“The woman I found Sebastian with is your Sabrina, your Sweetpea.” She drilled him with a look.
No, it couldn’t be. She was mistaken. He shook his head, a firm denial.
“Did you know?” she asked, pricking him with darts of accusation.
“No, I didn’t know. I can’t believe you said that.”
“Well, I’m a little freaked right now!”
Freaked didn’t come close to what he felt. Tracey was wrong.
She had to be. Sabrina wasn’t the kind of person who would—“Look,” Tucker began, “calm down and let’s think this through.
It was probably dark that morning you found Sebastian. And it was over a year ago . . .”
“It was her. You think I can forget the face of the woman I found my husband in bed with? And she ran off, didn’t she? Clearly she recognized me.”
He needed a little healthy denial right now. He ran his hand over his face. This couldn’t be happening.
He thought he’d known Sabrina . . . Sweetpea. She’d never said anything that indicated she was capable of something like this. She’d mentioned mistakes in the past. But this—this went beyond anything he’d imagined.
Suddenly his words from a letter resurfaced. He’d told Sweetpea about Tracey finding Sebastian with another woman and eventually about the divorce. Tracey had been in anguish at the discovery of his affairs, and he’d felt so helpless. He’d vented with Sweetpea. He’d said harsh things, knowing she wouldn’t judge him for it.
The realization kicked in.
“That’s why.” His whispered words barely penetrated the patter of rain on the rooftop.
He’d been ruthless in his summation of the events, his feelings toward Sebastian and the woman Tracey had found her husband with—had he called her a whore?
Oh, God. That’s why she wouldn’t meet me, isn’t it? Why she wouldn’t admit who she was. She knew what she’d done to my sister and pronounced herself unforgivable.
It was making sense. The refusal to meet, the photo she’d sent, the charade with Arielle. It all made sense when viewed in light of this new piece of information.
“I need to get out of here.” Tracey laid her head back, closing her eyes as if she wanted to forget the whole mess.
And he was right in the middle of it. “Maybe you should stay awhile. We could talk. We can get you on a later ferry.”
“I think I’ve had enough of Nantucket. No offense.”
Tucker squeezed her hand, then started the car and pulled onto the street heading toward the wharf. Why did this have to happen now, when Tracey had just recovered from Sebastian’s betrayal?
Betrayals, he noted the plural. The discovery of Sabrina and Sebastian was just the eye-opener that revealed his other affairs. But his sister didn’t need that reminder. He wasn’t pouring salt in the wound.
“I’m sorry, Trace.” And what are you going to do now? How can you choose between your sister and the woman you love?
He thought of Sabrina, no doubt panicked and devastated, and he felt torn.
But Sabrina knew. She knew what she’d done, who his sister was, and she’d let him fall for her, opened up to him and let him in.
When he reached the parking lot, his sister waved him off. “No, just drop me at the wharf. You need to get to work.”
“I can wait with you.”
“I need to be alone, Tucker.” She crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding his eyes, and he knew she felt he’d betrayed her somehow.
A defense rose on his lips, but he held his tongue. She knew he was innocent, but feelings could be deceiving sometimes. Time would sort it out. He only wished he could be there for her while she did the sorting.
When he pulled the car close to the terminal, he helped Tracey with her luggage. He didn’t want to leave, felt like he was dumping her at the curb. “Are you sure you don’t want company? I can call Dorothy and—”
“I’m sure.” Her eyes were bloodshot, but her shoulders were back, her head up.
He felt like a heel. Helpless, he put his arms around her and drew her into a hug. “I’m sorry, honey.”
She stood stiffly for a few seconds, then embraced him, her face turned into his T-shirt. “It’s not your fault. I know that. I just need some time to work through this.”
Forgiving Sabrina seemed impossible, but he knew Tracey was capable of the impossible. If she could prove the doctors wrong and learn to walk again, she could forgive Sabrina someday.
He kissed the top of her head. “You got it.” He hated the timing, hated that she was returning to a big city where she hadn’t yet established close friends.
“Go on, now. I’ll be all right.” She straightened and grabbed her luggage.
It was only as he was pulling away from the terminal that he realized his relationship with Sabrina, everything he’d fought for, everything he desired, was now in jeopardy.
Sweetpea: Some mistakes can’t be undone.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Sabrina had to get out of there, off the island. She had to leave. What other choice did she have? She grabbed a suitcase from the closet and began jamming it with clothes, then realized she needed to call a cab.
Before she took two steps, she stopped. It was pouring rain. Every tourist in town would be calling for a cab, and she didn’t have an hour to wait for one. She’d have to ride her bike. Realizing the suitcase was too big to transport, she pulled a smaller one from the closet and dumped the contents into it. Her hands shook. Her body trembled.
Pajamas, socks, toothbrush . . . What else? She pulled the rubber band and ran her hand through her hair. She couldn’t think.
Tucker. Oh, God, the look on his face. The confusion, the concern. And his sister. She didn’t even want to think about the accusation in those eyes. And Sabrina deserved all of it.
Toothpaste. Yes, she needed that and her vitamins. She was getting a pounding headache, the kind that required one of Arielle’s nasty tinctures.
