She stopped and stared after him. It was several minutes before she started walking again. When she finally got to the top of the hill, it took all her willpower to traverse the last hundred yards to the schoolhouse.
There were several trucks parked on the lawn behind the school, but she saw with relief that Brent’s wasn’t among them. Perhaps he had decided not to go to the cleanup. Perhaps, finally, her words had gotten through to him.
Work had already started. As she climbed the front steps, two men carried out a broken desk. They were dressed similarly, in jeans and plaid shirts and dark blue baseball caps.
“Hello there! You must be Miss Curtis.” The taller of the two men took off his cap and smiled at her. “I’m Matt Flory. It sure is good of you to do this for our kids.”
“Sure is,” agreed the smaller man. “My name’s Newt Emory.” He stuck out his hand for Allison to shake. “Come on in. Some of the ladies are inside, scrubbing down the walls.”
Allison followed them into the building. The pain in her ankle had vanished. She’d been right; all she needed was fresh air and exercise. And the absence of Brent.
Soon she was busily scrubbing the worn woodwork of the little schoolhouse, happily plunging an old rag in and out of a bucket of suds as she listened to the gossip of the women mopping the grimy walls. Before long she’d worked up a sweat, and then she began wishing she’d brought a comb. Long tendrils of hair kept loosening from her ponytail and hanging over her face. Once, she caught sight of herself in the cracked mirror behind the door, and almost laughed out loud. Her face was smudged with dirt, and her hair stuck in lengthy curls to her forehead and temples. She was a mess.
More people came; by the time Isabel and Abel appeared, sheepishly apologizing for having overslept, Allison felt as if she’d been working for hours. When Isabel caught sight of her, she bustled over and pointed an accusing finger.
“You belong in bed!”
“Oh, Isabel, I’m fine! I’m having the time of my life!” Her grin was contagious, and she soon had Isabel laughing as they worked side by side on their hands and knees scrubbing the floor. The sound of hammering on the roof above didn’t daunt the women’s conversation; they just talked over the noise.
“What’s going on up there?” Allison asked Natalie Flory, who had taken a break and was nursing her baby in a corner of the room.
“Some of the men are fixing the roof. When it rains, this place is as leaky as a colander.”
Allison smiled at the baby. “Where are your other children? I’d like to meet them.”
“Outside, I expect.” Natalie waved an arm vaguely. “They’re usually all over the island on a day like this.”
The door burst open and a thin boy ran in and slid to a stop in front of Allison.
“Ricky, look what you did!” Natalie pointed to the muddy footprints crossing the freshly scrubbed floor. She gave Allison a wry grin. “You wanted to meet them—Ricky here’s my oldest. Say hello to Miss Curtis, Ricky.”
Ricky peered at Allison from under a thatch of red curls. “Hi.” He gave her a shy grin.
Allison held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ricky. How old are you?”
He shook her hand. “Nine,” he said softly.
“Ricky’s small for his age.” Natalie put her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Now you get on out of here, Ricky. You’re messing up the place. We want it nice and clean for Monday morning.”
“I’m hungry!” he whined.
“Out!”
Isabel appeared at Allison’s side. “It’s almost lunchtime. What do you say we go set things out, ladies?”
Allison followed Isabel out into the brightest day she’d ever seen. The sun was pouring down from a crystal blue sky. The ocean gleamed green and gold in the distance. She squinted and raised her hand to shade her eyes.
Isabel touched her arm. “The tables are stashed in Brent’s truck. If you’d go find him and ask him to round up a few men to set them up, I’d be grateful.” She hurried away before Allison could shake her head in refusal.
Allison looked at the line of trucks and spotted Brent’s, but he was nowhere in sight. She sighed and descended the steps to the grass. A low whistle made her turn and look up. Brent was standing on the porch roof, grinning down at her.
“Brent?” She put her hand to her throat, as if it would steady her voice. “Isabel wants the tables set up for lunch.”
