“But I am making a fuss, boys,” said Matt. “I don’t want to scare Laura away.”
“Aw, Dad. She likes you.” Brian’s exasperated tone revealed that he considered his dad clueless. “She doesn’t care if a bunch of books are on the floor.”
“Yeah, yeah, Pops. She thinks you’re tops.”
Brian rolled his eyes, and Matt had to laugh. He reached for Casey, hugged him and swung him around the room. “She does, does she? Well, I think she’s pretty special, too.”
Casey’s eyes widened and he looked at his brother over Matt’s shoulder. Brian nodded. “See,” he said. “I told you.”
So the boys had been talking. Matt slowly lowered Casey to the floor and motioned for Brian to come closer. He hadn’t planned to have a heart-to-heart with the boys without speaking to Laura first, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. Suddenly his mouth felt full of sand; he couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence.
He sat the boys on the sofa and stood in front of them. No good. He didn’t want to loom over them. He lowered himself to the coffee table.
“Dad! You can’t s-sit on the ta-able.”
Fine time to follow the rules, Casey. But he nodded at his son and pulled the rocking chair over to the couch.
“So, guys. Here’s the thing,” he began.
“Excuse me,” said a voice from the kitchen. “Can anyone join this party, or is it private?”
“Come on in, Pop. I’m glad you’re here.” Two adults would be better.
“It’s not a party, Grandpa,” said Brian. “It’s a talk. Dad wants to tell us about Laura. He thinks she’s special.”
“That’s nice,” Sam said, walking into the room.
Nice? Matt stared at his father. What an insipid word. Sam was more articulate than that. But his face gave nothing away. The older man, who had expressed concern in the past, wasn’t showing his cards now, wouldn’t influence the conversation.
Comprehension dawned. The subject was too important. Too delicate. Matt was on his own, the way it should be.
“Remember, a couple of weeks ago, I said if anything new happened between Laura and me, you’d be the first to know? So, here’s what’s new. I like Laura a lot,” he began slowly. “And she likes me. So, she’ll be hanging around more often. I’ll be asking her to more of your games…” He paused to smile at his boys’ beatific expressions. “So you can show off, if you want.”
“Aw, Dad. She cheers for everyone, even if you strike out,” said Brian.
“I know,” Matt responded in mock horror. “It’s a terrible thing.” He laughed silently when Brian’s eyes narrowed. “The point is that I’d like you to get to know her better. And she would like to know you better. So, you’ll be seeing her a lot in the future. Including dinner with us this evening.”
Casey looked at his brother, ready to follow his lead. Brian’s expressive face revealed some heavy thinking going on.
“Bri?” said Matt. “What’s on your mind?”
His son looked him square in the eye. “Are you going to marry her?”
Might as well lay some groundwork. “It could be headed that way.”
“Oh.” More thinking.
Casey’s voice interrupted. “Hey! We get to keep Midnight!”
Matt glanced at Sam. “Seven is a good age.” His dad nodded and gave him a thumbs-up sign.
“So she’d be our stepmother?” asked Brian.
“But not a wicked one like in the fairy tales she’s reading,” said Matt.
“Dad! I know that.”
Casey giggled. “But she’d be in our family.”
“Exactly,” said Matt. “Families are really about people loving people. People who love each other want to live together and make a home.”
“Dad—you love Laura?” Short and to the point. That was Brian’s style.
“Yeah, son. I do.”
“But, Dad—” Brian stopped short.
“What, Bri?” prompted Matt.
“What if she gets sick like Mommy did?”
Matt should have seen the question coming. He searched for the right words. “The odds of that happening are really small, son. Laura’s very healthy.”
“Mommy was healthy when I was little…”
“You’re right. She was. We had very bad luck then.”
“You know what I think?” Casey asked. “I think only very, very, very old people should die. Much older than Grandpa.”
