“Where are Grandma and Aunt Ellen?” I asked her.
“They drove into town to see about something at the funeral home,” Tish explained. “Aunt Jilly’s out on the dock on the phone with Justin and Clint is still sleeping.”
“Well thanks for making breakfast,” I told them.
An hour later Mom and Ellen were back, bustling in with their arms laden. I helped them unload groceries and arrange flowers and clean, though the café was virtually spotless. I tried very hard to quit looking at the clock every five minutes or so. But as each moment ticked past, Blythe was moving closer to me. Just after noon I found my mother out on the dock, where she was standing and staring reflectively over Flickertail Lake, having a smoke. Though she certainly felt my footsteps, she didn’t turn around. I reached her and looked out in the same direction.
The lake was in a petulant mood today, under a sky that couldn’t make up its mind. Fat white clouds with smooth silver undersides raced along in a brisk wind, creating alternating bursts of sun and shadow. Out on the wide surface beyond our small bay, Flickertail was laced with miniature whitecaps. I was wearing cut-offs and a cream-colored tank, my hair loose over my shoulders and blowing into my face, and I suddenly wished I had grabbed a sweatshirt. Mom, whose hair was held back in a clip, flicked the last of her ash and then looked over at me; I couldn’t read her expression exactly, but I offered a tentative smile.
“Joelle, I’m sorry about everything,” she said then. “I still think you’re making the wrong decision, honey, but I won’t mention it again, deal?”
I sighed; she’d offered an apology at least.
Mom turned back to the lake and I finally said, “Deal.”
By 2:30 I had given up all pretense of doing anything but watching for their rental car. Bly had called to tell me he and Rich were an hour away an hour ago, and I was 10 times as jittery as a girl waiting for her first date to arrive. Mom, Ellen and the kids were all over at the house, where Camille had chosen a paint color for the nursery. Probably I should have been helping them do a little pre-painting work but when I said as much to Jilly, who was sipping a bottle of orange soda, she replied, “Screw that. They have plenty of help without us.”
She’d given up trying to make conversation with me and was doodling on a napkin. The clouds had finally been swept away and the wind had slacked off, leaving a mild, pleasant afternoon out the windows. I sighed again and received a pointed look from my sister. But suddenly her expression changed markedly and she gestured behind me with her pen; I whirled around just in time to see Blythe climb out of the driver’s side of a car I didn’t recognize and jog towards the café.
I flew and we crashed together with enough force to send Bly reeling backward, my legs going around his waist as he went to his knees and then all the way to the ground, with me clinging like a monkey. I was laughing and crying at the same time. Blythe had his hands in my hair, commandeering me for a kiss from flat on his back. I couldn’t touch him enough, my hands sliding over his torso, back to his face, into his short thick hair; at last I gripped his ears, lifting my face just a fraction, enough to look into his beautiful, dear, blue eyes. He kept his fingers in my hair and traced my cheekbones with his thumbs, a sweet smile lifting one corner of his lips. Our hearts were beating crazy rhythms against each other. He said, “Hey, there,” and tears swished over my face even though I was smiling too. He added, “Missed me a little, huh?”
In response I kissed him again, thoroughly. He wrapped his arms possessively around me. He was so tall, so solid and strong beneath me; I fit myself over him like frosting on a cake. It wasn’t until I heard a very pointed ahem that I noticed Jilly’s feet, clad in her red flip-flops and with bright orange toenails, 18 inches from our heads. She said, “You know, some of the rest of us would like to say hello to the guy, too. Some of us have also missed him.”
I shaded my eyes and looked up at her. Bly kept me in his arms as he rolled to his knees and said with complete composure, “Hi, Jilly. How are you?”
She grinned at us and threw her arms around his neck for a good squeeze. “Well, way better now. Joelle can quit being so damn moody now that you’re back. I couldn’t take another minute of her talking about how much she missed you, seriously.”
“Is that so?” he asked, tipping his head at me. He held me like a bride going over the threshold, and I tightened my arms around his neck.
