by Sarita Leone
“Neil?”
He paused, the hammer pulled back to his shoulder. He did not look up from the work. “What?”
“Can we talk?”
She hadn’t planned on discussing the situation with him at all. Then, when she saw his truck, her heart softened. He deserved to know the truth—finally.
“I think we said all we have to say the other night.” He struck the nail, so she waited while he pounded it in.
“I really want to talk with you.”
Scooting over twelve inches, he held a new nail in place. Before he raised the tool, he said, “So it’s all about what you need, is it? Excuse me if I’m not falling all over myself to listen but if I recall, you’ve never been real big on hearing about me. What I want. What I need. How I feel, damn it!”
Neil hit the nail so hard it only took two smacks with the hammer to send it home.
“Please. It’s important.”
It occurred to her those very same words had gotten her to agree to go to the coffee shop.
He moved again, closer to the edge of the roof. She didn’t need to look to know they had attracted attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a curtain move on the second floor. Someone, she couldn’t tell who, had already heard them.
Positioning another nail, he shook his head. The intensity of his anger surprised her. Through the years, she’d witnessed the normal moments of annoyance when things hadn’t gone his way or when the football team lost a game but none of that had even been close to being this destructive.
Social working skills let her recognize he was very nearly beyond hearing reason. She gave him a moment, hoping the silence would let his hot head cool. He didn’t hammer the nail in, and he didn’t yell, either. Sitting back on his heels, he finally looked at her.
With a sneer, he said, “We’ve said it all. It’s a bitch, but I’m beyond caring about what you want. You’ve made it clear you don’t give a shit about what I want, so why shouldn’t I give you a taste of that? Hmm?”
“I hear you, but I really do need to talk with you, Neil. Please, I’m begging you.”
He raised one eyebrow. Instead of looking charming, he seemed incredulous.
It would have been easy to back down. Walk inside and tell herself she’d tried to do the right thing—if this was, in fact the right thing at all. But she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave without telling him the truth—even if he made her feel subhuman beneath his icy stare.
“Please? Really, I’m begging here.”
He wiped a forearm across his chin, the hammer dangling from his hand. “Begging? Well, that’s something new, isn’t it? Fine. Call me St. Nick and pretend it’s Christmas Eve. I’ll give you this one—but I’ve got to warn you, I’m in no mood for more bullshit. Even Santa Claus has a bullshit limit.”
“No bullshit, I promise.”
“So, talk.”
She waited for him to come down, but he didn’t move.
Shouting across the space between them? Too awful to contemplate, so she shook her head. “Come down so we can talk. Please.”
“I can hear you from up here.”
“I’m still begging—come down so we don’t have to screech across the yard. Our business doesn’t need to be broadcast to the whole town. Please?”
When he sat resolutely on his heels, not budging even a whisker, she added, “I’ll do anything if you’ll just come down so we can talk.”
Even if it meant going for dinner with him, or a walk on the beach so he could give her whatever piece of his mind he was chomping at the bit to give, it was worth it. Her news would reach the rest of Lobster Cove quickly enough; now was not the moment to divulge.
“You are desperate! Anything? Would you do anything, Chloe?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. The old-time saying had been carved into a lintel in the house by an early settler. She had no idea who’d left the message, but it was never far from her mind.
“Anything.”
“Marry me.”
Shit. She hadn’t seen that coming.
He waited, holding her gaze with his in what felt like an optical wrestling match. Tossing the hammer onto the plywood, Neil stood and headed for the ladder. She watched, thankful he hadn’t pressed on the marriage bit.
He covered the space between the house and where she stood in three strides.
“Fine. I’m down.”
“Thank you.”
“Talk fast—I swear, my patience is shot, and I haven’t slept since you told me to piss off. I’m ready for a cold six-pack—or two. And, I don’t want to argue with you anymore. I’ve spent my whole life waiting for a woman who doesn’t want me—I feel like shit on a shingle and I’m at the end of my rope. So, make it fast. I’m not sure I can take much more.”
Chapter 29
“I’ve never meant to hurt you, Neil. I’m sorry.”
His gaze did not soften. A pulse beat at his temple and his jaw clenched. She had no doubt he meant what he said; she just had no idea how she was going to broach the difficult subject when he was so angry.
She inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of hard-working man, wood shavings and a hint of the spicy after shave he wore.
“I, ah—God, this is hard.” She looked away, to the oak. It had withstood so many storms. She wished she were half as strong as the old tree. How to start a conversation she did not plan to ever have?
“Whatever it is, just say it. How much worse can my life get?”
Dismal words from a man who encouraged others to keep their sights set on the positive parts of life. He was a pro at finding the silver lining in all of life’s clouds. This sarcastic man before her was someone she’d never met before.
“I just—I don’t know how to say this.” She hated the way her voice trembled, so she cleared her throat. It might not make a difference, but it couldn’t hurt.
He raked a hand through his hair. The waves fell nearly to his shoulders.
