Lee stood in the snow, wrapped in a blanket. She opened the door, the cold sliding into the warm cab. “What are you doing out here?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

She gave him a look of tenderness that only made the bubble in his chest grow. Then she got in, pulling the door closed behind her. She wore her pajamas under the blanket and a pair of snow boots, snow glistening in her auburn hair, falling over her shoulders.

He looked away. “She didn’t even know Kelsey’s name.”

Lee said nothing.

“And the worst part is, as I sat there at the game listening to her cheer for Kirby, suddenly I felt as if she’d come back to me.” He ran a thumb under his eyes. “She hasn’t cheered in three years. She goes to the games and sits there, says nothing.”

“I remember when she used to paint her face with Kyle’s number.”

“She lived for the kids’ games, would drive to every one, even if it was five hours away.”

“She was a sports mom—of course she did.”

“But she vanished after Kelsey. And tonight . . . tonight she was back. I thought she was going to run down to the court and start brawling with the refs when they called Kirby on that travel.”

“I could have sworn she offered to help the coach with some tips.” Lee smiled at him. “Yes, she was . . . better. Which sounds strange because she doesn’t even remember Kirby.”

He knew she didn’t mean to bruise, but he felt her words right below his sternum. “Or me. Which frankly, Lee . . . was kind of nice.”

“Oh, Eli, c’mon.”

“I’m serious. She actually high-fived me once, and sitting there, it felt like we were a couple again. Even though, yeah, she considers me the guy who kidnapped her.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s true, though. She keeps asking me about whether she painted anything. Seriously? She never mentioned painting in all the years we were married.”

“Never? Not once?”

He hated how Lee’s words had sharp points tonight, skewering him. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Lee pulled the blanket tighter around her. “I used to play the piano classically; did you know that?”

“Not a clue.”

She smiled. “Clay went to a couple of my recitals, but we couldn’t afford a piano, so I just . . . I quit. I haven’t touched a piano for thirty years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Emma inherited my musical genes. I probably enjoy listening to her play more than if I played myself. But the point is, people let go of things to pursue others. Noelle was a mom. There’s not a lot of room for painting time there.”

“Except maybe there was.” He handed her Noelle’s appointment book. “Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, Friday mornings. She wasn’t at fitness class or school.”

She looked at the book, then returned it. “You have no idea where she was?”

He closed the book and stared out the window. “Kyle and I had a terrible fight at the hospital. He said . . .” He clenched his jaw, the words still so sharp they might wound coming out again. “He said I forgot our family long before Noelle did. He said it was my fault she had forgotten everyone.”

“That’s absurd. You were taking care of everyone, Eli.” Gently she reached out and pressed her hand on his arm. “You never abandoned anyone.”

As he looked at her hand, he wanted to slide his over it. She had pretty hands, and suddenly he could imagine them playing the piano. He would have liked listening to her.

“Is it terrible if I hope she doesn’t get her memory back?” He said it so softly, it seemed he might have just thought it.

But Lee drew in her breath, withdrew her hand. “Why?”

He played with the keys on a chain—he’d picked up Noelle’s from the hook, not wanting to dig around the pockets of his coat to find his. She always left her keys just so on the rack. “I liked her tonight. I liked knowing that she’d forgiven me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Eli.”

His mouth tensed around the edges. Yes, in fact, it was.

“You couldn’t have known that kid was on his way into Deep Haven to cause trouble. You knew him.”

“I trusted him. I should have never let my guard down.”

“That’s what small-town cops do—they have to figure out how to keep the peace and live with their neighbors. You have to stop blaming yourself.”

He fingered each one of the keys. “Tonight, sitting beside Noelle, her memory wiped clean, I did. I felt free. Like I never have to return to that night again.”

“But neither does Noelle.”

He turned to her, thankful he had a friend who would sit in a cold truck listening to him. “And that’s the point. Maybe this is our chance to start over.”

She nodded, her mouth a tight line, but her eyes offering kindness.

He couldn’t help it. He reached out, took her hand, squeezed. “Thanks for listening, Lee. I don’t know what I would do without you.”