by Sarah Morgan
“She’s done well, no doubt about it, but Brittany would have done well at anything she’d tried. She’s that sort of person.”
“I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have done well living with some loser who spent his life kicking the system.”
Philip raised his eyebrows. “Sometimes the system needs kicking, and last time I looked you were doing well enough for yourself.”
“Yeah, I’m transformed. A shining example of what a man can do with his life.”
“I happen to think that’s true.” Ignoring the sarcasm, Philip finished his beer. “Which is why I’m hoping that you’re not going to run off just because she’s back. There are a couple of kids on the scholarship program I’d like you to meet. I can tell you their stories if you like.”
“I don’t need to hear the stories.” He already knew them all. They’d be like his, only each would have its own variation. They’d look at him with hard eyes, waiting for him to let them down the same way everyone else in their lives had. “I’ve got some spare time this week. Want me to take them up?”
“That would be great. They always love it. And we could use some help with Starlight Adventure. Overnight in the forest is your area of expertise. Or you could just hang out in the camp and look cool. That’s usually enough to impress.”
“Your sense of humor always was one of the best things about you.”
“I think so.” Philip swatted an insect. “We’re doing good things here. You’re doing good things. Did you tell Brittany that you—”
“No. And I don’t intend to.” He frowned. “Shit, Philip, what is this? Make Zachary Feel Good About Himself Day?”
“Don’t you already feel good about yourself? Because you should.”
“That’s crap.”
“Not from where I’m sitting. I think you deserve some credit, that’s all.”
He finished his drink. “I get all the credit I need.”
“I had an email from Todd Richards.” Philips voice was casual. “Medical school. Can you believe that?”
“Yes. He’ll be a hell of a doctor.” Zach rose to his feet. “You really think she’s nursing a mad?”
“Brittany? You know her better than me.”
He did. And none of it fitted what he knew. “If she’s nursing a mad why is she so calm? She was calm when I flew her here and calm today when I gave her a lift home from the store. She was more upset with Mel than she was with me.”
“Pride? All those islanders who warned her you were trouble were able to say ‘I told you so’ and, worse, they gave her sympathy.”
“She was the injured party. She deserved sympathy.”
“It’s the last thing Brittany would have wanted.”
Zach gave a humorless laugh. “That’s a shame because they left a casserole big enough to feed the entire population of Maine on her doorstep this morning.”
Philip winced. “I’m willing to bet she hated that.”
“You’d win the bet.” Zach thought about the sentiments behind the casserole. “They’re all watching her, waiting for her to freak out because I’m living here.”
“It will settle down. By tomorrow you’ll be yesterday’s news.”
“I’ve never understood why someone else’s life is of so much interest. It’s none of their damn business.”
“On an island, everything is everyone’s damn business. That’s the way it works. They mean well. They want to offer support.”
“Which she hates, because she prefers to be independent.” He wondered how long it would take before her control snapped. “I don’t know how you stand it.”
“There’s good as well as bad.” Philip gave a faint smile. “And either I’m having a bad dream or you’re back living here.”
“You’re having a bad dream. But that’s nothing compared to the nightmares the islanders are having.” It almost made him smile to think about it. “I swear most of them have been double locking their doors since I came home. I’m waiting for the law to knock.”
“I’m the only Law around here.” There was a brief pause. “You called it home.”
“What?”
“Home. You said they’d been locking their doors since you came back home.”
Zach felt a strange pressure in his chest. “Slip of the tongue.”
“Right. Well, if your tongue ever felt like slipping again, it would make Celia feel good to hear you say that. You know we’ve always wanted you to think of this as your home.”
“Never could figure out why. You worked with a hundred kids more housebroken than I was. I didn’t deserve what you both gave me.” It was the closest he could get to a thank-you. After years of hiding everything and trying not to feel, he found it hard to identify emotions. Even harder to put words to those emotions.
“There were plenty of things that happened in your life that you didn’t deserve. Living with us wasn’t one of them.” There was a brief pause. “Camp Puffin is getting too much for me.”
It felt as if a hand had reached inside Zach’s chest and squeezed his heart.
“I know.” And knowing made him feel ill. He knew how much this place meant to Philip. Knew how much he needed it.
“The hospital wants to run a few more tests, but whatever those tests say the result will be the same. I need to do less. I can’t be as actively involved as I have been. I’m going to need more help running this place.”
“You wouldn’t be short of interested people.”
“Camp Puffin has been as much a part of my life as my home and family. There’s only one person I want to hand it to.”
Hearing something in his tone, Zach glanced at Philip and saw something he hadn’t expected to see.
Love. He saw love, and he knew that with love came expectations and following swiftly on from that, disappointment.
His mouth dried. Panic thudded into him. “No.”
This time the emotions were stronger. They came at him like a powerful crosswind, buffeting him off course so that he leaned on the railings to steady himself.
Next to him, Philip stirred. “Why not? You don’t have to do much more than you’re doing now.”
