Chapter Twenty-Three

Izzy watched from across the bubbling hot tub as Bridget raised a plastic tumbler of Pinot. “Here’s to the second gathering of the Smart, Sexy Sisters of Captivity.”

“Here-here,” Izzy seconded, raising her tumbler as well. Salmon salad and two glasses of wine had left her pleasantly buzzed. She turned toward Lilah, who sat perched on the side again, wrapped in her sweater and a blanket, dangling her legs in the water.

Lilah leaned forward and touched her glass of fizzy water to Izzy’s tumbler, then did the same to Bridget’s. “To sisters.”

“And to Trace pulling an overnighter in Juneau on behalf of Jorg’s prostate,” Bridget added, taking a drink. After swallowing, she aimed her stare at Lilah. “Get your ass in here, Iquat. It’s not still that time of the month.”

Lilah colored, but brushed her hair back from her face with calm dignity and shook her head. “No, thank you. I wasn’t feeling great this morning. My system’s not up for temperature extremes tonight. This is fine for me.”

Bridget shrugged. “Suit yourself. Sorry you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m fine,” Lilah demurred. “Just trying to keep it that way.”

Hoping to smooth out the mood with a change of subject, Izzy said, “Thanks to both of you for convening another girls’ night. I sincerely appreciate it. I realize that, unlike me, when Trace is out of town you both still have plenty of other things to do and plenty of other people to do them with.”

“Ah, please.” Bridget leaned back and looked at her through lowered eyelids. “We’re sick of everyone else around here, aren’t we, Lilah?”

The younger woman gave Bridget a quelling look, but admitted, “Spring is tough, sometimes. We locals have been cooped up together all winter. The holidays are over. There’s nothing to do, but the tourist season hasn’t started yet, so there are no new faces. No new stories. No distractions. We’re stuck with ourselves for a few more weeks.”

Bridget blew her a kiss. “To quote Huey Lewis, I’m happy to be stuck with you.”

“At least you can fly to Juneau or Anchorage for a change of pace,” Lilah retorted in a rare show of discontent. “I’m tied to the inn. I have to wait for the summer people to come.”

Izzy’s sympathy welled. Lilah was young and smart and clearly bristling under the limits of her current life. But she wasn’t sure it was her place to broach the subject of options. Luckily, Bridget did it for her.

“You’re twenty, girl. Screw online classes. Tell Rose you want to go away to college.”

“She asked me to do two years online first. If I stay and help her through high season at the inn, she’ll pay for my last two years at a university.”

Bridget scoffed. “She’s just not ready to let you go. Tug the leash a little, and she might change her mind.”

Lilah looked down at her lap. “I made an agreement with her. And, honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready to go away to college. I shouldn’t have complained.”

“Aw, fuck that, Lilah.” Bridget’s violet eyes flashed like gemstones. “You graduated first in your class at Captivity High, you’re mature beyond your years—beyond my years—and you’ve watched way less smart, less mature classmates fly off to wherever the hell they wanted while you sat here in Captivity like a good little girl, pining for some adventure. You’re ready. You know it. I know it. Rose knows it.”

“I do not know it,” Lilah shot back. “I don’t know what I want, which is why the years here completing my general ed requirements were a good idea. College isn’t for everyone. It wasn’t for you.”

Ouch, Izzy thought. But also, good point.

Bridget smiled broadly. “But at least I proved it.”

Izzy took a sip of her wine, and then found the question uppermost in her mind popping out of her mouth. “Why didn’t you finish? I mean, jeez Bridget, one measly year to go. You were practically done. And you’d be fully vested in your half of the airfield if you had your degree.” And then Trace would have had to discuss his plans with you, because you could veto them if you chose.

Trace’s sister looked away. “I don’t know.” Before Izzy had to prod, Bridget went on, “I went to college for the wrong reason. Because it was expected of me, basically. Then I stayed for the wrong reason. Because…” She broke off and gulped her wine. “Hell, it doesn’t really matter anymore. It was four years ago and seems like eons. But when I finally figured out that I’d tied my whole purpose for being there to the wrong reason, and that reason was gone, I left. Because that’s what you do when you realize your dream is bullshit.”

“Shay came and got you,” Lilah said softly.

Those flashing eyes swung to Lilah. “He told you?”

“He told me something made him fly down to see you, and you looked so lost and…unwell, he just picked you up and took you home. He worried he’d made the wrong decision. Wished he’d had your parents fly in from wherever they were and talk with your first.”

Bridget closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and rubbed the heel of her hand over her forehead. “I didn’t know he second-guessed himself on account of that. But no, he did exactly the right thing. I wanted to come home. I just had too much pride to pick up the phone and call for help. I was embarrassed about, well, losing track of myself. Being a stupid cliché. Failing. To be honest, I was never shocked Shay took me home. I was shocked Trace didn’t turn me around, fly me back, and tell me to finish my damn degree.”

“He told me Trace was afraid to send you back. He thought you had an eating disorder.”

Bridget just stared at Lilah for a long moment, then threw back her head and laughed.

“Is that funny?” Izzy asked.

