Up at Butternut Lake: A Novel (37 page)

“You missed one,” Wyatt said, interrupting her thoughts. He pointed to a mosquito bite on his elbow and Allie patted it with a calamine-soaked cotton ball.

Wyatt gave her a grateful smile. Allie thought he looked especially adorable. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, clean and sweet smelling after his bath, and wearing his favorite pair of pajamas, sky blue with a pattern of puffy white clouds on them.

“Is that all of them?” she asked, examining his arms.

Wyatt nodded.

“You know, Wyatt,” she said, screwing the lid back on the calamine lotion, “this is the same stuff my mother put on me and my mother’s mother put on her.”

“Same bottle, too?” Wyatt asked, fascinated.

She chuckled. “No, not the same bottle. But it still looks exactly the same. And it still works as well, too.”

“But it’s pink,” he objected, examining the splotches of it on his arms and legs.

Allie tried not to smile. “No, I wouldn’t say it was pink. I’d say it was more of a
peachy
color.” She tossed the cotton ball into the wastebasket and put the calamine lotion back into the medicine cabinet.

“All right, big boy,” she said. “Time for bed.”

“But I haven’t finished my train tracks yet,” Wyatt said, giving her a beseeching look.

Allie sighed. “Five minutes,” she said sternly, following him into the living room, where he was adding a new spur to his railroad.

She sat down on the couch, watching him as he worked. When it had been more than five minutes, she gently interrupted him.

“Wyatt, honey?”

“Yes,” he said, not looking up. He was lying on his stomach, level with the train track, frowning in concentration as he put a bridge together.

“Wyatt, I spoke to Walker Ford today. He said he’s going to be really busy at the boatyard, and he’s not going to be able to take you fishing anymore on Sunday mornings.”

Wyatt paused and looked up.

“Not even sometimes?” he asked, his face still hopeful.

“Not even sometimes,” Allie echoed, something catching in her throat. “But you know, Wyatt, we have our own boat now. I can take you fishing anytime. Or we could fish right off the end of our dock. I may not be as good at it as Walker is, but I know all the basics. We could still have fun together.”

“Maybe,” Wyatt said, going back to working on his train tracks. There would be no tears, Allie realized with relief. Just lingering disappointment. Which, in its own way, was almost as bad as tears.

The five minutes Allie had told Wyatt he could play for turned into ten. And then fifteen. She knew it was past his bedtime, but something was nagging at her. Something that had been at the edge of her consciousness all day.

“Wyatt,” she said, tentatively, “do you still miss Eden Prairie?”

He shrugged. He was running an exploratory train around his system of tracks now, and Allie could tell he wasn’t really listening to her.

She tried again. “I mean, do you miss our old neighborhood? And our old friends? You know, like Teddy?”

Wyatt gave a little sigh that was almost comical in its irritation. Like an old man who’d been interrupted while reading the newspaper.

“Sometimes I miss them,” he said, glancing up from the train tracks.

“Because I was thinking . . .”
I was thinking that moving here may have been a mistake, after all.
But that’s not what she said to Wyatt. What she said to Wyatt was, “I was thinking that we could move back to Eden Prairie. We couldn’t have our old house back, of course. We already sold that. But we could rent an apartment there. I could find a job. And you could start kindergarten.”

Wyatt stopped pushing the train around the tracks and looked up. She had his full attention now.

“We could still keep the cabin, you know,” she said quickly. “Maybe come up here for a couple of weeks in the summer and see our friends. We just wouldn’t live here all the time anymore.”

“But I
like
living here all the time,” Walker said, a frown creasing his smooth little forehead.

“Why?” Allie asked, knowing that if what he said had anything to do with Walker Ford, it would only strengthen her inclination to leave. Walker was not part of the picture anymore. For her or for Wyatt.