“The difference is that you’ll rely on me and you know that’s a mistake.” Discomfort and guilt made him irritable. “You know I’d let you down.”
“Why would you let me down?”
“It’s what I do best.”
“That’s not how I see it. Not how Celia sees it, either.”
“Then maybe the two of you aren’t looking hard enough.”
“Don’t sweat it. Just wanted to run it past you, that’s all. So what are you going to do about Brittany?” Philip’s tone was mild, the transition smooth, and Zach took a moment and breathed, relieved to be off the hook.
“Nothing. What would I do?”
“You could start by talking about what happened.”
“What would be the point of that? It happened. Talking about it doesn’t change anything.”
“Might change the way she feels about it if she understood. You could give her an explanation. Talk it through.”
“What would be the point of that?”
“The two of you had something special. Maybe you shouldn’t throw that away.”
“You’re ten years too late with that advice.”
“Would it have changed anything if I’d given it to you then?”
Zach thought about the way he’d felt. He’d married in a haze of panic, saw the hope and expectations in Brittany’s eyes as he slid that cheap ring on her finger, and wanted to run the whole time. “No.”
“So you don’t care about her at all.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Poor girl. All alone in that cottage with no neighbors.”
Zach set his jaw. “She’s the most independent woman I’ve ever met, and she loves that cottage.”
“I know, but she can’t go next door if she has a problem. Must be hard managing with one arm in a cast, and being Brittany, she would
n’t admit it to anyone. She’ll just struggle along.”
The thought of her struggling made Zach uncomfortable. “She seemed just fine to me.” He tried to forget the disaster in the bathroom and the mess in the kitchen.
She’d just come off a long flight.
She wasn’t the tidiest person.
Didn’t mean she was struggling.
Philip stood up slowly and straightened gingerly, rubbing his joints. “Can’t be easy managing one-handed. I’m guessing she’s in a bit of trouble. You going to turn your back on that?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Why?”
Zach felt a rush of irritation. “For a start, because she wouldn’t want my help. I offered to heat the casserole for her lunch and she all but pushed me out the door. You don’t have to worry about her. I’ve never met a woman more capable than Brittany.”
“Which is why she won’t ask for help even when she needs it.”
Remembering the oyster-pale skin and the dark shadows under her eyes, Zach shifted uncomfortably.
“She might want your help, if it was the right sort. When does she go to the hospital?”
“How would I know? We didn’t exactly sit down and swap schedules.” He hadn’t asked. Hadn’t thought about any of it. All his energies had been focused on not flattening her to the backseat of his car and doing all the bad things people were no doubt predicting he was already doing to her. It was the first time in his life he could remember wanting to live up to their expectations.
“So you don’t have a plan?”
“I have a plan. My plan is to stay the hell away from her.”
“That’s one way. Another way would be to make amends. She’s going to need transportation to the hospital and she can’t drive. Taking the ferry and a cab will cost her. You could fly her direct.”
Zach didn’t consider himself an expert on relationships, but he was fairly sure that a free flight wasn’t going to compensate for a broken marriage. “One of her friends will take her. Emily or maybe Ryan.”
“Emily has her hands full with Lizzy and there is no way Brittany would ask Ryan. This is peak month for the Ocean Club. The place is bursting at the seams every day. And then there’s the fact you’re the one with the plane.”
Zach looked at him in exasperation. “You seriously think I should offer to fly my ex-wife to her next hospital appointment?”
“Makes perfect sense to me. You could land right next to the hospital.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Out of the goodness of your heart. Because you owe her.”
Zach gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t have a heart. And she’ll say no.”
“Then at least you’ve made the offer. Ask her. If the past really means nothing to her, if she’s as indifferent to you as you think she is, she’ll probably say yes.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Philip put his empty beer bottle down on the table. “Then I’d say you’ve got something worth exploring.”
“I don’t think so. Even I have a problem with screwing the same person’s life up twice.”
BRITTANY HAD INTENDED to spend the afternoon writing her blog and exploring ideas for her future, but after ten minutes of staring at her laptop screen without seeing it, she gave up. Her head felt fuzzy from jet lag. Her thoughts were full of Zach and she needed to clear her brain before she could work, so she took the sandy path that led directly from the cottage to the beach.
A couple with two young children was flying a kite near the water’s edge. Shaped like a dragon, it dived towards the sand and soared skyward again in a blaze of color, its tail flapping in the wind.
Brittany watched for a while and then walked to the rocks at the far end of the beach. Protecting her wrist, she clambered out of reach of the sea and chose a flat boulder as a seat. From here she could see the granite outcrop where the puffins nested and one of the boat tours hovering close by. She recognized the boat and knew it was skippered by Doug, famous locally for managing to cram the maximum number of tourists onto each trip.
