Moon Dance

by Mariah Stewart

  "Anyone interesting?"

  "Oh, you," she shoved his arm lightly and laughed. "Who have you been talking to?"

  He hesitated. He was kind of enjoying the fact that she still had yet to figure out that he and Georgia had begun to forge a relationship.

  "I just happened to be here last Sunday morning when Delia stopped by with Gordon. He told me he'd hired on a diver from Devlin's Light who seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes off the innkeeper."

  "I met Tucker at Nick and India's wedding. He's an old family friend of the Devlins'." Laura's eyes stared straight ahead, as if searching for something in the distance.

  "Gordon said he's a great guy."

  "Gordon's right. He is."

  "Has he asked you out?"

  "Matt, I'm a married…"

  "Laura, don't even say it. If you are still married to that lunatic, it's only because you haven't take the steps to unload him. For cryin' out loud, what are you waiting for?"

  "I really don't feel like talking about this, Matthew."

  "Laura, are you staying married to him for Ally's sake? Because he's her father?"

  "What difference does it make, Matt? I married Gary, we are still married. End of story."

  "It's not the end, and you know it. What are you hiding?" He grabbed her arm. "Laura, you act as if you're almost afraid to divorce him."

  "Matt…" Laura hesitated. She wanted to tell him. Wished desperately that she could tell him, but the consequences were too frightening.

  "Look, I know that it must be a scary thought, starting over after you've been married and had a child. I understand where that might cause you to maybe retain some loyalty to him. And I understand that maybe after this experience, you might be afraid to start another relationship. But Laura, all men are not like Gary, though I understand why you might…"

  "Oh, Matt," she sighed. "You understand nothing."

  He had opened his mouth to protest when they rounded the side of the barn.

  "Oh, Matt, look!" Laura pointed to Georgia's garden. "Georgia's scarecrones! Oh, isn't it so like something that Aunt Hope would do?"

  "It is," he nodded, impressed and surprised by the display. He wasn't, however, so distracted that he was willing to drop the discussion. "Don't try to change the subject."

  "Matt, the subject has been dropped." Better to let it go, she told herself she pretended to admire Georgia's bumper crop of colorful cotton and polyester. For Matt's sake as well as her own. "I've nothing more to say on the matter."

  "Well, I have."

  "I will say this one more time, Matt, and then it's done." Laura appeared, all of a sudden, to be very weary. "I am still married to Gary. Till death do us part. Don't ask me again, don't bring it up again, because I cannot change what is."

  "Till death do you part?" he repeated incredulously. "Laura, this is crazy. Have you even gone to the prison to visit him since he was incarcerated?"

  She shook her head No.

  "Have you thought about what's going to happen when he's released from prison? Are you going to live with him again?"

  "No!" She went white.

  "So you have no contact with him, you don't even like the man, yet you…"

  "I told you I didn't want to talk about this," she said harshly, pushing him away from her.

  "Laura," he said softly. "We've always been so close. I love you and I worry about you and I want to help you. Something's not right, and we both know it. Why won't you tell me? Why won't you trust me with this?"

  "Because there's nothing you can do to help me, Matt. No one can."

  Laura turned her back abruptly and walked back toward the farmhouse.

  Stunned, Matt stood amidst Georgia's thriving garden wondering what was going through his sister's head, and what could possibly motivate her to insist upon staying married to the likes of Gary J. Harmon.

  "I was hoping you could find some time this weekend to stop out at the inn," Laura was telling Georgia as she loaded her passengers back into the van when class had ended. The girls had exhausted themselves chasing Spam and Artie around the farmyard. "I wanted your opinion on the table settings for Zoey and Ben's party. I can't decide which colors to use."

  "I'll be driving out this afternoon," Matt said as he approached the van. "I'd be happy to give Georgia a ride."

  "Oh, thanks, Matt," Georgia said casually. "That would be nice."

  In spite of her earlier pique, Laura's eyebrows raised. Had that really been Matt offering to drive Georgia to Bishop's Cove? Offering to spend a certain hour or so in her company? Will wonders never cease?

