The Love We Keep

by Toni Blake

  He narrowed his gaze. “Anne who?”

  Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Are you telling me you haven’t seen The Miracle Worker?”

  “That’s a movie, I’m guessing?”

  She let out a playful sigh and said, “That’ll be your next classic film.” Then her gaze widened. “Want to watch it now?”

  “No,” he said, still grinning. Women. They could be so funny. “Right now, I wanna do this.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him until she fell into his embrace, where he began to kiss her with every ounce of gratitude inside him. Her palm rose to cup his jaw as their tongues mingled—and he followed the urge to slide his hands up under her hoodie, to her bra.

  That was when she pulled back from their kisses, putting a slight crimp in his erection. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Well, it’s...right in the middle of the day.”

  Zack dryly glanced to the right in the quiet, empty living room, and then to the left toward the window, where fresh snow fell outside. “You have somewhere you need to be?”

  She blinked, perhaps starting to catch on to his way of thinking. “Well, no.”

  He grinned. “Then let’s do some celebrating, Suzie Q.”

  * * *

  BY THE NEXT DAY, they’d had sex twice more and six fresh inches of snow had fallen across the island. But the new morning dawned clear and bright, the kind that summoned the island’s winter residents out to the market or the Skipper’s Wheel, and Suzanne dragged herself from Zack’s bed, kissed him goodbye, and promised to be back soon.

  Descending Mill Street and turning toward Petal Pushers, she caught sight of Clark Hayes, owner of the Huron House Hotel, and tossed him a wave. In the other direction came town councilman Tom Bixby on a pair of cross-country skis. “Out getting a little exercise, Tom?” she asked with a smile.

  “Absolutely—it’s a beautiful day, and my wife’s been feeding me too well this winter.” He patted his belly through his parka.

  “Good for you—keep up the good work,” she called as she unlocked the flower shop.

  The interior, filled with bare tables and shelves, could almost be depressing to someone already surrounded by the barrenness of a northern winter, but coming in made Suzanne happy. Or maybe there was just already a lot to be happy about.

  Zack had feeling in his leg!

  And then there was the sex. Almost equally as shocking a turn of events, if not more so. For a long time, she’d thought she’d never want anyone but Cal. And now...when she’d least expected it, Zack Sheppard, of all unlikely men, was filling that void for her.

  She shook her head as she approached the refrigerator, still trying to wrap her mind around it. But at the same time, not too tight. Don’t get any more attached than you already are. Remember who he is. Just appreciate him for who he is. A man doesn’t have to commit his whole life to you to be worth sharing a connection with. A new idea for her, but she tried to take it to heart. Zack was giving her something she needed—but he wouldn’t be around forever. And that was okay. Because it had to be.

  Other things to be happy about: a sunny day in winter, and that after weeks of diligent watering, it was time to move her bulbs out into the light. “Hi, guys,” she whispered as she opened the produce drawers in the old fridge, looking down on her shallow dishes. “Guess what? It’s showtime.”

  After another watering, she carried the dishes into the main shop space, setting them in a spot where they’d receive indirect sunlight. Then she bumped the thermostat up to sixty, where it would now stay. The bulbs’ refrigeration since autumn gave them the experience of winter—now, bringing them out into the light and warmer temps would trick them into thinking it was spring. She’d have to water more frequently now, but in two to four weeks, depending on how much the sun chose to shine, she’d have bright, cheerful daffodils and hyacinths.

  Though, if she was honest with herself, the days already looked brighter. Sex and reconnected nerves in her lover’s leg could really lift a girl’s spirits.

  Standing next to the bulbs, she ran her fingertips gently through the loose, damp soil that covered them, thinking through the many years she’d made spring come early this way. She’d always been so proud to show Cal her spring blooms in February.

  Of course, thinking so concretely about her husband made what she’d done with Zack feel a little like...cheating. Which was silly, of course. Cal perhaps wouldn’t love her choice of guy—two men could scarcely be more different—but one thing he’d understood was circumstances, so if he was watching from some other dimension, he was surely pleased to see her finding some joy. He might be worried for her heart—but she was going to surprise them both by turning over a new leaf in that arena, or at least giving it her best shot.

