Until Autumn Falls

by Elana Johnson

  “It’s going to be a beautiful day,” he said.

  “Mm.”

  He fished and sold his catch. Hilary delivered her fish to her clients, avoiding Lucy’s sweeping gaze and her question of, “Didn’t you wear that dress at the city council meeting last night?” and returned to Tripp’s boat.

  He kissed her, that attention to detail driving her to the edge of her sanity. After he’d made her feel the most cherished she’d ever felt, she lay in his arms, and they both slept.

  She woke before him this time and slipped silently from his side. After showering in the tiny bathroom and pulling on the only clothes she had, she reached for her phone. A blue light blinked rapidly, alerting her to missed texts.

  And calls, apparently.

  Both Polly and Lucy had been pestering her all day. She sighed and pressed the phone over her heart. Her friends loved her. They didn’t need to know all the nitty-gritty details. They already knew she was dating Tripp.

  Her thoughts centered on Polly, who might be hurt. Hilary knew Polly had been having a hard time lately, had been searching for Mr. Right for years and couldn’t seem to find him. And Lucy had Blaine right in front of her and hadn’t done anything about it. Though, if the rumors around town were to be true, Lucy and Blaine saw plenty of each other. Just because there hadn’t been a wedding didn’t mean they weren’t perfectly happy.

  She went upstairs to call Polly. “Hey,” she said when her friend answered. “What’s up?”

  “Lucy and I were worried about you.”

  “I’m just fine.” Hilary stayed on the port side of the boat so anyone walking along the wharf wouldn’t overhear her. She bit her lip as she found her next words. “I stayed with Tripp on his boat.”

  To Polly’s credit, she squealed. “I knew it! She stayed with Tripp last night.”

  So she and Lucy were together. Hilary couldn’t help smiling at the same time she sighed. “Tell me you’re somewhere private.”

  “In Lucy’s apartment.”

  She lived next to the restaurant, her father having owned both lots and willing them to her when he passed away.

  “Good,” Hilary said. “Should I come over for ice cream?”

  “Yes,” Polly said instantly. “She’s coming for ice cream.”

  “To the restaurant?” Hilary asked. “Or Lucy’s place?”

  “Should she come to your place or the diner?”

  Hilary wanted Polly to just put her on speaker. The three-way conversation didn’t work that great.

  “Lucy says the diner. See you in a few minutes!” Polly hung up before Hilary realized she didn’t have her car.

  * * * *

  It took her an hour to get to the diner. She hadn’t wanted to wake Tripp and tell him she was going to gab with her gal pals. She didn’t want to be one of those women who detailed their sex lives.

  Heck, she hadn’t had a sex life until last night. Every time she thought about Tripp, she smiled and her temperature shot into the sky. So walking suited her. She needed time to cool off, time to be able to talk without turning giddy.

  She’d left Tripp a note taped to the refrigerator in the galley and texted Polly to say she’d be a while. That way, her friends wouldn’t rush over with one of their cars and demand to know everything before Hilary was ready to talk.

  She strolled down Main Street, her eye on the building way down on the south end. She passed the bakery, the park, Polly’s flower shop, the salon, the library, and the town hall. She loved this town. She loved the ocean. She couldn’t keep herself from smiling and humming as she thought about the life she could have here. The life she already had here.

  Lucy’s diner came into view as she walked in front of the grocery store. On her right, Taylor’s hardware seemed busy for a Friday. It was nearing five o’clock when she rounded the diner, so she wasn’t surprised to see the parking lot starting to fill up.

  She worried that she’d keep Lucy from her work before she remembered that Blaine had talked Lucy into hiring a night manager to run the diner.

  Hilary’s step faltered when a man came out of the diner, the door banging against the railing from the force he’d used to open it. He flew down the steps, and Hilary didn’t get a good look at his face.

  But ice ran through her core. She unconsciously slipped back behind the corner of the diner and pressed her back into the red brick. It hadn’t been Dante.

  Wasn’t him, she told herself. It wasn’t. Hilary’s heart hammered against her ribcage.