At first, Wyatt didn’t say anything. He just looked around the living room. And Allie’s eyes followed his as he did. Trying to see what he saw. It looked very different than it had on their first night here, almost three months ago. Between her and Johnny Miller, their handyman, they’d cleaned, painted, buffed, and polished every single inch of the cabin, inside and out. It had been hard work. But it had paid off. This room, for instance, had a soft, warm glow to it, and it looked not only lived in but well cared for, too. Maybe even
loved,
she realized with surprise.

“Wyatt,” she persisted, “
why
do you want to stay here?”

He looked thoughtful. “Because it’s home,” he said finally. Decisively. And he went back to playing with his train set.

CHAPTER 28

S
o . . . you’re staying?” Jax repeated, not trusting herself to believe what Allie had just said.

“We’re staying,” Allie agreed, with a rueful smile.

“Allie, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time,” Jax said, almost light-headed with relief. It had only been three months since Allie and Wyatt had moved to Butternut, but already it was impossible to imagine life here without them.

“I’d like to propose a toast, then,” Jax said, giddily, raising her can of Coke. “To Allie and Wyatt staying in Butternut.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Caroline said, and the three of them clinked their soda cans together.

It was nighttime, and they were sitting at Jax’s kitchen table, eating the pizza that Allie and Caroline had brought over for dinner. Joy, Josie, Jade, and Wyatt had finished dinner already and were watching a movie in the living room. Jenna, now two weeks old, was sleeping in her crib upstairs, her baby monitor flickering on the table in front of Jax.

“Jax,” Caroline said now, with mock disapproval, “you didn’t really think Allie was going to leave because of some
man,
did you? I mean, if a woman left Butternut every time a relationship didn’t work out, this town wouldn’t have any women in it.”

“No, of course I didn’t think that,” Jax said quickly. “I was just worried that after spending the summer here, she might decide Butternut was too dull for her, that’s all.”

“Dull?” Allie repeated, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Which part of it was dull, Jax? Wyatt and I fleeing our cabin during the tornado watch? Or your unplanned home birth, in
my
home?”

Jax laughed. The girl had a point.

“No, really,” Allie said, her hazel eyes suddenly serious. “When Wyatt said this was our home, I realized he was right. It
is
our home. We could live in a hundred places, and not find one that felt as much like home as Butternut does, or as that tumbledown old cabin does. What happened between me and Walker isn’t going to make it feel any
less
like home, for me or for Wyatt. Besides, things are really getting interesting at work. Sara’s started taking me with her to some of the artists’ studios, and she’s going to let me start managing some of our relationships with them.”

“Allie, that’s wonderful,” Caroline said, beaming at her.

“But there is one glitch in this whole plan to stay,” Allie said, breaking off a piece of one of the chocolate chip cookies she’d baked for Jax. “I didn’t realize when I told Walker that I didn’t want to see him anymore that it would be impossible not to see him anymore in a town the size of Butternut.”

“Do you see him often?” Caroline asked, popping open another can of soda.

Allie sighed. “All the time. At the gas station, at the grocery store, at the bank.” She ticked the places off on her fingers. “The question is, where haven’t I seen him?”

“That’s all right,” Caroline said. “You’ll get used to it.” But she didn’t sound convinced.

“Maybe,” Allie conceded. “But in the meantime, it’s damned awkward. And the strange thing is, while I’m trying to ignore him, he’s just staring at me. Like he’s trying to get my attention. And then, at the grocery store the other day, he started to approach me. Of course, I just hightailed it out of there. But it was almost as if there was something he wanted to say to me.”

“Maybe there
was
something he wanted to say to you,” Jax interjected.

Allie shrugged. “I think he said it all, don’t you?”

“What he said, Allie, was that he needed more time,” Caroline pointed out. “He never said he didn’t care about you.”

Allie frowned, still picking at her cookie. “No, he never said he didn’t care about me. And I think he
does
care, in his way. But he’s not ready to have a serious relationship. And you know what?” she asked, looking at both of them in turn. “I’m not sure I’m ready to have one either.”

