On Mystic Lake

“I guess we’ve said our good-byes,” he said softly. Then he smiled, a tender, poignant smile that crinkled his eyes and made her want to cry. “Hell, I guess we’ve been saying them from the moment we met. ”

“I know . . . ”

They stood for a long time, gazing at each other. If it were possible, she fell in love with him even more. Finally, she couldn’t stand how much it hurt to look at him.

She pulled away from his hand and went to the window. He came up behind her. She wanted him to take her in his arms, but he just stood there, distant and apart.

“I’ve been married for almost twenty years,” she said quietly, watching her own reflection in the glass. She saw her mouth move, heard the words come out of her lips, but it felt as if it were another woman talking.

And it was. Annalise Colwater.

Slowly, slowly, she turned to face him.

“I love you, Annie. ” He said it like he said everything, with a quiet seriousness. “It feels like I’ve loved you forever. ” His voice was gravelly and low. “I never knew it could be this way . . . that love could catch you when you fell. . . . ”

The words made her feel fragile, as if she were crafted of hundred-year-old glass and could be shattered by the touch of the wind. “Oh, Nick . . . ”

He moved closer, close enough to kiss, but he didn’t touch her. He just stared down at her through those sad blue eyes and gave her a smile that contained all his joy and sadness, his hope and fear.

And his knowing. His knowing that love wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be. That sometimes it could break your heart. “I need to know, Annie . . . am I in love alone?”

Annie closed her eyes. “I don’t want to say it, Nick. Please . . . ”

“I’m going to be alone, Annie, we both know that. As the months pass, I’m going to start forgetting you—the way your eyes crinkle in the corner when you smile, the way you bite down on your lower lip when you’re nervous, the way you chew on your thumbnail when you watch the news. ”

He touched her face with a tenderness that broke her heart. “I don’t want to make you cry. I just want to know that I’m not crazy. I love you. And if I have to let you go to make you happy, I’ll do it, and you’ll never hear from me again. But, God, Annie, I have to know how you feel—”

“I love you, Nick. ” She smiled sadly. “I’m crazy in love with you. Over the moon in love with you. But it doesn’t matter. We both know that. ”

“You’re wrong, Annie. Love matters. Maybe it’s the only thing that does. ”

Without waiting for her to answer, he leaned down and gave her one last tender kiss—a kiss that tasted of tears and regret, a last kiss that said good-bye.

As Annie walked through the house, it occurred to her that she should have left something behind, a sweater hanging in the closet or a pair of shoes tucked under the bed. There was nothing of her here now, no token that recalled the times she’d laughed in this room or the nights she’d slept in Nick’s arms.

Biting down on her lower lip, she went to Izzy’s room and found the little girl sitting on the end of her bed, her feet swinging just above the floor. She was wearing Annie’s white sweater, the cashmere cardigan with the pearl buttons. A pretty lacquered box lay open on her lap.

“Hey, Izzy-bear,” Annie said softly, “can I come in?”

Izzy looked up. She tried to smile, but already her brown eyes held a sheen of tears. “You wanna look through my collection again?”

Annie went to the bed and sat down beside Izzy. She pointed to a pretty purple ring. “That one is awfully pretty. ”

“It was my grandma Myrtle’s . . . and these buttons were my mommy’s. ” Izzy picked out a big cream-colored one with four holes in the middle. She handed it to Annie. “Smell it. ”

Annie took the button and lifted it to her nose.

“That one smells like my mommy’s bedroom. ”

Slowly, Annie put the button down. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded-up handkerchief. It was a pretty pink thing with a big red AVC sewn across the bottom. “Why don’t you put this in your collection?”

Izzy pressed it to her nose. “It smells like you. ”

Annie was afraid she was going to cry. “Does it?”

Izzy pulled a faded pink ribbon from her box. “Here. This is one o’ my hair ribbons. You can have it. ”

Annie took the satin ribbon. “Thanks, pumpkin. ”