Dogwood Hill (A Chesapeake Shores Novel - Book 12)

by Unknown

  And what would happen once she’d bared her soul?

  Of course, the one thing that made that prospect less terrifying was that Aidan was clearly willing at last to do the exact same thing. Was it possible that once they had, they could move on together? Or would stripping away their illusions tear them apart?

  *

  Tables in the dining room at The Inn at Eagle Point were overflowing with delicious appetizers and desserts, but Aidan only had eyes for Liz as she made her way around the room, laughing with her friends, even with her sisters and her mother. She seemed surprisingly at ease, given her earlier tension.

  “Everything okay?” Thomas asked, coming up beside him, his gaze following Aidan’s to settle on Liz.

  Aidan nodded.

  “You worried about how she’s going to react to the news?” Thomas asked, surprising Aidan with his perceptiveness.

  Aidan turned to look at him. “No more than you must be about the truth coming out. You have a lot more at stake with the people in this room than I do. I could totally understand if you wished I’d never come to town.”

  Thomas regarded him with what looked like genuine dismay. “Aidan, I won’t deny that this is going to stir things up and that I’m going to face some unwelcome scrutiny.” His expression turned rueful. “I imagine Ma is going to have quite a lot to say. She’ll never in a million years believe that I didn’t have an inkling that I’d fathered a child.”

  Aidan gave him a sympathetic look. He’d only been around Nell a couple of times, but he knew the hold she had over her sons and how much they wanted her respect. “For what it’s worth, I do believe you about that. I think my mom made a conscious choice to keep it from you. I may never totally understand why she did what she did, but I don’t think you deliberately turned your back on us.”

  Thomas looked relieved. “Thank you for that.” He smiled. “Not for being willing to defend me with Ma, but for believing in me.”

  Aidan shrugged. Faith in Thomas hadn’t come easily or quickly—there had been years of anger and resentment to overcome, after all—but he’d spent enough time with him recently to accept that he was as honorable as his mother had clearly believed him to be.

  “Any idea when the results will be in?” Aidan asked.

  “They told me we should have a preliminary report on Monday if there’s no obvious match based on blood type, but it could take longer for a detailed workup of the DNA results.”

  Before Aidan could express his frustration, obviously shared by Thomas, Connie appeared and inserted herself between them. “No shoptalk,” she scolded, clearly assuming that they’d had their heads together over a far different topic.

  Thomas leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Now, why would I talk shop when I have an opportunity to be out on the town with the most beautiful woman in the room?”

  A blush tinted Connie’s cheeks, even as she laughed. “And that is exactly the sort of outrageous blarney that convinced me to marry this man,” she told Aidan.

  Aidan couldn’t help wondering if that innate Irish charm had been directed toward his mother, as well. Had she fallen for it as readily? How could she not? As smart as she’d been, she was as susceptible to sweet talk as most women were. And at eighteen or nineteen when she and Thomas had known each other, Aidan could imagine that hint of an Irish brogue that appeared from time to time with all of the O’Brien men had seemed extraordinarily appealing.

  He couldn’t help wishing he’d seen the two of them together just once, experienced the bond that had connected them and resulted in a child. Oddly, he found himself envying his friends whose parents were divorced. At least before whatever acrimony had caused the split, there must have been a few good memories they could treasure.

  A glance at Thomas suggested he had some idea of what Aidan was thinking. Whatever answers he could share about the past wouldn’t be revealed tonight, though.

  “Liz looks as if she’d welcome some company,” Thomas told him.

  Connie elbowed him in the ribs. “Meddling is Mick’s territory, not yours.”

  “It was just an observation,” Thomas told her, then winked at Aidan. “And taken in that spirit, isn’t that so?”

  Aidan laughed. “Absolutely. Enjoy the party.”

  He left them and headed in Liz’s direction, snagging a couple of flutes of champagne on the way. By the time he’d caught up with her, she’d reached the French doors that opened onto a terrace. He joined her outside and silently held out a glass.