“Is this about you feeling guilty?” Caroline asked.

“Yes. Yes and no,” Allie said. “During that time we were together I was so caught up in the moment that I . . . I didn’t think about Gregg as much as I should have.”

“I didn’t realize there were guidelines about that,” Caroline said, gently.

“There aren’t. But sometimes I wish there were. I mean, how do you fall in love with someone, while still remembering how much you loved—how much you
still
love—someone else?” Allie asked. But the infant monitor chose that moment to crackle to life. The three of them listened. There was a faint rustling, a tiny whimper, then silence.

“Close call,” Caroline said, as she stood up and started to clear the table. Allie helped her.

“This is the longest she’s ever slept,” Jax said, glancing at her watch. “Six hours.”

“Six hours is amazing for a two-week-old,” Allie said, encouragingly, stacking the dirty dishes at the table. “I think she’s going to be a really good sleeper.”

“Maybe,” Jax said, frowning. But she wasn’t thinking about infant sleep cycles. She was thinking about why Jeremy hadn’t come home yet tonight. He’d called earlier and told Jade to tell her he’d be home late. But it wasn’t like him not to ask to speak to her directly. And it wasn’t like him, either, to stay out late. Especially when they had a newborn at home.

As if reading Jax’s mind, Caroline asked, “Where’s Jeremy, hon?”

“Oh, he’s working late,” she said vaguely. “He’ll be home soon.” She started to put the leftover pizza away.

“Oh no you don’t,” Caroline scolded, whisking the pizza box away from her. “We’re doing all the work tonight. Even if you make it harder for us by refusing to get a dishwasher.”

“I like hand washing dishes,” Jax said. But still, she didn’t try to help them as they washed them for her. Being taken care of didn’t come naturally to her. But tonight, she was too preoccupied by Jeremy’s absence to object. Too unsettled by what it might mean. And too frightened to consider the question very closely.

“Something wrong, Jax?” Allie asked, drying a dish.

“No,” Jax said quickly, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

But Allie didn’t believe her. She put the plate she’d finished drying in the cupboard, hung up the dish towel, and came over to sit next to her at the kitchen table.

“I wonder,” she asked Jax. “Does bringing home a new baby get easier every time? Or does it always feel like you’re doing it for the first time?”

“A little bit of both,” Jax admitted. And then, much to her surprise, she started to cry.

“Oh, Jax,” Allie said, giving her a hug. Caroline stopped wiping down the counter and came over to comfort her, too.

“I’m fine, really,” Jax protested. “Just a little emotional.”

“Of course you are,” Allie said, reassuringly. “How could you not be? It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? Especially the sleep deprivation.” She gave a little shudder, obviously remembering Wyatt’s infancy.

“And the hormones,” Caroline chimed in. “When I brought Daisy home from the hospital, I cried if anyone so much as said ‘boo’ to me.”

Jax tried to smile as she mopped at her tears with the tissue Caroline had helpfully provided for her. But she knew it wasn’t sleep deprivation. Or hormones. It was fear. Plain and simple. Fear that Jeremy’s absence had something to do with him finding out about the money missing from the college savings account.

“I don’t deserve you, either of you,” Jax said gratefully, hugging them both, one after the other.

“Of course you do,” Allie said, just as Wyatt appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Mom, the movie’s over,” he said, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Already?” Allie asked. “Didn’t we just put it in the DVD player?”

But he shook his head. “No, it’s really over. Do you want to know what happened? I can tell you the whole movie.”

“Oh, definitely,” Allie assured him. “But let’s save it for the drive home, okay?”

She smiled apologetically at Jax. “Are you okay?” she asked. “We don’t have to leave now. We can wait until Jeremy gets back.” Caroline nodded her agreement.

“No, absolutely not,” Jax said. “You both have work tomorrow, remember? And I’m much better now that I’ve had a good cry.”