Summer Light: A Novel by Luanne Rice

thought about how long she had lived with it on, wondered how it would feel to take it off.
    Over the years, Tobin had tried to set her up with John’s brother and his cousin and men he knew from work. Barb Ellis had taken her on a ski weekend to meet a friend from Vermont she’d known was perfect for May. Carol Nichols had arranged a blind date with a guy she’d known in graduate school, an oceanographer in Woods Hole. Dutifully, May had gone along. But she was now thirty-six years old, and she had never once felt about anyone the way she did about Martin.
    Very slowly, May stood up straight. She walked into the greenhouse, to the telephone on the north wall. Martin had never gotten around to giving her his number. Calling the Boston Bruins organization, she got a receptionist, then an office manager, finally the team publicist. Explaining herself, May heard the man’s skepticism.
    “Remember that plane crash?” May asked. “He saved me and my daughter. He really did. Kylie, my daughter, asked him to help us, and the thing was, we became friends. He and I had dinner, just before the finals started, and I gave him—” she stopped, her mouth dry.
    “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the voice said. “But we’re not allowed to give out the players’ numbers.”
    “But we’re friends,” May argued. “We really are. I’m sure a lot of people tell you that, but in this case it’s honestly true.”
    “Uh-huh, but even so, I’m not permitted…”
    May leaned her head against the cool glass wall. A pair of swallows crisscrossed the air overhead, building a nest in the greenhouse eaves. May felt her chance slipping away.
    “Please,” May pleaded with the man on the phone. Suddenly she knew she had to get through to Martin. If she could have climbed through the wire and seized his number, she would have. “You have to tell me.”
    But the man had hung up. May walked slowly back to the rose garden and resumed her work. Aunt Enid glanced over, but she didn’t ask what had happened.
    “You didn’t get him?” Tobin asked.
    “No.”
    “Damn,” Tobin said. “Maybe I could try. I could—”
    “Sssh,” May said, digging in the garden. “Okay, please?” Her friend walked away.
    When Aunt Enid went into the barn for some bonemeal, to supplement the coffee grounds, May bent over and put her face close to the earth. She felt damp warmth rising in waves, and she closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening to me,” she said to her knees.
    She had fallen in love. She, who had been foolish in love once and totally self-protected ever since, had—almost without noticing—just given her heart to a man who had disappeared. Last night, writing in Kylie’s dream diary, she had been shocked to find herself writing about Martin.
    Page Greenleigh, her mother, and her sister came and left, and May returned to the garden. The air grew hotter, and bees swarmed the roses. The sound of an engine made her look up. It was a car on the road, coming fast. The louder the engine got, the faster May’s heart began to beat. She was wearing an old straw hat and a faded yellow sundress. Her hands were covered with dirt again, and she had coffee grounds under her fingernails as she watched Martin Cartier driving his Porsche through the field.
    May peered across the tall grass. Pushing herself up, brushing her hands off, she stood. She tried to smile, but she couldn’t stop her chin from shaking.
    Tall and strong, he came toward her. He wore a white shirt tucked into jeans, a blue baseball cap, and sneakers. His right cheek was bruised, and he had stitches under his left eye. As he got closer, he took off the baseball cap.
    “Hello,” she said.
    “I was taking a ride,” he said.
    “All the way down here?” she asked.
    “I like the salt air,” he told her. “Here in Black Hall.”
    May found herself staring at Martin’s feet, but she felt his hands on her shoulders. Suddenly she found herself looking into his eyes. He