On Love's Gentle Shore

by Liz Johnson

  “Yes. You’ll be great at all those things. That’s why we make a great team.”

  “But I can’t pretend to be a perfect person anymore. And I can’t marry a man who doesn’t know the depth of the scars that I still carry. I mean, for heaven’s sake, I never wanted to come back to this island. When you said you’d lined up our wedding here, I was so angry with you.”

  His confusion deepened the lines around his pursed lips. “But you never said anything. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I know. I should have. That’s on me. How could you know how much I hated my memories of this place if I never told you? But I didn’t. And you don’t know me. Not the real me. Not the little girl with matted hair and a stutter and hand-me-down clothes always two sizes too big. Not the teenager always afraid that some boy would think my father’s reputation entitled him to take what he wanted. Not the young woman who dreamed of running away with her best friend, only to be asked to stay.”

  He rubbed his fingers across his forehead, stretching out the lines there, seeking some sort of clarity. “But you left.”

  “Yes. But I shouldn’t have.”

  He pressed his hands to his waist and stared toward the inky sky. “I’m sorry. This is just a lot to take in.”

  “This is my fault.” She reached for him, then pulled her hand back, unsure how much he’d welcome her touch. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I thought we could make it work. But it’s not fair to you. And it’s not fair to me.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You’re saying you don’t want to marry me?”

  “I’m … No. I can’t marry you. You deserve better than a half life with a half wife who’s too afraid to speak up for fear of what people might say about her.”

  “But—” His gaze shifted over her shoulder, and she knew he was thinking of Lois and Stella and his friends inside, but that’s not where he went. “You’re breaking things off with me?” He emphasized the words that suggested this might be hurting his pride more than his heart.

  “We’re not a good match, Russell. I mean, you were gone for four weeks in the middle of our pre-honeymoon, and did you even miss me?”

  “I was busy with the album.”

  She waved her hand to cut him off. “I completely understand that. But shouldn’t you miss the person you’re going to marry? Even when you’re busy?”

  “Didn’t you miss me?” he asked.

  Oh dear. That was a loaded question. “Not like I should have. Not like a woman who loves a man.”

  The lines of confusion around his face were easing, replaced with anger and something else. “But you said you loved me.”

  “I couldn’t really love you. As long as I was lying to you, I couldn’t ever give you my whole heart. I thought I could, but it was just another lie that I believed.”

  “But everyone in Nashville is going to talk about us.” His voice rose, the anger coming out in booming notes. “They’re going to talk about me.”

  And there it was. He was worried more about himself than he was about her.

  But Justin—who knew why it bothered her so much—had made the smallest scene he could.

  The gossip to come wasn’t new. While it would hurt, it wouldn’t burn as it once might have. She refused to be afraid of doing the next right thing just because of what others would say. People would always find something to gossip about. And eventually they’d move on.

  “Let them talk.” With a deep breath, she forced a trembling smile. “Isn’t it better to end it now than get married under false pretenses?”

  His gaze narrowed in on her, and for a split second she feared that he’d tell her he’d stay with her, that they could ride out the storm. But when he opened his mouth, he saved her from having to introduce the subject she most wanted to avoid. “Your best friend. That was Justin, wasn’t it?”

  Her mouth was suddenly like a desert, and she had to swallow twice before she could even get a word out. “We—we had a plan. We were going to leave together after graduation so he could pursue his music and I could get away from my parents. Then his dad died. And he had to stay. And I left.”

  “He’s in love with you, isn’t he?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

  “And you’re in love with him?” His words were so detached from emotion that she wondered if he really wanted a response.

  But she owed him honesty.

  “Yes, I’m in love with him. Because he saw through my facade before I did.”

  Russell hung his head, stared at the ground for a long second, and then sighed. “There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”

  She shook her head. “I really am sorry. But I promise, you don’t want to marry me.”

  “Then I suppose this is good-bye.” Without another word or even the briefest touch, he walked away into the night. His car door slammed, and headlights drifted over the grass and disappeared onto the road. She had no doubt she’d never see him again. He’d be gone from the inn when she got back, and he’d be off the island on the first plane.

  She turned around, put her chin up, and marched back into the barn. This was going to be awful. There simply wasn’t another word for it.

  But the after, the later, might not be terrible. Because she had a sneaking suspicion right where to find Justin.

  When she walked back into the barn, she ignored the tittering women in the corner and found a friendly, compassionate gaze from Caden. Despite the confusion on her face, Caden nodded, a silent encouragement to face the rest of the room.

  Taking a deep breath, Natalie said, “There isn’t going to be a wedding tomorrow.”

  Justin felt like he’d lost a fight. His ribs ached and his head pounded. Even breathing hurt. Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw Natalie married to another man and the great expanse of his future dim and without direction.

  He’d thrown away his chance for an album. Not a lot of music producers made their way to the island, and he’d not only walked out on Russell Jacobs, he’d walked out on the other two other producers in the barn and everyone in their circle of influence.