  A blue rental car pulled up to the stop sign. Hilary didn’t recognize the man driving it. He seemed pasty and pale, not like he’d come from sunny Miami. Her pulse slowed, her fingers uncurled from where they’d been gripping the brick.

  The car scraped as it exited Lucy’s parking lot, and she watched it until it disappeared down the coastal highway toward the Redwood National Forest. She released the breath she’d been holding and thought about the black, nondescript backpack she kept in the trunk of her car. She had cash in the glove compartment, cash in the kitchen cabinets, cash in her nightstand drawer.

  “You haven’t been driving,” she whispered to herself, and she strengthened her resolve to bring the backpack with her—which contained everything she needed to survive on the road for seven days—and to fill her car with gas every time it got halfway empty, another practice she’d relaxed on in the last several weeks.

  She took a deep breath, her usual precautions back in place, and went into the diner. “Who was that guy who just left?” she asked the hostess, a girl whose nametag said Pearl, who had to be a local high school student.

  “Some guy from Arcata,” she said. “Blaine knows him.” She leaned forward. “He and Blaine argued, and then he stormed out.”

  Further relaxing, Hilary managed to smile at the girl. “Do you know where Lucy is?”

  Pearl nodded toward the kitchen. “Giving Blaine a piece of her mind. I wouldn’t go back there right now.” She laughed. “But your friend Polly’s waiting for you in the corner booth.” She pointed toward the window, and Hilary saw Polly’s mahogany hair.

  She slid into the booth across from her and looked into her friend’s eyes. Really looked. Polly seemed a bit pinched around the edges, and Hilary opted to wait until she said something.

  “Hey, there,” Polly said, her voice bright. “You made it.”

  Hilary grinned. “It was a nice walk. Sorry it took so long.”

  “Oh, it’s fine.” She waved her hand. “I’ve got nothing this weekend. Can you believe it? It’s been my busiest summer so far, and nothing this weekend!” She sighed and looked out the window. “I’m thinking I might need to hire me a handsome boat guy and get in on that action.”

  Hilary burst into laughter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Polly. Remember what happened last time you got involved with a man on a boat?”

  “First off, that was a yacht, not a boat. Second, Easton was not a man. He still lives with his mother, for crying out loud.”

  Hilary enjoyed Polly’s fiery personality. She’d been the complete opposite of Hilary when she’d first arrived in Redwood Bay. She lived her life, taking risks with strangers she met while setting up her floral arrangements for a wedding. Hilary had envied Polly for years.

  “Okay,” she said. “So who do we know with a boat?” She looked at Polly to see if she really wanted to continue this. She seemed to. “Ben?”

  “Ben Meacham? Really?”

  “Well, Nick is way too old for you, and married. And Lance is married.” Hilary thought through who she saw down at the docks every day. “There’s this one guy, Danny Franco, I think. He seems nice.”

  “I’ve been out with Danny Franco.” Polly sniffed and held her head high. “We had a thing once in high school…and another one a few years ago. He’s not…well-equipped.” She met Hilary’s eye, and Hilary couldn’t help the half-snort, half-laugh that escaped her mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, letting her laughter fully form.
“That must’ve been…unfortunate.”

  “It was.” Polly’s eyes sparkled. “Both times.”

  They burst into laughter again as Lucy slid into the booth beside Hilary. “What’s going on? What did I miss?” She smoothed down her dark hair and looked at Hilary.

  “We were just talking about Danny Franco.”

  Lucy’s gaze flew to Polly. “Not again.”

  Polly held up her hands and shook her head no, still trying to contain her giggles.

  “Hallelujah,” Lucy said. “I don’t think I can come up with any more short jokes.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you could just use the ones you already have,” Hilary said. “I haven’t heard any of them yet.”

  Her grin faded when Lucy said, “So I guess there’s nothing to joke about when it comes to Tripp.”

  Hilary’s gaze flew to Polly, who didn’t seem uncomfortable talking about her brother. But Hilary was. She shook her head and signaled for the waitress to come take her ice cream order.

