“I suppose.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Jake, I get why the idea of reading this manuscript bothers you, but I’m telling you it’s important. You didn’t live what happened from my point of view. Don’t you care, at least a little, about what I was feeling?”
“Sure, I care. I cared back then, but you weren’t willing to share your feelings with me. You shut them off, shut me out and ran away.”
She flinched at the accusation, but didn’t deny it. “That’s true,” she conceded. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it was too painful for me to face any of it? That the only way I could handle what happened was by locking it all up inside and running?”
Jake hesitated. The emotion in her eyes was raw enough he couldn’t help believing her and yet…and yet she had taken off. That was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get over. They should have dealt with their loss together. What did it say about their relationship that she couldn’t face it with him? She’d gone off alone, a pattern she’d apparently established in childhood. It had made him feel as if he didn’t matter to her at all, as if she didn’t trust him not to judge her for feeling relief along with all the other emotions.
She reached over and touched the tensed muscle in his arm. “Please, Jake. Read it. Do it now. You need to understand the way it was for me. I don’t see how we can get past it if you don’t understand that.”
“Not five minutes ago, we were getting past it pretty damn well.”
“Never the problem,” she reminded him succinctly.
He regarded her with frustration. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
She held his gaze. “No. Not when I believe our future depends on it.”
“Okay, fine,” he said reluctantly. He crossed the room and grabbed the hundred or so pages she’d given him. “Is this it or have you written more by now?”
“There’s more, but this is the most relevant part. Keep in mind, even though it’s fiction, the emotions are real. They’re mine.”
He turned on the bedside lamp and pulled the sheet up to his waist, then started to read. The story began simply enough, drawing him in, making the characters—strangers, not him and Bree at all—come alive. She’d always had a knack for that, one he’d admired. The differences between them and these people she was writing about allowed him to go on, in fact drew him in and made him care.
Next to him, Bree barely moved, but he could hear the occasional catch in her breath, as if she was anticipating where he was in the story and waiting for his reaction. He tried to keep his expression neutral, his concentration focused on the words on the page.
An hour or more later as he neared the end, he wanted to stop. Even through these fictional characters, she was making him feel everything all over again and he didn’t want to go there. Yet, she was right. He had to. They had to. He read on:
The worst part of that awful day was looking into Jeremy’s eyes and seeing the depth of his grief. How could I bear that when for me there was this sense of freedom, knowing that I could live my life the way I’d envisioned it? For me, the baby had never seemed real, even though it had been growing inside me. I think I’d deliberately turned off my emotions, because if I’d faced them, if I’d allowed myself to feel anything for our child, I would be forever trapped in a life—not that I didn’t want, because I did—but a life I wasn’t ready for.
And yet, the raw pain written on Jeremy’s face made me ache for him, for what he’d lost. I felt as if I’d failed him, failed our child.
And so I left, ran to the life I thought I wanted, thought I needed, only to discover that the answers for me weren’t there. They were back home with the man who loved me unconditionally, with the child who’d never had a chance to live at all. I lost more than I realized that awful day. I had to grow up to discover it. I had to let myself feel a mother’s anguish at losing a child.
And when I did, at last, I wept for what could have—what should have—been.
Jake read the last page of that early chapter, his eyes stinging. She’d forced him to see that it had simply taken her longer to deal with what happened, longer to feel what he’d felt. That didn’t make her wrong and him right. It was simply the way it was. How could he judge her for that? How could he hate her for handling things the only way she knew how? Did he really want her to have suffered the way he had? In fact, maybe her way had been harder in the long run because she’d spent years getting to this point, years battling guilt along with everything else.
When he could control his voice, he faced her. “I shouldn’t have judged you.”
She shook her head. “You had every right to. We should have handled it together. You wanted to. You tried, but I shut you out, not just after the miscarriage, but even before, from the moment I knew I was pregnant. I was so angry at you, even though I knew we were both responsible. I blamed you for ruining everything.”
“I blamed myself,” he admitted for the first time. “I knew how badly you wanted to leave here, how much that internship in Chicago meant. Yet when we found out about the baby, all I could think about was that you’d have to stay here with me, that the life I wanted with you was going to happen. I was selfish. I recognize that, but I believed it would be a good life, Bree. You have to know that.”
“I do and maybe it would have been perfect, Jake, but don’t you see? Now is so much better. You’ve accomplished so much. You have a business that’s thriving, a business you love. Who knows if that would have happened if you’d had the responsibility for a wife and child. And I’m with you now because I want to be. I’m in this relationship a hundred percent, no regrets, no wondering what might have been.”
Because he wanted desperately to believe her, he reached for her, pulled her back into his arms. Then, with her cradled next to his heart, they finally slept.
Megan packed her bag Friday morning and took a taxi to the airport. She’d decided it was time she surprised Mick for once. The show at the gallery where she worked had opened to rave reviews. The pressure was off and she could finally spare the time to make the trip to Chesapeake Shores.