  Pleased by this unexpected development, Laura smiled. "Will you both be able to stay for dinner? We've had some knock-out crabs this week. Gordon and his crew have been catching them in the bay.''

  "That sounds great." Matt smiled benignly. "How 'bout it, Georgia? Do you have plans for dinner?"

  "Why, no, I haven't. Dinner at the inn sounds like fun."

  "Great." Laura looked from one to the other, marveling at the change in her brother's attitude. Maybe they're learning to get along. Maybe someday they'll even learn to like each other. Maybe there's hope for Matt yet…

  "Great," she repeated, trying not to appear too hopeful. "What time do you think you'll get there?"

  "I just need to shower and change. Maybe we could leave in, say, an hour?" Georgia looked at Matt and tried not to grin.

  "That would be fine." He nodded nonchalantly. "I guess we'll probably be arriving around three or so."

  "Great," Laura said for the third time, thinking, as she drove away, how nice that Matt and Georgia were getting to know each other. It was the only good news she'd had that day.

  On the drive to Bishop's Cove, with Artie between them on the seat, Matt repeated his conversation with Laura, asking Georgia, "Does this make any sense to you?"

  "None," she shook her head. "I can't think of one reason why Laura would want to stay married to that man. It's so unlike her to behave so oddly."

  "Laura is so logical about everything else, I just can't understand it." Matt slowed down as he approached the turn for the inn's parking lot. "Well, let's see how she acts around this diver guy. I have the feeling there's a lot going on here that we don't know about."

  "It should be an interesting dinner." Georgia swung the door of the cab open and hopped out. "I'm betting that Laura will be watching us as much as we'll be watching her."

  Matt laughed. "Poor Laura is so transparent. She's just so tickled that we're being nice to each other."

  "When shall we tell her just how nice…"

  "Oh, not just yet. It's kind of fun, letting her think she's bringing us together. And I'm sure she's thinking, today, Georgia, tomorrow, Delia…"

  Georgia laughed out loud, smiling at the two men they passed in the parking lot as they walked toward the back of the inn. Interesting tattoos, she thought at the time. Must be some of Gordon's crew…

  "Laura?" Georgia stuck her head into the kitchen.

  "Hi, guys," Jody waved from the opposite side of the stainless-steel counter, her light brown hair pulled atop her head in a tight ponytail that swung around her pretty face with every movement of her head. "Laura's not back yet."

  "Not back yet?" Matt frowned. "She left an hour before we did."

  "Oh, she's back from O'Hearn." Jody's eyes took on a twinkle. "She went for a walk on the beach."

  "Oh? With anyone we know?" Georgia brightened.

  "Well, she went alone. However, I did notice that a certain tall, dark and handsome diver wandered off in that direction a few minutes later."

  "Really?" Georgia winked at Matt. "Well, then, fancy that."

  Matt opened the refrigerator and took out two cans of soda. Handing one to Georgia, he said, "Maybe we should take advantage of this beautiful afternoon and sit on the front porch and enjoy the breeze."

  "Sounds like a good way to pass some time." Georgia saluted Jody as they passed through the swinging door into the front hall.

&
nbsp; "I heard there are crabs for dinner tonight." Matt called back over his shoulder to Jody, who was taking a knife to a large head of cabbage.

  "Yep. We're setting up a picnic table in the backyard. Crabs are too messy for the dining room. At least, if they're eaten correctly, they're too messy." Jody laughed. "Brown paper on the table, mallets and paper plates. That's the only way to eat crabs, as far as I'm concerned."

  "And lots of cold beer, iced tea, and a big salad." Matt held the front door open for Georgia. "Oh. I just realized that crabs are hardly vegetarian fare."

  "That's okay. I'll eat salad."

  "That's not very substantial. You need to build up your strength," he told her, "if you plan to watch the rest of that movie with me tonight."

  Georgia laughed, then paused on her way to the seating arrangement of wicker furniture at one end of the wide front porch. Two of the chairs that stood opposite each other were occupied by the men they 'd passed in the parking lot.

  Georgia smiled and passed between the seated men. Matt greeted them pleasantly and they nodded to him as he walked past them. Taking seats on the settee at the end of the porch and a few feet away from the other guests, Georgia said, "I wonder where Ally is."

