“I’ve made a decision,” he said.
She nodded. He was leaving. He had seemed so happy yesterday, when it had seemed like everything was going back to normal, when it had seemed like they were not losing Lost Lake. It had hurt more than she thought it would. He would carry on with his life, and she would continue to be such a small part of it. It had been enough for so long. She did not know why she had changed her mind.
He looked around, trying to decide what to do. He took a step toward the chair and Lisette automatically put up her hand to stop him. Luc was watching with considerable interest.
“Is that chair important to you?” Jack asked.
Lisette sighed. Luc sits there. The boy who committed suicide because I rejected him.
Jack read that and said, “I was beginning to suspect as much.” Jack turned to the chair. It was obvious he could not see Luc, but still he said, completely seriously, “It’s nice to meet you, Luc.”
Luc laughed at that. Lisette censored him with just a look.
“So Luc is haunting you,” Jack said, and Lisette had to wonder at how such a sensible man could so easily believe such a thing.
Lisette hesitated before she wrote, I do not know. What I do know is that every day, I wake up and see him and I think to myself, I will not hurt another human being the way I hurt him.
“You’ve never hurt me,” Jack said.
Lisette shook her head sharply. Of course not. She did not let herself. And their time together was always so brief.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to Richmond to close up my house for good, but I’ll be back. I’ve always wanted to see fall at Lost Lake. And I bet Christmas here is beautiful. And if Eby loses Lost Lake, well, I think Suley would be a nice place to retire.”
Her breath caught in her chest. He was staying? He was close enough that she could smell the soap he had used that morning, something rich and southern, piney and sharp. She loved that smell. She loved his coarse gray-and-white hair and the lines on his face. Luc was behind him now, and Lisette’s eyes darted to the younger man. It was just now occurring to Lisette that the longer she knew Jack, the more Luc looked like him. Just recently, she had noticed a mole near his ear that she had not seen before. It was the same mole Jack had.
“I just wanted you to know that I’m not leaving you. I’m fighting for you, Lisette. Against him, if necessary.” He nodded to the chair. “I’ve never met a person that I could be so quiet with and yet communicate so much. You have no idea what that means to someone like me. Just knowing you were in the world kept me going. And coming here every summer probably saved my life. Do you understand?” he whispered. “You saved me.”
Lisette reached out, her hand almost reaching his hair before she stopped. Had she really? Had she saved him? Had she managed to do for him what she had not been able to do for Luc?
He smiled and took her outstretched hand. “I don’t have to say it, do I? Eby called me and told me to come here and say it, as if you didn’t already know. But you know, don’t you?”
Lisette nodded as she watched him go, then she turned desperately to Luc with tears in her eyes. She knew Jack loved her. She had always known. It was written on his face that very first summer. And she loved him. But it felt bottled inside her chest, and she could not let it out. She did not deserve Luc’s love when she was sixteen. Did she really think she deserved Jack’s love now?
Luc smiled at her, then made a little shooing motion with his hand, telling her to go.
But she ran to him instead, going to her knees and burying her face in his lap. She could not see what she was gaining for all that she was losing.
She felt Luc’s hand on her hair, and she looked up at him.
She did not need to write down what she wanted to tell him. He knew what she was thinking. I do not want to lose you.
He pointed in the direction that Jack had left.
If I go to him, will you be here when I get back?
He shook his head.
I will not go unless you promise to always be with me.
Luc reached out and touched her cheek. He mouthed the word toujours.
Always.
Then she watched him slowly fade away.
She opened her mouth and howled, though no sound came out. She cried and beat the chair, then beat herself, then curled into a fetal position on the floor. She hated loss. She had fought for so long to keep exactly what she had exactly the way it was, like liquid measured perfectly into a cup, because she did not ever want to feel this way again.
She did not remember much about the next few hours. She remembered coming to, opening her eyes, and the first thing she saw was a tiny spider, crawling along the floor next to the cabinets.
The last time she had felt this empty, she had gone to the Bridge of the Untrue and jumped. She sat up. But she did not recognize that girl any longer. The past fifty years had changed her. Eby had made her a different person—her goodness, her vitality, her fearlessness. She had watched Eby go through that most horrible time in her life, when George died, and she had seen her recover. She had seen her face losing Lost Lake, and she did not cease to function. She continued on.
Because of Eby, she knew something now that she did not know then.
Lisette took a deep breath and stood up.
When your cup is empty, you do not mourn what is gone.
Because if you do, you will miss the opportunity to fill it again.
15
Selma walked into the lobby of the Water Park Hotel. She rolled her eyes as she looked around. A hotel this nice nearby, and yet she’d chosen to spend every summer for the past thirty years at Lost Lake. The hotel was located next to the water park—an amusement park whose biggest attraction seemed to be waterslides and some great pool that made waves children could surf on. The park was for the children, but the hotel was for the adults. Smart move, she thought. Lazlo was not an idiot. At least there was that.
The chandeliers sprinkled multicolored lights onto the marble floors. The entire far wall was a water feature, a thin sheet of water flowing down two stories of rocks, looking as if you could walk right through it into another world. There were signs pointing to the spa, several gift shops, two restaurants—one family-friendly, one more elegant—and a bar.
This might not be so bad, Selma kept telling herself. She could probably get a new car and a condo out of this. Some jewelry she could pawn later. But this wasn’t how she’d planned to use her last charm. The last one was supposed to be used to finally get everything she wanted.
She walked up to the reception desk. The clerk was a young man, but his eyes did what all male eyes did when she wore this particular dress: They dropped to her outrageously exposed cleavage and lingered helplessly.
“Would you please ring Mr. Lazlo Patterson and tell him his four-o’clock appointment is here,” Selma said, giving him a slow smile.
“Certainly, ma’am,” the boy said, tearing his eyes away from her. She was old enough to be his grandmother. She wondered if he realized that. Probably not. No one sees your age if you’re bold enough. He murmured a few words into the phone, then paused and said to Selma, “Ma’am, he says he doesn’t have a four-o’clock appointment.”
“How silly of him to forget,” Selma said. “Tell him it’s Selma, from Lost Lake.”
The boy relayed her message, then hung up the phone. “He said he’ll be right down.”
Selma turned and walked across the lobby to the bar, giving the boy a show. She took a seat and ordered a Scotch, neat.