This Heart Of Mine

by Susan Elizabeth Philips

“I see. And you don’t?”

  He had more feelings than he knew what to do with, but none of them were going to make him lose sight of what was most important. “Maybe in five or six years things will be different, but I don’t have time right now for anything but my career. And let’s be realistic—can you see Molly and me together long-term?”

  “Without any trouble.”

  “Come on!” He shot up from his chair. “I’m a jock! I love being active, and she hates sports.”

  “For someone who hates sports, she’s an excellent athlete.”

  “She’s okay, I guess.”

  “She swims beautifully and dives like a champ.”

  “That’s just from summer camp.”

  “She plays an excellent game of Softball.”

  “Summer camp.”

  “She knows everything about football.”

  “That’s only because—”

  “She plays soccer.”

  “Just with Tess.”

  “She’s studied martial arts.”

  He’d forgotten about that kung fu move she’d put on him last winter.

  “And she told me she’d played on her high school tennis team.”

  “There you go. I hate tennis.”

  “Probably because you’re no good at it.”

  How did Lilly know that?

  Lilly’s smile looked dangerously sympathetic. “I’d say you’re going to have a hard time finding a woman who’s as athletic and adventurous as Molly Somerville.”

  “I’ll bet she wouldn’t go skydiving.”

  “I’ll bet she would.”

  Even to his own ears he sounded sulky. And Lilly was right about the skydiving. He could almost hear the sound of Molly’s screams when he pushed her out of the plane. But he knew she’d love it as soon as her chute popped.

  He still felt queasy about her falling in love with him. And angry, too. This had been temporary right from the beginning, so it wasn’t as if he’d led her on. And he sure hadn’t made any promises. Hell, half the time he’d barely been civil.

  It was the sex. Everything had been fine up until then. If he’d kept his pants zipped and his hands to himself, she’d have been fine, but he hadn’t been able to do that, not when they were together day after day. And who could blame him?

  He thought of the way she laughed. What man wouldn’t want to feel that laughter under his lips? And those blue-gray eyes with their wicked tilt were a deliberate sexual challenge. How could he have thought about anything except making love when they were turned his way?

  But Molly knew the rules, and great sex wasn’t a promise, not in this day and age. All that crap she’d handed out about his not making emotional connections couldn’t have been more wrong. He had connections, all right. Important ones. He had Cal and Jane Bonner.

  Whom he hadn’t talked to in weeks.

  He gazed at Lilly. Maybe because it was late and his defenses were down, he found himself telling her more than he intended. “Molly has some opinions about me I don’t share.”

  “What kinds of opinions?”

  “She thinks…” He set down his beer bottle. “She says I’m emotionally shallow.”

  “You are not!” Lilly’s eyes flashed. “What a terrible thing to say!”

  “Yeah, but the thing is—”

  “You’re a very complicated man. My God, if you were shallow, you’d have gotten rid of me right away.”

  “I tried—”

  “You’d have given me a few pats on the shoulder and promised to send me a Christmas card. I’d have been satisfied and driven off into the sunset. But you’re too emotionally honest to do that, which is why my being here has been so painful for you.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but—”

  “Oh, Kevin… you mustn’t ever think of yourself as shallow. I love Molly, but if I ever hear her say anything like that about you, she and I are going to have words.”

  Kevin wanted to laugh, but his eyes were starting to sting, and his feet were moving, and the next thing he knew, his arms just opened up. Leave it to a man’s mother to come to his defense when the chips were down, even if he didn’t deserve it.

  He gave her a fierce, possessive hug. She made a sound that reminded him of the mew of a newborn kitten.

  He hugged her closer. “There are some things I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

  A shaky sob against his chest.

  He cleared his throat. “Did you ever have to take music lessons and stink at the piano?”

  “Oh, Kevin… I still don’t know one note from another.”

  “And do you ever get a rash around your mouth when you eat tomatoes?”

  Her grip on him tightened. “If I have too many.”

  “And what about sweet potatoes?” He heard a hiccuped sob. “Everybody likes them but me, so I wondered…” He stopped because it was getting hard for him to speak. At the same time, pieces inside him that had never quite fit began to come together.

  For a while they simply held each other. Finally they began to talk, trying to catch up on three decades in one night, stumbling over their words as they filled in the blanks. By unspoken consent they avoided only two topics: Molly and Liam Jenner.

  At three in the morning, when they finally parted at the top of the steps, Lilly stroked his cheek. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  “Good night—” Good night, Mother. That’s what he wanted to say, but it felt like a betrayal of Maida Tucker, and he couldn’t do that. Maida might not have been the mother of his dreams, but she’d loved him with all her heart, and he’d loved her right back. He smiled. “Good night, Lilly Mom.”

  The waterworks really opened up then. “Oh, Kevin… Kevin, my sweet little boy.”

  He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips.

  When the alarm forced him out of bed a few hours later to start breakfast, he thought about the night before and the fact that Lilly would be a permanent part of his life now. It felt good. Exactly right.

  But nothing else did.

