Time to leave this subject. “Let’s go.” He opened the passenger door of the truck.
She hopped up into the cab and buckled her belt as he closed the door. He’d set the radio to a light music station, and Billy Joel belted out “Only The Good Die Young” as soon as the key turned in the ignition.
He quickly punched the off button. “Wound up being a beautiful day despite that miserable beginning.”
Too little, too late. Tears leaked down her cheeks.
“Mike, I’m very emotional these days. I’m still not over Gerry, I just moved, and have all this crap on my mind. I’m not going to be good company. Please don’t feel obligated to do this.”
He drove into Kate’s parking lot, snagged the last spot, and turned off the engine. Liz stared at him with a blank, shell-shocked Sandra Kensington look.
Time to come clean. “Listen, I thought I was losing my mind for a while, hearing Mary’s voice and having all these dreams of her coming back to visit me. It’s nice to be able to spend time with someone who has been through the same thing.”
She smiled for the first time since he’d met her. “Mike, I appreciate your understanding, but I’m not ready for more than friendship.”
“I’m just happy to have company.”
Liz nodded. “Yeah, me too. Should we get on line?”
“Yep, this place really packs them in doesn’t it?”
They joined the queue. She ordered clam strips. He got the lobster fritter special and a raspberry lime rickey for them to share. The wait was long and seemed longer because of the awkward silence.
Liz watched the other people laughing and hanging out. Mike paced, waiting for their number to be called. She traded some clams for a fritter, and they sipped the bittersweet drink from twin straws like teenagers.
“Tell me about your son,” he said, desperate to end the silence.
“Not much to say. Jay is in New York and starting college. He was close to his father and is taking this hard. Do you have any children?”
“One daughter, Allison. She’s twenty-five and lives in New Hampshire. We’ve had some differences. I don’t see her often.” That had led to a back alley he didn’t want to explore. “Ice cream?”
“Why not?” Liz piled their empty plates and utensils on the tray.
The dessert window moved as slowly as the food one, but it was only seven-fifteen. Sunset wasn’t until seven fifty-five. It seemed eating was the only way to keep their mouths moving. She licked her giant butter pecan cone like a kid. He savored the sweet coffee frappe. They got to the beach in plenty of time to find a good spot on the jetty overlooking the almost dry flats.
Elisabeth’s thoughts whizzed through Liz’s head like a video set on fast-forward. The night before, she’d watched the couples feeling envious. Tonight, she was part of one and could sense Mike’s desire to be near her, along with his restraint. He took her arm gallantly to help her out of the truck and up onto the rocks. They sat close enough for their shoulders to touch briefly. Elisabeth quivered inside her.
Memories of Edward appearing in her bedroom, of their lovemaking, and of the desperation she felt chasing him into Cape Cod Bay haunted her. Liz remembered Gerry standing right here on the flats, talking to her like he was still alive, and giving her the sign he’d promised. All that mixed up with recollections of Jay splashing in tide pools and building sand castles, sitting here next to Gerry and kissing him at sunset, plus flickers of moments from the brief time Elisabeth and Jared had been married made her feel like she was losing her mind. She’d died here, for God’s sake, and this is where he’d found her.
Three men, two lives, lots of questions, and no answers. Only trouble would come from getting involved with Mike. What would Jay say if he knew she was dating already?
“This is the best place to watch the sunset.” Liz patted Mike’s hand.
He smiled and nodded. “Never been anyplace better. There it goes.”
The orange ball plopped like a giant egg yolk beyond the horizon. Everyone around them oooh’d and ahh’d, then smooched and giggled.
Liz’s eyes stung from staring at the bright light. They wanted to close, to rest. She blinked and wiped the tears welling inside them before Mike noticed.
He helped her to her feet and along the rock-strewn beach back to the truck.
“We forgot the wine!” He fumbled for the bottle under the back seat.
“I’m so full and sleepy. Maybe another time?”
“Sure.” He seemed disappointed and remained silent as they drove back to her house.
Better disappointed than devastated. “Come in.” She unlocked the door, and he followed.
Mae had left the sweatshirt and blanket on the desk in the hallway.
Liz handed them over. “Thank you for helping me this morning and keeping me company. I would like to have that wine together sometime.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Goodnight.” He tucked the garments under his arm and picked up her hands, just like he had the day they first met. After a gentle squeeze, he dropped them, gave his little salute, and left.
The thud of the closing door echoed through the empty house. The hustle-bustle of both the past and present was gone, and she was alone—with her ghost.
Liz checked that all the doors and windows were locked, went up to her room, and tumbled onto the bed. Had Edward really been here? His pillow wasn’t dented, and there was no smell of salt air and male lust, only the lingering scent of her body lotion wafting off the sheets.
Gerry smiled out of the picture, next to his ashes. She tucked the printout of Edward’s tight-lipped, formal countenance into the frame of the mirror.
“How the hell am I going to do this?” she asked them.
