by Lisa Carter
Margaret adjusted the angle of a stem in the bouquet. “I always say there’s two kinds of people on the Shore.”
Kristina tied a love knot on the cascading bow she’d created for the bridal bouquet. “The ‘been here, ‘born heres and the rest of us ‘come heres.”
Margaret looked up. “I stand corrected. There’s three kinds of people on the Shore.” She lifted her index finger. “The ‘been heres who never want to leave...”
“Like you and Eileen.”
Margaret ticked off her fingers, counting. “...the ‘been heres who can’t wait to leave—”
“Like Canyon’s mother, Amber.”
Margaret continued as if without interruption. “—and the ‘come heres. Who get here and never want to leave.”
“Like me.”
Margaret gave her an imperious look. “Obviously, or I wouldn’t be wasting my time with you.”
Kristina’s mouth opened and closed.
Margaret surveyed their handiwork. “Gloria’s granddaughter will be so pleased at what we’ve been able to put together for the wedding.”
“What happened to Freddie, Margaret?”
“His plane slammed into some unpronounceable North Korean mountain. His body was never recovered, and Eileen Collier never accepted his death. She believed one day he’d return.”
“That’s very sad.”
“It was tragic. Eileen pined over her dead husband till the day she died, nearly sixty years later. Never letting go, never moving on. Never allowing her neighbor, Hap Wallace—who’d loved her since they were children—to ever become more than a good friend.”
Kristina tried to swallow past the sudden lump lodged in her throat.
“Cost them both a lifetime of happiness. Not to mention what living in the past did to Canyon’s mother.”
Kristina reflected on Gray’s frustration with her inertia. And mired in grief, her frustration with herself. Although she was beginning to wonder if it was grief that kept her from going forward with her life—or something else.
Margaret fiddled with an errant blossom. “It mixed up the child. Made Amber feel sorry for herself. Made her feel inadequate. Eileen struggled against the guilt that if she’d somehow been enough, Freddie would’ve given up his love affair with airplanes and settled down for good.”
Kristina suddenly felt an increasing pressure in her chest. Guilt. Was that her problem? Or did the insecurity stem from other issues?
“Mother said no one could’ve kept Freddie pinned to earth. As futile as trying to hold the wind in your hands.”
Again like Pax... She felt a wave of dizziness.
“Misplaced guilt. As if it was her fault he lost control of the airplane and died. Freddie Collier was a charming, elusive, emotionally unavailable man. He loved Eileen—Mother truly believed—as much as he was capable of loving anything without wings.”
Wings and roots... Canyon’s words played in her head.
“But Amber was like Freddie. Flighty, charismatic, prone to wander. After high school, she left Kiptohanock and never returned. Except for the one time she came to dump two small boys on Eileen.”
Kristina probed the discarded piles of leaves on the counter for her keys. “Why did you decide to tell me all this?”
Margaret’s carefully plucked eyebrows rose. “Canyon doesn’t need a woman stuck in the past like Eileen. Or someone as emotionally unstable as his mother. He needs the real deal from you or not at all.”
“Canyon and I are friends, Margaret.” Which might no longer be true. “Men and women can be just friends.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “How long has your husband been dead? Two years?” Her nose wrinkled. “If you’re determined to wear widow’s weeds for the rest of your life, Kristina, don’t take Canyon into the grave with you.”
Kristina went rigid. “You have no right to tell me how to feel or not feel. You have no idea what it’s like to lose a husband.”
“There’s all kinds of ways to lose a husband. You don’t have a monopoly on heartache.”
Kristina had to get out of here. She wasn’t going to listen to—
“Please don’t hurt him or that purple-haired girl of his. He’s not as tough as he likes to pretend. I hope you’ll stop running from him and embrace this new possibility.”
Kristina clenched her empty fists. “None of this is any of your business, Margaret.”
“Despite the cocky pilot bravado, he’s never put his heart out there for anyone until you. This push-pull thing you’ve got going with Canyon isn’t fair. To you or him or to those kids.”
“I haven’t...”
But that’s exactly what she’d done at the gazebo after the pancake supper, wasn’t it?
Margaret’s face took on a wistful expression. “You’ll always miss your first love, Kristina. For everyone’s sake, miss him always, but let him go.”
Hadn’t Caroline said almost the same thing to her weeks ago? But Kristina couldn’t—she wasn’t ready. Yet no matter how she tried to hold on, her memories of Pax were fading.
Like trying to hold the wind in her hands? She squeezed her eyes shut and swayed.
Already she struggled to remember the exact sound of his laugh. The idea of losing her connection with Pax terrified her.
She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of here or... Where were her—
Her hand trembling, Kristina fished out her car keys. “I think we’re done here, Margaret.”
“Please think on what I’ve shared with you. I believed you ought to know.” Margaret propped her elbows on the counter. “The guild is meeting this afternoon to decorate the sanctuary for the wedding. You’ll be there?”
The woman had a lot of nerve...
“We’re counting on you, Kristina. You’re invaluable to the people who know you, whether you realize it yet or not.”