  "Probably at a friend's house."

  "She was so cute in dancing class this morning," Georgia told him, then proceeded to describe Ally's antics while at the same time trying not to stare at the forearms of the two men who sat only a few feet away, their long thin tattooed swords reaching all the way to the elbow.

  A discussion then followed of Georgia's students, who seemed to have true potential as a dancer, who did not. This led Matt to think about his visit to Georgia's garden while she was teaching her class, and he complimented her on her crones. Talking about the crones reminded Matt about his conversation with Laura. And that reminded him that his sister was still down at the beach with a man for whom she professed she had no interest.

  Matt turned his wrist to look at his watch. They'd been there for almost an hour already.

  "Let's walk down to the beach and see what Laura and this diver are up to."

  "Okay. I'm interested in seeing what you think of him. I personally think he's perfect for Laura."

  The couple excused themselves as they once again walked between the two men, unaware of the long, dark look exchanged by the strangers, and of the brooding eyes that followed them down the path on their way to the beach.

  The beach was almost—but not quite—vacant on this Saturday afternoon. A young woman walked her cocker spaniel up toward the dune. Down near the water's edge three small children searched for sand crabs. An athletic-looking man in his twenties jogged along the beach, and a young mother sat on a sand chair reading a novel, her twin daughters digging a circle around the chair with their hands. Down the beach toward the jetty, Laura and Tucker Moreland sat deep in conversation.

  Matt called to his sister from a distance but she did not appear to hear.

  "Hmmm," Georgia grinned as she slipped off her shoes and dug her toes into the sand. "It would seem that Tucker has managed to capture Laura's complete and total attention."

  "So it would seem," Matt replied as he rolled up his pants legs, then took off his own shoes and, carrying one in each hand, walked toward the water where he tested the foamy wake from the last wave. "Still just a little too cold for my taste. Maybe in another few weeks it'll be warm enough to swim in."

  Georgia caught up with him and walked straight ahead into the surf for a few feet. "I don't mind. I like it on the cool side."

  They walked up the beach, chasing some small birds that followed the ebb and flow of the sea, hunting for snacks. They were practically on top of Laura before she looked up.

  "Oh! You're here already! Hi!" Slightly flustered, she was obviously surprised to see them.

  "We've been here for almost an hour now. We were wondering where you were." Georgia said, then greeted Tucker saying, "Hi, Tucker. How've you been?"

  "Well, thanks," he nodded, then stood to offer a hand to Matt, introducing himself saying, "You must be Laura's brother. I'm Tucker Moreland."

  At six feet four inches, Tucker stood several inches over Matt, who immediately noticed that Tucker was a man who had a firm handshake and a steady gaze.

  "Good to meet you," Matt said.

  "Tucker was just telling me about the dive he made this morning to the True Wind and what he thinks might be down there." Laura pushed back the long sleeve of her shirt to check her watch. "Oh, would you look at the time? I didn't realize it was so late! I need to get back to the inn to give Jody a hand. And I wanted you to look over some table linens with me before dinner, Georgia."

  "Sure. I'm ready." Georgia shrugged, trying not to stare at Tucker. She'd forgotten just how handsome he was. Be still my heart—no wonder Laura's smitten. And she clearly is. Why, just look at her face!

  Matt, it appeared, was doing just that.

  "Well, then, why don't you go back on up to the inn and take care of business while Tucker and I sit and watch the gulls," Matt told his sister. "It will give us some time to get acquainted."

  "Sounds good to me," Tucker sat on the sand and leaned back on his elbows, slid his sunglasses, which rode atop his head, down onto his face.

  "We'll see you at dinner,"' Georgia tugged on Lama's arm and winked at Matt.

  "But…" Laura protested, not sure she liked the idea of her brother sitting in easy interrogation distance to Tucker.

  "Go on, Laura," Matt shooed her along with the wave of his hand. "You have things to do. Tucker and I have birds to watch. We'll be along in a while."

  "OK," Laura gathered up her shoes and a ceramic mug from which she drained the last few drops of dark liquid. Glancing warily at her brother, she followed Georgia across the beach to the wooden steps leading up to the sidewalk and back to the inn.

