by Laura Abbot
“To better tomorrows,” he echoed.
Small talk carried them through dinner. Kyle asked her how she had gotten started in the purse-making business. She inquired about his remodeling projects. By the time she’d cleared the table and stacked the dishes in the sink, she was out of topics of conversation. She arranged apples, grapes and cheese on a board and carried them back out to the porch. “Dessert. I’ll do better next time.”
Kyle had moved his chair beside hers, so both faced the ocean. “I hope there will be a next time.” He laid an arm on the back of her chair.
Night had fallen and, one by one, stars appeared in the dark sky. “I can’t promise anything.”
“I understand that. I’m a patient man.”
To cover her nervousness, she picked up a small bunch of grapes and popped one in her mouth. “I don’t know, Kyle. I’m really out of practice. Then there’s…you know…the past.”
“Unless you want to talk about it again, I’ll never bring it up.” He brushed back a tendril of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “You deserve so much more, Annie.” Then he took the grapes from her, leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly but lingeringly over hers.
She held her breath, her body taut with expectation, but the kiss, so gentle and loving, felt just right. When he pulled away and she could breathe again, she whispered, “It’s scary. All I can promise is that I will try.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
He picked up her hand and held it while they listened to the ebb and flow of the waves, shushing and hissing.
When he stood to leave, he drew her close. “Will you let me hold you?”
She stepped into his arms, laid her head against his chest and permitted his strength and warmth to envelop her. It was a good place to be, she decided. A very good place. If only she could step out of the shadow of the past.
His lips grazed her cheek before he released her. “Good night, sweet Annie.”
“Good night,” she whispered.
She stood on the porch, watching until the taillights of his truck were mere pinpoints. Her body vibrated with need of him. She hugged herself against the promise of her arousal and the reality of her fear. Oh, Auntie G. Help me. I don’t want to be half a woman for this man.
KYLE WAS nearly home when he came to his senses. The time with Annie had been so perfect, so peaceful, he hadn’t wanted to spoil the mood by giving her the letter tucked in his back pocket. He’d been totally pumped when she’d promised to give their relationship a chance. And now the damn letter. How far could he let things go without giving it to her? He knew the answer. Not far.
He pulled to the side of the road and made a U-turn. It was never going to get any easier, so he might as well do it now. He owed it to Pete and to Annie. Regardless of his own feelings, he had to put them first.
Lights were still on in the cottage when he pulled into the driveway. After he drew to a stop and stepped out of the cab, he stood by the truck, one hand on the door, debating still. He could change his mind. Annie would never have to know. Pete was gone. How could anything he might have written make a difference now? With a shake of his head, he recognized the source of his hesitation. He didn’t want anything, not even Pete, to come between him and Annie.
Just then the porch light flicked on and Annie stood framed in the doorway. “Kyle?” Her voice floated on the night air.
“Yeah, it’s me.” He lumbered up the porch steps. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I thought you might have forgotten something. I did.”
“You did?”
Barefoot, she stepped onto the porch and walked straight into his arms. Her mouth found his, tasting, probing, and when their tongues met, he braced himself against the porch rail, reveling in the feel of her small, soft breasts pressed tight against his chest. He lifted her off her feet, the better to hold her. When she drew back, framing his face in her hands, her eyes were glowing. “I thought I needed to demonstrate that I’m willing to try.” Then she let her body slide along his until her feet found the floor. All the time, he was caressing her back, her hair. “Did I do okay?” she asked as if there could be any doubt.
“You did just fine. Much more of that and you’ll drive me crazy.”
Her lilting giggle, a sound he hadn’t heard in years, filled him with joy. Could he be the man to heal the wounds inflicted by that bastard? He sure wanted a chance to find out.
She laid a hand on his arm. “Did you forget something?”
Like a pin pricking a balloon, elation drained out of him. The moment of truth had come, and there was nothing he could do to make it go away.
“Yes, I did.”
The light went out of her eyes and worry lines creased her forehead. “This doesn’t sound good. I don’t know how much more bad news I can take.”
“It’s not bad, but it may be disturbing.”
As if to delay the inevitable, she opened the porch door. “Let’s go inside, then.”
In the living room, she perched on the edge of the sofa, poised to escape. “What is it, Kyle?”
Slowly he withdrew the envelope from his pocket and stood staring at the words For Annie, wishing that Pete had never died, that he’d never written the letter, that Kyle didn’t care so deeply about the results and, above all, that Annie wouldn’t have to endure any further hurt.
He held it out to her. “It’s a letter from Pete.”
Her gasp of surprise when she took it from him made his hands tremble. He thrust them into his pockets.
She stared at the words on the envelope. “I don’t understand.…When? How?” She moved her fingers over the paper, tracing the letters of her name.
Kyle cleared his throat. “He gave it to me when we arrived in Afghanistan. You know…in case…” He could hardly go on. “In case something happened to him.”
Her eyes rounded with misery then, in an abrupt change, darkened with anger. “Why are you just now giving it to me?” Her voice rose. “Once I came back to Eden Bay, how could you have just hung on to it like this?”