  As he made his way down to the gray, empty kitchen, he told himself there was no reason to feel guilty about Molly, but that didn’t seem to matter to his conscience. Until he figured out some way to make amends, he’d never be able to stop thinking about her.

  Then it came to him. The perfect solution.

  Molly stared at Kevin’s attorney. “He’s giving me the campground?”

  The attorney shifted his weight closer to the center of the packing box that held Molly’s computer. “He called me first thing yesterday morning. I’m finalizing the paperwork now.”

  “I don’t want it! I’m not taking anything from him.”

  “He must have known you’d react that way, because he said to tell you if you refused, he’d let Eddie Dillard bulldoze the place. I don’t think he was kidding.”

  She wanted to scream, but it wasn’t the attorney’s fault that Kevin was high-handed and manipulative, so she controlled her temper. “Is there anything to prevent me from giving the campground away?”

  “No.”

  “All right, I’ll accept. And then I’m giving it away.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be too happy about that.”

  “Hand him a box of tissues.”

  The attorney was young, and he gave her a halfway-flirtatious smile, then gathered up his briefcase and made his way through the furniture to the door. In deference to the July heat, he wasn’t wearing a suit coat, but her apartment didn’t have air-conditioning, and there was a damp spot on his back. “You might want to get up there fairly soon. Kevin’s left, and there’s no one in charge.”

  “I’m sure there is. He hired someone to take over.”

  “They didn’t seem to work out.”

  Molly wasn’t a swearing person, but she could barely hold back a big one. She’d had only forty-eight hours to get used to being a successful children’s book author, and now this.

  As soon as the attorney left, she crawled over the couch to
retrieve her phone and call her new agent, the best contract negotiator in town. “Phoeb, it’s me.”

  “Hey, big-time author! Talks are going well, but I’m still not satisfied with the up-front money they’re offering.”

  She heard the relish in her sister’s voice. “Just don’t bankrupt them.”

  “It’s so tempting.”

  They chatted about the negotiations for a few minutes before Molly got to the point, doing her best to say it without choking. “Kevin’s just done the sweetest thing.”

  “Walked blindfolded in front of speeding traffic?”

  “Don’t be like that, Phoebe.” She was definitely going to strangle on this. “He’s a great guy. As a matter of fact, he’s given me the campground as a surprise.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Molly gripped the receiver tighter. “He knows how much I love it there.”

  “I understand that, but…”

  “I’m going to drive up tomorrow. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay.”

  “At least this will get you out of that fleabag apartment until we finish negotiating your contract. I suppose I should be grateful.”

  It had been humiliating telling Phoebe that she’d been forced to sell her condo. To her sister’s credit, she hadn’t offered to bail Molly out, but that didn’t mean she’d kept quiet.

  Molly got off the phone as soon as she could and glanced over at Roo, who was trying to keep cool under the kitchen table. “Go ahead and say it. My timing sucks. If I’d waited two weeks, we’d still be in our old place basking in air-conditioning.”

  It might have been her imagination but Roo looked censorious. The traitor missed Kevin.

  “Let’s get our chores done, pal. First thing tomorrow we’re taking off for the North Woods.”

  Roo perked up.

  “Don’t get too excited, because we’re not staying. I meant it, Roo, I’m giving the place away!”

  Except she wouldn’t. She kicked a dish box aside, wishing it were Kevin’s head. He’d done this out of guilt. This was his way of trying to make it up to her because she’d fallen in love with him and he didn’t love her back.

  A great big pity present.

  Chapter 25

  Daphne wasn’t speaking to Benny, and Benny didn’t care, and Melissa couldn’t find her movie-star sunglasses, and it had started to rain. Everything was a big mess!

  Daphne Goes to Summer Camp

  Lilly stopped just inside the B&B’s kitchen door. Molly had fallen asleep at the table. Her head rested on her arm, her hand lay by her sketch pad, and her hair spilled across the old oak tabletop like overturned syrup. How could Lilly ever have believed she was a dilettante?

  Since Molly had returned to the campground ten days ago, she’d finished the illustrations for Daphne Goes to Summer Camp, started a new book, and written an article for Chik, all that in addition to cooking and tending to guests. She couldn’t relax, even though she’d told Lilly her new contract had finally given her financial stability. Lilly knew she was trying not to dwell on Kevin and understood her quiet suffering. She could have strangled her son.

  Molly stirred and blinked, then looked up and smiled. There were shadows under her eyes. They probably matched the shadows under Lilly’s own. “Have a nice walk?”

  “I did.”

  She sat up and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Liam was here.”

  Lilly’s heart skipped a beat. Other than catching a glimpse of him in town a few days after he’d issued his ultimatum, she hadn’t seen him in weeks. Instead of growing easier, their separation had become more painful.

  “He brought something for you,” Molly said. “I had him put it in your room.”

  “What is it?”

  “You probably should see for yourself.” She picked up a pen that had fallen to the floor, then began to fiddle with it. “He asked me to tell you good-bye.”

  Lilly felt chilled, even though the kitchen was warm. “He’s leaving?”

  “Today. He’s going to live in Mexico for a while. He wants to experiment with the light.”

