by Carol Grace
“You’re right,” she murmured in a shaky voice. “I don’t understand.” Then she bolted for the door, gently scooped up Morgan out of her swing, put her to bed and then finally, at last headed for Gretel’s room and the master bath.
Cooper stood for a long moment breathing hard. How could she possibly understand what was going on when he didn’t, either? All he knew was that he wanted her the way he never thought he’d want a woman again. But that didn’t mean he had to do anything about it.
Oh, yeah? he heard an inner voice say. It sure looked as though he was doing “something” about it. He shook his head and closed the pantry door behind him. It couldn’t go any further. Cooper was there to pick apples and that was all. Okay, maybe cook a few meals because if he didn’t, they’d starve, but definitely no more kissing in the pantry.
Speaking of starving, he read the instructions from the back of a package of rice and measured out the ingredients. He had no confidence that Laurie could make rice. He didn’t really care if she could boil water. Raiding the pantry once more he came up with a jar of artichoke hearts, a can of garbanzo beans and some brine-cured olives and he threw them all together for a salad.
The memories of other dinners, another home, came flooding back unexpectedly and he clamped his lips together and fought back tears he hadn’t shed for years. Why had the memories resurfaced now? Was it Morgan, Laurie or this house? He wished Laurie would come back and take his mind off the past. He wondered if she’d fallen asleep in the tub. He wondered with a quickening heartbeat if he ought to make a quick check.
But as it turned out, he didn’t have to. She came back into the kitchen, fresh from a bath, wearing clean jeans and a T-shirt just as the phone began to ring.
Laurie grabbed the phone on the kitchen wall. “Gretel, how are you?”
“Wonderful,” her friend answered. “How’s Morgan?”
“Just fine,” Laurie said, watching Cooper stir a pot on the stove. The walls of her stomach rubbed together. Lunch seemed like an awfully long time ago. As Gretel recounted her day’s activities, Laurie watched the back of Cooper’s neck, studied the way his hair brushed the collar of his shirt, and when he suddenly turned and smiled at her she lost her train of thought completely.
“Sorry,” she said, suddenly realizing she hadn’t heard a word Gretel had said. “How did you say you liked the hotel?”
“I didn’t say,” Gretel said. “I was telling you about the outdoor salmon barbecue on the island.”
“Of course,” Laurie said. “So you’re having a good time?”
“Marvelous. Steve’s out renting a tandem bicycle for us right now. But what about you? I feel so guilty, having fun while you’re back there all alone.”
“Well, actually I’m not alone.” She glanced at Cooper who paused to give her a sideways glance that made her heart race. How could she explain about Cooper when he was right there in the room listening to every word she said? How could she explain about Cooper under any circumstances? “You won’t believe this but Steve’s old friend Cooper Buckingham is here.”
“Cooper Buckingham, the one who works at the Falls?” Gretel asked.
“Yes, that one.”
“What’s he doing there?” Gretel demanded.
“Doing?” Laurie asked absently, trying to stop staring, to stop imagining how it would be if they lived there, if this were their kitchen, their baby in the nursery. “Oh, cooking—cooking dinner.” She didn’t dare say picking apples or Gretel would worry.
“But, but Cooper’s a recluse, hasn’t been heard from since... He’s one of Steve’s best friends, you know. He’s the one I wanted you to meet.”
“Yes, I know. Well, you just go off and have a great bike ride. And don’t worry about a thing.”
“I won’t. But Laurie—well, I’ll call you later, when we can talk.”
“Yes, do that.” Laurie hung up with a sigh of relief and turned to Cooper.
“What did she say?” he asked.
“They’re having a great time.” She lifted the lid on the pot of curry and inhaled deeply. “Going bike riding.”
“I mean about me being here.”
“She was surprised.’’
“I’ll bet. I haven’t seen much of Steve or Gretel over the years, and suddenly I’m in his house cooking dinner.” He looked around the kitchen as if he, too, was more than a little surprised at where he was and what he was doing. “She must have wondered why.”
Laurie placed her hands on her hips, watching the steam swirl up out of the pot. “Even I wonder why,” she confessed.
He shrugged. “Because I want to help. I owe it to Steve.”
Laurie nodded. Nothing about her, about wanting to help her, spend time with her. Of course not. She must not even imagine it or she was heading for disappointment bordering on depression. “But the job is overwhelming, even with the workers we’ve got. Doesn’t that discourage you?”
“Sure, sometimes. It would be a lot easier without Morgan, you know.”
“What do you suggest we do with her, put her in day care?” she asked.
“Of course not. I was just stating the obvious. I’m sorry.”
Touched by his apology, Laurie put her hand on his arm. “I understand. I must confess I had no idea what having a baby on your hands entailed. It’s not quite the way I pictured it, the crying, the teething.”
“But it hasn’t discouraged you,” he asked. “You still want one of your own?”