Neither responded. They’d left her to work things out on her own.
Liz remembered the grin on Mike’s face when she agreed to see him again. And the spring in his step as he dashed to his truck, waved, and drove off. And the whirling dervish named Mae who bore no resemblance to a shy, quiet maid, though Kevin was a dead ringer for Paul, if you ignored the brogue. She’d once wished her mystery lover would never return, but now hoped he would lie next to her again tonight.
“One day at a time, I guess.” She fell asleep in her clothes, hugging Edward’s pillow for comfort.
The dreamless interlude was interrupted the next morning only by bright sunshine streaming through the huge windows.
Chapter 31
November 2009
Brewster, Massachusetts
“Just do what the lady wants. You follow the plans. She pays the bills.” Mike hated getting in the contractor’s face but was sick of arguing.
“I don’t understand why I have to replace that flashing. It isn’t leaking, and who the hell else is going to notice the ‘architectural detail of a functional roof component.’”
Mike bristled at the squeaky-voiced, finger-quotes-in-the-air mimicry of Liz’s explanation. “Let me put this in terms even you can understand. Mrs. Levine wants copper flashing, not aluminum. She’s the decorator, and the contract specified that for a reason. It weathers real pretty, and the color will complement the paint job.”
“I’ll have to order it, and it will take about two weeks.” He jumped into his truck and slammed the door in Mike’s face.
Mike knocked on the window, and the contractor rolled it down. “The sooner you get it done, the sooner you get paid. And the sooner you won’t have to listen to either of us again.”
Gravel sputtered as he peeled out of the driveway.
Liz crept out of the house. “Well?”
“He said two weeks.”
Liz snorted. “They always say two weeks. They really mean two months.”
“It’s almost over. Let’s take a look.” He took
her hand and led her around the five-acre parcel.
The green of summer had given way to the brown and gold of fall. A damp chill replaced the humid mist. Dried grass and leaves crunched under their feet.
“The house looks so beautiful. Even with the delays I can’t believe how much work got done in such a short time.” Mike knocked on a drainage leader from the roof. “They’ve got these secure. When those hurricanes blow in, this stuff goes flying and can do a lot of damage.”
“Yeah, well, I think we’re on high ground and far enough from the water . . .”
Liz’s concentration often lapsed. Mike had learned to ignore it.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you and Kevin. Contractors always take such advantage of women. This winter, I’ll finish the interior decorating. In the spring, it will be time to tackle the garden. Right over there, a real one, with corn and pumpkins. In Boston, I only had tomato plants in containers. In May, Kevin is taking me to an auction to buy some horses.” Her wistful voice trailed off again, and Liz stared at the barn as if she was somewhere else.
“Do you ride?” He learned something new about her every day.
“Not in this life. I better get back inside and check on our dinner. Can you bring some wood in for me?” She started toward the back door.
“Sure.” Mike never knew how to react to the quips and generally ignored them. The distraction and melancholy probably had to do with the fast approaching anniversary of her husband’s death. He knew from experience how terrible re-living the misery could be.
Mike collected an armful of split logs and dumped them in the mudroom rack.
“Thanks.” She took two pieces and stoked the wood stove in the kitchen.
The draft from the open door fanned the flames. It banished the chill and spread a comforting smoky aroma around the room. The roast chicken and potatoes she took out of the oven smelled good as dinnertime approached, but the lingering scent of cinnamon from the apple pie cooling on its rack was even more enticing.
He set the table and filled their plates, enjoying being part of a couple, relaxing, sharing routine moments. She remained silent while they ate.
“This is delicious.” And so was she.
“It’s nice to have someone to cook for.” Liz leaned over him to clear the table.
Mike stared at the luscious curve of her breasts under the oversized sweater, and the fullness of her rear as she carried things to the dishwasher.
Liz did even the most mundane task with fluidity of movement. A study in contrasts, her delicate hands could adjust a drape to hang just so, then stack wood into a pile next to the fireplace. Her smile reflected in her eyes, then they would cloud over like a storm brewing. She’d lean toward him when they were walking or sitting together, but if he moved closer to her, she stiffened and pulled away. Her hair had grown longer, and she’d left it down today. He longed to run his hands through the silken cascade.
Mike made tea and wiped the table. She set out plates and utensils for dessert in the parlor. He lit the fireplace, sat down next to her, and draped his arm over the back of the sofa, hoping she might move close enough to give him an opportunity to kiss her. No such luck. She sat upright and stared into the flames, in some other place and time.
“Liz, are you all right?”
She looked at him and bit her lip. “I have a lot of personal things on my mind. Gerry’s one-year anniversary is coming up.”
Mike reached out and stroked her cheek, put his hand behind her head, and leaned in. His lips landed on her shoulder as she turned away. “I’m sorry. You’re thinking about your husband, and I’m coming on to you.”
“I’m the one who should apologize, Mike. I’ve been trying to find the right way to tell you. Goddamn it, I’m falling in love, but I can’t see you anymore.” She pounded a fist on her thigh.