He jumped from the roof, landing lightly on the grass in front of her. A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “You’re a mess, Allison. I don’t think I’ve seen a dirtier woman in all my life.” His smile broadened. He stuck his hammer into his belt and stepped closer to her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’ve been floating around in the bilge water of the Blue Lady.”
He ran his finger the length of her cheek and shook his head in mock disgust. She took a step backward, wary of his mischievous grin.
“I ought to give you a saltwater bath right now.”
“You keep your hands off me!” She took another step backward. “Isabel wants the tables set up now, Brent.”
But he didn’t hear her. Laughing, he scooped her up over his shoulder and started running down the lawn toward the water.
“Put me down!” she screamed. She felt strangely excited, even as she struggled to right herself and twist out of his arms. Long strands of hair caught on her lips and she brushed them away. “Stop, Brent! Please!”
He carried her over the ridge of the lawn down to the little beach. She could no longer see the schoolhouse, or the crowd of people that had watched their dash down the hill. He dropped her onto the beach and grinned down at her, laughing. She stumbled to her feet and started to run clumsily up the beach. Her heart hammered wildly in her ears. When he tackled her, she turned as she fell, so that she was lying face-to-face with him on the sun-warmed sand. The length of his body against hers flooded her in sudden longing.
His arms went around her, pulling her tightly against him. He was no longer laughing; his face had taken on a yearning intensity that made her stomach flip-flop.
“Oh God, Allison!” His lips moved against her cheek, down the length of her neck, and then up again to cover her mouth. His kiss was deep and passionate, and she had no will to resist him. She was drowning in his arms.
His hand was in her hair, stroking, cradling her head. His legs moved against hers, hard and muscular. She melted into him, responding to his kiss with a passion of her own she’d never dreamed possible.
When he finally released her, she was weak with desire. He sat up slowly, groaned softly.
She got to her knees beside him, sagging against his arm. “What are we going to do, Brent?” she whispered.
He looked down at her. The expression in his eyes made her want to bury herself in his arms once again. He cupped her face between his hands, kissed her forehead.
“That’s up to you, my love.”
“I can’t,” she moaned.
If at that moment he had kissed her again, she believed she would had taken off Cabot’s ring and thrown it in the sea. Instead he stood up, brushing the sand off his jeans.
“That’s what I figured. I’d better go get those tables before Gran comes looking for me.”
She watched him stride up the hill, over the crest of the ridge to the schoolhouse. She got slowly to her feet and walked to the water’s edge, where she squatted, dipped her cupped hands into the water and lifted it to her face. She gasped as the icy water touched her cheeks. She scrubbed at them blindly with her fingers, hoping the grime would disappear. When she stood up again, her face felt stiff with salt.
She started back up the long hill to the schoolhouse, suddenly aware of her fatigue. Maybe Isabel had been right; perhaps she should have stayed in bed after all. After lunch she’d go back to Isabel’s house and take a nap. The cleanup was almost over anyway, except for a few repairs to the windows and doors. It was important for her to get her act together before Monday morning.
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As she came up over the crest of the hill, she saw that the tables had already been set up. People were gathered around them, holding paper plates and cups, laughing and talking. Her eyes searched automatically for Brent, and when they found him, her heart turned to ice. He was leaning against the side of his truck, his arm draped possessively around the shoulder of Emily Potter.
Chapter Fourteen
Allison ate lunch with Isabel, who chatted happily with her neighbor about the rising price of lobster, apparently oblivious to the fact that Allison had been carried down to the beach over Brent’s broad shoulder. After lunch Isabel turned to her and patted her gently on the shoulder.
“You ought to go back to the house and give your ankle a rest, dear. I’ll get Brent to give you a lift.” She stood up quickly.
Allison glanced toward Brent’s truck, where he was still talking with Emily. “Thanks, Isabel, but I’d really rather walk.”
