Alaskan Homecoming. Teri Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ Or they’d get an unexpected heavy rain, a layer of shale ice would cover the pond, and he’d have to scrape the entire surface. Undoubtedly, Liam would be reminded that he was indeed the owner and operator of an outdoor skating rink.

      “No more chips. Everything looks good.” Alec stepped off the ice and tossed the empty bucket into the snow.

      Liam wound the hose and turned the water faucet until it was just shy of the off position. A fraction of an inch could make the difference between being stuck with frozen pipes and maintaining his sanity. “Thanks, man. I appreciate the help. There’s never a shortage of things to do around here.”

      “No problem.” Alec grinned in Ronnie’s direction. “With any luck, your boy over there will keep getting in trouble, and you’ll have so much help you won’t know what to do with all of your free time.”

      Sundog flopped on his back and shimmied in the snow, sending a wave of powder flying ten feet. In two seconds flat, Liam was buried up to his shins. “Bored? Doubtful.”

      “Pastor? Pastor!” Ronnie called from midway across the ice. He skidded toward the edge while juggling his empty red bucket.

      “Don’t look now, but that trouble I mentioned is about to rear its ugly head,” Alec muttered under his breath.

      The crunch of tires on snow caused Liam to turn around, and when he saw the familiar silver truck, he knew at once why Ronnie was in such a hurry to get off the ice.

      He turned back around, and sure enough, Ronnie stood before him, red-faced from exertion, scowling at Melody’s truck. “What’s she doing here?”

      Liam inhaled calmly. “Melody practices here sometimes before the pond opens up for the night. You know that.”

      Ronnie rolled his eyes. “She thinks she’s going to be a real skater one day. Please.”

      “She already is a real skater.” Graceful. Almost balletic. Sometimes it was like watching a memory glide over the frosted mirror surface of the ice. “Why don’t you stick around while she skates? I think you’ll be impressed.”

      Ronnie looked at Liam in abject horror. “No. Way.”

      Behind his back, Alec stifled a grin.

      “Ronnie.” Liam lifted a brow. A warning.

      “I mean no, thanks.” Ronnie shoved his hands in his pockets and looked everywhere except in the direction of the truck, where Melody was climbing down from the passenger seat, her skates slung over her shoulder by their laces. “I’ve got homework.”

      Sure he did.

      “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow after school, then,” Liam said.

      “See you, Pastor.” Ronnie trudged toward his rust bucket of a car.

      Liam called after him, “Thanks for the help fixing the ice.”

      Ronnie waved, steadfastly avoiding Melody’s gaze as she walked past him. Once he’d just about reached his car, he turned slightly. He ventured a glance at Melody right as she looked at him over her shoulder. She smiled. He smiled in return, then seemed to realize what he was doing. He scowled. She scowled back and stomped toward a bench to sit and put on her skates.

      “What did I tell you?” Alec muttered. “Young love. It’s a classic case.”

      Liam’s gut tightened. Alec was right. How had he not seen it before? The two of them were about as subtle as a moose in striped pajamas.

      Then again, what had Liam ever known about love?

      * * *

      Posy had never felt so exhausted and yet so awake at the same time. Three hours and four cups of coffee after arriving at the Northern Lights Inn, she finally left and headed to her parents’ house.

      Her house. At least she still thought of it as her house, even though she hadn’t darkened its door in seven years.

       Six. Not seven.

      She wanted to strangle Liam. She kept thinking about him sitting beside her, across from Lou, making his case for why she shouldn’t be teaching ballet at the church.

       I’m just not sure ballet is the answer. Posy hasn’t set foot in Alaska in seven years.

      It wasn’t a crime. People were allowed to leave home. It was normal. Natural. Liam just felt differently about it because of the way he’d been brought up, always moving from place to place. Home was a sacred concept to Liam. Aurora was sacred.

      The town was sacred to her, too. Didn’t he understand that?

       How could he possibly when you left and never looked back?

      She slid her key into the lock on the front door, but it was unnecessary. The knob turned and the door fell open, just as it always had. There were no such things as locked doors in Aurora. Just one of the many differences between a tiny Alaskan town and a big city like San Francisco.

      She pocketed her key ring and stepped over the threshold. The interior of the house was dark, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d intentionally stayed out later than originally planned. After everything that had transpired at the church, she just wasn’t up to seeing her parents. Not yet.

      “Posy?” a voice called from the darkened living room. “Is that you?”

      So much for avoidance.

      “Yes, it’s me, Mom.” She limped into the living room, dragging her rolling suitcase behind her. The television, a huge flat-screen Posy had never seen before, flickered quietly in the dark. “What are you doing awake this time of night?”

      Her parents went to bed after the ten o’clock news every night. They watched the weather report, kept up with what was happening in Anchorage and headed to bed right after her dad’s favorite feature—the daily moose-sighting report, wherein viewers submitted photos of moose out and about town. Her dad held the record in Aurora for the most moose photos ever shown on the local news. Posy had sent him a new smartphone with a good-quality camera feature to replace his ancient flip phone for his birthday after she’d had her first three months’ pay as a professional dancer under her belt. He’d been ecstatic.

      “What am I doing awake?” Her mother crossed the living room and gave her a tight hug. For some reason, it felt less comforting than the embraces of her girlfriends. More suffocating. “Waiting for you, of course. Your father headed to bed a little before ten, though. He has an early day tomorrow.”

      “How early? He went to bed before the moose report?”

      “Oh, honey. They don’t do the moose report anymore. They haven’t for a few years now.” Her mother released her. She smiled, and even in the dim light of the silent television, Posy could see lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

      “Oh. Wow. I had no idea.” The demise of the moose report struck her as profoundly sad, which was silly, really.

      She probably just needed sleep. She’d had an early-morning four-hour flight to Anchorage, followed by her commuter СКАЧАТЬ