I could give a dissertation on the evils of assuming things, but that isn’t the point of this column. The ironic part for me is twofold: I was only a few years older than our poor misguided Shakespearean friends when I first decided to get married. I was, most likely, just as dumb as they were. Like Romeo, after my ex dumped me, I thought my life was over. I didn’t go and do myself in, obviously, but I was fairly self-destructive for a time. And they say life doesn’t imitate art…
The college roommate that I was en route to visit yesterday pulled me out of purgatory and helped me to see that life does go on, even when you don’t think it will. There are all sorts of quotations about love, most of which are horrible and untrue, but the one I found that fit me the most was, strangely enough, by Mr. Shakespeare himself: “The course of true love never did run smooth.” Of course it doesn’t. It didn’t for me, and it didn’t for my roommate several years later, and that leads me to the second irony.
This roommate managed to escape from college unattached and under-employed, but that all changed last year when he met the girl of his dreams. After a short courtship he proposed; she said yes; and the date was set for three months later. Sounds pretty smooth to me.
The smooth sailing ended two weeks before the wedding. I don’t know all the particulars; he won’t talk about it, and the details that I do know, I know only because I’ve been in close contact with his parents since it happened six months ago. He and his lady love were cruising across a lake in his motorboat one evening, as they had done many times before, when he had to turn suddenly to avoid an oncoming boat that was dangerously close to them. When he turned, his fiancée fell into the water and was killed when the other boat ran over her.
For months now, a small group of us have been trying to convince my friend that this wasn’t his fault, but nothing has worked. He finagled me into taking my ex on this vacation so he could meet her, and while she knew that he was going through a rough time, she didn’t know any of the finer points of his story.
So imagine my surprise when, upon being introduced, she took one look at him, saw what he needed, and did the most beautiful thing she could. She took him in her arms and embraced him.
This may sound sappy or silly or just plain dumb, but in that instant, he seemed to snap out of his guilt and grief and allowed himself to feel another human being’s soul. It was marvelous to watch. I may have just witnessed the beginning of a glorious relationship.
And this brings me back to my last irony. I may have been the means of uniting two deserving people, and while I rejoice that my friend may have started his healing process, I can’t help but feel that somehow he is doing so at my expense.
Things didn’t work out for Romeo and Juliet. I can only hope that I can learn from their mistakes and turn my own poison into an antidote. I just have to keep the dagger hidden.
Chapter Eight
Half an hour later, Rebecca was still sitting on the back porch, staring unseen at the trees lining the backyard. Was Elliot jealous of Locke? Did she want him to be? Deep down she knew she did, but that meant that she cared what Elliot thought. The last time she did that she ended up dreaming about him for seven years, and there was no way she was going to invite that mess back in her life. She was done with disappointment.
Rebecca heard the door shut behind her. Without looking to see who was behind her, she shoved Elliot’s column under her plate.
“What are you hiding?”
At the sound of Haley’s voice, Rebecca felt her shoulders tighten. Haley had a knack for ferreting out hidden information, and she didn’t want to talk about Elliot or his column. Especially not now, with him sleeping just up the stairs. “Nothing,” she said shortly, and turned her attention back to the trees.
Haley sat beside her and stared in the same direction for a few seconds. “Whatever’s out there can’t possibly be as exciting as that paper I saw you hide under your plate.”
Rebecca didn’t respond. It was hard to ignore Haley when you knew she wanted something, and this was no exception. “Rebecca. Pay attention.”
When that didn’t get a reaction either, Haley reached over and grabbed the sheet of paper before Rebecca had even registered that she’d moved.
A few seconds passed before Haley spoke again. “Oh, it’s just Elliot’s column. There was a copy in the kitchen, too. What do you think of it?”
Rebecca shrugged. “It’s all right.”
Haley jabbed her in the ribs. “Are you insane? The man is practically confessing his undying love for you, and all you can say is that it’s all right?”