  She shouldn’t be shocked. Had she expected him to sit around waiting for her to change her mind? Anyone who understood Liam Jenner’s art knew he was fundamentally a man of action. “I see.”

  Molly rose and gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ve screwed up so bad.”

  “So badly,” she retorted, in one of those leftover reflexes from life with Craig.

  “Not that I could survive without you, but, with Kevin gone, why are you still here?”

  Lilly had made plans to meet Kevin in Chicago soon. Neither of them wanted to keep their relationship a secret, and Kevin had already flown to North Carolina to share the news with his friends, the Bonners. He’d also told Cal’s brothers, their wives, and the guy sitting next to him on the plane, according to their last phone call.

  Lilly yearned to see him again, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the campground yet. She told herself she was staying because of Molly. “I’m hanging around to help you out, you ungrateful little twit.”

  Molly carried her water glass to the sink. “Other than that.”

  “Because it’s peaceful here, and I hate LA.”

  “Or maybe because you can’t make yourself walk away from Liam, even though you’ve treated him like crap and you don’t deserve him.”

  “If you think he’s so wonderful, take him yourself. You have no idea what it’s like being married to a controlling man.”

  “Like you couldn’t have him eating out of your hand if you wanted.”

  “Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, young lady.”

  “You’re such a dork.” Molly smiled. “Go upstairs and see what he left you.”

  Lilly tried to sweep from the kitchen in a diva’s huff, but she knew that Molly wasn’t buying it. Her son’s wife had the same kind of open, honest charm as Mallory. Why couldn’t Kevin see what he’d turned his back on?

  And what about the man she’d turned her back on? She still couldn’t work on her quilt. All she could see now when she looked at it were scraps of fabric. There were no more surges of creative energy, no more glimpses of the answers to life’s mysteries.

  She made her way past the second-floor landing to the narrower flight of stairs that led to the attic. Kevin had tried to get her to move into one of the larger rooms, but Lilly liked it up here.

  As she slipped inside, she saw a large canvas, taller than it was wide, leaning against the end of her bed. Even though it was wrapped in brown paper, she knew exactly what it was. The Madonna she’d admired so much that afternoon in his studio. She fell to her knees on the braided rug and, holding her breath, pulled away the paper.

  But it wasn’t the Madonna at all. It was the painting Liam had done of her.

  A sob rose in her chest. She pressed her fingers to her mouth and scrambled back. He’d been brutal in his depiction of her body. He’d shown every sag, every wrinkle, every bulge that should have been flat. The flesh of one thigh lapped the edge of the chair where she was seated; her breasts hung heavy.

  And yet she was glorious. Her skin was luminous with a glow that seemed to come from deep inside, her curves strong and fluid, her face majestically beautiful. She was both herself and Everywoman, wise in her age.

  This was Liam Jenner’s final love letter to her. An uncompromising statement of feelings that were clear-sighted and fearless. This was her soul exposed by the brilliant man she hadn’t been courageous enough to claim as her own. And now it might be too late.

  She grabbed her keys, flew down the stairs, and ran outside to her car. One of the children had drawn an elaborate rabbit in the dust on the trunk. Then she realized that the drawing was too sophisticated. More of Molly and her mischief.

  Too late, too late, too late… The tires hissed as she sped from the campground toward his glass house. While she’d been putting up barriers against a dead husband she hadn’t loved in years, he’d gone after what he wanted.
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  Too late, too late, too late… The car jolted over the ruts at the top of the lane, then steadied as the house came into view. It looked empty and deserted.

  She jumped out, rushed to the door, and leaned on the bell. There was no answer. She banged it with her fists, then raced to the back. He’s going to Mexico…

  The glass-enclosed studio rose above her, a tree house for a genius. She could see no signs of life inside, none in the rest of the house either.

  Behind her the lake sparkled in the sunlight, and the sky floated blue and cloudless above, the perfect day mocking her. She spotted a door off to the side and rushed toward it, not expecting it to be open, but the heavy knob turned in her hand.

  Everything was quiet inside. She moved through the back of the house into the kitchen, then made her way to the living room. From there she mounted the catwalk.

  The arch at the end beckoned her toward his sacred space. She had no right to enter, but she did.

  He was standing with his back to the door packing tubes of acrylics into a carrying case. Like the other time she’d been here, he was dressed in black—tailored slacks and a long-sleeved shirt. Dressed for traveling.

  “Do you want something?” he growled without looking up.

  “Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly.

  He finally turned, but she saw by the stubborn set of his jaw that he wouldn’t make it easy.

  “I want you,” she said.

  If anything, his expression grew more arrogant. She’d badly dented his pride, and he needed much more.

  She reached for the hem of her linen sundress, pulled it over her head, and tossed it aside. She unsnapped her bra and discarded it, slipped her thumbs beneath the waistband of her panties, pushed them down, and stepped out of them.

  He watched her silently, his face revealing nothing.

  She raised her arms and slid her hands into her hair, lifting it from the nape of her neck. She crooked one knee, turned slightly from the waist, and eased into the pose that had sold a million posters.

  With her age and her weight, standing before him like this should have been a travesty. Instead, she felt powerful and fiercely sexual, just as he’d painted her.