  “Thanks,” she said, meeting his gaze for an instant’s connection, then quickly looking away as if afraid to allow that connection to last more than a heartbeat.

  “You thinking about making a run for it?” he asked, nodding toward the lawn just past the terrace. It sloped away toward the bay.

  “It crossed my mind,” she admitted.

  “You seemed to be successfully evading your family even indoors.”

  “I can thank the O’Briens for that. Megan has my mother cornered. Shanna has taken on Danielle, and Jess is showing LeeAnn around the inn.” She grinned at him. “I sense a plot.”

  “What sort of plot?”

  “I’m here on a moonlit terrace alone with you, aren’t I? It was Susie’s idea that I come out here, by the way. The only thing they haven’t done is lock the terrace doors behind us.”

  Aidan laughed and glanced around, noting that the doors were still wide-open. “They probably didn’t think of it.”

  She lifted a brow. “Do you honestly think they leave much to chance?”

  “Probably not,” he conceded, then set his glass of champagne on a white wrought-iron table and took a step closer.

  Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

  “I’d hate for all that careful planning to go to waste. How about you?” He reached for her glass and set it down.

  “Didn’t you just hand that to me?” she said, her eyes following the champagne with longing.

  “And now it’s in the way,” he said, stepping even closer. He stroked a finger along the curve of her jaw and felt her tremble. “I can’t imagine how I’ve waited so long to do this again.”

  “Aidan.”

  It was just his name, part plea, part protest, but it set his blood on fire.

  “Yes, Liz,” he whispered, tilting up her chin and gazing into the depths of her eyes, watching them darken with unmistakable passion. She could deny it all she wanted—to him, to herself—but she was as desperate for another kiss as he was.

  “Aidan.” This time it came out as barely more than a sigh.

  He didn’t waste breath on answering, just covered her mouth with his and felt the impact of the kiss rocket through him like jet fuel that had just been ignited.

  Liz clung to his shoulders and this time she was the one who moved, inching closer as if she couldn’t bear to have even a hair’s-breadth of space between them. Her lips parted, her breath turned ragged and the air around them seemed to crackle with the snap and heat of an unexpected blaze.

  Aidan threaded his fingers through her thick hair, knowing that her careful topknot was toppling in a way that no one inside was likely to misconstrue. He needed to feel those silken strands, to see how they looked when wayward curls framed her face. It would be easy enough, then, to imagine how she’d look after making love, flushed and tousled and beautiful.

  The sound of voices grew closer, cutting into his thoughts with the effect of ice water splashing over heated bodies. Liz stilled, but when she would have pulled away, he kept her in place, hoping whoever had thought to come outside would turn around and go away.

  Sure enough, there was a knowing masculine laugh, a hurried exchange, and the voices faded. The intrusion had lasted less than a minute, but it was enough to bring them both back to reality.

  “You were obviously wrong,” he said, still keeping her encircled in his embrace.

  “About what?” she asked, looking up at him with a dazed expression.

  “A
bout there not being any more kisses. I warned you they were pretty irresistible, that you are definitely irresistible.”

  She smiled. “I never said they weren’t good kisses,” she reminded him.

  “Just that we couldn’t repeat them.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Like I said, you were wrong.”

  “I think I was referring to the wisdom of repeating them, not to your ability to sneak one in.”

  He stood back with an expression of mock indignation. “There was nothing sneaky about that kiss. We’re out on a terrace all alone in the moonlight. We’re drinking champagne.”

  “I had one sip, hardly enough to cloud my judgment.”

  He chuckled. “So you went into that kiss with no excuses,” he taunted. “That’s even better.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. “You have an argument for everything, don’t you?”

  “When I need one,” he said. “My point is that all the signs were pointing to a romantic encounter.”

  Amusement sparkled in her eyes. “So, if I didn’t want you to kiss me, I should have made a dash for it when you first appeared with that champagne.”