She wondered how Mick would feel about her turning the tables on him. She had a certain amount of trepidation, especially knowing how his surprise had nearly gone terribly awry, but she concluded it was worth the risk. She had a feeling she and Mick would do better in the long run if their lives took some unexpected twists and turns. Mick thrived on unpredictability. And though she was happier in a routine, she could see how the unexpected kept things interesting.
When she arrived at the house, only Nell was there to greet her. Her eyes warmed with welcome, the way they always had before Megan had left her son.
“Come in, come in,” Nell urged. “Did Mick know you were coming? He didn’t mention it.”
Megan shook her head. “I decided to surprise him. Is he around?”
“He’s in town, though goodness knows where. He said something about stopping in to see the mayor, then going to Bree’s shop. He’ll probably have lunch somewhere along the way.”
“Should I go and look for him?” Megan wondered aloud. “Or wait for him here?”
“Why don’t you at least stay here long enough to have tea with me,” Nell suggested, already reaching for the chintz china teacups she favored. “We’ve had too few good chats since you’ve been popping in and out for visits.”
Megan listened carefully to her former mother-in-law’s words. There was nothing openly hostile in her remarks, but she sensed a reserve, maybe even a hint of disapproval.
“I’d love to have tea with you,” Megan said honestly. Even if Nell had an agenda, it was important that they get back the easy relationship they’d once had.
“Bree brought home some of Sally’s raspberry croissants last night. Would you like one of those?”
“I shouldn’t,” Megan protested, then grinned. “But I will.”
Nell laughed. “They are hard to resist, aren’t they? It’s a good thing Bree doesn’t bring them h
ome every day.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Great, as far as I know,” Nell told her. “She didn’t come home last night, which tells me things are on again between her and Jake.”
Megan couldn’t decide how she ought to feel about that. She hadn’t been here when the relationship had ended, had little sense of which one of them had been at fault. “Is that a good thing?” she asked Nell.
“This time, I believe it is. They were too young before. Jake fell for her in junior high and knew practically from the beginning that he wanted a future with her. Bree had her own dreams. She’s lived the life she needed to live. Now I think she’s ready for what Jake can offer her and he’s ready to support her in what she needs to be happy.”
“What do you think he can offer her?”
“The love of a good man, of course. Jake’s as solid as they come.” She gave Megan a wink. “Easy on the eyes, too.”
Megan laughed. “He is that.” After a moment, her expression sobered. “I envy you, Nell. Have I ever told you that?”
“Heavens, no. Why?”
“Because you were here. There was so much I missed. My own fault, I know, but there are so many gaps in time, things in my children’s lives that I know nothing about. I feel as if I’m starting from scratch with each of them. They’ve all grown up while I wasn’t looking. The people they’ve become…” She shrugged. “Most of that’s your doing.”
“Nonsense. You influenced them, too. Except for Jess, you had a lot of time with them in their formative years. Ironically, though, Jess is the most like you. She’s restless. I’m not just talking about the attention-deficit thing. She’s not comfortable yet in her own skin. Oh, she loves that inn of hers, but beyond that, I’m not sure she has any idea what she wants.”
“I’ve always known what I wanted,” Megan countered. “I wanted Mick. I wanted my family.”
“And yet you left for more.”
“No, I left because I’d lost Mick, at least for all intents and purposes. I didn’t see how we could ever get back what we’d once had.”
“Spending time with another man, however innocently that happened, wasn’t the best way to win him back,” Nell said, her tone chiding.
Megan winced at the direct hit. “No question about that. It was the second-worst mistake of my life.”
“What was the worst?” Nell asked, her expression curious.
“Leaving Mick and my kids. I was so sure Mick would come after me.” She saw Nell’s skeptical expression. “I know. I should have realized his pride would never allow that. At any rate, when that didn’t happen, I believed I’d at least have the kids with me in New York. I should have fought harder for that, but Kevin was so angry and disillusioned, Connor just wanted to be here with his friends, and the girls—well, they adored Mick. I didn’t see how I could tear them away from him and their life here. I tried coming here frequently for weekend visits, but you saw firsthand how that went. They either ignored me or expressed their anger in other ways. Everything I did—even what I didn’t do—was a mistake. Believe me, I’ve lived to regret all of it.”
Nell studied her. “I think you have. They’re giving you a second chance, though, even Mick. Don’t blow it this time.”
Megan smiled at her fierce warning. “I don’t intend to,” she said then added, “But Mick needs to do his part, as well.”
“He finally sees that,” Nell assured her, then patted her hand. “I’m glad we’ve had a chance to talk, Megan. I’ve missed sitting right here at this table with you, just like this.”
“I’ve missed it, too,” she replied without hesitation. “You were never just my mother-in-law, you know. You were my friend.”
Nell looked pleased by the comment. “Well, then, as your friend, I suggest you go track down my son. I’d start at Bree’s shop. Those two have big plans. Make sure they tell you all about them.”
Megan was intrigued. “You don’t even want to give me a hint?”
Nell shook her head. “Not my news to tell. Run along, Megan. I’ll put your bag upstairs.”
“I can do that.”
Nell’s jaw set stubbornly. “And so can I.”
“Okay, then, I’m off. See you later.”
She was almost out the door, when Nell called after her.
