House on the Beach

by Linda Barrett

  “Hmm,” she purred, when he sat back down. Her eyes opened slowly, the irises so large no blue was visible.

  That was all the encouragement he needed. “Are you prepared to continue this conversation elsewhere?”

  “Oh, I’m prepared this time. Very prepared.”

  He laughed out loud. “Well, that makes two of us.”

  And suddenly his tension dissipated. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could afford to be generous. “Take your time, sweetheart. Have some dessert.”

  She stared him down, her eyes smoky-blue just like her voice. “Oh, I intend to. Without delay.”

  Matt flagged the waitress. “Check, please.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHE LOVED MATT, and she wanted to make love with him and feel like a normal woman. She looked almost normal. Her major scar was low on the underside of her breast. Matt might not even notice. And if she didn’t quite fill out her bra on one side, so what? She didn’t look lopsided.

  “Lock up.”

  Laura heard the impatience in Matt’s voice and chuckled as she closed the front door behind them and turned the bolt. His impatience matched hers. Wonderful. “Like to give orders, do you?”

  He reached for her. “I’d rather lead than follow.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she whispered, rising on her toes for a kiss.

  His embrace was tight, his lips hard against her mouth. Somehow, their coats landed on the floor, and Matt led them to her bedroom, to her bed, kissing her every step of the way.

  A partly cloudy sky allowed only a few shards of moonlight through the window. But Laura could see Matt’s taut features, his eyes on fire for her. She tugged at the corner of the spread, but Matt yanked the thing out of her hand and pulled it down. Then she reached for the buttons of his shirt, and he stood unnaturally still, watching her. Her fingers connected with skin and she heard him gasp. The only sound in the room.

  The top button slipped through the opening. Then the second one. Her fingers brushed against the coarse hair on his chest, and now her breath caught in her throat, her insides tightening. She stroked him again, enjoying the sensation of smooth and rough. Slowly she reached for the next button with trembling hands. But Matt took her hands into his own warm ones, lifted them to his mouth and kissed each finger and palm in a million places. She searched his face and saw the heat in his eyes soften, revealing something else.

  “I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered. “The way falling in love is supposed to be. I never thought it would happen to me…in fact, never thought about it at all…but you…you’re special.”

  Sunshine filled her. All she saw was Matt. He filled her vision, filled her heart and filled her soul. She felt a tear wend a path from the outside corner of her eye, and cupped her hands around his face. “I already love you, Matthew Parker. Now make love to me.”

  Matt didn’t need a second invitation. With eagerness and with care, he undressed her in the shadowed room before tearing his own clothes off. But she shivered in the April night.

  “I promise you’ll be warm soon,” he said, pulling back the covers.

  He stroked her beautiful body, finding her pleasure points. He heard her gasp as she shivered, felt her arms tighten around him, as the shivers became shudders that surged and receded like the ocean waves outside their window. And he rode those waves with Laura, as though searching for the perfect one, until finally, delightfully, he found it and crested…with her…together. As though no other lovemaking had ever existed in his life. He’d come home in more ways than one.

  Careful not to crush her, he collapsed on the mattress next to her as he tried to catch his breath.

  “Not bad.”

  His eyes snapped open as Laura rolled on her side toward him, but he noticed her insouciance, and he chuckled.

  “I’ll give you excellent next time,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss her. She pulled up the top sheet and lay against the pillow, her thick hair like a halo around her beautiful face, and he could have stared at her forever. Instead, he kissed her lips, her neck, and draped his arm over her.

  To his delight, she scooted closer. “I love the cuddling part.”

  “I love all the parts!” he replied. “Hands, feet, legs, breasts…”

  Suddenly her eyes darkened, her lids closed. “Laura? What’s the matter?”

  She blinked up at him and looked fine again. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just catching my breath.”

  “Good,” he said. “Because you have a beautiful body, kiddo.” He leered. “Breasts included.”

