“I missed you,” he said quietly, past the lump in his throat.
“I thought you were still a little boy. I’m not sure how you can be my Adrian.”
“I am.” He smiled at her, although the effort hurt. “I still love to ride the ferry.”
“I think I have to sit down,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t.”
He found them a seat inside by the window, and watched her gaze hungrily out at the sailboats chasing each other, the barge moving slowly to the south, the water a bright blue with the sun almost directly overhead.
He could take her on outings. To restaurants and parks and to the beach. When she was stronger, they could fly to Nova Scotia. He wondered if she might even want to stay there, at least for now. Except Maman was a very old woman now, not able to care for her.
But the people in Middleton had. He thought they might be happy to continue to do so, except for the grumpy few who had always disdained her, their one-and-only homeless person.
She wouldn’t have to be homeless. He could certainly afford to rent her a room, or even buy her a house if she wanted one.
Yes, but could she be trusted to live alone? What if she left a burner or curling iron or God knew what on, or a faucet running? What if she locked herself out on a cold night, or forgot where she lived, or…?
As if Lucy were sitting there beside him, he heard her say, “She’s not senile, you know. Do you think that parents would trust her with their children if she were? Or that she could enjoy reading the way she does, and discussing the themes? That she could keep appointments? She’s remarkably well-organized, actually. And she has such a good memory for the names of authors whose books she’s loved, and perennials and old roses, and historical figures.”
Had she said that, when she was trying to persuade him to make a different plan? Adrian wasn’t sure.
Suddenly he felt sick. Had he made the right decision? Had it ever been the right one for his mother?
He felt a yawning emptiness inside and identified it. He didn’t want to lose her again, and he thought he would if he gave her back to Middleton. But the truth was, she wasn’t the mom he remembered anyway. Oh, she was still that, in flickers of memory, but those were overlaid by the life she’d chosen since. One that hadn’t been so bad.
Would Lucy have him back if he took his mom home to Middleton? The tearing pain in his gut told him no. It was too late. He’d done something wrong. Or maybe it was just who he was. Nobody since his mother had ever loved him. Why had he believed Lucy could?
But maybe, just maybe, he could make things right for the hat lady.
It seemed symbolic that they were seated to be looking back rather than forward, at the approaching cityscape. Turning his face away from the window, telling himself his eyes burned from the bright reflection of the sun on the water and not from emotion, Adrian thought, I want to go back, too. I want to be part of a family, part of a town.
He had responsibilities. Clients.
Did he give a damn about a one of them?
I can’t move to Middleton if Lucy doesn’t want me.
No, but he could change his life. He could accept the lessons she and his mother had taught.
And…it wouldn’t hurt to explore possibilities, would it? In case he hadn’t been wrong about Lucy?
Still hurting but also feeling a fragile renewal of the precious hope Lucy had given him, he said, “Mom, I’m sorry I dragged you on this trip.”
She smiled sunnily at him. “I’m fine, Adrian. You were right. This was fun. Although I am looking forward to going home.”
He smiled at her wryly. “I know.”
Crazy or not, his mother was on to something. Middleton did feel like home, in a way his expensive Seattle condominium and the city he knew best never had.
Lucy, please find me worthy.
LUCY PEERED AT herself in the mirror from between only slightly puffy lids. The cold washcloth had done its job. Chances were good that no one would notice she looked any different than usual, especially once she got bustling in the kitchen over hot burners.
She’d considered not going in. Shea could have filled in for her, or even Samantha in a pinch. But giving herself something to do was a good thing, and anyway, this was her life. Bleakly Lucy thought, I chose it.
She still couldn’t quite believe she’d thrown away everything she had ever believed she wanted: a gorgeous man who loved her, the possibility of adventure in the wider world, the chance to escape her overabundant family while still being near enough to see them sometimes. Even the impetus she needed to try out her culinary skills for the benefit of more sophisticated diners.
What kind of fool was she?
But in her heart, she knew she couldn’t have made a different choice. Adrian’s decision to institutionalize his mother without even exploring alternatives made a mockery of all the times they’d talked about the mother he remembered, a woman who had shaped the man he was despite her absence from so much of his life. That man, Lucy had imagined, could be playful, protective, soft-hearted, impulsive. He would be the perfect father. She’d seen him in her mind’s eye, out on the lawn spinning a little boy in circles, both of them laughing, his smiling mother looking on.
Dumb, idealized dreams. Because, obviously, he wasn’t that man.
She blinked fiercely to keep tears from flooding her eyes again. It was three o’clock and she needed to get going if she was to be ready for the dinner crowd.
She had started down the stairs when her doorbell rang. Lucy’s step checked and she frowned. That was odd. Who would be stopping by at this time of day? Besides her family, of course, who had the annoying habit of letting themselves in without bothering with any nonsense—as her aunt Beth put it—like ringing the doorbell.
Puzzled, Lucy opened the door.
