Alegra's Homecoming

by Mary Anne Wilson

  It was the easiest request he’d ever fulfilled. He entered her, slowly and completely. Deep in her, he stopped, looked down at her, and as her hips lifted, he started to move. God help him, he loved her beyond reason. He loved the feel of her, the smell of her, the way she moved with him, the way she gave small gasps with each new level of feeling reached.

  He loved the way her fingers dug into his shoulders, and the way her legs circled his hips, pulling him ever more deeply inside her. He loved the way she started to gasp, then arch and tremble. He loved the way his own cry of pleasure mingled with hers. In that moment, he really understood how two people could become one. One person. One need. One climax. He soared with it, never wanting it to end.

  ALEGRA WAS VERY STILL in the shadows, feeling Joe against her side, his warm skin against hers, his arm around her, holding her to him. She listened to his even breathing and knew he was asleep. She was overwhelmed with what she’d done. She’d let everything that shouldn’t have happened, happen. She let herself go to him, give herself to him and make love with him.

  No, she’d simply let herself love him.

  She was appalled at her total loss of control. Yet she’d wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She’d wanted to be loved and to love. She’d wanted to be so close to Joe that nothing separated them. And she had done that very thing. She’d let him in her, and she’d lost herself in feelings that were exquisitely beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

  Now she didn’t know what to do. How could she leave now? How could she walk away from Joe? Yet how could she not leave? She didn’t belong here, even with Joe. She hadn’t fit in here in the past. She wouldn’t fit in now. She felt him stir, and she tensed, but then he sank back into sleep.

  But she was wrong about him being asleep. “Awake?” he asked in a low murmur.

  She thought of feigning sleep, but the moment his hand stroked her arm, then lowered to the curve of her hip, she couldn’t suppress a sigh. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He shifted then, pushed himself up on his elbow to look down at her. “Good.” She could see the smile on his lips in the dim light. “I’m awake, too.” And his hand moved on her. He caressed her hip, her thigh, then pulled her leg up and over his. She trembled when he cupped her bottom in his hand, then touched her center. She gasped and closed her eyes at the feelings that seemed to come out of nowhere.

  “Oh, Joe,” she breathed, and pressed her lips to his chest. She found his nipple, teasing it with her tongue, and she heard him echo her gasp. She felt him tighten, then pressure against her stomach from his swell of desire. She thought about stopping, about saying, “We need to talk,” but didn’t, especially when he caught her around the waist with his hands and easily lifted her up and over him. She pressed her hands to the bed by his shoulders and felt him ease inside her as she lowered onto him.

  No talking, not now. Later. Later. He moved in her, and she echoed those moves. She let the feelings flow through her, gave in to them. Joe carried her higher and higher, and was with her when she climaxed. His body tangled with hers, his mouth plundered hers, and her world narrowed to just the two of them. She clung to him, afraid to let go. Then she settled beside him, her leg over his, her arm around his waist, and his arm cradling her shoulders. She felt him press a kiss to her hair and heard his soft, “Thank you.”

  She closed her eyes tightly, and put off saying anything. She’d talk to him after the ball. After she was done. There had to be some way to make this work. Some way to keep this man in her life and close to her. Some way.

  She was amazed that she actually slept. When she awoke, Joe was gone. In his place was a short note lying on the pillow that still held the indentation of his head. Won’t be gone long. Wait for me. We’ll talk. It was signed with a looping J.

  She rolled back into the pillows and stared at the curtains over the windows. It was dark outside, she could tell, with no sun peeking through the crack where the panels met. She glanced at the bedside clock and saw it was after seven. The ball started at eight. She reached for the note Joe left, but there was no time on it. She had no idea when he’d left or how long he’d be.

  She laid the note back on the pillow, then got out of bed. Yes, they’d talk. And she had no idea what either one would say. Loving Joe hadn’t made her life any simpler, only more complicated, but she’d figure something out. She had to. They could find some arrangement both could live with. Because, one thing she knew, she wanted Joe in her life. She wanted to be with a man who made her feel as if she’d been waiting for his embrace her whole life.