“He’s not confessing anything. It’s some stupid ploy journalists use to sell more papers.”
“He’s not making this up.”
Rebecca huffed in frustration. This was not something she wanted to discuss. “Come on, Haley. He doesn’t have any feelings for me. All that ended a long time before I met you. He’s seeing Nicole, and all this stuff in the newspaper is some elaborate story he made up to get a solid readership. That’s it.” She stood up and took her plate out of Haley’s hands. “I’m going to see when we’re leaving.”
Haley’s look was triumphant. “I knew you two had more history than just being high school classmates. Did you date him?”
Rebecca refused to answer and opened the door.
“Fine.” Haley followed her into the kitchen. “I’ll find it all out eventually, don’t worry. But I do find it interesting that at least two copies of his column appear in a house, miles away from any Tribune newspaper. It seems to me that he either wants you to read it, or he’s warning Locke to stay away from you. And no matter what you say, Elliot is not in love with Nicole. She’s my only sister, but I pity the fool who she convinces to marry her. And trust me, it won’t be Elliot.”
“Stop it!” Rebecca cried out, then went on more quietly. “If Elliot doesn’t like Nicole, he’s doing an awfully good job of pretending. It’s obvious that she’s after him, and he’s not exactly running away.”
“That’s true,” Haley conceded. “But we both know that men are fools when it comes to affairs of the heart.”
“What about Ben?”
“Ben’s in a league all his own.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Of course he is,” she said. “That’s why you’re marrying him.”
“You’re darn right.” Haley threw Elliot’s column in the trash and grinned before leaving.
Rebecca continued on and was wandering down the hall, looking for someone who would know what time they were leaving, when she heard music–loud, angry, organ music. She followed the sound to the end of the hall and hesitated. She didn’t want to intrude, but the musician hadn’t made any effort to keep the sound quiet. She pushed open the door and peered inside.
The room was large and empty save for a pipe organ at one end. Rebecca’s eyes widened in astonishment. How many people had a personal pipe organ? The only light on was above the organist, illuminating the music and the top of the player’s bowed head.
She walked across the room and stood behind him until he finished. When the last notes had faded she said quietly, “I’ve always loved that song. Bach is one of my favorites.”
Locke raised his head slowly and turned to look at her. She wondered idly why she hadn’t startled him. “You know the classics?” he asked.
“Some. I almost wore out my copy of his ‘Toccata and Fugue in D Minor’ a while back. You play it very well.”
“I should,” he said with a hint of self-loathing in his voice. “I play it often enough.”
Rebecca cleared her throat. “That’s a very impressive instrument,” she said.
Locke grimaced. “My grandmother was a professional organist. She used to play for several of the local churches, and had this in her house for practicing. She left it to me when she died.” He swiveled around on the bench and flipped a switch. The room was flooded with light that reflected off the mirrors that lined the walls.
“What’s this room used for?�
�� Rebecca marveled, moving to stand in the center of the open space. Locke walked past her and opened the drapes at the far end, exposing windows that ran the full length of the wall. The effect was amazing.
“This is my parents’ studio,” he said from across the room. “They teach dance.”
“Do they have very many students up here?”
Locke shrugged and came toward her. “Not as many as they did when I was a kid,” he said, “although that ballroom dance show on TV brought in some more.”
“It must be fascinating.”
“It is, I guess. I’m usually the accompanist, unless they’re short male dancers. Then they just use a CD player.”
“No wonder you play so well,” she said, looking at the organ.
Locke’s smile was still slight, but more pronounced than it had been the night before. It’s almost as though he hasn’t smiled in a long time, Rebecca thought, and he’s just now remembering how. “I prefer the piano, actually,” he said, motioning to a baby grand that had been hidden in the darkness before. “But for the Toccata you really need an organ.”
Rebecca smiled back at him. “I have fond memories of my mother playing the piano,” she said. “Playing it now reminds me of her.”