  “A wise woman who truly didn’t want to be kissed would have,” he agreed.

  “This theory of yours works out rather conveniently for you,” she noted. “All of the responsibility falls on me.”

  He grinned unrepentantly. “Amazing how that works out, isn’t it?”

  To his surprise, she chuckled and moved closer to rest her head against his chest. “I honestly don’t know why I keep fighting this so hard,” she said. “In my mind, pushing you away makes all the sense in the world, but when you’re this close, getting even closer is the only thing that makes sense.”

  Though her words were music to his ears, there was a note of regret in her voice he couldn’t ignore. He hated that what felt so right to him still filled her with so much conflict. How could they possibly move past that?

  “Liz, tell me what you really want. If it’s not me, I can walk away.”

  “You didn’t before,” she reminded him.

  He smiled. “I wasn’t convinced then. Convince me.”

  She looked into his eyes. “I don’t know how.”

  “Because it’s not true?” he suggested quietly.

  Her sigh was heavy and heartfelt. “Because it’s not true,” she acknowledged in a whisper.

  “As long as I know that, we can figure out all the rest,” he told her.

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair again, then caressed her cheek lightly. “Believe it, sweetheart. I do.”

  He wasn’t entirely sure why or how he had so much faith with so many things left unsaid between them, but he did.

  *

  Liz woke up on Sunday morning to find the foyer filled with suitcases. She found her mother and sisters already in the kitchen, filling a Thermos with coffee. She eyed them warily, poured herself a cup and sat down, looking from LeeAnn and Danielle, both of whom deliberately avoided her gaze, to her mother.

  “I gather you all are anxious to get on the road,” she said carefully. “I didn’t think you’d be leaving this early.”

  “Mom’s idea,” LeeAnn said, casting a hard look toward their mother.

  Liz sighed. Of course it was. She’d lain awake the night before trying to figure out why her mother hadn’t said a word on the ride home from the party. Now she knew. She’d seen or heard something that had sent Liz’s disapproval rating into the stratosphere. That’s what all the whispers she’d heard coming from the bedrooms had been about.

  “Whatever’s on your mind, Mom, why don’t you just say it to my face?” Liz suggested. “You’ve obviously already filled in Danielle and LeeAnn.”

  Her mother’s back stiffened. When she finally turned around, there were tears in her eyes. “I am so disappointed in you,” she said. “You’re just not the woman I raised you to be.”

  Nothing she might have said would have cut through Liz more. She’d told herself over the years to ignore her mother’s nonstop guilt-inducing remarks, but how could any daughter live with knowing what a constant source of disappointment she was? She sometimes thought the one thing she’d done right in her mother’s eyes was marrying Josh March. Quite possibly that was why she’d never wanted her to know the truth about their marriage, a truth she herself had discovered way too late.

  “What is it I’ve done now?” she asked, though the answer was obvious. It had something to do with Aidan.

  LeeAnn regarded her sympathetically. “Don’t listen to her, Liz. There is nothing wrong with moving on with your life. And Danielle and I both like Aidan. We really do.”

  “A man like that?” their mother snapped. “One who’d take advantage of a grieving widow?”

  Liz stared at her mother in shock. “Nobody is taking advantage of anybody, Mother. And I am not a grieving widow. I’m sorry Josh is dead, but our marriage would have been over anyway.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother said. “That man adored you and you never showed him the respect he deserved.”

  Liz knew she was at least partly responsible for her family’s misguided view of her marriage. She’d never wanted them to know the truth. She wasn’t sure if she’d been protecting their illusions about Josh or whether she’d feared just this, that somehow she’d be the one in the wrong for the failure of the marriage. That once again, she wouldn’t have measured up to her mom’s impossibly high standards. Ironically, they only seemed to apply to Liz. LeeAnn and Danielle had always gotten away with everything with little more than a scolding and a chuckle.