  Now she blushed, and he felt better. It was a normal reaction to teasing. Funny that she’d react at all. Laura seemed so comfortable with her body. All the outdoor exercising, figure-flattering clothing, and almost no inhibition making love. He mentally shrugged. Maybe all women were self-conscious about their breasts. Even Valerie had complained a lot after the boys were born.

  Laura laid her head on his shoulder, one arm falling across his waist, and he wrapped his arm around her, relishing the comfort of her body against him. She was right. Snuggling was part of the fun. He’d allow himself the pleasure for a while longer, and then he’d leave for home.

  He closed his eyes and listened to the night. It was quiet. The faint sound of the surf dominated, with an occasional cry of a gull. He kissed the top of Laura’s head and she purred, almost asleep. He felt the rise and fall of her chest against him. Soon, her breathing matched his rhythm, and he smiled to himself. For the second time that evening, they were one.

  LAURA SHIVERED, pulled the cover higher and reached across the bed for Matt. She felt only empty sheets with a faint lingering warmth where his body had been. She opened her eyes and confirmed his absence, then looked toward the window. The pale moon was almost at the horizon line, so several hours had passed. Morning would break soon. No wonder Matt had gone. Although she felt wide-awake now, she must have been more tired than she’d thought after her trip to Boston. Not to mention last night’s activity and quiet admissions of love.

  Her thoughts stopped right there. Matt was falling in love with her, and last night had been wonderful. Making love with him had been everything she’d thought it would be. Everything she’d hoped it would be. Except…she hadn’t told him.

  A knot started to form in her stomach, and she took a deep breath. Her next appointment with Dr. Berger was in a few days. She’d tell Matt after her blood work proved normal.

  She turned on her bedside lamp, scanned the room for her flannel bathrobe and forced herself out of bed, naked, to retrieve it from the back of the rocking chair. Not sexy at all, but the New England nights were chilly even in April. She put the robe on and headed for the bathroom and a hot shower. She was ready to start her day.

  The heat of the water felt delicious and Laura lingered under the spray after shampooing her hair. She tugged at the strands and grinned when they stayed put. So different from the long, straight style she used to wear.

  She stepped from the tub, started drying off and automatically swiped a towel against the fogged-up mirror.

  Her arms dropped to her sides as she stared at herself. She hadn’t planned to pause. She’d seen herself many times, and mostly didn’t think about her scars or how she looked. They were part of her now and would fade eventually. But they were definitely part of her history. The cancer had been real.

  Suddenly her reflection shimmered in the mirror. She felt the trickle of tears rolling down her cheeks, but she blinked them away and her vision cleared. And then she studied the image of every woman’s nightmare.

  A trembling finger traced all three scars, seventeen months old, and still visible. One sat above the unaffected breast where a special catheter had been inserted to facilitate her chemo treatments. The second was under the arm next to the affected breast where the sentinel lymph node had been biopsied to see whether the cancer had spread, and of course, the largest cut had been to the breast itself. Surgery. Chemotherapy. Radiation. Wit
h no warning, she’d become a statistic.

  She continued to stare at herself. No family history, she ate right, she exercised…so why? Why? She wanted logic when there wasn’t any. Why had it happened? Why her? She shook her head and took a deep breath. And another. And heard echoes of Bridget McCloud’s loving voice answering the unanswerable. “Oh, my dear daughter. Why wasn’t it me?”

  And that’s when she cried. And yearned for her mother’s arms to hold her, yearned for the reassurances that only mothers could provide—that she was still beautiful, still worthy of love, that everything would be all right.

  Laura cried hard, but not for long. The need to run on the beach pulled at her. She knew her exercise regimen was a natural defense against depression. The grief for her mom came in unexpected spurts, but she handled it by chatting with Alison frequently and by running on the beach for miles.

  She dried her hair and pulled it back with a set of combs, then put on a sweatsuit and running shoes. On her way out the back door, she saw the note on the kitchen table.

  Morning, sweetheart,

  Back at 5. Concert at 8. We’ll ferry.

  Looking forward to another wonderful night.

  “So am I,” she whispered, fanning the paper against her cheek. “So am I.”