  “There is one thing I wanted to talk to you guys about.” Hilary traced a pattern on the tabletop in front of her.

  “Anything,” Lucy said. “Even Tripp’s—”

  Hilary silenced her with a quick glare. “It’s nothing about Tripp. It’s about me.” She glanced at Polly. “I’ve shared more about my past with him than anyone, even you guys. But there’s still one thing. He says it doesn’t matter, and I don’t know if it matters to me or not.”

  Polly leaned forward, somehow sensing a juicy secret. Her eyes flashed with curiosity, but also compassion. Lucy likewise kept her laser focus on Hilary, but in the best way possible.

  “Hilary Finnegan is not my real name.” She spoke swiftly, softly.

  Polly gasped, a reaction Hilary expected from her. She expected Lucy to absorb her declaration without a reaction at all. And Lucy did. She finally blinked, glanced at Polly, and then over to her counter.

  “How does that make you guys feel?” Hilary watched her friends. Tripp had acted like he didn’t care. He’d even said she didn’t have to tell him who she really was, and part of her wanted to hide behind that anonymity forever. The other part of her wanted to share herself, her whole self, with the man she loved.

  “I don’t feel any different,” Lucy said, placing her hand over Hilary’s. “You’re Hilary to me, always have been.”

  Hilary flashed a grateful smile at Lucy.

  “Polly?”

  She took a few seconds before she answered. “I’m not going to lie, Hil. I want to know what your real name is.” She peered into Hilary’s face. “I’m curious, and my thoughts are running rampant. Who are you, you know? Are you someone famous? Is your family in politics? That kind of stuff.” Her wide eyes relaxed and she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “But at the same time, it doesn’t change who you are to me.”

  Hilary nodded, assuming most people would react the way Polly had. They’d want to know. “If you knew my real name, it would change who I am to you.” She hadn’t realized the truth of her words, the root of her fears, until she spoke them out loud. “I don’t want Tripp to know. I don’t want you guys to know.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “I told him Hilary wasn’t my real name. He said he didn’t care what it was.”

  Polly scoffed. “He wouldn’t know if you were someone famous, or anything about politics or pop culture.”

  “Good,” Hilary said. She volleyed her gaze between her friends again. “But do you think he deserves to know?”

  “No more than we do,” Lucy said.

  Hilary nodded, still torn about what she should do, or not do. “So, Lucy, what’s going on with Blaine?”

  “Oh, that man.” Lucy’s eyes turned from warm chocolate to hurricane fury in under a second. “Would you believe it if I told you he quit his job last week and didn’t tell me?”

  “Yes,” Polly and Hilary said together. They shared a laugh while Lucy glared.

  “Oh, honey,” Polly said. “When are you gonna marry that man and make him your business partner? That’s what he wants. And he’d be good at it too.”

  Lucy’s glare became downright dangerous. “I have my reasons.”

  “And they are?” Hilary asked in a very Polly-like way.

  “I know what they are,” Polly said. “She doesn’t think she needs to buy the cow when she’s getting the milk for free.”

  Hilary whipped her eyes back to Lucy to see her reaction. Her neck and jaw bunched and rippled. “He’s a good lover,” she admitted. “Fantastic, even. I like spending time with him.”

  “You like that he takes care of your books, and keeps your freezer stocked, and then pleasures you—”

  “Polly,” Lucy growled. “Shut up.”

  Hilary caught sight of Blaine as he walked toward them. He stopped at the edge of their table, and Polly swung her gaze to him the way Lucy and Hilary had. “Hey, ladies.” He flashed a smile far below his usual standard. “Luce, can I talk to you for a second?” He nodded back the way he’d come.

  “Business or personal?” she asked.

  His features hardened. “Business.”

  She exhaled as she stood. “Be right back.”

  Hilary watched her walk away with him, and when they were out of earshot, she glanced at Polly. “Pleasures her…how were you going to finish that?”

  Polly shrugged. “I don’t know. Something like ‘all night long’ or ‘for hours after work’ or something.” She checked over her shoulder as a chuckle streamed from her mouth. “And it’s true,” she whispered. “Lucy’s always telling me how good the sex is. What she’s never told me is why she won’t marry him.”