  “Goodbye, little bulbs,” she said as she wiped her fingers on a towel, put on her gloves, and headed toward the door. “Work your magic while I’m gone.”

  Stepping back out into the cold, she caught sight of the Summerbrook Inn up the street—pristine and idyllic as ever under a blanket of fresh snow—yet the sight sent an invisible arrow piercing her heart. Oh no—what have I done?

  It had begun to feel like she and Zack were in a vacuum, the only two people in the world. But they weren’t. And she’d had sex with her best friend’s ex. Four times, no less. And she’d loved it. She’d loved every hungry, intoxicating, heated second of it.

  You’re a terrible friend. And it wasn’t so much the initial act that made her a terrible friend—it was a unique situation and she’d succumbed to a moment of passion, as people sometimes did. What made her a truly terrible friend was that she’d done it again, and again—and that she knew, without doubt, that she was going to keep right on doing it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “SO,” DAHLIA SAID slyly to Suzanne over the phone, “what’s new with you?”

  Curled up in her cozy chair, Suzanne smiled. So very much was new. And part of her simply wanted to hold it all close to her heart. But that was just the isolation talking. It made everything feel private, made sharing feel almost foreign at times.

  And Dahlia’s voice brimmed with so much anticipation that it was tempting to tease her. “Well, I took my bulbs out of the fridge at Petal Pushers.”

  “Yes, yes, what else?” Clearly Dahlia didn’t care about bulbs. But then, why would she—who needed spring when in a land of perpetual summer?

  “Um, Zack and I watched The Miracle Worker. I couldn’t believe he’d never seen it.”

  “Okay—well, what else?”

  “I think it made him count his blessings. Not that he’d ever use that exact phrase, but it made him think. I mean, who doesn’t think after seeing that movie?” The man in question was currently taking a shower, giving Suzanne the freedom to talk as openly as she wished—or not.

  “Well, that’s lovely, dear,” Dahlia said, beginning to sound impatient. “But I think there’s something big you’re not telling me.”

  “You’re right, there is. And I hope you’re sitting down for this.”

  “I am.”

  “Drink in hand, toes in sand?”

  “The second one. I’m looking out on a beautiful beach, listening to the waves roll in. Now go on.”

  Suzanne’s heart expanded a little, knowing she was about to give Dahlia far better news than she was even expecting. “Zack has some feeling back in his leg.”

  “What?” Dahlia gasped.

  “You heard me right,” Suzanne told her joyfully. “It’s painful for him when I move the leg now, but it means nerves are reconnecting! So it’s amazing news.”

  On the other end, Dahlia let out a hearty laugh Suzanne had missed. “Oh, my girl—my sweet, sweet girl—what an incredible thing to hear! You just lifted my heart so high it’s zooming circles around the sun.” Another laugh, and then, “Zack is encouraged, I’m sure.”

 
“Yes. Now all he wants to do is exercise,” Suzanne told her on a chuckle. “I’ve had to explain that we need to just stay the course, not overdo. But needless to say, we’re both overjoyed, and just hoping the progress continues.”

  After more details on the topic, Suzanne asked, “And what’s new with you?”

  “Not so fast, missy.”

  “Huh?” Suzanne had hoped the excitement about Zack’s leg might sidetrack Dahlia from her detective work, but apparently not.

  “We’re not done talking about you and Zack yet.”

  She feigned ignorance anyway. “We’re not?”

  “You two seem to be getting along awfully well,” Dahlia remarked.

  “And what a relief that is,” Suzanne told her. “A much more pleasant situation.”