“I think so, too.” Brian rose from the sofa and started gathering the scattered books. “Help me, Casey,” he said. “Laura’s going to visit a lot now, and ladies don’t like messy houses.”
NORMAL. The most beautiful word in the world. Laura hung up the phone at Sea View House that Friday afternoon and danced around the kitchen. She hadn’t expected any other outcome, but confirmation was reassuring.
She reached for the phone to call Alison. At least this time, Alison wouldn’t tell her about how many condos she’d lined up for Laura to see.
“Great news, Laura! I’m so glad. Of course, it’s just what I expected.” Her sister, the cheerleader.
“Me, too.”
“And how’s the romance coming along?” asked Alison. “Is Matthew Parker still as handsome, intelligent, kind…hmm…what else did you say…oh, was it, hot?”
Giggles escaped her. “I didn’t call him that!” But she could have. Laura felt the heat steal into her cheeks, a phenomenon that occurred every time she thought of Matt.
“The romance is…is…wonderful. I was with his whole family earlier this week at their house, and the kids were adorable. Couldn’t do enough for me. Acting so polite. I tried not to laugh, and Matt told them to relax and act normal. So they did, and in two minutes were squabbling.”
“Sounds serious to me…” Alison said. Laura heard the question in her sister’s voice.
“Oh, I think so,” she replied. “Later this evening, I’m making dinner for two at Sea View House.”
“The kind of dinner with candles on the table?”
“Oh, yes.” Laura closed her eyes, picturing the scene. “Matt’s bringing wine—a merlot, I think…and I’m supplying nice thick steaks, oven roasted potatoes…”
“Wow! You’re cooking a real meal? This is serious. Matthew is a lucky man.”
Laura chuckled. Her sister’s idea of cooking stopped at boiling hot dogs. “Well, I think he’s pretty special.”
And then only silence came from the other end of the phone. “How special, sis?” asked Alison quietly.
Laura gripped the receiver tightly. “I guess,” she said, “we’ll find out tonight. Much later tonight.” With the proper motivation, she could procrastinate with the best of them.
“I’m here for you, Laura. Anytime. No matter what.”
Beautiful words. Now, if they’d only come from Matt…
“I know, Ali. Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You’d better. I’ll be waiting by the phone.
THE DOORBELL RANG just as Laura finished preparing the salad. She ran to the front of the house and flung open the door, surprised Matt didn’t come around the back through the kitchen.
The first thing she always noticed was his eyes. Black-as-coal eyes that glowed hot whenever he looked at her, as he was doing now. Tonight he was clad all in black. His knit jersey covered a broad chest with shoulders that seemed a mile wide. Short sleeves revealed a set of biceps men strove for and women dreamed about. He was one rugged-looking specimen of masculinity.
She held the doorknob and stared.
“Uh, may I come inside?”
“Yes—as soon as I stop drooling.”
He kissed her on the mouth and slammed the door closed with his foot.
“You are definitely good for my ego, sweetheart.” His deep voice rumbled between kisses. “Want to start with dessert?”
Oh, she was tempted! She looked toward the kitchen, then back at Matt…and her stomach growled.
“The woman’s hungry,” Mat
t declared to the empty room. “We’ll eat a meal first.” His eyes captured hers. “The wait will only make what we have sweeter.”
He handed her a bottle of wine, and she led him to the big kitchen. “We could eat in the dining room if you prefer,” she said, “maybe more like a date?”
“Nah,” replied Matt. “Can’t hear the ocean from in there…you’d be miserable.”
He was right, and she was startled by his perception. Had the temperature outside been warmer, she would have suggested a dinner picnic on the sand. “My goodness,” she said, placing the wine on the table, “you’re getting to know me better than I do myself.”
He turned her around to face him. “If that’s true,” he said, “it’s because you’re on my mind all day long. Just sitting here—” he pointed to the back of his head “—keeping me company.”
She walked into his chest and snuggled. “That’s so nice to hear.” She loved the way his arms automatically came around her and held her. Loved how affection was mixed with desire.