  She got out of bed, showered and quickly dressed for the ball in the silver, floor-length sheath, with thin jeweled straps at the shoulders and a scooped neckline. The back plunged to the small of her back. She caught her hair up and off her face with two diamond clips, then quickly applied makeup. All the while, she expected a knock on the door, to hear Joe call out to her. But by the time she was ready and had to leave, Joe still hadn’t shown up.

  She hurried into the bedroom, wrote a note of her own, saying she was at the ball and would be back as soon as she finished there. She hesitated, but didn’t write what she wanted to, Love, Alegra. Instead she ended with, Back soon. Alegra.

  She gathered up a small black evening bag and hurried out. She got to her car and headed to the Grace Mansion. She knew where it was and didn’t have any trouble finding the road that cut off the main route and led to the jutting piece of land that descendants of Bartholomew Grace owned.

  She rounded a curve on the narrow road and came face-to-face with the huge entry gates to the property. Rough stones formed pillars on both sides almost twenty feet high, and wrought-iron gates with a fancy B on one and an equally fancy G on the other were hinged to the pillars. There was a numeric pad on the left for guests, but on this evening, a man in full formal attire greeted everyone at the entrance. He scanned her invitation, then nodded to her and said, “Please, enter the Grace estate.”

  She had never been beyond the gates in her life, but what she found inside pretty much lived up to her fantasies about the place. The main house was high on a bluff. Outside lights exposed a structure of rock and wood that bordered on being a castle, yet looked almost crude in its construction. It had light pouring out every window of its three stories. Several chimneys reached into the dark sky, smoke curling out of every one of them.

  She followed the winding drive to the house, passing two side routes that were labeled with signs that read, respectively, Employee Entrance, and Utilities. At the house she surrendered her car to a valet who appeared as soon as she stopped by steep stone steps leading to the entry. She didn’t pause to look around, but hurried up the steps and through open wooden doors.

  The central foyer of the house was as big as her apartment in New York. Twin staircases wound to the left and right. The walls in here were stone, also, polished and mellow. A huge iron chandelier cast soft light through the area, and the floor, polished pink marble, was oddly out of place. It was as if the idea of luxury was embraced only on the floor. The rest was rough and, although expansive, without refinement.

  A man in tails approached her, asked for her name, then proceeded to show her through a massive archway directly ahead and under the upper balconies. She stepped down into another large space, with the same pink marble flooring, but with intricately detailed dark wood on all the walls and the high, coved ceiling. An orchestra was in an alcove to the right, mostly strings playing a waltz, and a number of couples were in the middle of the space dancing.

  She figured there were already about a hundred people at the ball, and she was right on time. People around here obviously didn’t believe in being fashionably late. She took an offered flute of champagne and was introduced to Harry Tarver, the name she recognized from the forms she’d filled in for the donation. He was tall and bald, and his welcome was effusive when he found out who she was.

  She begged off dancing with him, then asked when the ceremony w
ould start for the contributors, because she really didn’t want to spend a lot of time at the ball. The man assured her the ceremony would start within the hour. She thanked him, then moved to the back of the room and a series of French doors that showed the magnificent view from the property.

  The night was unusually clear, and stars were visible. She could see the lights from the mainland far off in the distance. If the lighthouse had been working, she’d be seeing its light sweeping back and forth in the night. Well, that would happen soon.

  She was startled when a hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Joe Senior. The older man was dressed in a tux and grinning at her. “You made it and you look lovely.” He held his hand out to her. “Give this old guy a treat and dance with me before Joey comes back and keeps you all to himself?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alegra looked past Joe Senior and saw Christina near the middle of the room dancing with a young guy who looked pretty awkward waltzing. Christina smiled at her, waved, and Alegra waved back. Why hadn’t she thought they might be here? She hadn’t even considered them standing there when she made her announcement. She let Joe Senior lead her to the dance floor.