  At this, Dahlia stayed quiet a moment, then finally said on a sigh, “Oh, Suz—my dear Suz. I don’t intend to pry, truly. You don’t have to talk to me about this if you don’t choose to. I just thought you might want to.” Her tone of voice had gone from merry to more heartfelt, reminding Suzanne once more that Dahlia was more than Zack’s aunt, and more than someone who’d dashed off on a mysterious trip leaving them angry and hurt. She was also Suzanne’s friend. And given how distant Meg felt these days, it was a nice thing to remember.

  “Talk...about what?” Suzanne asked—though her voice went softer, too.

  “I thought,” Dahlia said, “you might want to tell me you and Zack are an item.”

  The old-fashioned term drew an unexpected chuckle from Suzanne. And then...honesty. “I wouldn’t say we’re an item. I would say we’re sleeping together.”

  At this, Dahlia released a peal of laughter, obviously delighted to have sussed out the truth. “Close enough, my girl.”

  “Well, two different things really,” Suzanne pointed out.

  “You’re snowbound in a cottage together for who knows how long. If you’re having sex and enjoying each other’s company, that makes you an item.”

  Suzanne sighed. “Tomato, tomahto.”

  “Regardless, this is good for you. And for him. My heart is making an extra orbit around the sun because of it.”

  Another soft laugh echoed from Suzanne. “I knew you’d be happy. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s just sort of a weird thing to talk about. Maybe because you’re his aunt.”

  Dahlia let out an easy, laissez-faire sort of sigh. “You can talk to me about anything, Suz—no need to feel weird. I just hope...well, I know it’s been quite some time, and that up until Beck you were quite adamant romance was dead for you. So I hope this is making you happy.”

  “It is,” Suzanne confided, feeling more open now. She’d been putting walls up with Dahlia out of anger and confusion. And she was still confused in a way, but perhaps tired of being angry. “Even if it’s...undefined, I feel happier inside than I have in a while.” She hadn’t quite known that before the words left her, but there it was. Zack made her happy. In a way nothing had since Cal.

  “All I can say is, keep doing what you’re doing—it’s working,” Dahlia said. “For both of you, I think.”

  Suzanne blew out a sigh, deciding to confide even more now that they were going down this road. “I’m not sure where it will lead, Dahlia. You know Zack.”

  “Everything is changing for him right now,” Dahlia said airily. “So maybe neither of us knows him at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He can’t work on a fishing boat anymore,” Dahlia reminded her.

  “I know. But what does that have to do with this? Him and me?”

  “Only everything, my dear. He’ll have to build a new way of life. And he’s going to be very appreciative of all you’ve done for him.”

  Oh. Well, even so, Suzanne couldn’t let herself start buying what Dahlia was selling. It was too dangerous. “Here’s the thing,” Suzanne said. “There’s some deep, dark secret inside that man that makes him a commitment-phobe. And it’s not about his work or his leg. It’s something that’s been brewing since long before either of those, and it’s not the kind of thing that just goes away. I might be able to fix his body, but I can’t fix what he won’t let me near. Meg’s been down this road and suffered for it. So maybe I don’t want to believe he can change.”

  “Some people do,” Dahlia said, hopeful as ever.

  “Most people don’t,” Suzanne countered.

  “Speaking of Meg...” Dahlia trailed off, giving Suzanne’s stomach time to churn with guilt.

  “I know. I’m a horrible friend.”

  “Eh—these are complicated times. She’ll have to understand that.” Dahlia was absolving her? “When are you going to tell her?”

  “I was thinking...never,” Suzanne confessed.

  “What do you mean?” No absolution on this part apparently.

  “This thing with Zack will inevitably pass,” Suzanne explained. “Very possibly by spring. And regardless, everything about this situation will change then—you’ll be back, he’ll see doctors on the mainland. We just don’t know how events will unfold. But I feel confident things between us will fizzle by then. If for no other reason, because I’m another Meg, a woman who’ll want more than he’ll want to give. So the way I see it, Meg never needs to know.”

  “You’re so sure?” Dahlia asked.

  “About the first part or the second?” Suzanne replied.

  “Both.”