His face reddened with the effort to explain. “At first I was furious with you. You had disappeared and left Pete pining after you. When you showed up here, I thought it was the ultimate insult to his memory and to the Nemecs. I didn’t figure you deserved whatever Pete had to say.”
She stood, her face ashen. “That wasn’t your decision to make.”
He hung his head. “I know. I realize that.” Finally, he dared to look into her eyes. “I love you, Annie. I don’t want to lose you. But I guess it’s all up to you now. And Pete.”
She had drawn the envelope to her heart. Tears, in silent rebuke, rolled down her cheeks. “Pete was your friend,” she said in a voice that tore him apart.
“Yes. I was wrong to withhold his letter. I’m sorry, Annie. Sorrier than you’ll ever know.”
“I think you should leave now.”
“I’ll let myself out.”
“Do that.”
He was halfway to the door when she uttered his name. He turned back to her. She remained rooted to the spot, clutching the letter. In a tinny voice she said, “I thought I could trust you.”
His heart sank. “You can. Please, Annie, don’t turn your back on me. Give me a chance to prove myself.”
As if in slow motion, she shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”
There was nothing more he could say. He was left with an aching hollowness.
He drove slowly home. He’d never known such pain. Such powerlessness. He’d lost her.
AS LIMP AS A RAG DOLL, Annie sank to the floor, her ears roaring with the thunder of her heartbeat. She could hardly breathe, so intense was the shock of holding in her hands a message from beyond the grave. Pete. The name boiled up from somewhere in her chest, a howl that broke the nighttime stillness.
Minutes passed, but Annie didn’t move. Part of her wanted to rip into the envelope and lose herself in the familiar handwriting. She yearned to he
ar in his words the voice forever stilled. So long as she held the unopened envelope, though, the promise remained, the illusion that he was there in the room with her.
She foresaw, too, that whatever message the envelope contained, it would unleash a cataclysm of grief. She didn’t know if she could bear it.
She had no time or sympathy for thoughts of Kyle and his attempt to play God. It was as if these past few weeks in Eden Bay had vanished into a time warp and she was back in high school—dancing in Pete’s arms at the prom, running hand in hand through the surf with him, the two of them kissing breathlessly at her front door after a date. She closed her eyes and pictured Pete’s face even as she realized she was seeing an eighteen-year-old, not the grown man he would have been now.
She rose from the floor, knowing there was only one place to read Pete’s letter. With a cup of hot tea in Geneva’s chair by the bay window. Auntie G.’s sanctuary. She prayed it would be hers, as well.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANNIE TURNED ON the reading lamp by Auntie G.’s chair and stared once more at the envelope. “For Annie.” Dry mouthed, she carefully slit the flap and pulled out a single sheet of notebook paper. The abundance of words, all in Pete’s handwriting, was nearly too much to take in. She took a minute to compose herself. Then she began reading.
My darling Annie,
I hope you never receive this letter because that would mean I’m not coming home to you. I can barely stand the thought that I will never see you again, that we will never be together as we’d always planned.
These past few years since you left have been hell. I’ve done everything I can do to find you. People tell me I should be angry, forget about you and move on with my life. I can’t. That’s all, I just can’t. I don’t have a clue how I know, but I just do—you’re out there somewhere and you’ve never stopped loving me.
Annie lowered the letter to her lap. Her whole being swelled with gratitude that somehow her love for Pete had made its mysterious way to him. It defied reason, but she did believe that there was a communication that transcended time and space.
I remember so vividly holding you in my arms, how your body felt against mine. I’ve missed you terribly. You’ve always been the only girl for me.
We had such plans. How we’d marry and have children. How we’d introduce them to the miracle of tide pools, coastal forests and mountains. How we’d never let one day pass without telling them how much we loved them.
A flash of memory came. Of a time they’d lain on their stomachs, arms around each other, at the very edge of a tide pool, awed by the varieties of marine life visible in the swirling water. She could picture him looking over at her with a huge smile. “Way cool, huh?” he’d said. She remembered now how much she had loved the way even the simplest things delighted him. Mollusks, stars, volcanic rocks, anything. As if the universe had been prepared solely for his discovery and pleasure.
Well, sweetheart, if you’re reading this, you know that our dreams are never going to come true. We had something very special between us and I’m so, so sorry to disappoint you like this. There has never been a day since we met that I haven’t loved you more than life itself. Even from where I am now, I hope you feel my love.
Annie shivered, as if a ghost had walked across her back. That tie of memory and devotion bound them both. No matter what else she might do in her life, she would never, ever forget Pete.
But I’m gone. That’s not what we’d planned, but that’s the way it is. Now, I want you to pay very close attention to what I’m about to say. Annie, oh, darling Annie, we had such beautiful dreams, but just because I can’t live them, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. More than anything, that’s what I want for you—dreams. A good man to love and who will love you. Someone who will make you laugh, who will hold you close each night, who will give you children and grow old with you. I envy him at the same time that I pray for him to come to you. Live, Annie, live!
He’d signed the letter, “Always, your Pete.” Tears blurred her vision, and for a few moments she nearly overlooked the P.S. on the back of the page.
