Virginia McCullough - Girl In The Spotlight

Miles exhaled, forcing himself to focus on Brooke’s happy chatter about Perrie Lynn and medals. The commercials over, the commentators picked up their conversation about the surprising turn in the competition.

“So much excitement for such a young woman,” Charlie observed, “and on her birthday, no less. She turns eighteen today.”

Adrenaline shot through him, putting every cell on alert. Today. The minute he’d opened his eyes that morning, he’d remembered this day. The December date sat more or less dormant in his mind the rest of the year, but memories came alive on what was usually a cold, often snowy day. He’d been glad this was his weekend with Brooke, relieved to have something to serve as the distraction he always needed when this day rolled around.

The camera focused on Perrie Lynn’s parents seated in the audience. More energy zipped through his body and sent his heart thumping hard. Who were those fair-haired people? They didn’t look much like Perrie Lynn.

He swallowed hard as he struggled to focus on Allen’s comments about the significance of Perrie Lynn’s coaching change. “She also chose a new choreographer,” Allen said. “These shifts can make a big difference, but they meant Perrie Lynn and her mother had to leave her dad in Minnesota so she could train with her new coach in Michigan.”

“But the decision appears to have paid off,” Charlie added.

“Mamie said the coach is really famous,” Brooke said.

Miles nodded. “So it seems.”

“She’s adopted,” Brooke said. “Mamie told me.”

“Who’s adopted, honey?” His voice cracked. “Perrie Lynn?”

Brooke nodded. “Mamie said her parents got her when she was really tiny. Maybe only a couple of days old.”

He swiped his knuckle across his upper lip again. “Really?”

“And it’s not like a secret or anything. Maybe ’cuz she doesn’t look like her mom and dad.”

“I see.” He rubbed his chest, as if sending a signal to his heart to slow down.

The camera zoomed closer to Perrie Lynn sitting on the bench next to her coach. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The wide smile that took over her face, her olive skin and the large dark eyes. And the one-of-a-kind widow’s peak. Like Lark. The birthday. Minnesota. It all added up.

Suddenly the audience roared as the scores came up. Perrie Lynn got to her feet and thrust her arms over her head to wave to the crowd. He heard the commentators talk about her “personal best,” and “having a shot at the International Figure Skating Championship.” One warned she had to do well at the upcoming North American Figure Skating Competition.

“Did they just say Perrie Lynn could go to the Internationals?” he asked Brooke.

“I guess so. Looks like she won the bronze. That’s a big deal, because no one expected it. Woo-hoo!” Brooke laughed. “Mamie is probably jumping up and down right now.”

Wild speculation whirled through his head, spiraled down through his body and left him weak. Calm down. It’s a coincidence. Happenstance.

Brooke sighed. “I can’t wait for the NorAms.”

“And when does that happen?” He forced the question through his nearly closed throat.

Brooke frowned. “I’m not sure.”

“Want me to look it up?” Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed his phone.

Brooke leaned over his shoulder and watched him search for North American Figure Skating Competition.

“See, it came right up. It’s in January. Let’s see when the Internationals start.”

“Mamie said February,” Brooke said.

“Right you are.” He focused on the screen, fighting the urge to search for Lark online. He’d wait until he was alone, but once he found her, he’d contact her immediately. She’d either take him seriously or brush off the whole thing. He wouldn’t know until he tried. Or maybe this was crazy. These little details could add up to exactly zero.

With the skating program coming to a close, the network had reporters backstage for interviews. When the camera focused on Perrie Lynn, she waved with both hands, her face still showing the thrill of a winner. The curve of her mouth set in a smile sent a pleasant shiver through him. In that moment of happiness, she might have been Lark.

His phone chimed, alerting him to a new text. He glanced at the screen. “It’s your mom. She just turned into the complex.”

With Brooke following, he got up and crossed the room, then lifted her coat off the hook next to the front door. “Here, put your jacket on and go out to the car. I’ll get the rest of your things.”

He hurried to Brooke’s room and stuffed her clothes into her pack. The hairbrush and pajamas stayed at his house. Only the clothes and her favorite doll-of-the-moment went back and forth, along with the library books he grabbed off the nightstand. With his arms full, he headed down the hall and out the front door to the driveway.

“Sorry,” he said to Andi when she buzzed down the passenger window. “We got involved in figure skating.” Brooke pulled her backpack through the open window and put it between her knees, then rested the pile of books in her lap.

“No problem,” Andi said pleasantly. “We have plenty of time to get to the dinner.”

“You give your parents my best.”

When he had Brooke for a weekend, which wasn’t as often as he’d like because of his work schedule, Miles usually kept her until Monday morning, when he dropped her off at school. But this was a special occasion, a retirement dinner for Andi’s dad. Miles was okay with letting Brooke go back to her mother early because he harbored no negativity toward his former in-laws. They’d been nothing but kind, had welcomed him into the family and then expressed sadness when he left it four years later, shortly after Brooke’s second birthday.

Six months after that, Andi had impulsively married some guy named Roger, a less than blissful union lasting only a few months. That fiasco caused Miles’s stock to rise in his ex-in-laws’ eyes. They gave him credit for staying close to Brooke, especially during what turned out to be Andi’s tumultuous second divorce.

He squeezed Brooke’s arm through the window before giving the roof of the car a quick pat. After Andi raised the window and pulled away, he watched until the car disappeared around the next corner onto the winding road that led out of the complex. When he turned to go back up the walk to his town house, he waved to Edie and Christopher, his elderly neighbors two units down. They were sitting by their patio doors, as they did most days, acting like unpaid security guards as they chronicled the comings and goings of the residents of Bay Trails, the multiunit condo development he’d moved into when he and Andi separated.

As for Edie and Christopher, he’d long harbored the feeling they didn’t wholeheartedly approve of him, or maybe they found all single dads suspicious. On the other hand, they assured him they kept an eye on his unit during his frequent absences and were unfailingly pleasant to Brooke. That’s all that mattered.

Back inside, he wandered into Brooke’s room, straightening up the stuffed animals and making the bed, but all the while images of Perrie Lynn spinning like a magical top raced through his mind. He had a hunch, a strong one. But what to do? Squash it, forget it? Not a chance.

Lark McGee passed through his mind whenever he wondered about the baby—that’s what he used to say, the baby. But as the years passed, he’d rephrased that. Whoever the baby had become, wherever she lived and whatever she was doing that very minute, she was their girl, their child. He always thought about Lark herself on their child’s birthday. Today.

Unless she’d moved, Lark likely wasn’t far away. He knew a few of the basics. He and Lark had both eventually come home from college and settled in northeast Wisconsin. They’d each married and started their own families. He didn’t know the state of her marriage. Maybe she’d had better luck with love than he had. Miles knew she’d married because he’d run into her once about five years back, an awkward encounter consisting of three minutes of superficial small talk. She’d been coming out of a mall in Green Bay as he was heading into it. She’d introduced the boy with her as her son. Miles remembered little about him, other than noting he was older than his Brooke and had inherited Lark’s light brown hair. Miles had greeted the boy, who returned a shy smile. He’d then explained he was on the hunt for a present for Brooke’s third birthday.