“This surprise visit of yours, Megan…”
“Yes?”
“It’s a good thing. Mick will think so, too.”
“I hope you’re right about that,” she said. She supposed she’d know soon enough.
Mick had had a frank, exploratory conversation with Bobby Clark to try to garner the mayor’s support for the community-theater project. At first Bobby had been unreceptive to the idea, so Mick had spoken to a few of Bobby’s political backers, who’d shared their more open-minded opinions with him. This morning Bobby had gotten on board, indicating a willingness to take the idea before the town council at their next meeting for a preliminary discussion.
“In other words, you bullied him into it,” Bree concluded after her father had described the meeting.
“I got results,” Mick countered.
His daughter gave him an exasperated look. “Wouldn’t it have been better to persuade Bobby to your way of thinking?”
“The end result is what counts,” Mick argued. “He’ll back us on this.”
“But without much enthusiasm, I suspect.”
“You handle business your way. I’ll handle it mine,” he said, annoyed that she wasn’t more pleased by what he’d accomplished. Bobby Clark could have been a major obstacle if Mick hadn’t called in the big guns, the men who provided most of Bobby’s backing for election campaigns.
He was about to tell her she was being naive when the door to the shop opened and Megan walked in. “Meggie!” he said, the discussion with Bree forgotten. “I had no idea you were coming today.”
She beamed at his reaction. “That was the whole idea. You’re pleased to see me?”
“Of course I am,” he said, then planted a hard kiss on her lips.
They were interrupted by a less-than-subtle cough from Bree. “Excuse me, public place, daughter present,” she chided, though her eyes were filled with laughter. “I’d hate to have to suggest that you two go and get a room.”
Mick kept Megan’s small hand in his and pulled her to his side. “You have five minutes to exchange small talk with our daughter,” he told her. “Then you and I are getting out of here.”
“And going where?” Megan inquired, her look challenging him.
“Personally, I like Bree’s idea about the room, but I’m thinking you’ll be happier going to lunch and then for a walk on the beach. It’s a lovely fall day we’re having. There won’t be many more to come with Thanksgiving right around the corner.” He regarded her with a frown. “Do you have a sweater with you? It’s likely to be breezy on the beach.”
Megan’s eyes glittered with anticipation. “I came from New York where it was in the forties this morning, so of course I have a sweater. And lunch and a walk sound lovely, if you have the time. Nell says you’ve been out throwing your influence around to get something or other done. She wouldn’t say what.”
“I’ll let Bree fill you in,” Mick said. “Though if she starts saying I’ve gone about it all wrong, I’ll have to jump in with my version.”
“Well, you have,” Bree countered.
“Bulldozer tactics,” Megan guessed.
“Hey, don’t the two of you start ganging up on me,” Mick protested, though he was enjoying the whole exchange. He was pretty sure nothing could ruin the mood that Megan’s unexpected arrival had put him in.
Bree filled her mother in on their plans. When she concluded, Megan applauded. “That’s fantastic! I’m so excited for you. Sweetheart, this is absolutely perfect. I just know you’ll have the best theater company in the country in no time.”
“Let’s not get overly ambitious,” Bree cautioned. “I’ll be satisfied if we can just stay artistically e
xciting and operate in the black.”
“You’ll do it,” Megan said. “Your instincts are a thousand times better than that man’s.”
“Marty wasn’t responsible for all of the artistic decisions in Chicago,” Bree said.
“No, but he was responsible for sapping all the creativity out of the best playwright they’d ever had,” Megan said with feeling.
Bree rolled her eyes. “Now, there’s a total lack of objectivity if ever I’ve heard it.”
“And on that note, I suppose we should head out,” Mick said, figuring they’d beaten that particular horse enough for one day. If Megan persisted or he chimed in, Bree was likely to start defending Marty and they’d wind up in an argument.
Bree came around the counter to hug her mother. “I’m so glad you’re here. Will I see you at the house later?”
“Unless your father tosses me out,” Megan said.
“Not a chance of that happening,” Mick said, reaching for her hand again. He liked the way it felt in his, liked knowing that he had at least some small claim on her again.
One of these days they’d get back everything they’d once had. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel the need to hurry things along. He’d discovered that sometimes anticipation was its own reward.
It was three weeks before Thanksgiving by the time Bree and Jake finally fell into an easy pattern that felt natural to both of them. She was actually starting to believe they’d really make it this time. He was beginning to trust her again, and she was almost certain he’d forgiven her.
And she was a hundred percent sure she was in love with him, that this time when he offered her a future, she’d accept with no misgivings at all.
Which made it a real kick in the pants when she looked up from her meal with Jake at the inn and spotted Marty striding across the dining room. When he hadn’t shown up right after her conversation with Rebecca, she’d been so sure that something like this would never happen. How typical of him to lull her into a false sense of complacency.
As he crossed the room, heads turned. He was a striking man with his hair swept back from a widow’s peak, his chiseled cheekbones and high brow. He was dressed in jeans—not faded and well worn like Jake’s, but designer denim with a well-pressed crease. His cream-colored shirt was a fancy silk blend and she suspected the sweater he wore over it was cashmere.
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