  Matt remained in her thoughts as she jogged along the shore. Her pace was more leisurely than usual, but her hour outdoors seemed to pass more quickly. Just proving the old adage, she thought, about time flying when you’re having fun.

  She reentered Sea View House, reached for some cereal and put the kettle on. Tea always seemed cozier than coffee when mornings had a bite of winter in them. She was pouring herself a cup when the doorbell rang.

  Lila Sullivan stood on the threshold and burst into speech the moment Laura opened the door. “I’m so sorry to disturb you this early on a Saturday, but at the last minute, Matt had to go out of town for the day. He might not be back in time for your date this evening. I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” said Laura, “but no harm done.” She opened the door wider. “Want a cup of instant?” she asked automatically. “Matt’s not in any trouble, is he?”

  “Oh, no. Not at all,” said Lila, stepping inside and walking to the kitchen with Laura. “The Chief got a lead on Jason. Or rather, maybe he got a lead. We’ve searched for him before…and nothing. Today, Matt’s gone to New York. Chief O’Brien’s buddy saw a guy playing in a piano bar last night. Called Rick this morning. Thought the man looked like the pictures of Jason we’ve given out.”

  Lila shrugged off her jacket and put it over a kitchen chair. “Of course, our pictures are eight years old. Jason must have changed.”

  Laura reached for another mug and set it on the table. The other woman was tense, on edge, and Laura’s heart went out to her.

  “Matt’s such a great guy,” said Lila. “He’s special to us. To all of us in the family. And he hasn’t had it easy.”

  “Seems to me, none of you have had it easy,” said Laura, pouring hot water into the second cup, instinctively wanting to deflect the conversation from the subject of Matt.

  “But he’s the one holding things together—even for me. My mom—well, she wants me to forget Jason. Thinks I’m still a romantic eighteen-year-old living in a dream.”

  Laura took a breath. “I never knew Jason, so I have no opinion. But is it possible that your mom is right?”

  The girl’s brow creased. She bit her lip and looked aside. “At this point, I don’t honestly know.” Then she lifted her chin, her eyes flashing. “All I do know is that every time we follow a lead, I get chills. My heart thumps like a bass drum until I’m about to explode. Poor Jason. He’s never forgiven himself for Jared’s death.”

  Laura saw pain. Heard pain. Lila’s world was real, not fantasy.

  “He probably doesn’t even know his mom passed away,” continued Lila in a soft voice, “unless he somehow saw the obituary in the Cove Gazette. Maybe online. Who knows?”

  Laura’s thoughts cascaded one over the other. “Then he doesn’t know about Matt’s wife, either.”

  Lila shook her head. “No, he doesn’t. Matt’s mom dies. Then Valerie gets cancer and Matt handles everything. Two years of living hell. So, Laura, please…he’s so happy these days. If you’re responsible, then I’m glad. But please, if it’s not for real…please don’t hurt him.”

  But Laura didn’t hear anything Lila said after the word “cancer.” Her mind almost closed down. She stared at Lila as though she’d never seen her before. “Cancer?”

  Lila nodded. “I’m sorry. You didn’t know? Ovarian cancer. It’s not a secret, but it’s damn scary, isn’t it?”

  Laura nodded.

  “Anyway,” continued the other woman, “if Matt’s late tonight, you’ll know why.” Lila stood up. “Saturdays are busy in real estate. I have to get to the office. If Matt calls, I’ll let you know. And you do the same. Okay?”

  Laura nodded. “I’ll walk you out.” She uttered the words automatically and moved like a robot. When she returned to the kitchen, she dropped into a chair as if she weighed a thousand pounds, glad her shaky legs had held her up for as long as they did.

  Matt’s loving note still lay on the table. “…another wonderful night.” Oh, God! How could she tell him the truth now? But how could she not?

