by Laura Abbot
Annie gulped. “You know?”
“Everyone does. But, Annie, that was years ago. We’ve all moved on. I hope you have, too.”
Annie sat in stunned silence. Was it possible, just possible, that there were others in Eden Bay who had moved on, as well? Who might, someday, be able to forgive her?
“Annie, what’s the matter?”
Damn. She didn’t want to cry here in the middle of the cafeteria. “You’re being so very kind. I…I…”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
If you only knew. “Being back in Eden Bay is very difficult for me.”
“I understand. Your aunt—”
“Beyond that. Not all of my memories of this place are good.” She felt the truth bubbling up, choking her. But this was not the time, not the place. Carolee’s sympathy was weakening her defenses.
“Do you want to talk about that sometime?”
“No!” Annie’s stomach cramped. “I mean, I’m sorry. You’ve been so understanding, but I’ve worked through all of that.” Liar, liar, liar!
“Enough said. On a lighter subject, I’ve enjoyed our lunch together. I’m wondering if we could do it again sometime?”
Carolee’s acceptance of her made Annie long for what might have been. “Maybe.”
Carolee gathered the remains of her lunch onto her tray and stood. “I need to get back.” Then she paused and smiled at Annie. “You call me. Anytime.”
Then she was gone. Annie sat nursing her iced tea. She couldn’t remember when she had felt such warmth and welcome. A far cry from her encounter with Margaret on the beach. Carolee was offering friendship—something Annie desperately wanted. But how could she risk it?
KYLE HAD THOUGHT he would enjoy working on the Greer cottage roof with no one at home. He was wrong. All day he’d felt unsettled, expecting Annie to come out the door at any moment or Geneva to remind him of one more exacting task he needed to complete. The old lady had endeared herself to him on that very first visit when she had shared her commitment to maintaining the craftsmanship of the place. Her demise would be the end of an era. Not many of these early coastal houses were still in the hands of their original owners, and certainly few people had much interest in preserving the houses as they once were. These days it was more about adding a workout room or floor-to-ceiling glass on the ocean side.
He gave a final tap of the hammer at the ridge line, then sat back, legs outstretched, to watch the sunlight play over the whitecaps crashing against the rocky shoreline. A view like this was beyond price.
He was loading his gear into the truck bed and letting Bubba stretch his legs when he noticed Annie’s Honda cresting the rise. She had to be exhausted. As she got out of the car, she gave him a weak wave. Coming toward him, she looked defenseless and forlorn, and every single one of his protective instincts surfaced.
He kicked at a pebble. He felt sorry for her, sure, but he had to put a lid on his feelings. Even without his encounter with Margaret this morning, he knew that being around Annie was dangerous. Everything argued against any involvement with her—his loyalty to Pete, his position with the Nemecs and especially his anger with her for walking out on Pete all those years ago. It would take more than a pitiful whimper to defuse that. If she could be so cavalier about leaving Pete high and dry, wouldn’t she treat Kyle the same way?
He waited, color rising to his face. The more he tried to put a lock on his emotions, the more intense they became. She stopped in front of him. He steeled himself. He wouldn’t, no, he wouldn’t, put his arms around her. The wind stiffened and she hugged herself.
“Well?” he finally said.
She pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt and shrugged. “The news isn’t good.”
“How do you mean?”
She looked at the sky then straight back at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’m bringing her home to die.”
Afterward, replaying the scene on his way home, he wondered what in hell had happened to his resolve, his high-and-mighty thoughts about steering clear of Annie Greer. All he knew was that no power on earth could have kept him from gathering her into his arms and rocking her in rhythm with the surf and the storm of her sobs.
Finally, her emotions under control, she’d invited him in, fixed sandwiches and told him about the plans to bring her great-aunt home and about her chance meeting with Carolee. No sooner had they finished eating than he could see she was anxious to return to the hospital.
He’d walked her to her car. “If there’s anything you need, anything I can do…” His words hung impotently in the cool night air.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. Neither one of them believed her.