“No,” Bridget admitted, still working on taming her laughter. “No,” she said again when she had herself under control, “but it explains a lot. Like why the kitchen was full of all my favorite foods and he kept pushing them at me every time I turned around—like a goddamn mother hen. He still does. Jesus.” She rubbed her head again. “What a mess I must have been. Sneaky Shay, though.” She used her wineglass to point at Lilah. “He could have corrected Trace at any time. He knew exactly what was wrong with me.”

“What was wrong?” Lilah asked, beating Izzy to the question. “He never told me.”

“Good old Shay.” Bridget’s smile went crooked, in a female version of Trace’s. “He was keeping my secret. Which was more pathetic than an eating disorder, I’m sad to say.” She tipped her tumbler up and finished her wine.

“Drinking problem?” Izzy winged a brow at Lilah.

Bridget shot her the finger. “If I said yes, could we let this drop?”

“No,” Izzy said firmly. She wanted to know. Deep down she felt like she needed to know. “I won’t tell Trace, I promise.”

Lilah zipped her lips, tossed the key over her shoulder, and then crossed her heart.

“All right. Fine. It’s old, old, old news anyway.” Sighing dramatically, she swept her forearm over her eyes, fainting princess style. “I had a broken heart.”

Izzy didn’t laugh. Just now, a broken heart didn’t sound funny at all. It sounded…shattering. Lilah, she noticed, didn’t laugh either. When the laughter she’d expected didn’t materialize, Bridget lowered her arm and stared at them. “God, you guys. It’s okay. I’m over it. Long over it. Look”—she stood and pointed to her chest—“no scars.”

“Did you ever see him again, after you left?”

Bridget sank back into the hot tub. “Nope. Although, it might be worth noting he left first. He was in the JD/MBA program.” She held up three fingers and wiggled them. “Three years. Three years of pretty pillow talk, and practically living together, never leaving each other’s side without swapping spit and saying ‘I love you,’ and feeling like the glowing center of someone else’s universe, and then”—she flicked her wrist as if looking at a watch—“‘Whoa, baby, would you look at the time? I’ve got to graduate and get on with my life. Enjoy your final year of college. Catch you later.’”

Appalled, Izzy put her glass down on the stone edge of the hot tub with a thump. “Are you serious?”

“’Fraid so. I mean, it wasn’t quite that bloodless, but basically, ‘I love you, but I can’t be with you right now. There are things I have to do. Family expectations. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Stay alive. I will find you.’”

“You’re alive,” Lilah pointed out. “Has he tried to find you?”

“No. Well, not really,” she amended. “He reached out when he learned I’d left school, but I blocked him. I was just starting to get my feet under me and stand on my own again. I didn’t need him knocking me down with a text or a call. He was my first, and I’d honestly believed my only and always. I deserved time to recover from that delusion.”

“And you’re recovered now?” Lilah asked.

“Oh, please. Fully. I never think about him anymore, or I would never, except he always sends a card on my birthday. His way of letting me know he’s still out there. I always send it back, unopened.”

Lilah sent Bridget a challenge in the form of a question. “If you’re fully recovered, what would be the harm in reading the card?”

“What’s the point? I don’t need a pen pal. I sure as hell don’t need to allow someone who hurt me a toehold back into my life. Whatever was between us is done. That naive girl I was is gone forever. The clear-eyed woman you see before you is stronger, more self-sufficient, and doesn’t depend on anyone else for her happiness. I enjoy friends. When the opportunity presents, I enjoy sex. I’m not interested in love. It’s not for me.”

“No love,” Izzy repeated. “Don’t you think that’s a scar?”

Bridget shook her head. “It’s a fact about myself that I learned the hard way. But I learned it. And so, if I live out the rest of my life never seeing or hearing from Archer Ellison the Third again, I’ll die a happy woman.”

“But maybe there’s someone else out there, and if you’re not open to it… Wait.” What? Izzy swallowed hard. “Did you say Archer Ellison the Third?”

“Yeah, why? Know him?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. “No. As far as I know, I’ve never met him, but…uh…that’s quite a name.”

Bridget smirked. “His family is some big deal in international shipping. Yawn. I probably dodged a big, boring bullet.”

“Yeah,” Izzy managed to say. “Probably.”

Bridget yawned for real. “Now that we’ve dragged my tragic past out and picked through it, I’m beat.” She stood and wrapped a towel around herself, then stepped out of the hot tub and draped a blanket over her shoulders. “I don’t know about you, but I’m calling it a night. Make yourselves at home.”

“Hey, Bridge?” Lilah waylaid her. “Was he cute?”

Bridget shook her head, but her slow smile conveyed pure, unfiltered nostalgia. “Not cute. That tall, blond, green-eyed sonofabitch was fuck-hot, and damn, he knew it. On that note, goodnight, girls.”

“’Night,” Izzy echoed as Bridget opened the door to step inside.

Key shot out the open door and beelined to the hot tub. “K’eyush, get your furry butt back inside,” Bridget scolded. The dog ignored her and put his head in Lilah’s lap.

She petted him. “He’s okay. I’ll make sure he comes inside with us.”

