Remembering how Frank had told her that he no longer found her attractive, that pregnancy had made her face too full, she pushed her hair into place. “Sorry,” she said. “A bad habit, I guess.”
“An unnecessary habit. Might as well repaint a schooner every time it heads out to sea.”
“A schooner?”
“An old sailing ship.”
Her brow furrowed as she smiled. “So I’m an old ship headed out to sea?”
“Well . . . something like that. But let’s strike the old part.”
“Strike away.”
Her smile lingered and he took her picture, framing it with the lake on one side and the distant forms of Mattie and Holly on the other. He handed the camera back to her. “It’s a beaut of a night, isn’t it?”
“It’s more than that.”
“You reckon?”
Georgia took another photo of the girls. “Look at them. Look at Mattie. She’s dancing around like the fireflies she’s chasing.”
“There’s a hop in her step—that’s for sure. She’s like the old Roo.”
“A big hop. So the next time you’re worried about her happiness, remember tonight. She hasn’t forgotten how to be happy. And neither have you.”
He caught a firefly, watched it glow within his cupped hands, and set it free. “I want to believe . . . those things.”
“And you should.”
“You do?”
She stepped closer to him, trying to stop the feelings that were flooding into her, but unable to deny them. “Can I . . . take your hand?” she asked, her pulse quickening, her voice unsteady. “Just as a friend? And nothing else? I just want to take your hand and walk beside the lake while our girls catch fireflies. That would make a beaut of a night . . . a perfect night.”
He studied her face, saw how she was no longer the confident woman who looked so at home on the streets of Hong Kong. “Let’s make it a perfect night,” he said, reaching toward her. “There’s no reason that mates can’t hold hands and have a walkabout.”
“Thank you, Ian.”
“No worries. And I should thank you. Not the other way around.”
Georgia smiled, his hand warm against hers. She felt as if she were suddenly decades younger. The sun had set and the lake was no longer afire with its reflection. The world was growing more subtle. Mattie and Holly ran back to add four or five fireflies to the lantern. “Look at you both,” Georgia said. “In your beautiful dresses. I just said that you remind me of the fireflies you’re chasing.”
Holly laughed. “They’re bugs, Mom. We’re girls.”
“True,” Georgia replied, still conscious of the warmth of Ian’s fingers. “But that doesn’t make you so different.”
Mattie nodded as Holly shook her head. The girls then turned and hurried back up the hill toward the restaurant, where a few fireflies were evading the outstretched hands of the local children. Ian and Georgia followed, neither talking, both content to watch their daughters. At first Ian felt guilty about holding Georgia’s hand, as the act seemed intimate. But soon his emotions shifted. She needed him and he needed her. And friends ought to be able to hold hands. If friends couldn’t hold hands, what good were they to each other?
Fireflies continued to escape or be caught. Though Mattie was more than a hundred feet from Ian, her laughter drifted to him, infusing him with her joy and spirit. She climbed onto a stump and jumped off it—twirling and soaring and undergoing what seemed to be an almost metamorphic change. Her colorful dress billowed outward and she appeared to take flight, and this instantaneous journey lifted Ian skyward, turning his fears into hopes, his sorrow into elation. Without thought or concern or reservation, he lifted Georgia’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of her wrist, holding her flesh against his as Mattie caught a darting source of light.
The girls turned toward him, and he lowered Georgia’s hand. She squeezed his fingers, leaning toward him, starting to speak, but closing her mouth, her lips forming a smile. Mattie’s firefly was set within the cage, and in the strengthening darkness the foursome walked back into the restaurant. Ian tightened his grip on Georgia’s hand, then released her fingers, carrying the lantern upstairs, setting it on their table. A dozen other tables held similar lanterns, and hundreds of fireflies appeared to beckon to one another on the veranda.
Their waitress took everyone’s orders, and as Georgia and Ian smiled and spoke about the coming day, Holly