Laurie shrugged as if it didn’t matter one way or the other. But it did. She wanted a baby. A baby of her own. To love, to nurture, to hold next to her heart through teething and crying and colic. Yes, she wanted a baby. But what she wanted and what she had were two different things. She didn’t want to go into that with Cooper. He was only being polite. It didn’t really matter to him if she had a baby or not. She went to the silverware drawer and picked out forks and knives, running her fingers across the raised rose pattern.
“You’re lucky,” she said. “You know exactly what you want and you’ve got it.”
Cooper didn’t answer. If she’d said that a week ago he would have agreed. Now he wasn’t so sure. It was Laurie’s fault. She’d made him want her and staying with her in the charming old house had stirred feelings that he’d buried years ago. He didn’t like being reminded of what he’d lost and he didn’t like being tempted by a woman who was looking for something he couldn’t give.
Instead of saying something, he heated the curry, tossed the salad and when he turned around he found Laurie had set the kitchen table and was pouring water into tall glasses with a thoughtful expression. He wanted to tell Laurie it was nothing personal, these feelings he had. He didn’t have anything against Morgan or her. In fact Morgan had many delightful moments. So delightful he almost envied her parents. He wanted to tell Laurie he’d once wanted children as badly as she did. But he’d closed the door on that part of his life. Didn’t think about it, didn’t talk about it. He couldn’t if he wanted to survive.
He didn’t talk during dinner and neither did Laurie. It was as if a cloud had descended and hovered over the plain pinewood table. It wasn’t the food. The curry was excellent—not too spicy, not too bland. It was the atmosphere, so homey... and yet... it wasn’t their home. It was also the look in Laurie’s eyes that made him sad for her and for himself. They had to stop acting like a family. He had to stop kissing Laurie in the pantry and stop rolling around with her under the apple trees. Yes, he had to stop before it was too late. Before he did something they’d both regret.
He pushed his chair away from the table. “I’m going to fix the strap on the bag. It’s almost ripped through,” he said abruptly before he walked out of the kitchen.
Laurie stared after him. There was something wrong with him tonight. And he was not the type to confide in her and tell her what was bothering him. Laurie washed the dishes and went to check on Morgan. She was sleeping soundly.
“Picking apples is hard work, right
, Morgan?” she murmured to the baby before she left the nursery. Taking care of a baby and picking apples was even harder. Throw in trying to fathom Cooper Buckingham and you had your work cut out for you.
Laurie peered out into the dark night looking for a light in the garage or the barn. But there was none. Maybe he’d left. Maybe he was gone for good. She couldn’t blame him if he was. Whatever obligation he felt toward Steve, he’d fulfilled it. He no longer had any real reason to hang around. Yes, he could pick more apples, and every little bit helped. But he didn’t like children and Morgan was a handful even for those who did and wanted one of their own. Then there was the strange attraction between them that neither wanted. Yes, if she were Cooper she’d be out of there like a shot, too. But without a word or even a note?
Laurie grabbed a flashlight from the drawer and ventured out the front door heading off between rows of heavily-laden apple trees, trying to stay calm, trying not to panic. If he was gone she’d deal with it. She’d pick what she could and take care of Morgan as best she could. She tried not to think of the solitary meals, of the lack of stimulating conversation, the absence of his physical presence that had such a disturbing effect on her, of his sideways glance, the touch of his hands and the warmth of his kisses.
He’d leave sooner or later anyway and it might as well be sooner and give her time to get used to it. Suddenly there was a smell in the air that brought back memories of her childhood. It was cigar smoke.
“Who’s there?” she asked, waving her light in a wide arc.
“Just me,” Cooper said, looming out of the darkness.
She breathed a sigh of relief as her light picked up the outline of Cooper’s tall form, the spiral of smoke and the rich aroma of his cigar.
“Do you mind?” he said with a look at the cigar.
She shook her head. “It reminds me of my dad,” she said, switching off her flashlight. “He used to smoke on holidays and special occasions.”
“Not any more?”
“He died a few years ago. My sister and I are the only ones left. I suppose that’s why we’re so close. We lived together at the bed-and-breakfast she owns before she got married. She says I’ll always have a home there and it’s a wonderful place, on the California coast, very romantic with the surf crashing against the rocks beneath the house. The Miramar Inn is booked for weeks in advance. And now to top it off, she’s expecting a baby.” She smiled ruefully. “Babies all around me. You’ll think I’m obsessed with them. One of these days I’ll pull myself together and go back to work.”
“For the airline?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Picking apples?” He smiled at her.
“It would probably get boring after a while,” she said with a smile of her own.
“Sometimes it’s good to do mindless physical work,” he said. “It gives you time to think. Other times you don’t want to think at all.”
“Is this one of those times?” she asked, trying to make out his expression in the dark.
He paused for a long moment. She really couldn’t see his face. She could only see the glowing light from the end of his cigar, but she could imagine the lines furrowed in his forehead as he pondered the question.
“This is one of those times,” he admitted, “when I’d rather not think. Tell me about your job with the airline.” He sat down under a tree and beckoned her to do the same.