“Yeah, that’s so,” I said.
“Wow, what happened to your hair?” Jilly asked, hands on hips and one eye squinted as she studied him.
I slid my nails along the sides of his scalp, combing through his hair, and he shivered a little, tightening his grip on me.
“I’m finally getting used to it. But I shaved off the beard yesterday,” he explained. “I wanted to keep it, but Rich and Mom conspired against me.”
I couldn’t stop smiling at him. I couldn’t stop touching him. God, he was here, he was really in my arms again.
“Rich,” I realized, managing to drag my eyes from Blythe to look around for him. “Where’s Rich?”
“He’s inside,” my sister explained. “He could tell you were a little…preoccupied. A beard, really? Like, how much of a beard are we talking?”
Bly laughed, rising to his feet and letting mine touch the ground. But he added, “Stay right here,” and hauled me against his side. I wrapped my arms around his waist and breathed for a moment against his red t-shirt. He smelled so good, just like himself. In response to Jilly’s question he said, “I’m not talking ZZ Top or anything. Just your basic mountain man look. It’s a lot easier than trying to shave in the few minutes you get in the mornings where I was.”
Rich was on the porch then, a mug of coffee in his hand, his kind brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled fondly at us. He told Blythe, “Well, I guess you found her.”
Blythe bent and kissed my hair, combing gently through it with the hand not wrapped around me. “Yeah, I found her.”
“Rich, I’m so glad to see you,” I told him, and he opened his arms. He might not have been my dad, but I loved him just as much as I could imagine loving a father. I slipped from Bly’s arms and into Rich’s, hugging him tightly. I whispered, “Thank you for bringing him back to me, Rich.”
Rich hugged me with one arm, holding his hot coffee out and away from me. He rested his cheek on my hair for a moment and said, “I’m so sorry about Louisa, honey.”
“I know,” I whispered back.
Bly had climbed the porch in my wake. I couldn’t bear to stop touching him either and curled myself back against his warm side. Jilly rolled her eyes at us but she was still smiling too. She said to Rich, “Come on, let’s go find everyone. They’re up at the house.”
The two of them linked arms as they made their way over the lake path and in the next moment I was alone with Blythe. I grabbed his hand and hauled him inside Shore Leave, where the sun drifted in lazy beams. The screen door hadn’t finished clacking shut before he gathered me close and kissed me the way I’d dreamed of being kissed for all of the nights he’d been apart from me. His mouth was made for mine. I kissed him with total abandon, our heads tilting one way and then the other, his hands in my hair and mine sliding over his back. He tasted so good. Everything within me became a river, flowing towards him. He pulled back a fraction and kissed my chin, my jaw, our words flooding on top of one another.
“All those nights I dreamed of this…”
“I missed you so much, I was dying…”
“Nothing was right without you…”
“I love you…”
“God, I love you…”
I pulled his mouth back to mine, making up for lost time. He lifted me in one effortless motion and settled me up against him, my legs again around his waist. I rested my hands on his wide, wide shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes.
“You’re here,” I said, softly.
“I’m sorry about Gran,” he said, just as softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t her
e right away.”
“But you’re here now and that’s all that matters,” I said.
“Joelle,” he said, and his tone was one of reverence. “All those nights I pictured your face just the way it looks right now, sweet girl.” He moved one hand to comb through my hair again. “Your hair is so soft. I want it draped all around me. I know this isn’t the time or place, baby…”
“I wish the same thing,” I told him, tightening my legs around him.
He kissed me once more, until I was dizzy and we were both breathing hard. But out the windows we spied not only Jilly and Rich, but my whole tribe making their way back to the café. They would be upon us in just a minute. I sighed, laughed a little, and followed Bly onto the porch so they could all welcome him home.
