Fisher's Light(66)

“Is Trip around? I need to ask him about a leaky faucet we have in the kitchen,” dad asks, looking around the property.

“He’s upstairs in the Marblehead room putting a new handle on the bathroom door,” I let him know.

Dad pats me on the shoulder before disappearing up the stairs.

“Do you have a few minutes for your meddling old mother? I feel like we haven’t talked in ages,” Mom says with a smile.

Linking our arms together, we head across the front yard and around the back of the inn to the veranda. She takes a seat in one of the rocking chairs while I walk over to a side table and grab us each a glass of fresh, sweet iced tea from the two-gallon glass beverage dispenser that I refill twice daily.

Handing her a glass, I take a seat next to her and start sipping my own.

“Did you put fresh mint in this?” she asks.

“Yep,” I reply.

“Hmmm, it’s delicious.”

A few silent minutes pass before she asks another random question.

“Are those new beach umbrellas down there? I don’t remember them being yellow and white striped.”

She points her glass to the umbrellas we stick in the sand every morning for our guests.

“Uh, no. Those are the same ones that we’ve used for a few years.”

“Hmmm,” she replies absently again, taking a sip of her tea.

“Spit it out, Mom.”

She sets her glass down on the table between us and turns to face me.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t stop by to talk about mint and umbrellas, so yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” I reply.

She looks out at the ocean and the families lying on the beach a few hundred yards away before sighing deeply.

“I ran into Fisher in town yesterday.”

My stomach flips like I’m going down a hill on a roller coaster and my heart starts beating faster.

“Really? What did he have to say?” I ask calmly, not letting on that I’m dying to know how he looked, what he said and what he did.

I have a moment of sheer panic that he blurted out what happened in the alley and contemplate running inside and hiding in a closet.

“He loves you, Lucy,” she says softly.

My head whips around to face her and my mouth drops open.

“THAT’S what he said?” I ask in shock.

She laughs lightly and shakes her head at me. “No, not in so many words, but I’m old and I’ve been around long enough to know when I’m looking at a tortured man who misses his wife.”

“Ex-wife,” I remind her.

She waves her hand in the air and scoffs. “Only on paper.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “Um, I’m pretty sure that’s the only place that matters.”

“You’re still his wife where it counts – in his heart and soul. I can see it when he says your name and I’m wondering when you’re going to see it, too,” she muses.

I shake my head and roll my eyes, wiping each bead of condensation off the glass in my hands to give me something to do. I suddenly feel nervous and anxious and like there are so many emotions flying through my heart and my mind that I can’t make sense of any of them.

“It’s complicated, Mom. I’m seeing someone and Fisher… It’s just complicated,” I try to explain.

“Love isn’t easy, sweetheart. I know you went through a lot with Fisher and I know it’s hard for you to trust him, but he’s trying. He’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing. He wants to be a good man for you. He wants to take care of you and love you and I don’t think…”

She pauses, taking a deep breath and trying to collect her thoughts.

“You don’t think what?” I whisper, pushing her to continue.

She reaches across the table between us and grabs my hand. “I don’t think Stanford will ever be the kind of man you need. The kind of man who will love you with so much passion and devotion. The kind of man who will take care of you, but also step back and let you be strong on your own.”

I swallow back tears and squeeze her hand to let her know that I’m not offended by what she’s saying about Stanford. I’ve been having the same thoughts about him myself lately, so it’s not like this is news to me. Right now, I’m more concerned about the passion part of the equation between Fisher and I. It’s something I want and need, but it’s also something he seems to be afraid of.