Hey, if you don’t have anyone particular in mind, I’ll make a suggestion. Try my buddy Kyle. He needs a good woman, and you won’t find anyone better to love.
That was so like Pete—to give his blessing from beyond the grave. But she couldn’t think about Kyle right now. Tonight was for Pete. For honoring the person he’d been and the sacrifice he’d made. For mourning the love of her life and bidding farewell to old dreams.
Annie sat still for a long time. She was lost in memories, in the fading image of the fine young man she’d once loved.
Dawn was streaking the eastern sky before she finally folded the letter, replaced it in the envelope and made her way upstairs, where she fell, exhausted, across her bed.
KYLE HAD A MISERABLE WEEK. Nightmares that jolted him from a sound sleep into the chaos of memory and guilt. Days marked with jobs that didn’t interest him. Hours of discomfort whenever he was around the Nemecs. How shabbily he’d repaid their friendship. First with Pete. Now with Annie.
Annie. Even thinking her name made him groan. No matter how many times he replayed last Sunday, the scenario always ended with her indictment of him: “I thought I could trust you.” Clearly she hadn’t changed her mind, because he hadn’t heard from her all week. Not that he thought he would. Still…
Looking in the mirror Friday morning while he shaved, he could barely stand the sight of his own face. He’d been wrong. Flat-out wrong. And cowardly. He should have given Pete’s letter to Annie the minute he knew she was back in Eden Bay. But no. He’d let first his anger at her and then his attraction to her govern his actions.
He studied his eyes reflected in the mirror. Bottom line, he was doing an ass-poor job of living with himself. He didn’t know what he could do about Annie, but he sure as hell could do something about the Nemecs. By not telling them about his role in Pete’s life—and death—he was living a lie. No matter the consequences, he needed to come clean with the family he’d come to love as his own.
As for Annie, the ball was in her court and there wasn’t a thing he could do about that. But talking to the Nemecs was a start. He scrubbed a hand over his clean-shaven beard. He knew he was risking his job and their friendship again, but meeting with them was the only honorable course of action. Long overdue.
First thing after he arrived at work, he went to Bruce’s office. When Kyle suggested the family meeting, Bruce raised an eyebrow. “This is important to you.”
“Yes, sir. Very.” He waited while Bruce phoned Janet, who insisted that Kyle join them all for Sunday dinner. Kyle swallowed, wondering how he’d be able to eat a morsel. “Thank you, Bruce.”
Back in his cubicle, he buried his head in his hands. What he had to confess would upset the very people to whom he owed nearly everything. Was he being selfish? He could rethink this until he was blue in the face. Yet the fact remained: He wanted to be able to look at himself in the mirror.
BY SATURDAY MORNING, Annie couldn’t count the number of times she’d reread Pete’s words, memorizing phrases and letting his love reach out to her. The letter was a gift beyond price. This reopened grief, on top of that for Auntie G., should have been paralyzing. Yet for some strange reason it wasn’t. It was as if the letter had put a voice to the past, to what she was mourning. In the sunny days and fresh breezes of the week, she’d been blessed by a kind of benediction—as if Pete had conspired with nature to write amen to this chapter of her life.
She’d even been able to work—finding solace and peace in the colors and textures of the fabrics, in the creative ideas that leaped unbidden to her mind. She loved sitting in this upstairs bedroom, the vast ocean just outside her window, making something new out of discarded materials. The permanence of the cottage, the miracle of the ever-changing seascape and the comfort of the familiar furnishings collected through the years by other Greers caused her to give increasingly serious thought to staying in Eden Bay. M
aybe, like the poet Emily Dickinson, she could be an artist/recluse, a subject of eccentricity for the townsfolk.
But then there was Kyle.
For the umpteenth time, she shoved him from her mind, intent on finding just the right decorative stitch to use in joining a seam.
It was after eleven when she heard a thump on the front door and a voice calling out. “Annie Greer, are you in there?”
Grinning, Annie looked up from her work. Carolee. She leaned out the window. “I’m up here. I’ll be down in a sec.” She quickly tucked her denim shirt into her jeans and ran a brush through her hair.
Carolee, too, was dressed casually in leggings and an oversize shirt. She gave Annie a hug, then held her at arm’s length. “Considering all you’ve been through, you look pretty darn good. Maybe a bit pale. It’s time you got some fresh air.”
“Pale, huh? I suppose I could get some sun.”
“Great. Grab your purse and come on, then.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Annie usually didn’t like surprises, but she followed Carolee to her car. In truth, it had been a week since she’d spoken with anyone except the checkout girl at the grocery store and Nina, who’d phoned to check on her. Carolee’s radio was set on a station playing songs from the eighties, and they sang along as they drove south on the Coast Highway.
“Do I dare ask where you’re taking me?”
“To lunch” was the only hint Carolee provided.
After fifteen minutes, Carolee wheeled off the highway into the parking lot of a seaside restaurant with a large deck suspended at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Pacific. “We’re here,” she announced. “I’m starving for some fried halibut.”