She sank down next to him on a ground cover of leaves and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. Maybe it was the dark night, the brush of his arm against hers or the rustle of the leaves above them, but once she started talking she couldn’t seem to stop. She even talked about Roger and the more she talked the less it hurt. She told him about cities she’d stayed in and strange encounters with strange passengers.
Cooper listened, chuckled and smoked his cigar in appreciative silence. When she finally ran out of breath and stories, and her spine was stiff and her bottom sore, she tried to read her watch in the dark. “It’s late,” she said at last. “I must have talked your ear off.”
“Not quite,” he said, standing and reaching for her hand to pull her up beside him. He dusted the leaves off her curved fanny and the touch of his hand made her want to wrap her arms around him. She was so tired and he was so rock solid. She reminded herself he was just being helpful, friendly. That was all. His hand rested on the curve of her hip as they walked back to the house without speaking.
She said good-night to him in the living room then left to check on Morgan. She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to prolong the intimacy that had made her pour out her stories, her memories. But she couldn’t trust herself, not at this hour of the night. She was too vulnerable, too emotionally spent to trust herself another minute with him. If he kissed her she wouldn’t resist. She’d kiss him back. If he held her she would cling to him and never let him go. That’s how weak she was. She wasn’t proud of herself for forgetting her long-term goals in favor of instant gratification, but she chalked it off to the hour, the fatigue and the underlying tension between them that was always there.
The next day Laurie dragged her stiff, aching body out of bed. She and Cooper had a simple breakfast of toast and coffee and they continued where they’d left off the previous day in the orchard. Morgan didn’t last long in her playpen. Her pitiful cries earned her a place on Cooper’s back. He said he could pick faster if he didn’t have to hear her crying. Laurie watched with admiration as he moved up and down the ladder, emptying his canvas sack.
Gretel called around noon when they were sitting under a tree having lunch. Laurie made sandwiches and brought them to the orchard, along with the portable phone.
“Can you talk?” was the first thing Gretel asked.
Laurie took a deep breath. “Here’s the situation,” she began. “We’re having a picnic in the orchard.”
“We... who’s we?” Gretel demanded.
“Your friend Cooper, Morgan and me.”
“How romantic,” Gretel said, gushing.
“Yes and no,” Laurie said, looking at Cooper who was lounging on his side on the plaid blanket, his head propped in his hand, a blade of grass between his teeth. He was staring off into space as if she wasn’t there while Morgan dozed peacefully in the dappled sunlight. “I mean I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“Heavens no. Steve wants to talk to Cooper, but he’s in the shower now. So he’ll have to do it later. Suffice it to say that he was surprised to hear you two had connected. Knowing Cooper... Well, what do you think of him? Isn’t he divine?”
“Of course,” Laurie said carefully. “But I thought...”
“You thought I didn’t know him. I don’t really, though he came to our wedding. Steve wanted him to be Morgan’s godfather, but under the circumstances ...”
Circumstances? What circumstances? Darn it, why did Gretel always have to call when Cooper was around? “Maybe you can tell me about it later,” she suggested.
“Maybe he’ll tell you himself.”
“I don’t think so,” Laurie said with a glance at Cooper’s impassive face. The chances of Cooper telling her anything about anything seemed remote at that point.
“So...is he actually staying there, at the house with you?” Gretel asked. “I mean can’t you tell me something, anything? I—we’re—dying of curiosity.”
Laurie smiled at the frustration in her friend’s voice. “Not really. It’s a long story. Have a wonderful time,” she said and hung up.
Cooper’s gaze met hers and she realized he’d been listening to every word. “What did she say?” he asked.
“Steve wanted to talk to you, but he was in the shower.’’
“Good.”
“Good that he wants to talk to you or good he was in the shower?”
Cooper tossed aside the blade of grass.
“Both. If he talks to me he’ll want to dredge up old times.”
“Is that so bad?” she asked, folding the tablecloth at the edge
s.
“I prefer to live in the present.”
“Of course. And it’s better you don’t talk to him. You might let it slip about the apples.”
A smile quirked one corner of his mouth. “You think I can’t keep a secret?”
She stared at his mouth, remembering the touch of his lips on hers, wondering. wishing he would kiss her again, but knowing that something stood in their way, something in the past, some circumstances. Sometimes she just wanted to blurt it out, to ask him what happened; other times she was afraid to find out. “I think you’re good at keeping secrets,” she said soberly. “All I know about you is that you’re an only child. I don’t even know if you have a family or where they are.”
“I have two parents,” he admitted. “They live in South Carolina.”
Where they’re waiting hopelessly for a grandchild, Laurie thought. She knew how pleased her parents would be if they were alive to know about her sister’s pregnancy.
Cooper gave Laurie a long look that told her he knew exactly what she was doing—fishing for information. Prying into his private life. She was transparent. She knew it, but she didn’t care. Before long Steve and Gretel would be home and she could ask them. But Cooper would leave and she’d never see him again.