Like a mirage, Adrian and the hat lady stood on her front porch, Adrian tall and so formidably handsome she was cast back to the first time she saw him.
Her throat closed. She was imagining them. Wasn’t she?
He cleared his throat. “I’m glad we caught you at home. I was afraid you’d be at the café.”
“I…was about to leave.”
Expression wary, he was looking at her entirely too closely. He would notice the puffy eyes.
Well, so what! she thought with defiance. He was the one who’d disappointed her. She wouldn’t apologize for loving him, or for grieving for what might have been.
“Um…can we come in?”
The hat lady, whose carriage was very erect, even regal, beamed at Lucy. In a very upper-crust British accent, she said, “Your flower beds are lovely! What a talented young lady you are.”
“Why, thank you.” Lucy smiled at her. “Please. Do come in. May I offer you a cup of tea?”
“That would be nice, but I wonder…” She glanced at the man at her side, then met Lucy’s eyes again, some embarrassment in hers. “I dislike asking for a favor, but…I do believe I need to lie down for a bit. My son suggested I might take advantage of your hospitality.”
“Of course you can.” Lucy resisted the impulse to hug the frail woman. Because, after all, you weren’t supposed to touch Her Majesty without permission. “Let me show you upstairs.”
The progress was slow. Adrian, watchful, waited at the bottom. The hat lady was worn out by her day. Lucy showed her into the guest room.
“May I?” she asked, and, given permission, un-pinned the hat. She helped her guest take off her shoes and lie down, then spread an afghan over her. “Shall I close the curtains?”
“No.” Her friend, the Queen of England, smiled, her eyes closing. “I like the sunlight on my face.”
Lucy tiptoed out, pulling the door almost closed. For a moment she paused there, afraid to go down and face Adrian.
Afraid to find out she was wrong about why he’d turned around and driven his mother back to Middleton. But putting it off wouldn’t change anything, would it? Lucy drew a deep breath and made her
self start down the stairs.
He waited at the bottom, one hand on the newel post, his eyes never leaving hers from the moment she appeared at the top.
“Thank you,” he said, nodding upward.
“I’ve always loved her. Did you think I wouldn’t welcome her?”
His jaw knotted. “I meant, for not questioning our reappearance. I don’t think she ever understood that we weren’t supposed to turn around and come back to Middleton.”
She stood two steps from the bottom, where she could still look down at him. “Why did you come back?”
“Because I realized you were right.” His voice was raw. He wasn’t a man accustomed to admitting to faults. “I didn’t listen to her. I thought about my responsibilities, not her needs.”
A wave of dizzying relief washed over Lucy. She had to grab the banister for support. She had been right about him after all. No, wrong, at least the last time she saw him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For everything I said. I should have trusted you.”
“No.” He reached out, his hand stopping just short of covering hers. His fingers curled into a fist and he withdrew it, as if unsure whether his touch was wanted. “No,” he said hoarsely. “I needed to hear every word. I almost didn’t, you know. I was pretty angry when I left.”
“I know.” Oh, she yearned for him to take her in his arms! But she wasn’t sure that was what he had in mind at all. He would still be going back to Seattle. Would he ask her again to go?
She had already answered that question for herself. Yes, yes, yes! Even though she had discovered, after a lifetime of chafing at the bonds of family and small town, that she belonged here. But she belonged with him, too; him, most of all. Perhaps, like Dr. Slater’s wife, she could persuade Adrian to retire to Middleton someday.
She had hurt him, though, and he was a proud man. He might never ask again. He might not want her.
“I had to explain over and over where we were going,” he said. “But nothing I said sunk in. Mom just kept asking whether we were going home after we rode the ferry.”
“And so you decided to bring her.”
He grimaced. “And thus we’re, uh, imposing on you. Do you need to go to work? I can stay here with Mom, or take her over to your sister’s once she wakes up.”
“What do you have in mind?” Lucy asked. “I mean, for your mom?”
“Well, that depends.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as if to ease tension. “Don’t you have to go? I could come back tonight to talk to you, when you get home. Or tomorrow.”
“Let me see if I can find someone to fill in for me.”
She left him standing there and went to the kitchen, where she made a swift phone call. Then she returned and said, “I’m off the hook until Tuesday. Let’s sit down.”
He nodded and followed her into the living room, where he hesitated until she sat on one end of the sofa, one foot curled beneath her. He chose the other end, close enough that she could see how rigidly he held himself, the strain on his face, the tight line of his mouth.
“I may buy her a house. Or rent her a room, depending on what you think’s best.”
Oh. He wanted only to talk about arrangements for his mother.
Lucy nodded, as if considering the options.
“Or perhaps, ah, something like a mother-in-law apartment.” Even his voice sounded stifled, with a soft burr. Only his eyes were vividly alive, searching her face. “Depending on you.”
Not on what she thought best, but her. Hope swelled painfully in her chest.
“What do you mean?” she asked carefully.
“I love you. I didn’t just bring my mother back. I brought myself back.”
