Chapter 31 Summer Skates
Summer settled over Evergreen Hollow like a warm blanket, lazy and golden. The days stretched long, filled with the hum of lawnmowers, the splash of kids in backyard pools, and the distant crack of bats from the little league field. For the Kane family, it was the first full summer with Lily home from college, and they intended to savor every minute.
Lily arrived in mid-May, tanned from Colorado sun and carrying a duffel bag stuffed with Pioneers gear and stories. She had grown another inch (impossible, but true), her voice a little deeper from calling plays on the ice, her laugh the same bright sound that had filled their house since she was small. Everett tackled her at the airport gate. Clara squealed “Lil-eee home!” and refused to let go of her leg for the entire drive.
The first week was pure reunion joy.
Lily slept in until noon, then wandered downstairs in Rowan’s old practice jersey, hair in a messy bun, to find Clara waiting with a plastic hockey stick and a demand for “morning skate.” They spent hours on the backyard rink (now thawed into grass but marked with cones for street hockey), Lily patiently teaching Clara how to hold her stick lefty while Everett practiced his wrist shot against the garage door.
Holly watched from the kitchen window, coffee in hand, heart so full it ached in the best way. Rowan came up behind her, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder.
“Our girl’s home,” he murmured.
“For three whole months,” Holly answered, leaning back into him.
They shared a quiet kiss (nothing urgent, just the soft press of lips that said I love this life with you).
Summer routines formed gently.
Mornings: Lily and Everett at hockey camp (Rowan coaching the older group, Lily assisting with the littles). Clara “helped” by handing out water bottles and cheering for everyone. Afternoons: Pool time at the community center or lazy hours in the backyard sprinkler. Evenings: Family dinners on the patio, fireflies blinking on as stories flew (Lily’s tales of college pranks, Everett’s dramatic retellings of camp goals, Clara’s nonstop commentary on everything from butterflies to ice cream).
Heartstrings thrived in the background. The summer surge of engagements and weddings kept Holly busy, but she worked mostly from home, taking calls on the porch while Clara napped and Lily helped with social media posts that went gently viral among the college crowd.
One July weekend, they drove up to the lake cabin that had become their tradition. No phones, no schedules—just the five of them, a dock, and water so clear you could see fish darting below.
They spent days swimming, fishing (Everett caught his first bass and refused to stop talking about it for hours), and paddling kayaks. Lily and Rowan raced across the lake and back, laughing when she barely edged him out. Clara rode in Holly’s kayak, tiny life jacket swallowing her, pointing at every loon and declaring it “duck hockey player.”
Evenings were for bonfires and s’mores. Everett roasted marshmallows with intense concentration. Clara fell asleep on Rowan’s lap every night, sticky fingers tangled in his shirt. Lily played guitar softly (a new skill from a dorm friend), old songs their family had loved forever.
One night, after the kids were asleep in the loft, Rowan and Holly sat on the dock with their feet in the water, stars thick overhead.
Lily had gone to bed early, claiming exhaustion from “beating Dad at everything today.”
Rowan’s arm was around Holly’s shoulders. “She’s different,” he said quietly. “More… herself.”
Holly nodded. “College is doing what it’s supposed to do. Letting her grow into the woman she’s becoming.”
They sat in comfortable silence, listening to loons call across the lake.
Rowan’s thumb traced slow circles on her arm. “Makes me think about when she was little. Remember her first skate? She couldn’t have been more than three. Fell every two seconds but kept getting up laughing.”
Holly smiled, eyes misty. “And you out there with her for hours, holding her hands until your back hurt.”
“Worth every ache.”
They leaned into each other, sharing the kind of quiet closeness that didn’t need words. Rowan kissed her temple, then her cheek, then her lips (soft, lingering, full of gratitude). They stayed on the dock until the air cooled, then walked back to the cabin hand in hand.
In their room, they undressed slowly and made love with the windows open to the night sounds (gentle, familiar, the kind of intimacy that felt like coming home after a long day). Rowan’s hands were tender on her skin, his kisses slow and deep. They moved together unhurriedly, pleasure building in soft waves until they came quietly, wrapped around each other, hearts beating in perfect sync.
Afterward, Rowan traced lazy patterns on her back. “Twenty years,” he whispered. “And I still choose you every day.”
Holly pressed a kiss to his chest. “Me too.”
Summer rolled on.
Lily helped coach a girls’ hockey clinic in town, inspiring a whole new generation of little players who now wanted to be “like Lily Kane when I grow up.” Everett’s team won the summer league championship (he assisted the winning goal and skated a victory lap with Clara on his shoulders). Clara learned to say “puck drop” and insisted on announcing every backyard game.
Heartstrings hosted a “Summer of Love” campaign that paired record numbers of couples, and Holly’s online course waitlist grew so long she hired two new instructors.
One August evening, as the first hints of cooler air crept in, the family gathered for one last backyard barbecue before Lily headed back to Denver. The grill smoked gently, fireflies danced, and Clara fell asleep on a blanket under the stars.
Lily sat between her parents on the porch swing, head on Holly’s shoulder, feet in Rowan’s lap.
“I don’t want to leave,” she admitted quietly.
Holly’s heart squeezed. “We don’t want you to go. But we’re so proud of the life you’re building.”
Rowan squeezed her ankle. “And Denver’s not that far. We’ll be at every home game.”
Lily smiled, eyes misty. “Promise?”
“Promise,” they said together.
Later, after Lily went to bed early to pack, Rowan and Holly stood in the kitchen washing the last dishes side by side.
Rowan bumped her hip gently. “She’ll be okay.”
Holly nodded, drying a plate. “We’ll be okay too.”
He turned off the water, dried his hands, and pulled her into his arms. They swayed slowly in the quiet kitchen, no music but the crickets outside and the soft thud of their hearts.
Summer ended as gently as it had begun, with suitcases by the door and one more family hug at the airport. Lily waved until she disappeared through security, and the Kanes drove home to a house that felt a little bigger but still full of love.
Fall would bring new routines: Everett’s school hockey, Clara’s preschool, Holly’s expanding courses, Rowan’s coaching season. But the foundation was solid (love, laughter, and the quiet certainty that no matter how far their children skated, home ice would always be waiting.