  He was a smooth dancer and easy to follow, which was good because she was having trouble focusing, knowing Joe Junior would probably be there soon. “You missed a great pirate meal,” the man said. “Then again, so did Joey.”

  That made her miss her step slightly, but she recovered. “He didn’t make it for dinner?”

  “We’re used to that. He gets tied up here and there and really isn’t good at following any sort of schedule.” She hoped this wasn’t Joe Senior’s subtle way of telling her he knew they’d been together.

  “I was busy,” she mumbled, almost choking on the words.

  “We figured as much,” he said evenly, and she missed her step again. “You know, you haven’t changed very much.”

  She stopped. “Excuse me?”

  He smiled wryly and his blue eyes narrowed on her. “You are very much all right, aren’t you?”

  She stared at him, but before she could figure out what had just happened, someone touched her shoulder, and Joe Senior’s smile grew. “Joey! There you are. And here’s Alegra.”

  With that, the older man let her go, and she had only a glimpse of Joe in a tux before she found herself in his arms. She snuggled into his chest and felt his heart beating against her cheek. The sense of rightness she felt made her smile. She moved easily and remembered how they’d moved when they made love.

  Finally he spoke. “I thought you were waiting for me at the cottage.” She felt the rumble of the words in his chest.

  “I waited, but it got late and I had to be here,” she said against the fine material of his tux.

  He held her more tightly against him, and all but stopped moving to the music as he whispered in her ear, “I thought you’d let this all go.”

  The good feelings were starting to fade. “I never said I was, did I?”

  “No, but I thought…” He sighed roughly, then said earnestly, “Come with me, now. We’ll just walk away and keep going until we’re alone and can talk and figure out a better way.”

  They’d stopped dancing completely, and his hold on her was feeling more restrictive than comforting. As if Joe had read her mind, he eased his embrace and she was able to move back enough to look up at him. “I can’t just walk away, not now, not after all of this,” she said. “We can talk later.”

  He glanced around, then back at her. “Come on,” he said, and led her across the dance floor. Just as a new piece started, they reached the French doors. Joe pushed the nearest one open and ushered her out onto an expansive stone terrace. Old gas lamps flickered along the wall, and the night was cold. But Alegra didn’t notice much more than the fact that Joe had released her arm and now stood a distance from her, his expression tense.

  “Joe, you can’t think I’d just forget doing all this just because we…” She bit her lip, not wanting to diminish in any way their exquisite lovemaking earlier.

  “You’re still going to go through with this revenge?”

  “I have to,” she said again, with a touch of desperation in her voice.

  “Why? You are who you are, and you can be anyone you want to be. You’ve proven that. But you don’t have to do this.”

  If she could only think of what to say to recapture their closeness, yet not sacrifice what she’d come here to do. “I told you how important this is to me.”

  Joe came closer, inches from her. “Alegra, I’m begging you. Let it go and leave here with me now.” His voice was rough.

  “You’ll come with me?” she asked.

  “Yes, we’ll go back to your place or my house, or even to the beach. We can talk and—”

  She cut him off. “Will you leave the island with me?”

  The question hung between them, unanswered, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Joe shook his head. “This is my home, but it can be your home, too.”

  Her heart broke. “It never was my home,” she whispered. “It can’t ever be my home. I hate it here. I can’t wait to leave.” Her voice got louder and more hysterical with each word. She stopped herself by putting a hand over her mouth. She stared at Joe, then slowly lowered her hand. She took a breath and said sorrowfully, “It can’t work, can it.”

  “No,” he murmured.

  Nothing felt right now, nothing fit, and when she heard the announcer say that the donation ceremony was beginning, she couldn’t look away from Joe. “I…I need to go inside,” she said.