  "Do you like the pale pink, or the pale green?" Laura held up two different tablecloths for Georgia's inspection. "Or maybe ivory. Which do you think Zoey would prefer? Maybe we should ask Delia…"

  "Laura, you don't need to confer with us on every detail." Georgia sat down at the dining room table and smoothed a ripple from the creamy white cloth that Laura had placed before her. "And it seems to me you have much more experience with this sort of thing than we do. After all, you do this type of thing all the time here at the inn, don't you?"

  "Yes, but this is different. This is for family, and it has to be perfect."

  "It will be perfect. Relax. Do you know how many people Delia is having?"

  "She said it would be less than thirty."

  "Well, then, we could even do three round tables of eight or ten each in the sun room. That would be lovely, with the ivy and wisteria draping over the outside of the windows," Georgia suggested.

  "That would be pretty. Let's just go poke in there and see how we might arrange things."

  Laura pushed open the French doors leading into the sun room and walked to the middle of the room.

  "We could move a few more wicker pieces in and move the upholstered pieces out for the party, and do the entire room in white. White wicker, white linens, white flowers. Lilies. Roses. Orchids…" Laura murmured.

  "That's exactly what Mother did for India and Nick's engagement party," Georgia grinned. "Right down to the same flowers. That's uncanny."

  "Oh," Laura looked pensive. "Then perhaps we should do something else."

  "I think all white would be wonderful in here," Georgia told her. "And we can just consider all white engagement parties a new family tradition. India, Zoey, maybe someday me… maybe you…"

  "I've had my shot at 'someday,' " Laura appeared to have focused her attention on refolding the linens.

  "Where is it written that you only get one 'shot' at happiness?" Georgia asked. "Who told you that if it doesn't work out the first time, that you never get another chance?"

  "It doesn't matter," Laura turned her back, so as to avoid her sister's questioning eyes. She appeared about to add som
ething else, when her attention was drawn to the window, where Matt and Tucker were walking up the drive leisurely, Artie sauntering along between them, Tucker laughing at something Matt was saying.

  Georgia watched the faintest flush of color spread across Laura's cheeks, watched her expression soften just a little.

  "Laura," Georgia said, "would I be prying if I asked…"

  "Yes." Laura gathered up the linens and seemed to flee the room. "Yes, you would be."

  "This Tucker fellow is all right," Matt said as they drove along a dark and winding country road on their way back to Pumpkin Hill later that night. "He's quite an interesting guy. I really liked him a lot."

  Artie having decided to ride shotgun and stick his big head out the window to catch some breeze, Georgia had been forced to take the middle seat. She leaned against Matt, her head on his shoulder, and said, "Well, I wouldn't start calling him 'brother' any time soon."

  "Yes, I know. Laura's trying so hard to pretend that she hardly notices him, but yet she can't seem to put together a full, coherent sentence when he's in the room." Matt said thoughtfully.

  "I know how she feels," Georgia ran a hand up Matt's arm to his shoulder and added softly, "Only difference is, I admit it."

  There was a long moment's silence.

  "OK," Matt said, "I want to hear it."

  "Hear what?" Georgia yawned.

  "I want to hear you admit it."

  She leaned closer to his ear. "I am in serious danger of falling head over heels in love with you, Matthew Bishop. And if you play your cards right, I just might be persuaded to watch the rest of that movie with you when we get home tonight."

  Matt smiled in the darkness and stepped on the gas.

  twenty-three

  Georgia unlocked the back door of the farmhouse and went into the kitchen, tossing her purse onto the table as she passed by. She was hot and sticky and not happy after having spent the morning looking at three possible properties recommended by one of the clerks at Tanner's whose mother was a real estate agent. Feeling somewhat like Goldilocks, Georgia had found the first property too big—the space having once been used as a warehouse for farm equipment—and the second, a long narrow space with a low ceiling and two thin windows that would only get morning sun, too small. The last lacked indoor plumbing. She had not as yet gone through the storefront on Main Street, the agent who had the key being out of town for two more days. Georgia held onto the hope that this last space would prove to be just right.