Kristina whirled and ran for the front door. Getting out while she could. How dare Margaret lecture her on overcoming her grief?
But jumping into her car, she sped down the long gravel drive. And she couldn’t shake the truth of Margaret’s words. Nor Gray’s.
Was this about her and her identity? Or about grief? As for Canyon, was her heart trying to tell her a truth her head wasn’t ready to hear?
Perhaps it was time to say goodbye to the past and to Pax. But how did she let go? What if she wasn’t brave enough?
She shivered at an even more disturbing thought. What would she become—what would become of any of them—if she didn’t?
Chapter Twelve
Kristina held the hanger under her chin. “What about this dress, Jade?”
At Jade’s surprising request, she’d taken the girl to a secondhand boutique near the waterfront in Onancock. The shop specialized in exclusive party wear consigned by wealthier ‘come heres on the Shore.
Jade tilted her head, studying the cocktail dress. Kristina’s third attempt. With its swirling geometric colors, the dress had a retro ’70s look. And gave Kristina a slight headache.
The teenager’s gorgeous green eyes narrowed. “No.”
Kristina held back a sigh and replaced the hanger on the sale rack.
“It’s not right for me.” Jade’s hands fluttered. “I’m sorry to be a pain. But the dress doesn’t feel like me.”
Which encapsulated both the joy and trouble of the adolescent journey. Defining yourself. Once she married Pax, she’d defined herself as a military wife and later as Gray’s mother.
Or had she simply become the woman Pax needed her to be? She’d lost herself when he died. Who was Kristina without him?
Jade perused the other items in her size. “It’s not easy deciding who I want to be.”
Again, Kristina could relate. Her life with Pax was over. The
military wife she’d been—and she’d been a good one, if she did say so herself—was finished.
Time to step into a new persona. Do a remake of herself—of the person she wanted to be. But easier said than done.
Jade held out a soft chiffon concoction. “I kinda like this one... What do you think?”
A moss-green color. “It matches your eyes.”
Jade worried her lower lip with her teeth. “Do you think it will make me look like a girl?”
Kristina blinked. “You are a girl, honey. A beautiful girl.”
“I don’t want to look trashy.” Jade fingered the cold-shoulder neckline. “Like Brandi.”
Kristina’s stomach clenched, saddened for Jade’s lack of relationship with her mother. “I think it’s elegant and classy. Like you, Jade.”
“Do you think Gray would like it?”
So that’s how the wind blew these days. Kristina smiled. “I think he would.”
Jade raised her chin. “He hasn’t asked me to go to the dance. What do you think he’s waiting for?”
Uh-oh. An adolescent land mine. One false step and kaboom.
“Gray’s shy around girls.”
Jade rolled her eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Kristina moistened her lips. “He feels very inexperienced when it comes to you.”
“Gray thinks I’m experienced? Like Brandi?” Her nostrils flared. “That’s not who I am.”
She thrust the dress at Kristina.
Kristina sucked in a breath. “That’s not what I meant, honey.”
Jade’s eyes narrowed to emerald slits. “What did you mean, then?”
“I meant that because you’re older than him, you’re more sophisticated.”
“True.” Jade sniffed. “He’s only a lowly freshman. And a geek, no offense. If you know what I mean.”
Jade’s mouth quirked, taking the sting out of her words. Reminding Kristina of Canyon with his endearing grin.
She decided not to take offense. “I do know what you mean, Jade.”
A full-fledged smile, teeth and all, blazed. Granting Kristina a clear vision of why her son was so fascinated by the intriguing Jade Collier. Colliers possessed an abundance of charm. And apparently the Montgomerys possessed a weakness for their charm.
Jade’s stance softened. “Gray’s smart, and he’s very sweet.”
She held the dress against Jade. “Not too short. Or too low cut either. But try it on first.”
Jade grimaced. “Canyon made you say that, didn’t he?”
“As his stand-in on this shopping expedition, I take my parental duties seriously.”
Jade took possession of the hanger. “Canyon’s the best dad I never thought could be mine.” She shuffled toward the curtained dressing area. “My uncle is smart, too. He’s also sweet, if you’d give him a chance.”
Kristina pretended to find the button on her denim jacket mesmerizing. Romantic advice from a sixteen-year-old? She reckoned she had it coming.
“There’s something else kind of wonderfully strange.” Jade stuck her head out of the changing room. “Somehow I think Canyon was always meant to be my dad.”
Kristina’s gaze lifted.
Jade’s eyes glistened. “Like it was just a matter of time until we found each other. A God thing.”
Kristina’s throat constricted.
“Please don’t hurt him, Kristina.” Jade’s face became earnest. “Please give him and yourself a chance.”
“I wish I was ready to say what you want to hear, Jade.” She curled her hand around the strap of her purse. “But I can’t,” she whispered.
Jade’s lips flatlined. “Nobody waits forever.” She reached for the curtain. “And you can tell your son the same.”
With a jerk, she twitched the curtain closed. Shutting Kristina out.
