Dad: I’m going away. I don’t belong here and I don’t want to stay any longer. I will go to Grandma Elaine’s. She said I could. I’ll never be back. Alegra.
As she stared at the perfectly scripted words, she felt a pain so intense that she blindly reached for the bed and sank onto the edge of the mattress.
She clutched her middle and tried to breathe. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but she finally stood and went back through the house to the front door. She stepped out, closed the door tightly behind her and just stood on the porch. She’d have someone come in, clean the place right out, paint it and make it decent, then put it up for sale. She didn’t even bother to lock it.
Instead of going to her car she walked around behind the house, through the knee-high growth of weed-strewn grass and back into the woods. The ground under her feet was spongy with layers of leaves and needles, and although she couldn’t see the path she used to take, she knew the way. And for a long time, she walked as she had as a child, past old haunts and down to the beach.
She didn’t go near the lighthouse this time, only stared out at the water for a few minutes. She wasn’t a teenager anymore, and nothing was the same. Just as she was no longer the same. That little girl was no more, even if the pain had survived.
As she headed back, she thought how her pain would soon be gone. She’d make sure it disappeared tomorrow night at the ball and never returned. When she rounded the corner of the porch, she saw the front door was ajar. Had she left it that way? No. She looked around, saw nothing. She listened, heard nothing. Then she went up the porch stairs and stepped into the house.
“Hello?” she called out, staying by the front door.
She heard a rustling sound, then footsteps and suddenly Joe emerged through the doorway that led to the hallway and bedrooms. The sight of him in her old living room made her feel invaded somehow. Her privacy stolen. And she’d left that note in her bedroom, she remembered now. Stupid. How could she have neglected to pick it up and destroy it? Stupid.
Chapter Twelve
“What are you doing in here?” Alegra demanded.
He looked too large for the small place, the bulky denim jacket and heavy boots only adding to the impression of size. He didn’t respond to her question, said only, “They told me you’d left the island.”
She stepped a bit closer, wishing she could just grab the man and pull him physically out of the house. “Obviously I didn’t,” she said, then repeated her original question. “What were you doing in there?”
“I saw the car outside. It surprised me, and I wondered if it was your car, or if someone else was here.”
“So, you just came in and—?”
“I knocked. I called out, and no one answered, so I thought I’d better check to make sure everything was okay.”
Logical and reasonable, but his answer made her tremble. Had he seen the note? She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Everything’s just fine,” she said, feeling the breadth of the lie as she uttered it.
“Good,” he said, still not making any effort to leave, much to Alegra’s displeasure.
“Why are you here at all?” she asked.
His gaze swept around the musty, neglected space. “Boyd told me where you used to live, and you’d mentioned being here on the island to sell the place.” Of course, Boyd would know, she thought, but didn’t say it. Joe moved closer, so close she could see the fine lines that fanned from the corners of his incredibly blue eyes. “I just wanted to take a look.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
He studied her intently for so long that she felt she’d never take another breath. Then he said simply, “I thought it would help me understand.”
She dropped her gaze to the front of his jacket, to the exposed V of his throat and the steady pulse beating there. “There’s nothing here to understand,” she whispered.
He reached out and touched her then, a light contact of fingertips on her shoulder she could barely feel through her jacket. “You’re here.”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be.”
She felt the sting of tears and fought crying with every fiber of her being. The last thing she wanted to do, here, now, with Joe present, was cry again.
She abruptly pushed past him, going into the hallway, then down to her old bedroom. She grabbed the note that lay where she’d left it, and in a frenzy, tore it into tiny bits. She crushed the pieces in her fist before going back out to the living room. Joe was still there. She ducked past him, heading to the door, then stepped out into the clear, cold day. Joe followed, and as soon as he was out she closed the door with a jarring slam and locked it, put the key under the lawn ornament, then turned and ran down the steps. Joe caught up to her at her car.
“Alegra?”
She stopped, pressing the fist with the pieces of the crushed note still in it on the hood of the car. She closed her eyes with her back to the man. “What?”
“Why didn’t you leave? The bed-and-breakfast said you had.”
She meant to shrug, but ended up shuddering instead. “Damn it,” she muttered in a choked voice.
Joe was right behind her, his voice a low whisper. “And why are you here at the house when you said you’d never be back?”
So he’d read the note, and in a burst of frustration, embarrassment and fury, she spun around. She opened her fist, and the pieces of the note flew into the air and she swung at him with the flat of her hand as hard as she could. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her in mid-swing. “You had no right!” she screamed. “You had no right at all!”
He still held her wrist, and those blue eyes burned into hers. “It was just there, open, and I couldn’t help but read it.”
“Damn you,” she said through clenched teeth, and her shudder came full force.
He pulled her to him, hugging her, and she fought being in his arms, pummeling his chest, his shoulders, and then around on his back. “Let it go, Alegra,” he said, his words muffled by her hair. “Just let it go.”