Her announcement knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t string words together to ask for an explanation. She cried while he stared into the fire. Things seemed to have been going so well. Her eyes focused on him, and she leaned closer.
He put his arms around her, buried his face in her hair, and absorbed the subtle scent of shampoo and Ivory soap. “I’m in love with you too, Liz. You just need more time. I’ll give you as much space as you need.” It seemed trite, but was the only thing he could think of.
Liz moved away. “I knew once I told you, our relationship would be over. That’s why I waited so long. It’s been eating me up.”
“There’s no reason to stop seeing each other. We can just be friends and enjoy spending time together.”
“No! I can’t do that.” She jumped up and paced around the room, her back toward him as she stared out the window.
“Can you please explain why? Did I do something wrong?” Mike followed and put his hands on her shoulders.
“You haven’t done anything wrong.” She whirled and stared wide-eyed at him.
“What is it? What’s scaring you?” He took her face in his hands.
She looked down and to the side. “Mike, I’m pregnant.”
He hunched over, arms clasping his chest. The tears in his eyes and shallow breaths intensified Liz’s anguish. She wanted him to kiss her, to make love to her, and help her feel like she wasn’t alone. But he’d walk away, and they’d see each other from time to time in the grocery store or on the beach, say a few kind things, and he’d leave again.
“I’m almost forty-six years old. I figured something would go wrong, but it didn’t. I’m five months along. It’s a boy, due in March.” It was a relief to finally tell him the truth, but she’d broken her vow to never hurt him again.
“I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone else.” Mike spoke so slowly it seemed he wasn’t breathing.
“I’m not. Do you remember the day you found me on the beach?”
“I knew those men attacked you.” He spoke through tears.
“Mike, I spent the night with my husband. I’m carrying Edward Barrett’s child.”
His patience evaporated. “Stop it, Liz! I’m sure it’s hard to cope with being raped and not knowing who the father is. But no one can help you if you keep fabricating wild stories.”
Liz had prepared herself for the anger. “It doesn’t matter who believes me. If we continue to see each other, everyone will assume you’re the father. I can’t put you in that position. I’ll tell people the father died in an accident, that’s not a lie.”
“Am I the only one you’ve told?”
“Yes.” She dreaded this scene repeating itself, with minor variations of disbelief or outrage, depending upon who it was.
“And Mae hasn’t figured it out?”
“If she suspects, she hasn’t said anything.”
“Then she doesn’t know. Liz, I have no idea what to say or do right now. Give me a little time, okay?”
“Of course, Mike. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.” She couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “This baby is my responsibility. We’ll be fine.”
“I’ll call you, I promise.” Mike kissed her forehead. “Don’t get up, I’ll let myself out.”
The door closed softly behind him, but it might as well have been a coffin lid slamming. Liz sat until the fire went out. The room grew dark and cold. The baby squirmed inside her, and she stroked her belly to calm him.” It’s all right. Mama’s here.
She went up to her room and alternated staring at Edward and Gerry’s pictures. “At least you could have coordinated plans for my wonderful new life a little better! Two lives, two dead husbands, two fatherless children. At least I have plenty of money this time. How am I going to explain it to both kids? Doesn’t anybody up there oversee angelic deeds to be sure they don’t backfire?”
The phone rang. Liz didn’t want to talk to anyone who was
alive, but she heard Jay start to leave his message and picked it up.
“I’m sorry, Jay. I was in the bathtub.” What’s one more lie?
The rest of her greeting played out, and then he chimed in. “Hi, Mom. Listen, I can’t come for Thanksgiving. I have to work the day before and the day after.”
“Well, my idea of a gathering here at the house fell through, too. I’ll make a hotel reservation in New York City, nowhere near the parade route. We can have dinner together on Thanksgiving and talk.”
“Mom, is everything all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“I guess Dad’s anniversary coming a few days after Thanksgiving has you upset.”
“As a matter of fact, I was just yelling at him.”
“I miss him, too. Don’t cry, Mom.” Jay spoke through his own tears. “Dad didn’t want us to stop living.”
“No, he didn’t. I’ll make the arrangements and let you know where I’m staying. And I’m taking the damn train.” She glared at Edward’s picture, but felt no relief, sensed no reaction from Elisabeth’s ghost, who had been content and quiet nestled next to Edward’s baby in her belly.
Liz resisted the temptation to throw the phone at the pictures, snapped it closed, and went to have that bath.
Chapter 32
November 2009
New York City and Brewster, Massachusetts
Eating out on Thanksgiving was depressing, but it was better than last year when Gerry lay dying in the other room, and she and Jay tried to find something to feel grateful about. Now she had news that should have been happy, yet it was ripping apart the seams of her new life and her relationships.
Jay chattered about school, his friends, his job, and how much he loved New York City. Liz listened; pleased he had made a life for himself, hoping that would cushion the shock.
Breakwater Beach Page 27