“Here,” he said, digging out his business card. “Let me give you my home contact information, too.” He scribbled his home address and phone number. “But you can almost always reach me on my cell.”
“You don’t have to go to all this trouble on my account.”
“If Pete were here, it’s what he’d do.”
She gazed out to sea. The name echoed in the silence. Pete—the issue that lay between them, the pain that never went away.
When she turned back to Kyle, her eyes were clear, her shoulders straight. Then she’d left for the hospital without saying goodbye.
Before he even got into bed that night, Kyle knew the dream would come, insistent and unrelenting. He saw Bubba, sprawled at the foot of the bed, waiting for him, and Rita’s words came back to taunt him. Yep, for a bed partner, he had a beast, not a woman. Honesty, like a knife, sliced through him. The only woman he wanted was off-limits to him. Annie Greer.
Kyle counted sheep long after Bubba was snoring contentedly. Then he tried counting backward from a thousand by sevens. Still, his muscles remained tense, his eyes grainy. Wanting Annie was like coveting your brother’s wife. Not acceptable. He knew that. He knew, too, that none of this made any sense. The very last woman on earth to whom he should be attracted was the love of Pete’s life.
And until he knew what had really happened between Pete and Annie, he could not allow his feelings to take control. But would she ever tell him? If she never did, then all this sleeplessness and preoccupation was an exercise in futility.
Finally, his eyes closed and he could feel himself descending into the black hole of sleep.
At three in the morning, he awoke with a jolt and sat up in bed, his face drenched, the clunk of the ax falling on Pete’s neck reverberating in his brain. He went into the bathroom and doused his head under cold water. Slowly the room came into focus and the nightmare faded to gray, then black. He stood staring into the mirror, his eyes sunk deep into his face.
Okay, okay. He’d put it off long enough. He returned to the bedroom and flicked on the small lamp on his dresser. Opening the third drawer, he searched with his fingertips under his socks. At the back of the drawer, he finally felt it. The edge of an envelope. Extracting it from the drawer, he dropped it on the dresser top. Its wrinkles and smudges bore mute witness to the fact it had been carried around in his pocket for many months. Through the years, Kyle had done his damnedest not to think about what was inside.
Pete had pressed it on him before they shipped out for Afghanistan. “Just in case, buddy. Please. She’s out there somewhere. I know it. Please, just hold on to it. If something happens to me, someday maybe the time will be right and you’ll find her and deliver it.”
Kyle closed his eyes against the memory of their ensuing argument. “Number one,” he’d said, “give it up. She’s out of your life, man. Number two, nothing is going to happen to you.”
But it had. And here the letter was, lying accusingly on his dresser. Kyle stared at the two words written on the front in Pete’s familiar block printing: For Annie.
When she had first come back to Eden Bay, Kyle had been too angry to give it to her, figuring she didn’t deserve it.
Now he was afraid to give it to her. Afraid it would upset the delicate balance between them.
But Pete
’s memory demanded it.
CHAPTER SIX
KYLE GAVE UP on going back to sleep and headed for work around seven. The office was open until noon on Saturdays, providing a good time to process paperwork. On his way, he stopped at the doughnut shop for coffee and, figuring he deserved a reward for his sleepless night, overdosed on three maple sticks. It was dark and quiet when he let himself into the office. That suited him fine. He settled in his cubicle, Bubba at his feet, and dug into the stack of work orders needing his approval.
Then he turned to the specs for a clinic remodel his dentist had asked him to work up. He was running a few numbers on his calculator when a shadow fell across his desk.
“You’re an early bird today.”
He’d know that chirpy voice anywhere. He swiveled in his chair and looked up at Rosemary Nemec, dressed in a crisp pink tee and striped miniskirt, beaming down at him. A bubbly morning person, he thought to himself. Just what he needed after the night he’d had.
Doing his best not to growl, he said, “Good time to catch up.”
She leaned over to study the specs, brushing her breast against his shoulder in the process and shrouding him in a cloud of citrusy cologne. “Dr. Adams’s office?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to figure a way to give him a decent estimate.”