AS JOE SPOKE, he felt her blows, but the fury in them decreased. He held her, letting her bury her face in his jacket and taking whatever blows she still had in her. He’d come here to understand her, that was true. And after he read the note, he understood so much more. He’d felt the pain of the child who’d written those words all those years ago. He had literally ached for her. Then she’d appeared, upset by his presence, yet haloed by a lingering sadness.
He’d have given anything to take away that sadness, to make her smile. Now she was in his arms. He could feel her heart pounding and each ragged breath she took. Her hands had stilled, the denim of his jacket balled in them, and he just held her. He let her take whatever she could from his embrace and prayed it was enough for her right now.
She finally pushed against his chest, trying to put space between them. The last thing he wanted to do was let her go. His eyes met her overly brilliant amber ones and he was rocked with the realization that you never chose the person you loved. That love chose you. And he was so very close to loving Alegra. The child she once was and the woman she’d become.
Still, he broke the contact, let her take a step back and press her open hand to the hood of her car behind her. He wanted to stroke her cheek, feel the silkiness of her skin. But he made no move. “I didn’t deliberately read that note,” he heard himself say. “I’m sorry.”
Her tongue touched her lips quickly, then she gave a soft sigh. “It’s not important.”
It was damn important! he thought. He was about to say so, but as she turned, her legs seemed to buckle. He reached out, grabbed her arm and steadied her. “Let me drive you back,” he said.
She must have felt really weak for she just nodded and let him lead her around to the passenger side of the car. He climbed in behind the wheel and found the keys in the ignition. With a glance at Alegra, who was fumbling to do up her seat belt, he started the car and drove her away from the old house.
When he got to the main roa
d, he turned away from the town. As Alegra released a heavy sigh, he didn’t think twice about reaching out and covering the hand clenched on her thigh with his.
She surprised him by turning the hand over and lacing her fingers with his, and then held on tightly as he drove. When the lighthouse came into view, he slowed, then turned into the deserted parking area.
He stopped near the bluffs, by the fence that protected the lighthouse from trespassers, and let the engine idle. To turn off the ignition, he’d have had to let go of Alegra, and he didn’t want to do that. They sat that way for long minutes, and when he finally looked at her, she was staring straight ahead at the view of the sound. He could see a pulse beating wildly just under her ear, and her teeth were nibbling her bottom lip.
“You need to let it go, Alegra,” he said. “Can you?”
There was no response at first, then one came he didn’t want. She slipped her hand out of his, turned to the side window and said, “I will.”
“When?” He already knew what her answer would be.
She didn’t disappoint him. “After the ball,” she whispered, turning to face him. She looked so haunted.
“Alegra,” he said, switching off the ignition and resting his hand on the rich leather of her seat back, “do you really think humiliating the town and throwing money at them will heal all of this?”
She blinked. “It might.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He let himself touch her shoulder and he felt the unsteadiness in her. “Then what’s the point of all this?”
She shook her head. “I just need to do it,” she said. “I need to try.”
He studied her. It was her plan, and she wasn’t giving it up. She’d do it, then go back to her work. To the life she had. To the life she wanted. That put it in perspective for him, and he turned from her, ready to restart the car and get out of there. He’d take her back to her place, then go off and examine how this woman had managed to touch his soul, this woman whose wants and needs were so different from his.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He looked back at her, and the strong sunlight coming through the windows etched the beauty of her face so strongly in front of him that he could barely stand looking at her. It only emphasized the way she’d snuck into his heart and his life. “What difference does it make what the people here think of you?”
She frowned at him. “I just want them to know they were wrong.”
“Wrong to feel sorry for you, to care about what happened to you?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t care. They just felt sorry for me and pitied me. There’s a huge difference.”
“How do you know if they cared or not?”
“I knew. I saw their looks and heard their whispers. I knew what they were saying, that the Peterson kid was pitiful, that she was just like her old man, a big nothing.”
He cringed at her words. “You thought that?”
He could see her jaw clench. “I knew that.”
“How? Are you a mind reader?”
The tension in her was increasing. “I didn’t have to read anyone’s mind. They told me what they thought of me.”
“What are you talking about?”
She took a shuddering breath. “It was the Bounty Festival, and my dad brought home a pirate costume. I didn’t know where he got it, just that there were boots, a billowy shirt and a hat. The stuff was a little big, but I had a costume and I could go to the festival.” Her voice got lower. “So I did, and I went into town and there was this kid, Sean Payne.” She was staring at her hands in her lap now. “The great artist. Back then he was just a bully. And he saw me and he laughed and said the costume was one his dad had thrown in the Dumpster by his office—which was by the bar my dad hung out at.”
He waited, heard her take another shuddering breath, and then, “He said I was a garbage pirate or something like that. The other kids with him were laughing and it was horrible. I…I went all the way to the lighthouse and threw the whole damn costume in the water, and I never went to the festival again—until now.”
“God, I’m so sorry,” Joe said.
“Sure, now you are, but back then, you would’ve been laughing and pointing, too. Your dad—he thought he was helping by stepping in, and he was kind, but I know he did it out of pity. You were probably there, too. You and the others.”