Ellen and Mom prepared a second lunch in no time flat. Clint, Tish and Ruthie were excited to fill in Bly and Rich on what they’d missed over August, talking over one another and vying for attention as the men ate plates of food. I disciplined myself and tried to keep my eyes from Blythe’s lips whenever he answered questions. Camille was polite but still distant, though she seemed glad enough to see him; she’d shared Jilly’s prediction about the baby being a girl, which I found endearing. Rich said, “I thought the same thing when you said you was pregnant, doll.”
After lunch I showed Blythe all of the pictures we’d collaged for Gran.
“Look at you, Gramps,” he said to Rich. “Wow, your hair was long in the ‘70s.”
Rich asked Mom and Ellen, “You want me to say a few words tomorrow?”
“I was thinking that anyone could share,” Mom replied. “But Ellen and I have something prepared for when we scatter her ashes.”
Blythe rubbed my back and I leaned against him, so glad he was here. I couldn’t begin to put into words how much I’d missed him, though I’d tried in my letters. I looked up at him with adoration and he smiled down into my eyes.
“Baby, you look exhausted,” I told him, softly.
He kissed the top of my head and admitted, “I could use a nap.”
“C’mon,” I told him.
Minutes later I’d settled him in the twin bed where I’d slept all summer. It was ridiculously small for him, but he curled in his legs and snuggled his jaw into the pillow, saying, “It smells like you in here, sweetheart.”
I sat by his hip and he wrapped one arm around my waist and smiled up at me sleepily. I feathered his hair back from his forehead and he stroked my skin through my tank top, his eyes drifting shut.
“I’m letting you sleep but I plan to ravish you later,” I told him.
He opened one eye and gave me a grin. “I’m holding you to that, baby. Come here and kiss me.”
He cupped my jaw and kissed me tenderly. I made a small yearning sound and he tightened his grip around my waist. When I sat up my body was aching for him, but this wasn’t the time or place.
“I love you,” he said, his voice husky with emotion.
“I love you,” I told him back, and let him sleep.
Later in the evening I crept back over to the house and found him still sleeping, his feet hanging off the end of the bed. For a while I just watched him, sitting close but not touching, letting him rest. He was on his back but his head was turned to the side, his lashes fanning his cheeks. He looked powerful even in repose, but peaceful, his mouth soft and just slightly open. At last I couldn’t resist and bent to my knees near him, resting my hands on his chest and then kissing his cheek. He stirred a little, sighing, and I kissed his chin, the corner of his lips, his left temple. I breathed in his scent, closing my eyes, and in the next moment his hands were closing around my upper arms and he hauled me on top of him, curving his body to make a space for mine.
“That tickles,” he whispered, eyes still closed.
“I thought you weren’t ticklish,” I teased, running my hands over his ribcage.
“Maybe a little,” he conceded. “But I have a bigger problem right now.”
I giggled, muffling the sound against his neck. I could feel what he meant and whispered, “Big is the word.”
He groaned and rolled me to the side and was in the process of kissing me quite absolutely when the door downstairs banged open and Clint called, “Bly! Aunt Joey! Grandma sent me to tell you guys dinner is ready!”
Blythe groaned again, his lips on my neck, his arms in a vice grip around me.
I called back to my nephew, “We’ll be right over, Clinty!”
“Shit,” Bly murmured, peppering my neck with little hot, wet kisses. I shivered and cupped him, low, then bit the side of his neck. He muffled another moan against me, making me giggle and squirm. He said with feeling, “God, baby, I might die if we have to stop. But we can’t make love in here with your family waiting for us.”
I was breathless, my hands under his shirt, gliding over his stomach and then his fly. I felt liquid and dangerous, a part of me knowing what he said was true and the other, much larger part not caring one bit. I shifted and slipped my thighs over his hips, pressing hard against his body.
“Joelle,” he gasped out, clutching my hips.
“I know,” I said, breathless, moving with reluctance from my position. I slid back to my knees beside the bed, light-headed, and ordered in a whisper, “Later. And not much later.”
He drew me in for one last kiss. My face was torched with blood, my knees weak as we finally managed to break the kiss and get up.
“Let’s eat fast,” I said. “And then we’ll take a walk.”