A knock rattled the front door.
She sucked in a breath and stared at the white door like it might bust off the hinges and assault her.
But reality was worse, because Tucker could be on the other side of that door. Would he do that? Would he confront her with his sister’s accusations?
A sudden thought brought another wave of panic. What if his sister was with him? What if—
Another knock sounded, harder this time. She wouldn’t answer. The blinds were drawn; maybe they’d think no one was home. But her bike was out front.
Look through the peephole, Sabrina. Just check.
She made her feet move by force of will. She approached the door and leaned in, careful not to touch it. Maybe it wasn’t Tucker at all. It might be—
Renny. The sight of the woman’s face, distorted in the glass, brought an exhale that fogged the peephole. She caught her breath, then opened the door.
“I did it!” Renny spun in a circle, a one-woman party, her fluorescent orange Hawaiian shirt blooming at the waistline. “Wahooo!” She waved her hands, oblivious to the rain trickling down her face.
“Did what?”
Renny singsonged her answer and accompanied it with a little jig. “I sent off my manuscripts, my manuscripts, my manuscripts . . .”
Sabrina allowed a tiny smile at her friend’s exuberance. “That’s wonderful, Renny.”
“I saw you ride up the drive and just had to come tell you. Can I come in? I have to celebrate, I feel so . . . free!” She spun her way past Sabrina. “Why’s it so dark in here?” she asked when she finally stopped.
Sabrina had forgotten to turn on the lights. She flipped the switch and shut the door.
“Why are you home so early?” Renny asked. “And what’s this? I didn’t know you were going somewhere. Did you change your mind about your cousin’s wedding?”
Her suitcase sat open and full on the same sofa where Arielle’s had sat only three days before. So much had happened since then. Some of it good, and som
e of it bad. It was the bad part that was eating her lunch.
“Sabrina?”
“I’m fine. I’m just . . . taking a trip.” And she was still shaking. With fear? Anxiety? Desperation? It was impossible to separate the emotions spiraling through her.
“What’s wrong, amita?” Renny had finally curbed her excitement enough to notice something was amiss. She laid her hand on Sabrina’s arm.
Sabrina didn’t have time for explanations. She had to leave before Tucker actually did come knocking on her door, possibly bringing his sister just for fun.
She grabbed her light sweater off the hook by the door and folded it hastily into a lump. “Nothing’s wrong. I decided to take a vacation.” A permanent one.
“Where to?”
She hadn’t gotten that far. Hadn’t thought beyond the ferry that would take her off the island. She could go home to Macon, but the thought of seeing her family . . .
She rejected the idea with unwavering certainty. She needed time to digest her feelings before she went home for the wedding.
“Something’s wrong, I can see it on your face.”
Sabrina shoved the sweater in the suitcase.
“You’re shaking, Sabrina. Sit down and talk to me.”
Sabrina didn’t argue as Renny led her to the chairs in the corner. Rain drizzled down the window behind Renny and pattered on the roof.
“Now, what is going on?”
“I have to leave for a while. Something happened this morning. That’s why I’m home early.”
“What happened?”
At the question, the scene at the café played in slow, horrifying motion. The memory was like a punch to the stomach. “It’s Tucker. He brought his sister to the café this morning to introduce her to me.”
Renny sucked in a breath. “The twin sister? The sister that—”
“Yes.” If only there were another.
“Maybe she didn’t recognize you.”
Sabrina gave a wry laugh. “Oh, she recognized me all right.”
“What did she say? Did she tell Tucker?”
“I didn’t stick around long enough for that special brother/sister moment.” Her sarcasm was alive and well. Good to know.
Why was she sitting here when every moment heightened the possibility of a confrontation with Tucker?
“I have to finish packing.” She jumped from the sofa and pulled her sandals from the floor.
“Wait, child. Where are you going? Let’s think this through.”
“There’s nothing to think about, Renny. I can’t stay here now that he knows. He’ll hate me.”
“Well, he might hate Sabrina, but he won’t hate Sweetpea.”
Sabrina set her shoes in the suitcase. That was true. It was something, at least. But she couldn’t face him every day at the café, knowing what she’d done and what he thought of her.
“You still have your email relationship.”
Thank God for that. It was salvaged at least. Maybe she should write him now. But no, that would slow her down. And she was supposed to be at work and he’d wonder why she was—
Another realization dawned. He was going to write tonight and tell her about his discovery. He would tell her exactly what he thought of Sabrina. She was going to hear every vicious thought running through his head—not that she didn’t deserve it.
But she couldn’t bear to know what he thought of her now.
“Or maybe . . .” Renny was massaging her scalp with all ten fingers. “Maybe you should tell him everything.”
Renny had missed the point. “He already knows everything.”
“Not everything.” Renny’s eyes were wide as she nodded her head slowly.
Sabrina sighed. “The only thing he doesn’t know is—no. No, I can’t tell him I’m Sweetpea.”
“Why not, amita? What’ve you got to lose?”
“Tucker.” Well, not Tucker, but Harbormaster. Sabrina shook her head. Such a mess. She grabbed a novel from the end table and stuffed it in the suitcase. Like she’d be able to read.