Tears overflowed, and she launched herself at him. “Oh, Adrian! This has been the worst day of my life!”
His arms closed around her with bruising force, and he pressed his cheek against the top of her head. “God. I was so afraid—”
When he broke off, she pulled back slightly so that she could see his face. The vulnerability there wrenched her heart.
“I thought…you hadn’t really loved me. Believing that was easy. Or maybe I never quite believed you did. After my mother left me—”
“You never felt loved again,” she said slowly, shocked despite herself.
“Felt?” His face twisted. “I don’t think I was. My father…I doubt he knew how.”
“Oh, Adrian.” Lucy kissed him slowly, sweetly, tasting her tears and knowing he would as well. “I love you.”
He made an inarticulate sound that vibrated in his chest then kissed her back, his mouth hungry. Passion was there, but the desperation with which they held each other had another cause entirely.
“Can you stay tonight?” Lucy asked, when she could. “I don’t care if your mother’s in the guest room….”
“I can stay. If you mean it.” Her next kiss apparently reassured him. It was a minute before he could continue. “I can stick around until Monday—”
“Really?” She drew back again. “You’ve missed so much work.”
“I’m quitting,” he said flatly.
Shaken, Lucy shook her head. She had to have heard wrong. “What?”
“If you want to stay in Middleton, I’ll buy Weatherby’s practice if he’s really prepared to sell. If you don’t—”
She interrupted him. “But…you can’t possibly want to give up being a partner in a major Seattle law firm so that you can…well, defend Bill Bartovich when he gets in a drunken brawl at the tavern.”
He actually grinned at her, so handsome he took her breath away. “I thought Middleton had real crime.”
“Of course it does. Sometimes. But…mostly, you’d probably be drawing up wills and refereeing property disputes and—”
“Defending drunken loggers?”
“Yes.”
He was still smiling, so much tenderness in eyes she’d once considered chilly, Lucy thought she could die happy right that minute. “What you mean is, I could take care of the legal concerns of my friends and neighbors. Instead of defending corporate scum in court.”
“Surely you don’t feel that way about all your clients.”
Adrian made a quick, impatient gesture. “No. Of course not. But I’ve had increasing doubts lately. Especially—” he cupped her face “—since I met you. I’ve been…jealous. I want what you have. Family. People who care.”
Her eyes filled with tears again.
With his thumbs, he gently brushed the tears away. “If you want to move to Seattle—or anywhere at all—that’s okay, too. I’m still quitting the firm. I want to do something different with my life. We can make provisions for Mom.”
She couldn’t seem to quit crying, even though now her nose was running, too. “Are you sure? I do want to stay here, but not if you’ll be unhappy—”
“Never.” He pulled her close and let her weep happily against his shoulder. “I was kind of hoping you’d say that. Middleton seems to have cast its spell on me. I like the idea of raising our kids here.”
Lucy wept some more. Eventually, she left him long enough to wash her face and blow her nose. She didn’t dare even peek at the mirror. He loved her; he wouldn’t care that her face was blotchy and puffy and horribly unattractive.
When she returned to him he kissed her as if he hadn’t noticed how she looked at all. Lucy found that amazingly satisfying.
Finally, with her cuddled up to him, he said, “On the ferry I flipped through some real estate booklets. I saw a house for sale here in Middleton. A big old place with a carriage house that’s been turned into an apartment.”
“Oh!” She sat up. “The Andrews house. I’ve seen the For Sale sign. It’s amazing. But…can you afford it?”
“Sure,” he said in surprise. “Or we could stay here. Do you own this house?”
Lucy shook her head. “I rent from my uncle Will. Of course he’d never kick me out.”
“Do you mind moving? Right after you started your dream garden?�
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“No. Oh, no.” Darned if she wasn’t near to tears again. “I can start again. And that garden will be my own.”
Adrian nodded. “I asked you once before, but I think I need to do it again. Will you marry me, Lucy Peterson?”
“Yes. Yes!”
They kissed, and they held each other, and they murmured confidences. He told her that they’d had to wait nearly forty-five minutes in the ferry line on the other side, and he’d gotten the paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, with its yellowed pages, out of the trunk and started reading it to his mother.
“She was too tired to go up top once we did get on the ferry, so she took a turn reading to me during the crossing.”
“Was it worth the wait?” Lucy asked.
He was silent for a moment. “Yeah. It was pretty gripping. And sitting there, with my mom reading to me, after all these years…” His voice roughened. “Isn’t it funny, when you think you have everything you need, and then you discover you didn’t. Here I am with my mother, and you, and someplace to call home.”
Her chest hurt, she loved him so much. Lucy nodded. “And I have you, and I’ve found out I don’t want to leave home after all.”
She could hardly wait to tell the hat lady that miracles happened every day.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3173-7
SOMEONE LIKE HER
Copyright © 2009 by Janice Kay Johnson.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
Someone Like Her Page 20