This time the corners of Locke’s mouth lifted to actually be called a smile. “Play for me,” he said, and hurried over to open the piano for her. “It’s been tuned recently, so it should sound pretty good.”
Rebecca hesitated. She hadn’t played for anyone in a long time, mostly because college apartments rarely came equipped with musical instruments, and she had never seen fit to mention to Jen that she could play.
“Please, Rebecca.” Locke appeared almost hopeful.
With a sigh, Rebecca agreed. “Don’t expect anything too fancy,” she warned. “I haven’t practiced in a while, and I don’t have very many things memorized.” She sat down at the piano and ran through a few scales to warm her fingers. Then she started playing.
“Moonlight Sonata,” Locke murmured.
Halfway through the piece, Locke sat on the bench next to her. He placed his head on top of the piano and closed his eyes. He was so close that Rebecca could hear him breathing. She almost thought he was asleep, but he opened his eyes slowly when she struck the last chord. “That was lovely,” he said quietly and sat up. “You play like you understand how I feel.”
Rebecca could tell she was blushing. She looked up over the top of the piano and met Elliot’s eyes in the mirror opposite her. He must have heard the music, she thought, and assumed it was Locke. Elliot looked from Rebecca to Locke, who was still leaning on the piano with his arm touching her shoulder.
“Nicole wants to know when she can ride your yacht,” he said, keeping his attention on Locke.
Locke grimaced. “The yacht will leave in half an hour,” he said sourly. “You can tell her the butler’s on vacation, so she’ll have to carry her own suitcase to the car.”
“Suitcases,” Rebecca corrected. “She brought three.”
“Isn’t there some sort of luggage restriction?” Elliot asked.
“Not if you don’t mind paying large amounts of money. Haley says her sister wanted to be sure she was prepared for any scenario, so she brought half her closet,” Rebecca said.
“That’s only half?” Elliot cut in. He didn’t sound pleased.
“According to Haley.”
“Good heavens,” Elliot muttered as he left the room.
Locke looked at Rebecca quizzically. “High maintenance?”
“Oh, yeah.” They looked at each other and tried not to laugh.
Rebecca stood up and started to put the piano back in its original state. “Don’t bother,” Locke told her. “I’ll only have to put it back up in a few days.” At Rebecca’s curious expression he explained, “I need to come back to play for a lesson. You can come if you’d like a free crash course on the waltz.”
“I already know–”
“Then you can come for fun, and to relieve me of the boredom.”
Thoughts of Elliot and Nicole on a carriage ride, ran through Rebecca’s mind. “I’ll be there,” she promised.
Anything to get away from the lovebirds.
***
“That’s what we’re riding?” Nicole’s voice, usually so sweet it made Rebecca’s teeth ache, was quickly approaching the shrillness of the Wicked Witch of the West.
Elliot winced and grabbed her arm. “The Bayliner will get you safely to Casa Shaw,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you prefer, though, I can take you to the ferry and you can meet us on the island.”
Nicole clutched his arm. “A ferry doesn’t sound too bad,” she said. Her voice was back to normal.
“Oh, you’re going to ride the ferry?” Locke asked as he lifted the second of Nicole’s pink suitcases into the boat. “That’s not a bad idea. With all this luggage, one of you was going to have to sit on someone’s lap.”
Rebecca could see the wheels turning in Nicole’s head as she looked at the boat appraisingly. “I wouldn’t mind that,” she cooed, “as long as Elliot doesn’t think little old me would be too heavy for him.”
Cassie snorted and turned away, her hand over her mouth. She looked at Rebecca and her shoulders started to shake. “Are you all right?” Michael asked in some concern, patting her on the back.
“I’m fine,” she gasped. “I just need a moment.”
Rebecca’s eyes were glinting in amusement when she looked at Locke. He glanced from her to Nicole and when he looked back at Rebecca, he was grinning. He cocked his head towards the boat and Rebecca hurried over to him.