  “Maybe I did make mistakes,” Liz said defensively, tired of hiding the truth. “In fact, I’m sure of it, but the worst might have been trusting my husband.”

  Her mother looked shocked. “How could you say a thing like that? Josh March was a fine, decent man.”

  Exhausted by the long-running charade, she said quietly, “I say it because it is true. Josh was cheating on me, Mom. He had been for months. At least with the woman I found out about. Maybe he’d been at it even longer.”

  The bitter words hung in the air. Liz noted the shock and disbelief on her mother’s face, but LeeAnn and Danielle exchanged a telling look, proving that they’d somehow suspected not everything had been perfect in Liz’s world.

  “I don’t believe you,” her mother said, her voice icy.

  “The night Josh died—our anniversary, by the way—I was talking about having a baby and he told me he wanted a divorce, that there’d been somebody else in his life for a long time. Does that give you some idea of what a great guy he was?” she asked, bitterness rising to the surface and spilling out.

  LeeAnn gasped. She stood up and enveloped Liz in a fierce hug. “That son of a...” She glanced at their mother and edited herself. “That stupid son of a gun.”

  Liz almost smiled. Even at a moment like this, they were still fighting for their mother’s often-withheld approval.

  “I am so sorry, Liz,” Danielle said, looking genuinely shaken. “You should have told us.”

  “Really? When? At the funeral home when everyone was extolling his virtues? Maybe at the cemetery, when I thought for sure his mother was going to throw herself into the grave? Or back at the house when everyone was speaking in low, reverent whispers?”

  Danielle flushed with guilt. “No, not then, of course, but after that, or when we were alone together, just the three of us, you, me and LeeAnn. We’re your sisters. We could have listened and given you the kind of support you really needed.”

  Liz sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess on some level I was trying to protect Josh’s memory for the people who loved him. Just because I was disillusioned, I didn’t think everyone else needed to be. Besides, I didn’t really have time to come to grips with any of it. Everything happened so fast. He made his big announcement, I tossed him out of the house, and then he died, all within a couple of hours. I was in shock on way
too many levels.”

  She turned to her mother then to see what her reaction to all of this was. Doris was sitting at the table clutching a cup of coffee with a white-knuckled grip, her complexion pale.

  “I knew,” she said, her voice shaking.

  Liz stared at her blankly. “Knew what?”

  “About Josh seeing someone else. I saw them, more than once. I didn’t want to believe it. Your father was so sure I was imagining things. He had a dozen perfectly reasonable explanations for what I’d seen.” She drew in a deep breath. “Since you seemed so content, I told myself I had to be wrong, that I didn’t have enough proof of anything to risk stirring up trouble for you.”

  “You were protecting Josh, not me,” Liz said, her tone flat.

  “Absolutely not. I kept quiet because I didn’t have proof. I did it for the sake of your marriage. I was sure if there were problems you’d work them out. You never said a word about any trouble, so I blindly let myself believe there wasn’t any that you couldn’t overcome.”

  “If you thought he might be cheating, how could you go on acting as if he were such a saint?” Liz demanded.

  “Because I wanted so badly to believe I’d been wrong. I know it doesn’t make sense but I wanted to believe you were truly happy. That’s how you were acting.”

  “Then be happy for me now,” Liz pleaded. “Aidan could be the one who can help me to move on. I don’t know that for sure, and you’d better believe I’m going to take my time until I do know, but I want you to give him a chance, too.” She gave her mother a hard look. “I think we can agree that you owe me that much.”

  Her mother sighed. “You’re probably right. I will try. We certainly heard nothing but good things about him at the party last night.” She smiled. “Your friends had quite a lot to say about what a fine man he is. Mick O’Brien certainly sang his praises.”

  Liz could just imagine. “Will you stay a little longer, then? Maybe go to Sally’s for breakfast? Aidan’s usually around. So are a few of the other people you met last night.” Then she added the lure most likely to appeal to them. “There are waffles and French toast on the menu with genuine Vermont maple syrup.”