  Joe moved so close she could feel his body heat. “I know you do,” he said in a voice that sounded so much like pity she wanted to scream. It was as if he’d said she was a fool but go and do what she thought she had to do. She wanted to tell him that if he cared about her, he’d back her in this, try to understand, not pity her. God, she hated that! The pain she felt now was far beyond anything Sean had inflicted on her years ago.

  Names were being read off, then her name was called, and Joe didn’t move. She brushed a hand over her face. “That’s me,” she said, and moved to go around him, leaving him behind, to go into the ballroom and back to her life she’d chosen.

  But then he had her by her shoulders, and turned her to look at him. “Believe it or not,” he said, “I wish you everything you ever wanted in this life.” With that, he pressed his mouth to hers briefly, then drew back and walked inside, leaving her out there alone. On stiff legs, she followed, not sure if she was going after him or the revenge she so wanted.

  But as she stepped into the ballroom, the man on the podium by the orchestra said over the microphone, “Ladies and gentlemen, Alegra Reynolds.” They all turned in her direction, and in the blur of faces, the only one she saw with any clarity was Joe’s. He was watching her from the other side of the room, then he disappeared through the large archway. The crowd began to applaud, and an attendant reached her, took her by the arm and murmured, “Let me escort you.”

  Accompanied by him and the applause, she climbed onto the small stage with Mayor Foyle. He beamed at her. From a small card in his hand, he read off who she was professionally and that she had made a donation with the stipulation that it be used to restore the lighthouse and keep it in working order. When he read the amount, there was a collective gasp from the audience, followed by a crescendo of applause and shouts of approval.

  The mayor turned to her, said, “We all thank you for caring enough about our island to make it a better place, Ms. Reynolds,” then he stepped away from the microphone, letting her take his place.

  She gripped the microphone stand tightly, at a loss, momentarily, for how to begin. She looked out at the sea of people, then saw Joe Senior and Christina smiling at her, and Christina giving her a thumbs-up. Alegra looked away from them as she finally understood, unnerved when she realized Joe and Christina knew who she was. She cleared her throat and began.

  “My name is Alegra Reynolds.” She paused. “You all knew
me years ago as…”

  She stopped, unable to continue with the speech she’d planned, the speech where she told them she was Al Peterson, daughter of the town drunk who no one ever imagined would make anything of herself. She stood there, waiting, but the words wouldn’t come. She knew in that moment that nothing she could say or do here was going to replace the emptiness inside her, the emptiness that had settled into a living thing when Joe disappeared from view. She’d never felt like that in her life, not even at the worst of times when she was a child.

  She turned to the mayor, then back to the crowd and could barely focus on anyone at all. Joe was the only person around here who knew who she really was, and suddenly that was all that mattered. He knew, and Joe hadn’t left because of what she was or what she’d done before, but because she was asking him to back her in this insane quest for revenge and recognition. In that moment, she realized she didn’t need it. She managed to say, “I’d love to see the old lighthouse in working order. When I was growing up, its light was a beacon of hope for me, and perhaps it can be the same for some of you.”

  That was it. That was all she was going to say. She absorbed the thunderous applause, but knew it meant little to her. She didn’t need to see their faces drop with surprise and shock when she threw her real identity in their faces, when she told them they were applauding little Al Peterson. She didn’t need to see their embarrassment or hear any apologies, sincere or otherwise. She’d come to the island for one thing—to put Al Peterson to rest and leave without regret. She knew then that she’d put the little girl in her to rest, and wasn’t quite sure when that had happened. But if she left now, she would have regrets for the rest of her life.

  JOE LEFT THE MANSION with the applause for Alegra echoing in his ears. He went quickly down the stone steps, but didn’t wave the valet over to get his car for him. Instead, he headed to the north end of the house and onto a trail he’d gone on many times when he’d been a kid playing with Ethan Grace, a school friend. It led to a lookout cut in the rocky bluffs where Bartholomew Grace once used his spyglass to search the horizon for his enemies.