She leaned back, then kissed him quickly. “The steak has been marinating, the grill is lit…let’s do it.”
“Sure,” he said with a wink. “But I really liked that little appetizer.”
She did, too.
And she liked working alongside him preparing the simple meal. She liked hearing about the boys’ days, about Matt’s work, his customers, his employees. Conversation over dinner never faltered.
“What’s your schedule for next week?” Matt asked as they were cleaning up. “Going into Boston again?”
She reached on top of the refrigerator, where she’d placed her calendar and studied it. “Yes, I am. For the taping of Snow White. I’ll probably come home with another script or two to work on. And I have a dental appointment.”
“That’s at least two days in the city, maybe more if something else comes up. Is it becoming a drag for you, Laura?” he asked, looking at her with uncertainty. “The commuting?”
“You mean using the ferry? Absolutely not! It’s no hardship at all.” She leaned closer. “The secret is that it’s easier not to drive a car in Boston.”
Living in Pilgrim Cove would not be a problem. She and Matt would have no conflicts being a two-career couple. If they remained a couple after tonight. The thought persisted at the back of her mind.
Soon. She’d tell him soon. After they made love…so he could see clearly what had happened to her. She’d turn on every light to show him her three scars and try to answer any question he might have. She’d try to make him realize that her case was different from his wife’s. She’d been diagnosed early. She and Matt could have a future.
“Come on, sweetheart,” said Matt, nodding at the door. “We’re finished in here. Want to take a moonlight stroll? Walk off an ounce of steak?”
Laura looked through the window. A full moon shone in the clear April sky. Stars twinkled everywhere. “It’s a gorgeous night. I’d love to.”
“I’ve got running shoes in the van,” said Matt, walking to the door.
Two minutes later, Laura put her hand in Matt’s. He clasped it, squeezed it and led her to the water’s edge.
She couldn’t have asked for a more romantic setting. The ocean reflected the rays of the moon and there was enough illumination to light their way.
They kept a comfortable pace with each other. Conversation came just as easily as it had at dinner. They talked about Laura’s mom and about Matt’s mom. About movies they saw and books they read. They talked about Casey and Brian. Laura spoke of her sister’s family in Atlanta. They talked about growing up in Pilgrim Cove. And about growing up in Boston. A world of discovery and satisfaction.
They’d covered the familiar three-mile loop by the time Laura led Matt up the back porch steps. She halted at the door, looked up at him, at the man she loved, at the man she wanted to spend her life with, and prayed for a miracle.
“Ready for dessert?” she whispered.
“If you’re on the menu—yes.” He brushed his fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head. “What about you?”
As ready as I’ll ever be. God knows, that was the truth.
But his eyes shone for her, and her heart beat a staccato rhythm. She led him inside.
And loved him. With passion, with tenderness, with hunger.
And received his love. His kisses. His caresses. She reveled in his joy, and in his pleasure at having given her pleasure.
When they floated back to earth, she delighted in his possessive embrace, his arms circling her as their breathing returned to normal. She cuddled against him, head on his shoulder, in what was quickly becoming her most favorite position of all.
“The perfect ending to a perfect evening,” sighed Matt, kissing her quickly on the brow. “You are incredible.”
“I guess I’m happy.”
“And I’m very glad about that.”
Laura sighed, then took a deep breath. “I had some great news today.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GREAT NEWS? Matt’s mind whirled with possibilities. “Let me guess,” he said with a laugh. “You’ve gotten three more voice-over assignments, every book publisher wants you to narrate and you’ve been voted the queen of advertising.” He squeezed her gently, kissed her again and heard her emit a soft chuckle.
“Not quite. But I’ll keep those goals in mind for the future,” said Laura.
She squirmed around next to him, and he loosened his hold as she repositioned herself. He glanced down into her big blue eyes peeping up at him through her lashes.
“Beautiful,” he said, and watched a faint blush color her cheeks.