  He wasn’t sure how Nashville operated, but if people there liked to talk the way they did here, it wouldn’t take long for the entire community to find out he’d walked out on a gig. His name wouldn’t be worth the paper a contract would be printed on.

  He’d completely blown his opportunity. His one chance.

  And he’d do it again in a heartbeat for the chance to be with Natalie. But she hadn’t come after him. She hadn’t asked him to stay.

  He couldn’t get past it, couldn’t find anything else to hang his hope on, so he sat on the lighthouse floor, watching the light illuminate the darkness. For an instant he thought he saw two eyes—two fairies—in the secret glen. But then they vanished.

  How long he sat there, stewing in his own regrets and misery, he didn’t know. But the moon was high and the night deep when he heard the door below him close. His heart leapt. The squeaky rung on the ladder filled the little building. His heart stopped.

  And then a red head popped through the hatch. Her eyes were narrowed against the sudden brightness of the light, but he could still make out a twinkle there. She didn’t really smile, but there was a strength in her bare shoulders as she climbed the rest of the way inside.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” she said as she crawled to the spot right beside him. Pulling her legs up, she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees.

  He didn’t know how to respond, couldn’t have gotten a word around the lump in his throat anyway, so he rubbed his eyes and kept his gaze on the far-flung beam. She seemed content to do the same. As she readjusted her position, her arm brushed against his, sending sparks through him brighter than the Canada Day fireworks.

  Minutes dragged by, and she said nothing. Maybe it was hours. But finally he cleared his throat.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “The next right t
hing.”

  “Huh?”

  She slipped her hand into the pocket of her dress, and her fingers reappeared with a white slip tucked between them. “I have something for you.”

  He took the card she offered but couldn’t read the tiny words as the light was pointed over the water. “What’s this?”

  “You met Patrick Weatherfield, right? One of the groomsmen.”

  He nodded.

  “He’s in A&R for a major label in Nashville. He liked what he heard tonight, and Russell had told him about the song you were playing the other day.”

  His tongue felt too heavy, but he forced it out. “‘On This Shore’?”

  “Uh-huh. Apparently Russell was impressed, and Patrick wants to hear what you’ve got. He asked me to give you his card.”

  Justin stared at the card for so long that the words ran together, making no sense. Like the words she spoke. Which couldn’t be true. There had to be some mistake. “But I ruined Russell’s wedding. He won’t want anything to do with me.”

  She turned to look at him, her gaze direct and unflinching. “There’s no wedding for you to ruin. I called it off.”

  Everything he’d been holding so tightly inside him suddenly exploded, his eyes burned, and his ears rang with the rush of blood.

  No wedding. No wedding. No wedding.

  His heart pumped to that rhythm, trying to make sense of it. Trying to confirm its truth.

  Perhaps Natalie could read the hesitancy on his face, or maybe she needed to speak the words for herself. “You were right. I wasn’t honest with him, and I wasn’t being fair to him. He’s a good man, but I’m not sure I ever really loved him. I loved the idea of marrying him, but maybe that was it. So I tricked him into falling in love with a woman who doesn’t exist.”

  She squeezed her legs and hunched her shoulders. “When I realized what I’d done, I thought it was too late to tell the truth. I figured there was no way to be honest without hurting him and making myself the laughingstock of North Rustico. Stella and Lois were just waiting for me to fail, to prove them right.And I couldn’t bear it. So I thought if I could just keep up the facade until after the wedding, I could make everything right.”

  He cleared his throat when she stopped, his voice suddenly sounding like he’d had a hundred-year nap. “What changed your mind?”

  She laughed, and it rang off the metal supports, filling the tiny room. “My dad, actually. Can you believe it?” Leaning her cheek against her knee, she stared at him, her blue eyes nearly glowing. “He told me to do the next right thing. As long as I kept lying to Russell, I was only compounding the problem.”

  “When’d your dad get so smart?”

  With a snort, she shrugged. “I have no idea. But he was right. If I’d kept going down that road, I’d have ended up ruining my life and Russell’s life and hurting the man I love.”

  No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be talking about him. It wasn’t possible that he had a chance with a Nashville label and a shot with the woman of his dreams.

  Before he could ask her to clarify, she started up again. “I owe you an apology, Justin. I shouldn’t have left. We did have a plan, and it was to stick together. But on the night before graduation, I got scared.”

  “Of staying with me?”

  She reached for his hand, and he quickly slid his fingers between hers, holding on tight. “Never of you.” She took a deep breath, and it made his heart ache and his chest hurt just to hear her struggle to find the words. “Stella Burke woke me up that night. She was pounding on the door. Mom was gone, and Dad was … out. When I opened it, she screamed at me. She was so angry, her face was red and splotchy, and I was sure that the whole town could hear her yelling about how my dad had had an affair with the mayor’s wife—her brother’s wife. It was going to ruin his political career. Her family’s name was ruined. And it was entirely my dad’s fault.”