“Just say it, okay? I’m too shot for guessing games.”
She nodded.
“We have a daughter.”
The world around them faded and time stood still. They stared at each other, neither flinching. Neither looked away. A flood of emotions passed through Neil’s eyes. Some of them she’d seen before but there were an unidentifiable few.
They stood that way for what felt like forever. When she couldn’t stand the hard stare boring into her heart, she lifted a shoulder. “Do you understand?” She kept her tone soft, as if trying to gentle a frightened animal.
“No. I don’t understand—not one bit. What the hell is going on?”
She looked away and realized they must have attracted more attention when he ceased hammering and they stopped hollering across the lawn. A neighbor stood on tiptoe in the yard next door, craning his neck to see above the shrubbery. She looked at the house. A figure was in one of the windows.
“Can we go somewhere to talk?” She waved a hand to the house next door, then swept it to her home behind him. “We don’t need an audience.”
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and moved so quickly she practically had to run to keep up. When they reached his truck, he opened the passenger door, and she climbed in. It was as pristine inside as out.
The key dangled from the ignition. He turned it before his door closed, put the vehicle in reverse and backed out with less caution than he ordinarily exercised. Swinging wide, he headed down the street. They both knew where he was going.
Lobster Cove was so small that four minutes later Neil nosed into a spot near the beginning of the beach path. Atlantic waves peeked between the dunes, but they didn’t sit and gaze. He drummed a hand on the wheel.
“I have a million questions.” His voice was as hard as his hand.
Whatever anger he had, and however he planned to express it, she couldn’t evade. She owed it to him to accept whatever he dished out. They wouldn’t be having this conversation if she had been honest with him.
“I know.”
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He snorted. “And that’s the whole problem between us, isn’t it? All these years, and you’ve known everything while I haven’t known jack shit.”
His voice grew louder with each word, until he practically yelled.
Somewhere between Bar Harbor and the Cove, some level of numbness had washed over her. Now, the impact of his anger didn’t cut deep. It was there, and she was aware, but detachment insulated her.
Detached from my own life, she thought. Not a good thing.
She nearly said, “I know” but snapped her mouth shut before the words passed her lips.
“Damn it, Chloe. When are you going to be honest with me about anything?”
“That’s not fair—”
“It’s not? All these years, I thought you’d finally come around and love me the way I love you. But you never had any intention of doing that, did you? You led me on, and I was a chump who waited blindly.”
“I never led you on. I just…”
“Led me the hell on.”
She swallowed the tears she knew were close. The lump in her throat made it difficult to talk, so she shook her head and looked away.
The venom in his words was killing her.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me about your date the other night. You know, the one with some fancy pants guy you met?” He paused, drew a ragged breath. “No, I didn’t figure you would. I’m an idiot—one who’s wasted his life wanting someone who never loved him.”
She turned, angry now that he tried to back her into a corner. Fair was fair—but this wasn’t fair.
“You are not an idiot.”
“Why don’t you tell me about the date you had the other night? Hmm?”
His tone was so belligerent she wanted to slap him.
She balled her fists in her lap. “That’s none of your business.”
He let out a derisive whoop. “No? Listen, chickie, in the Cove, everything is everybody’s business, remember? This place is too damn small for secrets.”
They were getting nowhere. Fast.
Chloe opened the heavy door and jumped to the ground. She slammed the door closed, headed for the path, and did not look back. She was sick of talking with him, anyway.
It stung that he was right—to a point.
Neil followed. She tried to move faster, to put distance between them, but he had her by a mile with his long legs. He caught up to her, reached for her arm and swung her around to face him.
“You’re the one who wanted to talk.” His gaze swept over her face and lingered on her mouth. For a crazy second she thought he might kiss her. “Now, talk.”
Taking orders was not something she did with a smile on her face. And, he’d pushed her buttons hard enough already.
“I never lied about how I felt about you. We were young, Neil. We were in love. I was—I don’t know!—confused. Young—did I say young yet? Damn it, just before we graduated I began to have doubts about things. About us.”
“Which you didn’t bother to share with me.”
She jutted out her chin. “No, I didn’t. I knew how you felt, and I didn’t want to hurt you. Besides, I’d agreed to…you know…graduation night…”
“Say it.” He spat the words.
She swallowed. Again, tears threatened. She felt tossed about, more confused now than when they were in high school. So much time had passed, but theirs was a wide and deep history. Getting mired in it took no doing at all.
“Say it, Chloe.”
Her mouth was dry. “I kept my word to you.”
“Not really. I thought we were making love, that we’d waited until we were adults, but all the while we were—” He swept his arms out. “We were here—right here!—we had two different ideas. I was making love to the woman I adored.” A muscle worked in his jaw. He leaned close, so close his breath warmed her face. “And you? You were keeping an agreement—and screwing me.”
She took a step back. He hadn’t touched her, but she felt as if she’d been backhanded.
“I did not.”