“And healthy,” said Laura.
“I know, sweetheart. You just proved it.”
Her faint pink deepened to rose, and he laughed again. Teasing her was one of his favorite activities.
“Hey, Matt,” said Laura, placing her palm on his cheek. “I’m trying to share something here.” A slight impatience tinged her clear voice and snagged his attention.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m listening.” He saw a shadow darken her eyes before she spoke.
“I had a checkup in Boston this week and got the results today. I’m happy to report that everything’s normal.”
Why wouldn’t it be? He started to shrug his shoulders and give her a glib response until he noticed how still she’d become as she looked at him. The mellow, relaxed Laura—the Laura in the afterglow of lovemaking—was gone. In her place was an immobile woman with a furrow on her brow, more serious than he’d ever seen her. But then she smiled at him, and her eyes lit up again.
“Isn’t normal a beautiful word?” she asked.
Did she expect an answer or was she merely being rhetorical? “Sure it is,” he replied, deciding to follow her lead and see where it went, “especially in a doctor’s office. Honey, were you worrying about anything in particular?”
She turned from him and reached toward the bedside lamp. He heard two clicks of the switch, and was instantly bathed in the brightest level of illumination the lamp had. He blinked against the sudden light.
Laura sat up against the pillows, pulling the top sheet with her. “I waited until after my checkup to show you something.”
Show him what? He’d explored her silken body, had enjoyed every inch of it, and had loved every inch of it. Granted, they hadn’t made love under glaring spotlights, but freckles, birth marks, a scar—so what? Everybody had a few blemishes on their skin.
“Give me your hand,” said Laura.
He complied. And she led his fingers across the underside of her breast and back again.
“Feel that?” she asked. “That ridge?”
He brushed his hand across her again, slower this time, trying to absorb what his sense of touch was telling him. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I feel it now. Scar tissue?”
“That’s right,” she said softly. “I had some surgery a year and a half ago. To remove a small cyst, but…it turned out not to be a friendly
little thing.”
Now he couldn’t move. Chills radiated from his gut to his extremities. He pulled the sheet down and stared at her. He saw one…two…and another one. “Are you telling me…” he began, with a lump in his throat so large he could hardly get the words out. He looked into Laura’s face, and saw it all—fear, hope, and…pride?
“I’m telling you,” she said, “I had a lumpectomy, chemo and radiation. But I’m also telling you,” Laura continued, “that my ten-year survival rate is ninety-six percent. I’m looking forward to narrating stories when I’m a very old lady.”
But his brain had stopped functioning with the word, “chemo.” The rest of what she said sounded like jabber. He couldn’t process it now. Maybe later.
“Breast cancer! You had breast cancer.” He felt the horror invade his entire being. Buried memories resurfaced and writhed in his brain like a cluster of undulating snakes. “Maybe the lab made a mistake. Maybe it was someone else’s slide.” He fell back on his own pillow, barely breathing, and stared at the ceiling. Nauseous to the core. He couldn’t look at her, and he heard her breath catch.
“That’s just what I said. It’s what everyone says when that call comes in.” Her voice cracked and then faded.
“Why did you keep your breast?” he asked. “And the survival rate? How do they know?” One question ran into another before he was able to shut up.
“Long-range studies. In my case, the survival rate—and I repeat, ninety-six percent—was exactly the same with mastectomy or breast preservation. So I chose to keep my breast.”
He shook and shivered from head to toe, then jumped out of bed. The air was choking him. Breast preservation! Fancy words.
He searched until he found his underwear and put them on. Then he grabbed his shirt. Images of his kids popped into his mind, his kids who were crazy about Laura now, who wanted Laura in their lives. Hadn’t Brian just asked about this very thing? What if Laura got sick like Mommy? God damn it! Why had he gotten involved with her? Love was for other people, not for him. He’d known that. And yet…when he met Laura… And now, another woman would disappear.
House on the Beach Page 17