Isabel’s gaze followed hers and she broke into a laugh. “Are you worried about interrupting Brent and Emily? Oh, my dear, Emily Potter’s just somebody he’s passing time with. She doesn’t mean any more to him than a butterfly matters to a dog. A diversion he’s better rid of, if you ask me.” She turned and looked down at Allison. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, you being engaged and all. But I’m afraid that the truth of the matter is that you’re the one Brent’s really got his eye on. I’ve never seen him light up for anyone the way he does around you.” She saw Allison’s look of dismay and patted her hand. “Now, don’t let that worry you, dear. He’ll survive; men do. In fact, it’ll be good for him to realize for a change that he can’t have any woman in the world he wants. Some things have come all too easy to that boy.” She got to her feet. “Now, I’ll go tell him to give you a ride, so you can get some well-deserved rest for that ankle.”
She hurried off across the lawn. Allison watched her approach Brent, saw the way Emily edged away from Isabel, saw Brent’s cocked head and quick nod. When Isabel turned and signaled, there was nothing for Allison to do but go. She trailed slowly across the lawn, her heart in her throat.
By the time she reached the truck, Brent already had the door open. She studiously avoided his eyes, accepted Isabel s motherly kiss, and climbed up into the passenger seat. A moment later Brent was beside her. The engine roared to life; he shoved the stick shift into reverse and turned to look over his shoulder, automatically sliding his arm along the back of the seat until his hand rested behind her head. The skin of her neck prickled and she quickly shifted away from his fingers.
“Tired?” His voice was cheerfully distant.
“Just a little. It was fun; I wish I had the energy to stay all day.”
He nodded. “I know what you mean. When everybody gets together, it’s a great feeling.”
Allison glanced back at the schoolhouse lawn. People milled around in small clusters, laughing and talking. She smiled to herself. It was wonderful to be a part of a community like Harper’s Island, if only temporarily. It was hard to contemplate leaving at the end of the summer. Perhaps she could persuade Cabot to buy a summer cottage on the island. Something inside her stiffened. It wouldn’t be the same, living in one of the luxurious summer residences and meeting islanders only occasionally, when she went to pick up her mail. Not the same at all. She became suddenly conscious of the fact that Brent was watching her. He turned into the Cutler driveway and pulled to a stop in front of the back door. Allison reached quickly for the door handle.
“Allison.” His voice stopped her. He turned and touched a lock of her hair, stroked the length of it with his fingers. She tried to control the shiver that was bleeding through her. “I’m sorry about what happened on the beach. It won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it.”
She gaped at him. His hand slid away from her hair. She lurched out the door of the truck, dropped to the ground, and walked to the door. As she opened the door, she heard the truck pull out of the driveway. She wanted to cry.
“Allison?” Martha’s cheery voice sounded from the living room.
“Hi.” Allison squared her sagging shoulders and went in to face her friend.
Martha was stretched out on the couch watching a black and white movie on television. She punched a button on the remote control and the screen flickered off. “I’m so glad you’re back! I’m dying of boredom!” She pulled herself up, making room for Allison at the end of the couch. “Tell me everything! Did you have a good time?”
Allison nodded. Martha’s questions reminded her of her mother’s interrogations when she came home from a date. “But I’m beat. I haven’t been so tired in ages. How are you feeling?”
“If I weren’t so set on being ready to attend that dance on the fourth, I would have gone with you. But I know I don’t stand a chance of being able to dance if I don’t stay off my feet for another week or so.”
Allison grinned. She knew how hard it was for Martha to be sensible, especially when it came to missing a social event like the cleanup. She rubbed the tip of Martha’s foot. “Everybody was there, but it was mostly hard work.”
“You’re kidding! No fooling around at all?”
Allison shrugged. “Not much. It wasn’t exactly a party.”
“Wasn’t Brent there? I’ve seen him at work bees before. He usually grabs somebody and throws them in the water before it’s over.”