  She winced, the memories clearly vivid in the depths of her mind. “And then she got right in my face.” Natalie held up a hand five inches from her nose to demonstrate the distance. “She said, ‘You’re going to end up a whore just like your old man. Or you’ll marry someone like him and become just like your mother.’”

  He cringed. He wanted to jump to his feet and march over to Stella’s perfect little house and tell her what a terrible, awful person she was. But Natalie’s hold on his hand kept him rooted, kept him right beside her.

  “I was afraid she was right, so I ran. That night. I packed everything I could into my duffel bag, emptied that coffee can underneath my bed, left you a note, and hitchhiked to the bus station in Charlottetown. I couldn’t risk her words becoming true.”

  A single tear leaked onto her cheek, and he swiped at the silver track with a knuckle on his free hand.

  “I realize now that it was always my choice who I would become. And I don’t like the person who lies to cover scandal or fears what others say about her. I like the one who gets to be herself.” Her gaze flickered away from his, then back. “With you.”

  He didn’t have words to adequately express the firestorm inside him, so he just stared, drinking in her gentle beauty, counting the freckles across her nose.

  Finally she bit into her lush pink lip. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “Like what? What would you like me to say?” Anything. He’d say anything to make her happy.

  “Like that you still love me too.”

  His throat closed off, but he forced out the word. “Too?”

  She nodded. “I have always loved you.”

  And then it was too much to hold back even a second longer. He brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek, his finger dragged along the column of her neck, and her whole body seemed to tremble under his touch. Finally he cupped her face with his palm, and her lips parted. Waiting. Inviting.

  Her shoulders shivered. Or it could have been him. He’d suddenly lost track of where she ended and he began. Everything inside him quaked with the force of hope and want and need. He leaned in, cutting the distance between them in half.

  Their breath mingled as she sighed.

  He couldn’t look away. He wanted to count every single one of her freckles. He wanted to hold her as tight as he could. He wanted to make her smile every day of their lives.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips turned up. And he knew what she wanted. What he wanted too. He wanted it so badly that it felt like a punch to the gut.

  But first, there were questions he needed to ask.

  “What about your dad?”

  Her eyes flew open, her perfect lips forming an angry frown. “Really? Really? You’re going to ask about my dad right now?”

  He dug his fingers into the silkiness of her hair, cradling her head, and despite her playfully sour words, she leaned into him.

  “Well, I mean, how’s that going?”

  She closed her eyes, her lashes resting against her cheeks. “It’s funny, bitterness. I was carrying it around like a security blanket for so long that I didn’t even realize how heavy it had become. I don’t think forgiveness happens all at once, but taking the first step, asking God to help me forgive him, has made that grudge so much lighter. I thought that forgiving him was somehow saying that he hadn’t done anything wrong. But he and I both agree that’s not the case.” She lifted one pointy shoulder. “We may never be close—probably won’t be. But I just feel so much lighter.”

  Her words filled his chest like the warmth of a fire on a cold autumn night. But she wasn’t done.

  “You know, it’s kind of your fault.”

  The lazy smile that had taken up residence on his face tipped down. “Mine? What did I do?”

  “You reminded me that forgiveness is so much better than the alternative.”

  “Sounds pretty smart of me.”

  She squeezed his wrist right by her ear, shooting sparks up to his shoulder and straight to his heart. “It was. I mean, when I realized I wasn’t angry with you anymore, I realized how much
I loved having you in my life.”

  “Because I am the best cake taster you know.”

  She giggled softly just as the light circled around, giving her a golden halo. “Because you would fork-sword fight with me. Because you make me smile. Because you held me at the hospital and didn’t ask for a single thing in return except my honesty. Because you knew when I was being honest and when I wasn’t. Because there’s no one else I’d rather argue with. And no one else I’d rather make up with.”

  He slipped a little closer to her, again cutting their distance apart in half. “Is this what the making up feels like? Because I like this too.”

  She nodded. “Maybe more.”

  “What did you have in mind?” He already knew, but it was too fun not to goad her, and she gave him the pout he expected.

  Before he could respond again, she closed her eyes and pursed her lips and pressed them to his.

  And his entire world exploded.

  Thirty-two years he’d been waiting for this kiss. Thirty-two years he’d been waiting for this moment.

  Most of his life he’d denied it. When she was gone, he’d sworn it couldn’t be true. But even as a teenager, he’d known. She was the one. She was his one.

  Always.

  Her lips were as soft as they looked. Pliant. Supple. Fierce.

  And suddenly he tugged her against his side, holding her to his chest, as connected as they could be in all the ways that mattered.

  Finally she pulled back, resting her head against his shoulder, her breathing deep and ragged. As it slowed, she whispered, “You were my answer to prayer when I was five. You’re my answer to prayer now.”

  The backs of his eyes prickled like he might start crying, and he grasped for a joke, anything to lighten the mood, but all he could think about were her words. “I think you’re mine too. I didn’t even know how to ask for you. But someone knew I needed you. That I needed joy back in my life. That I needed my muse back.”