“Maybe I should’ve paid you. With cash, you know? I mean, it wasn’t love, so it was just sex. And women who screw as part of a business arrangement? Well, they get paid for working, don’t they?” When he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, she snapped.
She had never hit anyone before but sheer fury took over. Her arm went back, her hand opened flat and without any conscious thought or effort, she sent her hand flying.
The slap was loud. The sting on her skin made her grimace. The look of astonishment on his face gave her some degree of satisfaction.
He raised a hand to his cheek. His eyes had gone so round they would have been comical if either of them had been in the mood to laugh.
Her voice was deadly calm when she spoke. It was a surprise to her, because her insides felt anything but.
“You are being hateful, and I don’t deserve it. I loved you. I was young. I got confused about college, my feelings for you…about everything. But I never let you down. We vowed to lose our virginity together, here, the night we graduated. I never, ever considered letting you down on that point.” She stopped, shook her hand to squelch the pain. “And up until a minute ago, I loved you. On some level, I loved you. I think I always would have…but right now you disgust me. I think you just cured me of loving you, Neil.”
He could have passed for Lot’s wife, turned to a pillar of salt. He barely moved at all, his breathing had gone so shallow. His gaze followed hers, though, so she knew he understood every word.
She took another step back. All she wanted was to get away from him, so she turned to walk down the beach. There was a path beyond the boulders that led back into the village. He had the truck, so would not follow if she left that way.
A few yards from where he stood, she turned. He watched her, immobile.
“Graduation night? We should have used a condom, because I got pregnant. I gave our daughter up for adoption. I found out today that she was recently orphaned.” Tears began to slide down her cheeks but she did not try to stop them. They were, she knew, only the beginning of what would be a flood once she got off the beach. “So, I did lie to you, actually. A lie of omission. And for the record—it was the only time I lied to you. Ever.”
Chapter 30
Chloe stretched, sending the sheet sliding off the bed into a puddle on the floor. She flexed her muscles. Arched her back. A slight twinge when she twisted from side to side, but it wasn’t bad at all. Considering the abuse her body had endured recently, she felt pretty good.
Amazing what a date with Jack Daniels and Coke, with a couple of aspirin as a late-night snack, could do.
She rolled on her side and looked out the window. The glass was ancient, and the top pane was cracked in one corner. Last summer a crew of aluminum siding and window installers had cruised through the Cove. A lot of families had upgraded their houses, gotten rid of old wooden or shingle siding and outdated, drafty windows. They had not been able to afford the luxury, so the window was repaired with clear tape.
The place was held together by string and spit, but as long as it stayed that way, she had no intention of dumping cash she didn’t have into repairs. It was bad enough the debt for the main roof was sucking her under. Six months were going to fly by, and unless she won the state lottery or an act of divine intervention presented itself, she was going to drown. She didn’t play the lottery and didn’t think she believed in religion, so it was going to get ugly.
But that was months away. Today, she had other issues to deal with, things that wouldn’t wait six months.
Like Neil. He must have taken a few days off from work, because it wasn’t the weekend and unless someone else had the same five-count nail-bashing cadence, he was on the roof. There had been no discussion of payment for doing the job, and she doubted he planned to charge although after yesterday anything was possible. But she had seen the plywood leaning against the house, and two rolls of heavy black paper beside bundles of shi
ngles. All of that had to be paid for.
What she needed was an I Dream of Jeannie moment. A genie to make wishes come true, sweep away the crap and make her life shine.
Clouds floated lazily in the soft blue morning shy. She watched, wishing she were on one and riding high, contemplating what her next genie wish might be. Daydreams were anything-goes moments, so the list she compiled in her head knew no boundaries.
Most importantly—and at the very top of the list—was restoring Uncle Ted to good health. After that, everything else seemed insignificant. She’d figure out how to deal with the daughter she didn’t know, how to make the kid’s life everything she thought it would be when she’d given her up. The girls? They’d all be set for life, doing whatever they wanted to get them closer to realizing their dreams. Even Neil—he’d get a genie wish. The man behaved like a jackass sometimes but he deserved to be happy—as long as she didn’t have to marry him to make that happen.
The jagged line in the window cut a fluffy cloud in half. The house. Oh, yes, the house would get a ride on the magic carpet, too. She’d have the whole place done over. Make it sparkle so well it would be the prettiest place in town.
Then, with Uncle Ted healthy, everyone on the right track and the house done over she could finally make the dream of a lifetime come true. One of them, anyhow.
It would be within her reach to open a home for women displaced by neglect, violence or other unfortunate circumstances. A college professor had warned that anyone taking on social work as a profession had to have a heart for the downtrodden and a desire to impact the world for the better. If not, it was time to change career paths but that was unnecessary advice as far as she was concerned. There was nothing she wanted more than to help people—but unless that daydream genie showed up—and soon—the dream would remain just that.
There had only ever been two big when-I-grow-up dreams in her life. The first was the women’s home. The second seemed even further away than the first.