Allison wondered if her warm cheeks betrayed her; all she could think about was Brent scooping her up over his shoulder and running down the hill. “Yes. He was working on the roof.”
“God, he’s so cute! He gets sexier by the day. He’s making me forget all about Raoul.”
“Well, that should please your parents.” Allison forced a yawn and stood up. “I’m going to go take a nap. I’ve got a lot to do to get ready for Monday morning.”
“Allison, you can’t really be serious about this play group! What am I going to do all by myself?”
“Maybe Brent can take you fishing.” She watched Martha’s face light up and felt her own spirits plunge. Why had she said that? “See you later.” She went to the doorway, waved the tips of her fingers.
Martha flicked the television back on and was immediately absorbed in the flashing images.
As she climbed the stairs, Allison deliberately forced her mind to focus on the play group. By the time she reached her bed, she was eagerly looking forward to Monday morning. The group would give her a chance to feel useful, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Perhaps it would be the last opportunity of its kind until she had her own children.
How she wished that Cabot hadn’t postponed his visit! His presence would put everything into perspective once again. With Cabot on the island, she would no longer have any reason to feel envious of Martha’s open attraction to Brent. Cabot would be there, protecting her . . . She frowned. Protecting her from what? What on earth was there to be afraid of on Harper’s Island? There was no safer place in the world.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep. But she couldn’t escape the truth. It was there, even behind her closed eyelids. The threat to her on Harper’s Island was very real. She wanted Cabot’s presence because he was the only person in the world who could keep her at a safe distance from Brent.
Maybe if she called Cabot, he would change his mind. If she begged him to come, told him that she missed and needed him, how could he refuse? Surely his attorneys could handle the merger without him. Hadn’t Martha told her that? And Martha knew about these things, knew about the world of high finance and big business. She decided to walk down to the store after her nap and place a call to Boston. Cabot would be thrilled to hear from her, and just the sound of his voice would turn her world right-side up again.
She yawned, and felt herself relax. Brent had promised her that there would be no more upsetting scenes between them. Soon Cabot would come, and her love for him would be rekindled. It would be like old times, and she would feel again the excitement of her coming marriage.
Allison woke just after three; the room was filled with a soft shimmering glow. She realized, as she stood at her window, brushing her hair, that it was the shine of the sun reflected off the water that gave the light its strange, rippling quality. She looked down at the harbor. The water was a bright, sapphire blue; a few boats rode on the gentle swells. She saw that Brent’s boat was gone from its mooring. He must have gone out fishing when the cleanup was over.
She found her purse, checked to see that she had her telephone calling card, and went quietly downstairs. Martha had disappeared from the living room; she must have taken Isabel’s advice and gone for a nap. Allison slipped out of the house and headed down the road to the general store.
She was quite certain that she would reach Cabot at his office. If the merger deal was as close to being closed as he claimed, he probably spent twelve to fifteen hours a day there. She had been to the office only twice; once, when Cabot wanted to stop and pick something up after a dinner date, and once to a Christmas party. It wasn’t like any office she had ever seen; it looked more like an executive hotel suite than an office. It was located on the fifteenth floor of the Wilder Building, a tall, glass and steel structure in downtown Boston. Cabot had asked for his own office shortly after his eighteenth birthday, and his father had given it to him as a gift when he graduated from Groton. Carefully decorated with expensive antiques and custom-made furniture, it didn’t strike Allison as a place where anyone would get much work done. Cabot, however, insisted that he couldn’t work anywhere else. More than once, he told her, he had slept overnight on the fold-out bed because he wanted to be by the computer if someone should call from Tokyo or Zurich.
She went into the store, found the pay phone in the back corner and placed the call. The clerk at the counter, a large, blunt-faced woman, eyed her curiously as she waited for Cabot to pick up.
At last she heard the receiver lifted, but the voice on the line wasn’t Cabot’s. It was a woman’s voice. “Wilder Enterprises. How may I help you?”
Island Summer Love Page 15