He was one of the many islanders who had found alternative ways to supplement the fishing business. On Puffin Island, they’d been luckier than some of the smaller islands in the bay. The varied and beautiful landscape and sheltered natural harbors made it a favorite not only for people looking for a weekend retreat from the city, but also for the sailing community, all of whom created a demand for restaurants and other services the locals were only too happy to provide.
Despite the swell of summer visitors, Shell Bay was never crowded. Day-trippers chose to stay on the beaches closer to the ferry and locals were too busy trying to tempt money out of the summer visitors to have much time to enjoy the pleasures of their own island.
The sea air cleared her head and she returned to the cottage, cut herself a slice of cheese and wrestled with the loaf of bread Emily had delivered the day before. With one hand, the end result was an uneven wedge that definitely could have provided a useful prop for an Indiana Jones movie.
The casserole was in the fridge, a constant reminder that her ex-husband had moved back to the island and she was considered to be in dire need of sympathy.
Muttering under her breath, she reached for her phone and sent a text to Skylar.
Are you busy this weekend? I have a casserole.
The reply came moments later.
You cooked? Are you sick?
Brittany grinned and texted back.
Don’t ask. Just eat.
There was a brief pause.
I’ll bring the wine. Tell Em to get a babysitter.
Feeling instantly better, Brittany flipped open her laptop and nibbled the cheese while she checked her emails.
There was a message from Spyros, her colleague from Greece, asking if she’d contact him.
She checked the time, decided he’d still be awake and called.
Moments later his face was on the screen and she felt her mood lift.
“Hey, you—how’s your day going? Tripped up any more innocent archaeologists? I’m guessing it’s the only way you can get a woman.”
“I was nowhere near you at the time.”
“You made me laugh. My concentration lapsed. And I’m paying the price.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Like hell. A reminder that next time I need to look where I’m stepping. I got your message. You can’t manage without me? You want me to fly back so you can drop grapes in my mouth?”
“We found something.” His voice was deep and rich, his Greek accent more pronounced than usual. “I thought you’d like to see it.”
She felt the rush of excitement that came with every new find. “You found it after I left? Do you have it? Show me.”
He held it up to the camera and she narrowed her eyes. “Closer.” She paused and studied the screen. “Could be obsidian. Hard to tell from here. Want to send it to me so I can take a closer look?” They both knew objects couldn’t be removed from the country where they were found and Spyros smiled, showing a flash of white teeth in a bronzed, handsome face.
“I think the Greek government might object. And US Customs might not be thrilled, either. It’s sharp.”
“Yeah, well, obsidian was useful for weapons because it made great knife blades. Naturally occurring black volcanic glass—it was their equivalent of using a broken bottle. Anything else?”
“Nothing that would interest you. Pottery fragments.”
“You’re right. Boring. Pottery is Lily’s area.”
“It’s not interesting enough for Lily, and anyway she’s living the high life with her billionaire.”
“She is. And they’re perfect together. You should have seen them, Spy. So cute.” Brittany sat back in her chair. “When do you go back to Athens? Is the university letting you stay until the end of August?”
“Yes. What about you? What are your plans?”
Her immediate plan was to get through the next few weeks without killing her ex
-husband.
After that?
She was about to confess that she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do with her life when she heard a knock at the door. “Hold on, Spy—” Hoping it wasn’t another casserole, she sprinted to the door and opened it.
Zach stood there, dark eyes hooded, powerful thighs encased in the same black jeans he’d worn the day before. He radiated masculine vitality and seeing him rocked her in a way she didn’t want to be rocked.
His gaze connected with hers and sent a thousand volts of electricity through her body.
Her response annoyed her and fried the mellow feeling she’d had talking to Spy.
“What can I do for you?” Worn-out with the effort of projecting happiness, she went for crisp and businesslike but what effect that had on him she had no idea. Zach didn’t share his thoughts and feelings with anyone. Not even her. If he had, she might have known he was thinking of leaving so soon after their wedding.
One of the hardest things to cope with afterwards was the realization that while she’d been dreaming of the future, he’d been dreaming of escape.
“We need to talk.”
“I can’t imagine what we have to talk about and I’m on video chat with someone right now, so—”
“I’ll wait.” He stepped inside the house before she could think of a reason to close the door in his face.
“Right. Well, you’ll have to excuse me.” She walked back into the kitchen, more rattled than she wanted to admit. “Spy, I have to go. Great to talk to you. And I definitely think it’s obsidian.”
Like Zach’s eyes. The same volcanic black, sharp enough to slice like a blade.
It was a comparison she wished had escaped her.
For years Zach had been no more than a slightly uncomfortable memory, like a small stone rubbing inside her shoe.
She didn’t want him to take up space in her head. There wasn’t room for him anywhere in her life.
There certainly wasn’t room in the small pretty kitchen of Castaway Cottage.
Zach topped six feet and his shoulders were broad and strong. She felt crowded and didn’t like the feeling. What was he doing here and why would he choose to knock on her door after so many years had passed since he’d walked out of it?