  “Yes to the first,” she said. “We’re in a cocoon right now, he and I. Once the cocoon opens up and the rest of life comes rushing in, he’ll pull back.”

  “That’s a grim speculation,” Dahlia observed.

  “But realistic, I think. I’m only being honest with myself.”

  “Perhaps you could just...take it day by day, without thinking so far into the future.”

  “That’s what I’m doing, mostly,” Suzanne said. “I’m just also preparing for the most likely outcome, rather than ending up heartbroken.”

  “You won’t be heartbroken anyway?”

  Suzanne blew out a breath. “Yes. But at least it won’t come as a blow—I’ll be ready.”

  “Back to the second part of the equation,” Dahlia said. “You truly believe Meg doesn’t need to know.”

  “No, I don’t truly believe that. But I’ve got enough on my plate right now without telling her I’m sleeping with her ex. We’re kind of mad at each other already, even without adding that into the mix.”

  “You and Meg—angry at one another?” Clearly, this stunned Dahlia. It still stunned Suzanne a little, too.

  “She wanted to come to see Zack,” Suzanne explained, “and I said no, that it would mess with his head and give him false hope—about the two of them.”

  “You wanted to keep him to yourself,” Dahlia said without missing a beat.

  “Maybe,” Suzanne admitted. “But I also really didn’t want him confused or led on.”

  “Understandable,” Dahlia said. “I don’t want him having any setbacks there, either. I confess that’s a by-product I didn’t consider when I asked her to help while I’m away. Though...maybe it’s a worry of the past. Maybe he’s moved on from her at last.”

  Suzanne took that in, but didn’t hold on to it. So much uncertainty floated around her—she couldn’t add any more. “Too many questions for me to answer, Dahlia,” she replied, “and I need to go make dinner.”

  “All right,” Dahlia said. “We’ll talk again soon. Aloha, dear.”

  “Aloha?” Suzanne repeated, getting up to walk toward the kitchen. “You’re in Hawaii?”

  At this, however, Dahlia laughed. “Only in my mind. Afraid the sand my toes are parked in at the moment is slightly less exotic.”

  Despite all the things recently going right for Suzanne amid the depths of winter, the warmth of summer remained a lure. “Still sounds nice, though.” />
  “Take care, Suz. And...give Zack a kiss for me.” Dahlia hung up laughing.

  * * *

  LIFE HAD BEGUN to take on a sort of routine. A very different one than Suzanne could have imagined a month ago, but as the calendar page turned to February, it seemed almost normal that she was having sex with Zack on a regular basis. Not every night—some nights they only snuggled—but she’d pretty much quit sleeping in her own bed. And the snuggling nights were, in some ways, just as nice as the sex-having nights. Pieces of a whole that added up to feeling...well, almost like they were an item. Even if only for now, in their secret, isolated way.

  It seemed almost normal that she got up in the morning, and after a hearty breakfast proceeded into Zack’s physical therapy session. It seemed almost normal that she often watched Zack’s talk shows with him in the afternoon, then helped with his second round of exercises before dinner. It seemed almost normal that each evening they decided together how to spend it: sometimes a board game, sometimes a movie. She liked continuing to find classics he hadn’t seen, and in return, he forced her to watch Weekend at Bernie’s and Captain Ron, which she actually enjoyed but refused to admit out of sheer stubbornness.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” she promised him now, bending over for a kiss goodbye. Ever since the day he’d fallen, she watched her time away closely and remembered to text or call if she ran late. He never thanked her—more acted as if she were being an overprotective mother hen type—but she knew deep down he appreciated the gesture.

  First stop, Petal Pushers to water the bulbs. Upon leaving the shop, she spared a glance up the snow-covered street toward the inn. She hadn’t talked to Meg in a while and knew she should. If for no other reason, to let her know about the feeling in Zack’s leg, which continued to hold steady, though he claimed the sensation was gradually creeping downward. She feared it was wishful thinking, but never said so, supporting any optimistic thought he wanted to indulge in and believing hope—as much as anything else—led to healing.