* * *
On Saturday, Kristina put the finishing touches on the floral arrangement for the Palm Sunday service. Thanks to word of mouth, the PTA moms had asked her to do the corsages for the spring dance next weekend. She’d contacted a wholesale vendor and now was going to make a tidy profit. Suddenly, the idea of owning a florist shop didn’t seem so ridiculous.
She’d be providing a much-needed service to the community. Kiptohanock needed a florist. It was becoming clearer every day in her heart of hearts she was florist material. One more piece of the puzzle as to who the real Kristina was meant to be.
Do what she loved, Margaret had said. Great advice. But she refused to think about what else Margaret had advised.
For the umpteenth time this afternoon, though, Gray trudged into the kitchen. A sports drink. A snack. A cookie. One excuse after the other.
When he offered to wash the lunch dishes, she knew something was up. To the best of her knowledge, he hadn’t asked Jade to the dance and had no intention of doing so.
But he’d hovered all day, and she doubted it was because of a sudden, overwhelming interest in flowers.
She stopped working on a ribbon and eyed him as he slouched against the refrigerator. “Is there something I can help you with, son?”
“You’ve got a nice way with bows, Mom.”
“I thought you’d be working at the airfield. Your first semi-solo flight is Monday, right?”
He propped his elbows on the kitchen island. “Canyon’s taking aerial photos of a beach resort near Cape Charles this morning.”
Spotting a misplaced stem, she made an adjustment. Gray rapped his fingers in a staccato beat on the counter.
Kristina glanced at him. “Talked to Jade lately?” She fiddled with a blossom.
He shrugged. “I like the corsages with the yellow roses best.”
She laid her palms on the counter. Realization dawned. “Did you want to place an order, Gray?”
“I might be in the market for flowers.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “If I decide I want to go to the dance, that is.”
His first dance. A big step for her socially gawky son. She sent a swift prayer heavenward for what she ought to say. And more importantly, what she ought not to say.
Dealing with a teenager required employing the same delicacy as tiptoeing through tulips.
“That’s wonderful, Gray.” She kept her tone light and fixed her attention on sweeping up stray bits of greenery.
“It would be, except...”
Wait for it... She kept her head down and her hands busy.
He blew out a breath. “Thing is, I don’t know how to dance.”
Should she offer to teach him? Should she let him ask her first?
“You and Dad used to dance.”
Her lips curved in a sweet remembrance of an Officers’ Ball in San Diego. And for the first time, the memory of Pax held no pain, only a fond recollection. As if the memory belonged to someone else or to another lifetime.
“I wondered if maybe you’d teach me how to dance.” Gray’s brow furrowed. “So I don’t make a fool out of myself and crush her toes or anything.”
She didn’t have to guess who the her was. “Have you asked Jade to go with you?”
He pushed away from the island. “I haven’t made up my mind to go yet.”
“You want a dance lesson before you commit yourself?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Kind of.”
She dried her hands on the kitchen towel. “Sure.”
He gaped. “You’ll teach me?”
“Tell me when and where.”
“Like, how about now?”
Kristina nodded. “Help me clear a space in the living room.” She swiped her phone, searching for an appropriate playlist. “Fast or slow?”
“Both,” he grunted and moved the coffee table next to the hearth.
“No problem.” Propping the phone on the mantel, she hit Play. MC Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” blared.
Gray’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously, Mom?”
“Just feel the rhythm with your body.” She demonstrated a move she hadn’t employed since college. “Don’t worry about your feet. Just move.”
He pumped his arms and threw out his elbows. Narrowly missing the lamp on the end table. “Like this?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Her dear son resembled a cross between a squawking chicken and a snake shedding its skin. But he grinned and hammed it up for her benefit.
By the time the playlist segued to “I Like to Move It,” she laughed so hard she doubled over. When “Everybody Dance Now” came on, she flapped her wings and joined Gray in his impromptu chicken dance.
They were both too busy clucking and strutting around to hear the screen door squeak. Too busy laughing until—
“Can anybody join the dance party, or is this a mother-son thing?”
She froze midmotion.
A crooked smile on his ruggedly handsome face, Canyon lolled against the door frame between the living room and kitchen.
She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could sink into the floorboards. God, please. Take me now. Of all the humiliating... But her heart went into a tango.
Kristina opened her eyes to drink her fill of him. The blue shirt—same hue as his eyes—hung unbuttoned and untucked over a white T-shirt. For once his head was bare of the usual ball cap. His beard stubble was more pronounced, and shadows clouded his face.
She’d ached for a glimpse of him over the last few weeks. She’d missed him more than she’d believed possible.
His sleeves, rolled to his elbows, revealed his tanned, corded forearms. “Don’t let me interrupt.” Canyon’s deep voice produced tiny sparks along her skin. “Great moves, both of you.”
She swallowed. “What are you doing here?”
Canyon’s eyes cut to her son. “Gray texted me. Said he needed to get a part for the truck from the automotive store this afternoon.” Leaning against the wall, he crossed one booted foot over the other. “I had no idea I’d be interrupting—”
“You’re not interrupting. We were just finish—”
