Cottage by the Sea

by Debbie Macomber

  Keaton was several feet behind his companion but caught up to Lennon in short order.

  Annie looked up at him as he approached, certain her red eyes spoke of her anguish.

  Without speaking, Keaton sank down on the sand, sitting next to her, his presence surrounding her, reminding her that he was a giant of a man.

  He didn’t ask questions.

  Didn’t strike up a conversation.

  Didn’t comment.

  He simply sat at her side, giving Annie the comfort of his silent strength. His warmth seeped into her, chasing away the chill. Lennon went to the opposite side of Annie and sank down, resting his head in her lap.

  Annie petted his thick fur, gliding her splayed fingers through his coat.

  After a few minutes, Keaton surprised her and reached for her free hand, entwining their fingers.

  Annie thought for a minute that she should explain what had caused this emotional breakdown, but she couldn’t find the words. To say it was her mother’s birthday explained nothing. Offering excuses was beyond her.

  Keaton was a man of few words. Until they’d met she hadn’t realized how much could be said through silence. He didn’t need words to communicate, and in the moment, Annie discovered that she didn’t, either.

  They sat on the beach as storm clouds gathered overhead. Only when she felt the first sprinkles of rain did Annie experience an inclination to leave.

  As she went to stand, Keaton released her hand. Once upright, Annie brushed the sand from her backside.

  Again, Keaton had nothing to say.

  But Annie did.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Keaton’s eyes gentled, silently indicating that he would do anything to help her.

  Annie left him and Lennon on the beach and headed back to her home, to the cottage by the sea.

  CHAPTER 10

  Keaton had never felt about a woman the way he did about Annie Marlow. She was constantly on his mind.

  It had nearly gutted him when he found her on the beach, caught up in some deep emotional agony. He didn’t know who or what had broken her heart. Although he’d grown up with a brutal father, Keaton wasn’t a violent man. He’d learned at age fifteen that by losing his temper he could badly hurt someone. His strength was beyond that of a normal kid his age. He’d put a bully in the hospital by losing his temper protecting Preston. Keaton was fortunate not to serve time in juvie. Because he refused to fight from that point forward, kids soon learned they could say and do what they liked to him, which was fine. Keaton could take it. As a result, he internalized a lot of his feelings. He didn’t instigate fights and he used his fists only when attacked. He was a strong man and could easily do physical harm. Although it was often difficult, he was careful to restrain himself, unless the option was taken away from him.

  Annie’s eyes had been swollen and red, struggling to hide the pain deep inside. It had deeply affected him. It’d taken every ounce of restraint he possessed not to demand who was responsible, and then to hunt that person down and make them pay. His own reaction shocked him. Lennon had immediately raced to her side, happy as always to see Annie. Until he could control his unfamiliar emotions, Keaton had hunkered down.

  With everything in him, he regretted his inability to express himself. If he was a better communicator, he might have been able to offer her words of comfort. And even if he had managed to talk to her, he feared his anger toward whoever had hurt her would upset Annie even more. All he could think to do was sit silently by her side, hold her hand, and pray that human touch would ease her torment.

  He half expected her to draw away from him, as others had. He’d been relieved when her fingers had curled around his, squeezing his hand, holding on to him, as though his sitting at her side was exactly what she’d needed.

  After the incident on the beach, Keaton kept close tabs on her. The following day they met accidently-on-purpose at the library sale and walked to Bean There for coffee. Annie’s mood was lighter, and she talked animatedly about the recent book she’d read. Keaton enjoyed hearing the sound of her voice, and if anyone had asked him the title of the book she’d mentioned he would have been at a loss.

  “Did you hear anything I said?” she asked, chiding him.

  He grinned and nodded. “Most everything.”

  Seeing that she walked to and from the clinic, Keaton watched over Annie from a distance to be sure she made it home safely. He rested easier when he saw the lights were on at the cottage. He came to know her routine, so on two days the following week, he stopped by Bean There at the same time she did. He never had been overly fond of those fancy coffee drinks, but he ordered an overpriced Americano.

  “We seem to be on the same schedule,” Annie commented when he walked the rest of the way to the clinic with her.

  He shrugged rather than explain that he had gone out of his way for the pleasure of spending time with her.

  Annie left him at the door of the clinic with “Have a good day” and a bright smile. He lived on that smile for the rest of the day.

  * * *

  —

  Keaton was scheduled to have the stitches removed on Thursday morning. Never had he been more eager for a medical appointment. He’d never been prone to nervousness, but he was now as he sat, waiting for Annie. Eager. Anxious. Flustered.

  All morning he’d been toying with ideas of what he should possibly say to her. Every thought he entertained sounded forced or stilted. In the end, he fell back on what was most comfortable: silence. Simply being close to her left him tongue-tied and ill-at-ease.

  The door to the exam room opened and Annie entered.

  Keaton straightened, and his heart started to race. He locked his jaw for fear he might blurt out something stupid.