“I don’t really need your help,” he said in her ear. “You just looked like you needed to get away from Pinkie.”
“Pinkie?”
Locke kicked the last of the pink suitcases, looked pointedly at Nicole, who was wearing a bright pink shirt, and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh. That’s very… fitting.” Rebecca couldn’t keep the smirk off her face.
Once they were seated, Cassie on Michael’s lap as well as Nicole on Elliot’s, Locke started the boat and stared straight ahead as he drove toward the island. Rebecca watched him as he steered, his back rigid and his knuckles white against the black of the steering wheel. Rebecca, who was sitting next to Elliot and his giggling seat-mate, nudged him.
“Does he need a distraction?” she asked quietly.
Elliot looked at Locke’s tense body and nodded. Rebecca leaned over and put her hand on Locke’s back. “Do you usually ferry people across to the house?” she asked him.
“No.”
“How do they get there?”
“They take the ferry and then walk to the house. I usually pick up their luggage from the dock.”
Rebecca could feel Locke’s muscles ease slightly under her fingers and decided to keep him talking. “Tell me about the house,” she said.
Even though he didn’t turn his head to look at her, she could see the smile on his face. “The house is amazing,” he said. “It’s been in the family for several generations. You’ll see why I love it so much when we get there.”
“If it’s so great, why don’t you and your parents live there year round?”
Locke chuckled. “We got tired of being isolated on the island in the winter,” he said. “There’s no easy way off Mackinac without a plane when the weather gets bad. And the dance classes are fun, but they barely bring in enough money to pay the bills. Renting out Casa Shaw gives us more financial freedom.” He paused as they rounded the island. “There it is,” he said proudly. “Up on the hill.”
Rebecca looked up and saw the most beautiful house she had ever seen. It was Victorian in style, and the morning sunlight glinted off its many windows. “Is that a porch on the second floor?” she asked, not taking her eyes from the house.
Locke nodded. “There’s a sunroom on the main floor, too,” he said. “It has a terrific view of the Round Island Lighthouse.”
Rebecca gazed up at Casa Shaw.
It looked like the perfect place for an escape. Maybe, if she was lucky…
“I don’t suppose you have an internet connection?”
Locke looked sidelong at her. “Anxious to read the news, are you?” His voice was nonchalant, but his eyebrows were raised as though he knew why she was asking. “No, I don’t have the internet. If you’re really desperate you can walk down to the internet cafe down on Main Street.”
“That’s perfectly all right.” Rebecca could feel her body relaxing. Finally, she was going to escape those wretched columns.
Nicole’s estimation of Locke increased rapidly as he showed them the house. She oohed and aahed about the many bedrooms there were and was in raptures over the view. After a few minutes of listening to her, Rebecca let the others get ahead of her and wandered into the library.
It was obviously Locke’s favorite room in the house, for it not only had books packed into the shelves lining the walls, it also had a baby grand piano next to the window overlooking the Mackinac Bridge. Pictures of old sailing ships were scattered on the small tables made to hold stacks of books. “I could live in this room very happily,” she said out loud as she fingered the spines of the books closest to her.
“So could I.” Elliot’s voice was low as he walked slowly to the center of the room and sat down on one of the couches placed conveniently near a reading lamp. “My goal is to make my future home look like this library.”
“I can see why people would want to rent this house,” Rebecca mused. She ran her hand across the piano and stood near the window. She had to admit that Nicole was right about the view; it really was fantastic. “Does the Shaws’ land extend down to the beach?”
His eyes closed, and Elliot nodded. “They sometimes have campfires down there for their guests,” he said languidly. “We could ask Locke about that if you want.”
Visions of a fire under the stars ran through Rebecca’s mind. “That sounds divine,” she sighed, and sat down on the other end of the couch. She put her feet on the cushion and rested her chin on her knees. “Do you think he would mind?”
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