He grinned at me and laced his right hand tightly with my left as together we hurried over the lake path, giddy with one another’s presence and the promise for later.
Dodge and Justin were over, grilling steaks on the porch, which glowed a welcome into the approaching twilight with the glimmer of several candle lanterns. Rich and Mom were sitting at a table sipping bottled beer as Blythe and I approached. They were leaning towards each other on their elbows, engrossed in conversation. My girls were clustered around another table together with Jilly and Clint, laughing about something, all of them sipping from frothy mugs, possibly root beer floats. Ellen was just settling onto a lawn chair near the grill, her own drink in hand. Bly stopped us for a moment, and I looked over to see him caught in the moment, just absorbing the scene. The expression on his beautiful face made my heart beat faster in simple gladness. He didn’t need to speak a word to convey his happiness at being here, being part of us again. I knew he would never take it for granted. I squeezed his hand hard in mine.
After dinner I told Mom we were going to take a little stroll over the lake road, praying that the heat in my body didn’t flood onto my face. She surprised me by asking, “Aren’t you going to show Bly the house?”
I nodded. “Later, for sure. It’s just so nice that we thought we’d enjoy a walk.”
“It is a nice evening,” she agreed, tipping to study the stars.
And so we went; I held his elbow against me this time, needing to be closer than joined hands allowed.
“God, it’s so good to be home,” he said again as the café disappeared behind us. “My heart feels whole again.”
“It is,” I told him. “And I know what you mean.”
“I feel like I should pinch myself, like I might just wake up at any moment.”
“I plan to pinch you,” I teased. And then I realized where we were and told him, “This is right where you pulled over to pick me up that first night.”
Bly grinned down at me. “It was my lucky night,” he said.
At that moment I heard a car engine. Bly, who was on the outside, immediately moved us closer to the edge of the road as the car drew near. But it didn’t drive past. Instead my heart sank down, down as I realized it was a car I knew all too well.
“Shit,” I muttered. My pulse took up a frightened rhythm and I pressed even closer to Blythe. Not tonight. I can’t deal with this tonight.
Blythe studied my face for an instant before his gaze focused on Jackson, who�
��d parked on the side of the lake road and was getting out of his car. Though just our hands were joined I sensed all of Bly’s muscles tense, his entire posture becoming threatening. I truly believed he didn’t intend to act, but his body was preparing just in case. My eyes darted between my lover and my husband, whose own shoulders had squared, his chest inadvertently popping out. In high school Jackson had been a fighter, taking great pleasure in getting into what he’d call a ‘rumble.’ I hated it then and hated it even more now. I would not watch Blythe get carted away in a police car ever again, so help me. I would die…I would go with Jackson before I’d let that happen again.
Jackson had stopped in the middle of the road, about 10 feet from us, his eyes unwavering from Blythe’s in the last light of day. The tension crackled between them and I could barely breathe. But I had to take control of this. I stepped around Bly, who’d edged me slightly behind him. As I moved he seemed to collect himself, breaking his gaze from Jackie’s and looking questioningly at me. I sent him an intense message with my eyes that it would be all right. But before I could speak, Jackson observed, “So you’re back from jail.”
“Jackie,” I implored him. “This is enough.”
His eyes darted to me, glittering angrily. He shifted slightly and from the corner of my eye I saw Blythe’s jaw tighten.
“Do you think I’m going to stand by and watch you throw yourself at a criminal just to get back at me? To get revenge? What about the girls, Joelle?” he asked. He was steaming angry but containing himself. I knew him well enough to see the extreme effort it was taking.
Bly spoke up then, and his deep voice was low and very dangerous, but he too was exerting control. He said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jackson’s eyes flashed back to Blythe and he commanded, “Stay out of this.”
“No, you stay out of this!” I snapped, in no mood to be given orders. “This is—”
Jackie interrupted me, though his tone took on a persuasive note. He said, “You’re still my wife, Jo. Our girls deserve better, even if you won’t admit it.”
Second Chances Page 21