She had to make a plan. She could take her bike on the ferry, but she’d have to rent a car in Hyannis. Thank God money wasn’t an issue. She didn’t make great money at the café, but she spent little of it since she didn’t pay rent.
Renny laid a hand on her arm. She hadn’t even noticed the woman approach. Renny’s sympathetic expression contrasted with the wildness of her hair after her “massage.”
“All you have is a correspondence with the man. If you love him, tell him the truth. Maybe there’s tikva.”
“English, Renny.”
“Hope. Maybe there’s hope.”
Sabrina was already shaking her head. “You didn’t see his sister’s face. She was livid. I wanted to die on the spot.”
“That’s her. Not Tucker.”
“You don’t know how close they are. You don’t know the things he said when he was telling me—telling Sweetpea—what happened with his sister and her husband. He used a word to describe that other woman—me, Renny!—that I don’t even want to repeat, much less think of being!”
She had to go, had to finish packing. Renny was only holding her up.
“What about honesty? What about doing the right thing and trusting God to work things as he wills? You’re strong enough to do the right thing. You’ve already come through so much.” She shrugged. “I’m just trying to be the voice of reason here.”
Ha! There was nothing reasonable about that plan. She had to think. She needed to take her address book, her cell phone and charger, what else? She saw the paper on the counter, opened to the editorial ad. So much for that new job.
“Sabrina, stop for a moment and think.”
“I can’t think with you hounding me, Renny.” She regretted the snap of her voice as soon as the words were out. “I’m sorry. I’m just—feeling a little scattered.” She walked toward the door. “Thanks for telling me about your manuscripts. I’m happy for you, really. I know there are wonderful things in store for you. But I need to finish packing now.”
She wondered for a minute if Renny was going to take the hint. Renny finally lumbered toward the door, but she wasn’t quite finished.
“One more thing and then I’ll leave.”
Sabrina sighed heavily.
“Last spring I was eager for gardening season, and I started some seeds indoors. A few varieties, but among them were sweet peas.”
Sabrina barely kept from rolling her eyes. “I feel a metaphor coming on.”
Renny ignored her comment. “The seeds have a hard coat that can cause the plant to sprout slowly or unevenly. Before you plant them, it’s recommended that you chip away a piece of the shell. Once they go through that, they sprout quite nicely and will even survive a hardy frost.”
Sabrina checked her watch. The meaning wasn’t lost on her, but she didn’t have time to psychoanalyze herself.
“Okay then. I’ll let you get back to your packing.” Renny turned on the landing, her eyes wet. “I’ll be praying for you. Call me when you find a place tonight and let me know you’re all right.”
Hearing her gentle words, Sabrina really regretted the tone she’d taken. She nodded. The woman loved her, was only trying to help. “I will.”
Renny patted her shoulder and left. Sabrina started to close the door but stopped when her eyes settled on the branch outside her door. She followed the length of it once. Twice. Finally settling in the empty crook where two branches met.
It was gone. The nest had finally given way to the wind and fallen. When had it happened? The emptiness that filled her defied all logic.
She closed the door and returned to the task at hand. After changing out of her uniform, she went to the bathroom and gathered the shampoo and a few rubber bands. She chucked the things in her suitcase, then went to the kitchen for her vitamins, checking her watch again.
A pink patch blotched her wrist from the spilled coffee. It still burned, but there was no time for such trivialities. She wa
s going to be too late for the early ferry, but she could catch the next one. Hopefully there was space. She should call and reserve a spot.
The light was flashing on her machine. Char, no doubt, calling to say Gordon was in an uproar about her MIA status. Ignoring the pulsing light, she looked up the number for the fast ferry and dialed.
As she punched in the last numbers, a knock sounded. Renny must’ve massaged out another metaphor and was back to give her another reason to stay. The line rang while she went to the door.
She was going to tell Renny she didn’t have time for this. She’d call her from the ferry or something. They could talk it out then.
On the other end of the phone, a woman picked up. “Hy-Line Cruises, how may I help you?”
Sabrina swung open the door, signaling just a minute with her finger. But her hand froze in the air. Her fingers tightened on the phone.
“Hello?” the voice on the other end of the phone said. “May I help you?”
Sabrina needed more help than the woman on the phone could offer, because the face she was staring into wasn’t the pudgy face of her eccentric friend, but the strained, rain-dampened face of the man she loved.
Sweetpea: Happy endings are for fairy tales, right?
Chapter Thirty-nine
“Hello?” the woman on the phone repeated.
Sabrina stared at Tucker, watched as rivulets of rain ran down his face. His hair hung in wet strands, matted to his head.
The other end of the phone went dead, but Sabrina didn’t know what to do. Invite Tucker in? Slam the door and lock it?
He made the decision for her, squeezing past, out of the weather. When a recording came on the line, Sabrina turned off the phone.
Tucker took a few steps into the room. The lighting suddenly seemed as bright as a spotlighted stage, and the bulging suitcase, square on the sofa, was the star of the show.
The doorway, still open, beckoned. If only she could dart through the door. How could she face him now?
But she needed her suitcase. She needed her purse, lying on the table across the room.
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