  Hilary fell silent as her grasshopper shake arrived, her thoughts swirling around Lucy and Blaine. She knew better than most that everyone—everyone—had a past. She’d often wondered if Lucy had suffered from something more horrific than most.

  As her friend returned and collapsed in the booth with the words, “That little snake. That wasn’t a business conversation,” Hilary decided she would ask. Not right now. But soon.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tripp found Hilary in the corner booth, an empty cup of what used to be ice cream in front of her. “What’s the flavor of the day?” he asked as he slid in beside her. “Want to eat dinner here tonight?”

  “Grasshopper,” she said, leaning into him. “And sure. How long did you sleep?”

  “Until about thirty minutes ago. I saw your note, showered, and came over.” He gave her a shy smile. “I missed waking up next to you.”

  She grinned back at him and kissed him. “I need to get back to my place tonight.”

  “How soundproof is your place?” He took the menu a waitress handed to him with a nod of thanks.

  She stared at him blankly. “I have no idea. Why?”

  Adrenaline pulled through him, causing his lips to quirk up. “You screamed my name last night,” he said. “Several times.” He enjoyed the flush as it rose through her face. “I mean, I liked it.” He shrugged as if touching her and kissing her and hearing his name in her passionate voice wasn’t on his mind. “It was just kind of loud for a residential neighborhood. Especially since I’ll be taking you home right after we eat.”

  She elbowed him—hard. “You think you’ll be taking me home.”

  A flash of regret lanced through him. “I hope I’ll be taking you home.” He glanced up as the waitress returned. “I’ll take the BLT and a root beer. She’ll have the tostada.” He looked at her empty ice cream cup. “And a water with lemon.”

  The waitress nodded and took the old cup with her when she left.

  “Did I get that right?” He lifted his arm around her shoulder.

  She sighed into him. “I will need lemon water to flush out the ice cream. Good call on the salad. I’m starting to outgrow my clothes.”

  He chuckled. “You are not.” After she’d fallen asleep last night, he’d lain awake, listening to her breathe, feeling her chest push into his side
and then fall away. He wanted her right there, every morning and every night. But he also knew she needed more than an intimate experience to stay with him. In fact, being intimate with him physically seemed less important to her than everything else he did. What he said. How he said it.

  He’d lain awake all night trying to figure out how to love her the way she needed to be loved. At the same time, he didn’t want to lose what he wanted and needed from the relationship. He dismissed the conflicting thoughts and asked, “You up for Sunday lunch again?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Her fingers flitted to the scarf and back. “I talked to Polly today. She didn’t seem weird about how I acted last time.”

  Tripp sensed an opportunity to get some of his questions answered. He waited while the waitress set down their drinks, along with a bottle of ketchup. He took a long sip of his root beer. “Why did you act weird last time?” He remembered the absolute panic on her face, the way she’d stood and bolted into the house before locking herself in the bathroom.

  She rubbed her hand up her arm, almost like she had an itch there but couldn’t quite scratch it. “Your family is…great. I felt out of place, and the thought of telling them everything I’d told you. Showing them my scars….” She shrugged. “I freaked out.”

  “You don’t have to tell them or show them anything you don’t want to.”

  “Then I don’t belong.” She twisted on the seat so she faced him. “That’s what families do, Tripp. They share their lives with each other.” Her gaze fell to the straw on the table. She reached over and picked it up. “At least they should. I don’t want a family that doesn’t.” Her eyes flicked to his and away. “I had that, once. It was hard to leave them, but not that hard.” She exhaled. “And I could see myself fitting into your family. And it scared me. It still does.”

  Tripp didn’t know how to answer her. He wanted her to be his family, sure. “Your family wasn’t close?” he asked. “I assumed they were. You speak about them as if you were.”

  “Only after my attack.” Her voice barely reached his ears. “Before that, my parents lived their own lives. Dad never came upstairs, and my mom worked long hours as a nurse. I spent most of my time with my grandmother.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I miss her the most.”