Bridget waved a hand in consent and closed the door behind her.

In her mind, Izzy frantically reviewed all the new information she’d just gained. After a moment she realized a not entirely easy silence stretched between her and Lilah, despite the distraction of the dog. In an effort to ease it, Izzy joked, “Wow. The things you learn during girls’ night.”

Lilah’s smile in response looked forced. “Yeah. I know. Actually, Izzy, I was hoping to talk to you, privately, if you have time? Tonight, I mean.” She paused to nudge Key’s nose away from her middle. “If you’re too tired, we could do it another time—”

“Now’s fine.” Izzy reached out and touched the girl’s arm. “What’s up?” Mentally, she prepped for a should-I-pursue-law-school discussion.

Key took the question for his own and answered by raising his snout to the sky and wailing, “Aaaay!”

Lilah blushed, shushed the dog and continued to stroke his head and scratch his ears. He laid his head in her lap and gave a soft, yawning, “Aay.”

“Poor guy,” Izzy murmured around the marble of sorrow lodged in her throat. “He misses his daddy.”

“We all miss Shay.” The younger woman bent and gave the dog a hug. “I know time is supposed to ease that, but just lately, I miss him more than ever.”

Once again, Izzy felt out of her depth. “I don’t think coming to terms with the loss of a friend follows a straight trajectory. I imagine like most any kind of healing, you have good days, and tough days, and hope that, in the long run, the good days start to outnumber the tough days.”

Lilah nodded, but remained silent. Pensive, if Izzy had to put a word to it. Captivity was a small, tightly woven community. Losing a native son at such a young age would leave a shadow of sorrow on everyone. Even so, there was a five-year age difference between Lilah and Shay. They wouldn’t have been classmates, or, surely, run in the same circles. True, she and Bridget were good friends, and Shay was her good friend’s twin brother, but still. “Were you and he close?”

The pensive look turned into something Izzy couldn’t name. Guilt? “He was fun,” Lilah said. “Easy to hang with. Cute,” she added, almost reluctantly, and blushed again. “They’re an attractive family. The Shanahans have always been part of my life. I love them, but Shay was always one of my very favorite people.”

Ah. A crush. “I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how difficult it is to lose someone like that.”

Lilah sent her a sad smile. “It is hard. And…complicated. Izzy, I apologize for such a personal question, but”—she broke off and took a deep breath, then continued in a rush—“are you and Trace going to get married?”

That came out of nowhere. “Uh, well, um.” She grabbed her wine and took a big gulp to stall. “I don’t know what the future holds, for us.” True. “We enjoy spending time together.” True.

“He cares about you, though,” Lilah insisted. “A lot.”

“He does,” she agreed. That much was also true. Trace was one of the most caring men she’d ever met. “I care about him, too.” Her truth streak continued, despite the thorny patch of questions. “I love him.” Wha?

Lilah’s smile bloomed.

Oh damn. Totally true. The realization settled bone-deep, as if it had always been there, waiting for her to discover it. She loved him. This wasn’t amazing sex—not just amazing sex. Not merely affection. She was in love with Trace Shanahan. And she should have shared the fact with him first, not a nice young woman clearly at a crossroads in her life, but there was no way to walk it back, now. Shaken, she took another sip of her wine.

Lilah scooted closer. “Have you and Trace talked about children?”

Whoa. Children?

She choked mid-swallow and dissolved into loud, chest-rattling coughs. “N-No. No,” she finally managed. “Lilah, honey. We’re not even engaged. I live in L.A. He lives here. How would that work?”

Yeah, how would that work?

“But you want kids, someday?”

“I, um…” She almost said she’d never really thought about it, but the answer rose up from another place inside her she hadn’t paid much attention to, like a shoot emerging from a long-dormant seed. “I do.” She said it more to herself than her companion. The mind she considered more logical than fanciful found it so easy to conjure a rough-and-tumble young boy with Trace’s blue eyes and black hair. Easy to picture Trace giving that boy a piggyback ride down the hill to the airfield. Or a girl. Her heart beat faster. And a girl. A little girl with long hair like hers, and long legs like Bridget’s, and no fear of geese, or snowshoeing, or piloting a bush plane over ice-laced mountains. “I do,” she said again, and faced Lilah.

Lilah reached out and captured both of Izzy’s hands, squeezed them tight and pinned her with urgent eyes. “Izzy, I have to tell you something. It’s important. Please, please, please don’t share it with anyone yet.”

Oh dear. She wasn’t sure she should make that promise, but she swallowed her reservations, and nodded. “Okay. I won’t.”

“I’m…I’m…” Lilah’s chin quivered. “God, I’ve never said this out loud before.”

Izzy’s thoughts raced in a thousand different directions. She wanted to make this easier for Lilah, so she latched onto the possibility uppermost in her mind. “Honey, are you gay?”

Lilah made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and vigorously shook her head. “No. Sorry, no.” She swiped at tears with an impatient hand. “No, Izzy. I’m pregnant.” Perhaps unconsciously, she laid her hand protectively across her abdomen. “I’m pregnant,” she said again, her voice suddenly steady. “I’m pregnant with Shay’s baby.”