Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Amelie
The walk up to the house where they’d grown up wasn’t as arduous this late in the day.
The sun had melted off a few inches of snow, and most of the roads had been cleared off, bringing islanders out of their houses, where they roamed the streets, brought food to neighbors, made snowmen with their children, or threw the odd snowball.
It was like, in lieu of the official Christmas Festival, they’d decided to make their own celebration. This was typical of Mackinac Islanders: always eager to enjoy their life, whatever the weather.
Amelie was overwhelmed by the sights, smells, and sounds.
Out of every open door, it seemed there was the smell of something baking: cinnamon or chocolate or apples.
Twice, she took Pascal’s hand and pointed something out, “Look at that funny snowman! His nose is a Lego!” or “That kid has a fantastic arm! He could play for the Tigers!” as a snowball careened over the top of a house.
Pascal continued to look at Amelie as though he were captivated with her, as though he couldn’t believe his luck. He’d texted something that morning, something she hadn’t shared with Willa.
PASCAL: Sometimes I think I left France because I was supposed to meet you. I know it’s too sudden to say things like that. I’m sorry.
On the other side of them, Marius and Willa walked along, murmuring.
Amelie wished she could hear what they were saying.
Had they already acknowledged how much they’d wanted each other back in their teen years?
Or had they skipped over the previous yearning to make space for this brand-new era?
It didn’t matter. Amelie could see it written plainly over both of their faces that something was going to happen.
Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon.
The fact that Marius had driven his snowmobile from the hills to “save” Willa told Amelie everything she needed to know.
They reached their childhood home and steeled themselves before they knocked. But before they could, Grandma Mary opened the door, beckoning for them to enter.
“We thought you’d never make it!” she cried.
“Grandma,” Amelie said, hugging her, “it’s only four o’clock!”
But already, Grandma Mary had pie ready for them—cherry, apple, and pumpkin—which she sliced and served with whipped cream. It was almost as if she’d planned for this blizzard even though nobody possibly could have. It had even mystified the weather forecaster.
Their father sat upright in his chair with a half-eaten piece of pumpkin pie on a piece of red China. When he saw both Amelie and Willa together, he put the plate on the table and tried to get up. But his face scrunched, and he collapsed back into himself.
Amelie hurried over to sit beside him and take his hand. “Don’t push yourself! You’re still healing,” she said, although there was no way to know if he was healing or getting worse.
Their father smiled faintly, looking between Willa and Amelie. When the silence grew too intense, Pascal looked at Marius and suggested they help Grandma Mary in the kitchen. Amelie was grateful. They needed a little time with their father, just the three of them.
Willa had packed a box of fudge: chocolate raspberry and butter pecan. She opened the box and put it on the table beside their father. Frank inspected it and looked pleased.
“You’re getting better than me,” he said, then glanced at Amelie. “I’m grateful that you want to take over the shop.”
Amelie took a breath. “It’s what I always wanted to do.”
Willa took a seat on the sofa next to their father’s armchair. She clasped her hands and looked at him. “I’ll be here to help her,” she said softly. “Any time she needs.”
Their father’s cheeks went slack with surprise. “You aren’t going back to Chicago?”
Willa shook her head. “No.”
Their father held the silence for a long time. From the kitchen came the sounds of Pascal, teasing their grandmother as they ate another slice of pie. In the living room, everything was heavy. There was so much that remained to be said.
“Amelie told me what you told her,” Willa said.
Frank dropped his chin. “I should have told you both a long time ago. But the truth is, I blamed myself for what happened. I always wondered. Why did I leave her by the lake like that? Why didn’t I make her come with me?
It’s dangerous to be outside like that, so late, in the cold.
” He was speaking too fast, which made him nervous.
Finally, he put his hands over his face and inhaled deeply.
“I thought maybe she did it on purpose, like she wanted to teach me a lesson. Like she wanted to leave me—once and for all.”
Amelie’s heart cracked.
Willa spoke quietly. “It was an accident, Dad. That’s all it was—a terrible, senseless accident.
We know what Mom wanted. We know she was about to come home.
We know that she loved us, all of us.” Her eyes were wet with tears.
“I know she left for a little while. But now that I’m thirty-seven—gosh, what a number—I know how complicated life can get.
I know how hard it can be to know if you’re happy, or to claim the happiness you’ve been given.
I don’t blame her for leaving. I don’t blame her for blaming the fudge shop for her unhappiness, even if only for a little while.
I think questioning your life is human.”
When their father couldn’t say anything, Willa went on.
“I’ve spent so many years hating this island, running away from my family, wanting to put this all behind me. But I never really managed to,” she said. “All I can really say is how sorry I am. How much I wish we had come to you in the hospital after it happened.” Her shoulders shook with sorrow.
Frank reached out to take Willa’s hand. Amelie took his other, plus Willa’s, so that they formed a three-person circle. It should have included their mother.
Georgia. Sweet Georgia Caraway. Had she been happy? Had she loved them? Amelie had to believe she was, that she did. Even if she struggled at times.
Who didn’t struggle to find joy in the everyday?
“The best thing that ever happened to me was that advertising gig,” Willa said now, letting out a sob.
“I don’t know if I ever would have made it back to see you, Dad.
I don’t know if I ever would have had the strength to start forgiving myself for everything.
And I don’t know if I ever would have mended my relationship with Amelie. ” Willa squeezed Amelie’s hand.
Amelie let her shoulders droop forward. Their father was crying fully, his cheeks wet. Willa had made quite a speech. It was everything Amelie wished she’d been able to say, everything that had twisted itself up in Amelie’s mind.
She was supposed to be the writer, but sometimes, words failed her.
“I love you both,” Amelie said. Her voice was choked.
A few minutes later, after they hadn’t spoken for a little while, Pascal poked his head out with pie, whipped cream, and a bottle of wine.
Marius, Grandma Mary, and Aunt Violet were hot on his heels, eager to join the festivities.
As evening fell once more, another snowfall had begun, sending soft flakes to the multiple feet of snow already on the ground.
Amelie cozied up on the sofa next to Pascal, eating her pie slowly, tracing her eyes from Willa and Marius to her father, to her aunt, to her grandmother.
The television had just come back on, and it was playing It’s a Wonderful Life, one of her mother’s favorites.
If that wasn’t a sign that Georgia was watching over them, Amelie didn’t know what was.