  “Hello again,” she said, smiling at him, seemingly unaware of the tension in him.

  A man could drown in that smile of hers, Keaton mused, as the tension eased from his shoulders. She wore her hair pulled away from her face in a sloppy ponytail. She sat on the stool and rolled over to where he sat.

  “I was running late this morning and didn’t have time to deal with my hair.” She raised her hand to her head, seeming to need reassurance that it was still there. Confident that it was intact, she washed her hands, reached for her gloves, and then carefully started to cut away the bandage on his left hand.

  He enjoyed watching her, treasuring her touch.

  She glanced up and their eyes met as she grinned back. Keaton swore his heart could melt, lost in her smiles.

  Annie returned her attention to his wound. The cut had healed nicely. She seemed pleased with her stitchwork as she gently checked the area for any sign of infection. Once satisfied, she reached toward the tray that held the scissors to remove the stitches.

  “I have something I wanted to run by you,” she said, briefly glancing up to see if she had his attention.

  The fact was, Keaton found it impossible to look away.

  “I enjoy living in the cottage,” she commented, and again looked up, anticipating a response from him.

  He grinned, wanting her to know how pleased he was to have her in Oceanside. He would have spoken, but the words tangled on the end of his tongue, and so he left them unsaid.

  “What I wanted to talk to you about has to do with Mellie. I’d like to plant a garden. My mother always had one, and I’d enjoy growing my own.” She looked away for a moment. “There’s a good space for one on the south side of the cottage,” she said, continuing to work on his hand. “Do you think Mellie would let me do that?”

  He shrugged, not wanting to discourage her, although secretly he had his doubts.

  “I’d do all the work myself, and I’d be willing to share any produce with her.” She finished removing the last stitch and rolled back a couple feet. Her eyes were filled with questions, and she look
ed to him for the answers.

  Keaton silently cursed that he had none to give her.

  “I plan on asking her, but I thought…you know, after our last conversation, I don’t know what to expect. When I called her before, she nearly bit off my head.”

  Keaton barked a laugh, as that was typical of Mellie.

  “I haven’t tried to contact her since, although I’ve thought about it plenty.”

  “She’s not friendly,” he said.

  “Yes, I got that. What happened? She didn’t used to be that way.”

  Annie glanced up at him, her eyes intense.

  “Don’t know.” And that was the truth.

  Annie leaned forward enough to place her hand over his uninjured one. “Keaton, I’ve seen you several times and enjoyed those times. But you rarely have anything to say. I end up doing all the talking. I realize you’re not much of a conversationalist, but is there a reason you avoid talking to me?”

  She had no idea how desperately he wanted to do exactly that. His shoulders sagged with regret. She’d completely misread him. He looked away and debated how close to the truth he should get. “I’m afraid.”

  Her eyes widened. “Afraid of what?”

  “You.”

  Her head came back in shock. “You’re afraid of me? Why?”

  That made him sound weak and pathetic. He needed to explain. “Of saying the wrong thing.”

  “Keaton, if we’re friends, and I certainly hope that we are, then you don’t need to worry that I’ll take offense. Okay?”

  All he could do was stare at her, completely shocked. Annie saw him as a friend. It was more than he dared hope for with her.

  “Okay?” she repeated.

  “Okay.” His friends were few. His heart swelled with appreciation that she considered him one. “Is there anything you’d like me to say?” he asked, and he was serious.

  Her face had the same stunned look he’d had seconds earlier. After a short pause, Annie burst out laughing. She doubled over and held her stomach as the laughter rolled over her.

  Keaton had no idea what was so funny. He might have taken offense, but he knew that wasn’t her intention.

  “That was hilarious,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  He grinned then, loving the sound of her laughter, the way he had the first time he’d heard it all those years ago. Soon they were smiling at each other.

  “I’ll talk to Mellie,” he offered.

  “I’d appreciate it,” Annie replied. “Don’t say too much, though. Just mention that I have something I need to ask her and that I’d appreciate it if she didn’t hang up on me.”

  “Got it.” Keaton would do almost anything she asked of him.

  “I’d like to get to know Mellie. I have the feeling you might be the key to that.”

  “Mellie’s different than she was in high school.”

  “I know. My brother had a huge crush on her back then.”

  “She lived with her grandparents—ran away with some guy she met as soon as she was eighteen.”

  Annie mulled that over. “I wish I’d known her better. She gave me the impression that she doesn’t remember me, but I think she might. I’ve met a few women in town now, but I was hoping that Mellie and I could be friends. Seeing that we live close to each other, it only makes sense.”

  “Mellie doesn’t have friends.”

  “So I gathered,” Annie murmured, frowning.

  Soon after Mellie had returned, a few of the girls she’d run with in high school that still lived in town had reached out to her. Mellie made it clear she wasn’t interested in reestablishing any connection with her former friends. After a while they stopped coming around. Keaton didn’t blame them.