  Her hand trembled as she reached for her calendar, checking the date of her next medical appointment. Tuesday—Dr. Berger. Her brain started to kick into gear again. Nothing really had changed as far as what she had to do. Despite the additional pain and risk, she would stick to her earlier decision to tell Matt after her blood tests, and after Dr. Berger pronounced her one-hundred-percent healthy. The rest would be up to Matt. Her eyes filled, thinking about his reaction. Life was so damn unfair sometimes. To everyone.

  “YOU’RE LOOKING GOOD, Laura. More than good. How are you?”

  Laura shook her doctor’s hand and watched Dr. Evan Berger take a seat in the examining room. He was young, bright, full of energy and loved his work.

  The doc smiled and leaned back against the wall…as though he had all the time in the world, as though no other patients were waiting for him. But Laura knew better. She also knew that his “how are you?” really meant how she was getting along in life as well as how she was feeling.

  “As a matter of fact,” she replied from her seat on the examining table, “I feel great. Life is good. Better than good.” Her mind was on Matt. Only on Matt. His search for Jason had proved disappointing. The pianist in New York had turned out not to be Jason.

  They hadn’t made it to Symphony Hall, but had spent the evening together on the beach and in Sea View House where she’d prepared a simple dinner. He was exhausted, and they’d cuddled on the couch, just “recharging their batteries,” as Matt had said.

  Dr. Berger’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s a look on your face…I like it.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got news. But…”

  Suddenly she pressed her lips together, frightened to hear his response to her announcement. Not because he wouldn’t be happy for her, but because he knew the statistics. Survival statistics for relationships.

  “But?”

  She met the doctor’s eyes. “I’ve met someone. Someone special. A single dad. Widowed four years ago.”

  His warm smile said it all. “That’s wonderful! He’s a lucky guy to have found you. I couldn’t be happier.”

  “But…” she began again, then hesitated for a second time.

  “But what?” prompted Dr. Berger.

  “I haven’t told him yet…you know…about my situation. But I’m planning to after I get the results of today’s blood work.” She inhaled, exhaled. “On top of that, I just discovered that his wife died of ovarian cancer. So what do you think his reaction’s going to be?”

  A concerned expression replaced the doctor’s smile, and he leaned forward in his seat. “I won’t lie to you about this, Laura, just to make you feel better. Just like I’ve never lied about anyt
hing else. I think, though, that you probably know the answer yourself.” He paused. “Even without a prior firsthand experience, a lot of men can’t handle it. Not only boyfriends, but husbands, too. They walk.”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I know,” she whispered. “Been there, done that.”

  “I remember,” he said with a nod. “And he hurt you when you were down, and the situation stank. But here you are, Laura, a year and a half later, full of life, with the potential for a full life. You know that your particular situation couldn’t be better. You understand that, don’t you? Make sure he understands that, too. Bring him in to see me if he has questions. My door is always open to family and significant others.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice deserting her as she realized Evan Berger was not only her doctor, but her friend.

  A half hour later, she left the office with words of support not only from the doc, but from his staff of nurses. She’d come to think of them as her three fairy godmothers. They performed their delicate tasks with their hearts, souls and intelligence. She was impatient to call them for the outcome of the blood work and yet reluctant for Friday to arrive, when she’d get the results.

  It was a sunny afternoon, the promise of real spring in the air. Her spirits lifted as she made her way to Rowes Wharf. She was heading back to Pilgrim Cove and dinner with Matt and the family.

  “DO YOU GUYS THINK we can clean up a bit in here?” Matt stood in the family room looking at scattered books, pencils and domino tiles. A general mess. “Laura’s coming to dinner.”

  “So what?” replied Brian, lying prone on the floor. “She’s been here before.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Dad,

  We’re not bad.

  She knows us,

  Don’t make a fuss.”

  Casey had discovered rap sometime during the last week. He was pounding the sides of his little fists against the coffee table, choosing his own rhythm and repeating the words over and over again. Most of the time, his stuttering lessened. The kid was evolving every day, figuring things out for himself—what worked, what didn’t. Matt never knew what to expect each evening, and was always amazed. Word repetition was standard therapy, but the musical addendums were all Casey. The Parker genes hadn’t skipped his younger son.