She pointed a carefully manicured finger at the plans. “Why don’t you incorporate this bookcase into the receptionist’s desk?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, that might just work.” He shoved his chair away from her, hoping she’d take the hint and leave. “Thanks, Rosemary.”
Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and leaned against his desk, still smiling the happy little grin she wore most of the time. “I, uh, was wondering. Are you busy next Friday night?”
His heart sank. “Why? You have something in mind?”
“I’m hoping. Dad and Mother bought a table for the country club dance benefiting the library. I thought we might go together. That is, if you’d like.”
He’d rather do almost anything else. Maybe this was the time to get their relationship straightened out.
Before he could say anything, she went on. “Perhaps it was presumptuous, but I’ve already told Mom and Dad we’d love to come. I know I should’ve asked you first, but they were so pleased. Do say yes.”
He hated being manipulated. “I don’t know—”
“Oh, please.” She stood up and put a hand on his shoulder.
He gritted his teeth against the imploring look in her eyes. He always felt out of place at the country club and had no romantic interest in Rosemary. She’d make some man an adoring and dutiful wife. But what did he need with adoring and dutiful? Okay, so maybe he’d go with her this one last time, use it as an opportunity to let her down gently, if that was possible.
“When shall I pick you up?”
Her body coiled with excitement and he feared she would actually jump up and down. Jeesh!
“Thanks, Kyle. You’re the greatest.” Then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, seven. Yes, seven will be perfect.” She favored him with one last blinding smile before heading for her desk.
Perfect? Awkward as hell, that’s what it would be. He stuffed the specs back in a folder, pulled on his ball cap and whistled to Bubba. “C’mon, pup. Let’s get out of here.”
Fuming, he strode toward his truck. What was the matter with him? Here was a great girl practically throwing herself at him. But no. He had to make life difficult by obsessing about a woman who infuriated him, inspired guilt and shame, and, at the same time, made him want to chuck everything and carry her off into the sunset. Go figure.
DR. WOODRUFF KEPT Geneva in the hospital three more days. Annie worked at home in the mornings finishing the last of the purses for the Scottsdale boutique and found that losing herself in the designs and fabrics provided peace and a sense of normalcy, even if only briefly. Her work and early-evening walks on the beach were what kept her going.
Kyle had continued working on the house, even over the weekend, wanting to surprise Geneva with his progress when she returned. To that end, he spent several hours a day working inside replacing window jambs, refinishing wood trim and leveling the kitchen floor. When he was there, Annie either fled to her room or left for the hospital. She couldn’t come to depend upon him. Accepting his help during her great-aunt’s crisis was one thing, but relying on him, taking comfort in his presence—that was not advisable. No, she would pour all of her attention and energy into caring for Geneva and try to forget Kyle and the unaccustomed and disturbing feelings he aroused in her.
She had just finished putting a zipper in one of the purses when Kyle knocked on her bedroom door. “May I come in?”
She cursed the pleasant flutter in the vicinity of her chest. Control, Annie, control. “Yes.”
When the door opened, the pure male scent of sawdust, sweat and varnish preceded him. “Hope I’m not disturbing you, but I need to look at your ceiling.”
“No, I was just finishing some work.” She shoved the handbag aside.
Kyle crossed the room and picked it up. “Hey, what’s this? It’s really nice. Did you make it?”
Against her will, Annie found herself warming to his interest. “I make one-of-a-kind purses for a shop in Arizona.”
He examined it. “I’m no fashion expert, but I would imagine there’d be a big demand for stuff like this.”
“This is a recent venture for me. But so far, so good.”
He looked at her appraisingly, then grinned. “I always suspected you were more than just a pretty face.”
A pretty face? Her glance swept briefly to the mirror over the dresser. No makeup, freckles, hair tied back in a scrunchie. But that was okay. It had been a long time since she’d worried about her looks. Not since that awful night. “It’s work I love to do.”