  Her high school friends weren’t the only ones Mellie shied away from, unfortunately. Keaton had hoped Mellie would recognize Preston’s feelings for her. He’d given up urging his closest friend to try to make a connection. Keaton had the feeling that Mellie needed Preston, although she’d never admit to it. The two had a lot in common, but Mellie refused to see it. Preston claimed he’d made a fool of himself over her once, and he wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. Keaton had no idea his best friend could be so stubborn, or what had happened. Neither spoke of it. Apparently, it was soon after she’d returned to town.

  Sighing, Annie said, “Mellie made it clear she isn’t in the market for friends. My brother and I loved the Munsons. They were good people. I don’t know what happened in Mellie’s life to make her the way she is. She needs a friend, and I could use one myself.”

  Keaton hated to discourage her.

  “Are you her friend?” she asked, hopefully.

  Rather than explain their relationship, he didn’t answer. “I’ll tell her you’ll be calling.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and hesitated. “It seems I’m always needing to thank you for one thing or another.” She squeezed his forearm and then looked mildly embarrassed, thinking she might have overstepped her bounds.

  She quickly gave him a list of care instructions for the cut and then stood, ready to attend to her next patient. “You’re good to go. Nice seeing you, Keaton.”

  “Thanks, Annie,” he said, as she started to leave the room.

  “You’re most welcome.”

  Again, her smile took his breath away. He struggled to hide the effect she had on him, and left the clinic wearing a big grin.

  * * *

  —

  On the pretense of checking on the Lab, who continued to need almost constant care, Keaton headed directly to Mellie’s after leaving the clinic.

  As he expected, he found Mellie gently caring for the dog, rubbing salve into the open sores around his neck left from the chain. She looked up when she saw Keaton standing in the doorway to the room where she treated the animals he brought into the house. As far as he could tell, this room was the only one in the entire house that wasn’t stacked to the ceiling with enough stuff to fill a garbage dump.

  “You worried about John-Boy?”

  Mellie tended to name the helpless creatures he brought to her. Keaton thought it was harmless, unless they were already named.

  “He’s healing?”

  “Amazing how quickly he’s rebounded. He’s going to make a good family pet if he isn’t too psychologically damaged.”

  “Good.” Keaton had spoken with Preston about the brown Lab. They’d discussed a possible home. John-Boy would need a loving and patient family. Preston was good at finding homes for these abused animals. Keaton was certain it was Preston’s way of showing Mellie how he felt about her. He made sure the dogs and cats she nursed went to homes where they would be loved and cared for with understanding and patience. Preston also handled the legal work; guilty parties needed to be prosecuted. Keaton and Mellie provided the photos as evidence, and Preston would contact the authorities.

  “Talked to Annie today,” Keaton said.

  Mellie frowned. “You sweet on her or something?”

  “Something,” Keaton replied. “She’s going to be calling you later.”

  Stiffening, Mellie shook her head. “Told her if I rented her the cottage, then she’d need to not bother me. I didn’t want her living there in the first place. Don’t give me a reason to get rid of her, Keaton, because I will.”

  “You won’t,” he said in a firm voice. He wouldn’t allow it, although he really had no say in what Mellie did or didn’t do.

  The woman glared back at him. “What does she want?”

  “A garden.”

  “What?”

  “She wants to plant a garden.”

  Scratching the side of her neck, Mellie met his determined look and seemed unwilling to back down. “Not happening.”

  “Happening,” Keaton countered. “Can’t se
e that it would hurt. Yard’s a mess. Your grandmother used to have more flowers growing than a floral shop. This home was once a showplace, and look at it now. A garden will be an improvement.” This was probably the most words he’d spoken since he’d convinced Mellie to rent Annie the cottage.

  Her shoulders lowered as the defiance left her. “My grandmother had a well-known gift when it came to coaxing things to grow.”

  “You ever try?”

  She snickered. “I kill houseplants.”

  “Not the same,” he argued.

  Mellie laughed, which was a rare occurrence. It sounded more like a dog barking than any form of amusement. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t set foot outside this house in five years.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Then it’s not likely I’ll be inclined to plant flowerbeds, now, is it?”

  Keaton couldn’t argue.

  Mellie leaned back on her haunches. “Never knew you to do much talking, and certainly not on behalf of anyone else, especially a woman.”

  He chose to ignore the comment. “Annie’s going to call you.”

  “So, what are you? The advance artillery?”

  He cocked a grin. “Something like that. She mentioned it, and I don’t want you scaring her off.”

  Mellie didn’t take kindly to his comment. “If I scare her off, then she deserves to be gone.”

  No way was Keaton going to let that happen.

  Mellie’s eyes brightened, as though she had something on him. “You like her, don’t you?”

  He crossed his arms, unwilling to admit his feelings.

  “I’ve seen you, Keaton.”

  He didn’t know what she could have seen.

  “You stop by nearly every night to check on her. I might prefer to stay in this house, but I’m not blind to what’s going on around me. I keep an eye out. You stay in the shadows.”