His dad was a peacemaker, not a pitier. He wanted to tell her that, but knew that now wasn’t the time to do that. And he hadn’t been there, not that he remembered, and he wished he could’ve told her he never would’ve laughed at the fun Sean was having at her expense. But somehow he couldn’t. All he could say with total truth was, “I’m sorry it happened to you, really sorry, but why do you think handing that check over will change things?”
“It will change things for me.” She bit her lip. “I want to just do it, let them know that the little kid they used to find so pitiful is the one who’s handing them enough money to…” She didn’t bother to finish her sentence.
“And after you do it?”
“I’m out of here. I’m so far out of here that this island, these islanders, won’t exist for me anymore.”
But she’d exist for him. He knew that with painful certainty. He shifted to bring his hand up to cup the nape of her neck. He felt her heat, knew a powerful need for her. It made no real sense, beyond the fact that she was physically beautiful. But his response to her went so far beyond that, he couldn’t begin to define it.
He would have drawn her closer, but she pushed his hand away. “Don’t,” she said and he drew back. “I don’t need you to console me. I don’t want your damn pity, too.”
Pity had nothing to do with what he was feeling, but he didn’t argue. Instead, all he said was, “You’re no mind reader,” then put the car in gear and backed out onto the road.
He took her into town, got her to the Snug Harbor, parked her car by the front building and got out. He left her there in the parking lot, knowing whatever could have happened, wouldn’t. He couldn’t help her, and she didn’t want anything he could offer her. This was the end of a madness that had begun when he’d first spotted her on the ferry. It was over.
ALEGRA WATCHED Joe go. She knew he wouldn’t be back, and, oddly, that was okay even if she felt something very similar to pain, but deeper and more blurred. It would be easier for her to do what she had to do without him there telling her she shouldn’t do it, that it was futile. She wouldn’t run into him. She wouldn’t see him on the beach or in town. He’d avoid her and she would avoid him while she was here. She headed to her cottage and looked ahead, into the near future. Not back at a sad old house and a man who’d seen her at her worst ever since she’d stepped foot back on the island. Tomorrow night this would be over.
She went into the cottage and turned on her computer, then her cell phone. And got to work. She didn’t stop until it was dark outside and she could hear the sounds of the barbecue on the beach below the bluffs. She tuned out the noises and went back to work. Around midnight, she shut everything down and climbed into bed. She was exhausted, probably more from the emotional turmoil than anything physical. But despite that, sleep wouldn’t come. She finally got up, went to get the cognac that was left and a snifter, then went back to bed.
She sat with her back against the headboard, sipped the cognac and tried to think about anything except what would take place the next night. She continued to hope the alcohol would blot out any dreams that might come when she finally fell asleep….
She awoke the next morning, curled in a ball on her side. She had a brief moment of satisfaction when she realized that if she’d dreamed, she couldn’t remember any of it. But when she rolled over and started to sit up, pain exploded in her head. When she thought about last night, how she’d kept sipping until she fell asleep and how she’d done so on an empty stomach, no less, she knew the hangover was only what she deserved.
Finally
, she swung her legs off the mattress and pushed herself to her feet. She needed water, lots of water. She retrieved two bottles from the minibar, drank one quickly, then the second more slowly.
With the half-empty bottle in her hand, she went in search of some aspirin. Finding a packet in a basket on the vanity by the sink, she swallowed two, then took a long, hot shower. By the time she emerged, she felt almost human.
She dressed in jeans and a deep red, heavy corduroy shirt. She ignored the computer which she’d shut down last night, but picked up the cell phone. Then she left the cottage and walked out into another clear, cold day. The sun was so bright she wished she had sunglasses. That made her laugh until pain darted through her head from the effort. Who would have thought she’d ever need sunglasses on Shelter Island?
The Bounty Festival was back in full gear, with laughter and music in the air. The main street, when she reached it, was car-free and blanketed with people, most in pirate costume. Everyone looked incredibly happy.
She headed down the street to find coffee and finally spotted a shop with remarkably few people inside. She went in, ordered a tall, black coffee and took a seat at a table by the window. When the doorbell chimed, she looked up and saw Joe’s mother coming through the door. Before Alegra could look away, Christina Lawrence spotted her, smiled brightly at her, waved and called out, “I’m just here for my caffeine fix before the parade starts. Let me get it and we can talk for a bit before heading out for the celebration.”
Before Alegra could say she was ready to leave, Christina was ordering her coffee, then coming across to the table with it. She sat opposite Alegra and proceeded to put four sugar packets in her cup. She smiled as she stirred. “Joe always says I like a little coffee with my sugar.”
The woman was lovely and completely unpretentious, and after she sipped some coffee, she sat back with an, “Ah, I needed that.” Alegra drank more of her own brew and when she grimaced at the ache still lingering behind her eyes, Christina said, “A bit too much of the grape?”
Alegra's Homecoming Page 13