“That’s obvious.” He set the bag down. “Well, good for you. Now, then—” he studied the ceiling “—when would be a good time for me to tackle this?”
“I’m picking Geneva up at the hospital around noon tomorrow. Maybe you could work here in the morning. That way you wouldn’t disturb her when she gets home.”
“Deal. Except for one thing. Do you need me to go with you to get her?”
“They’ll help me at the hospital, and if you’re here when we get home and I need you, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, then.”
End of conversation, but he didn’t leave the room. Annie felt heat rising to her cheeks. He was staring at her, his mouth curved in a gentle smile, his eyes warm. Then he reached out and tucked a flyaway wisp of hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her cheek. Rooted to the spot, she was helpless to fight the attraction—no, the need—surfacing in her.
“Annie, I know these next few days aren’t going to be easy for you. But when you feel yourself, well, uh…I guess I’m trying to say, I’m here for you.”
He was being so nice. Pete’s image rose in her mind. Pete, the one person she had always known she could count on, the one who had promised to be there for her always. What had she ever done to deserve two such good men in her life? And how it had pained her to devastate the one. Now, if she wasn’t very, very careful, she would almost surely hurt the other. “Thank you for your concern, Kyle, but I’m prepared to handle everything.”
The light faded from his eyes and he nodded. “Have it your way.”
After he left, Annie crumpled into the chair at her workstation and buried her head in her arms, so tired, so very tired. Despite her good intentions, she’d managed to hurt Kyle. Increasingly, everything about him reminded her of that last bittersweet spring in Eden Bay. She couldn’t indulge in such morbid trips down memory lane. She was going to need every ounce of strength to endure these precious final hours with Auntie G.
DAMN IT, damn it, damn it! Kyle knew he was hammering with more force than necessary, but physical activity had always been his emotional release. Annie was so friggin’ in
dependent. He didn’t expect her to fall into his arms or gush with gratitude, but somebody needed to be there to help her through these next few days, and it looked as if fate had elected him. He sat back on his feet and rolled his eyes skyward. Pete, if my relationship with Annie is one of your jokes, it isn’t funny.
But it would be just like Pete to arrange this—to see that the love of his life was taken care of. Pick somebody else, please. I’m getting in too deep.
He resumed nailing, wondering how much longer he could keep his hands off Annie. A sympathetic hug was one thing; the sexual stirrings she aroused in him were quite another. He had spent way too much time imagining what was hidden under her baggy shirts and bib overalls—round, pert breasts and firmly rounded buttocks. Crap! He was getting hot just thinking about it. The soulful quality of her expressions and the elfin grace of her movements were irresistible. Everything about her made him want to protect her and, at the same time, to explore all that lay beneath the surface.
But resist he must. Just as he’d told Bubba this morning, women were too damn much trouble!
TUESDAY AFTERNOON Geneva lay back in her own bed relishing the comfort of familiar surroundings. She’d take just a little snooze and then rally to sit in her chair by the living room window. She could breathe just as well—or just as poorly—there as lying here. Every day was a gift, despite the coughing fits and shortness of breath.
Dr. Woodruff had done her best with nutrients and medications, but Geneva could feel herself slowly drying into a husk of a person. Yet her thoughts raced. So much to remember. So many good times and interesting people, most of them dead now. Hers had been a rich and full life. Once a friend had asked if she’d ever regretted not having a husband. She’d come close to marrying a time or two, but reason had prevailed. Her feet were too itchy and her curiosity too vast to be confined for a lifetime by another’s, even a beloved’s, expectations. Each man in her life had brought different gifts—drop-dead handsome Pablo, the crazy Spaniard, with his easy laugh and sense of mischief; Reggie, dear Reggie, a public school Brit through and through, whose quick mind fascinated her; and then Whit, an America’s Cup–caliber yachtsman who spared no expense in providing her with beautiful things. She’d had her share of lovers and had enjoyed their minds and their bodies. All in all, not a bad life. One she was content to leave…except for Annie.
