“Yeah,” he agreed, surprised to find his own voice a bit thick, his throat tight with emotion. He understood, but the home he was feeling was the slender fingers tucked between his. She was his home.
They didn’t say anything else as the sun made its full descent and day became dusk. He could feel her shivering and held her hand more tightly, but didn’t suggest they go in. She’d know when she was finished doing what needed doing, this most important first time. A little chill, or even a lot of chill, wasn’t going to be the determining factor. As long as she was holding on to him, he would be right there with her.
“Thank you,” she said at length. “For giving me the tower. I mean, I know it’s not mine—”
“Yeah, it is. It’s the core of the McCrae family . . . but in all the ways it needs to be, it will always be yours, too. You’re the one who’s going to save it, after all.”
She turned her head then, and he saw the tears track down her cheeks, but the accompanying smile kept him from reaching over to brush them away.
“Thank you for sharing this. With me,” he told her.
“I wanted it to be yours again, too. I wasn’t sure—”
“You were right. It is. Mine again, too.” He smiled. “Good instincts.”
“I’ve been practicing.” At his curious expression, she added, “Trusting my instincts. Going with my gut.”
He squeezed her hand. It was all he could do not to tug her into his arms, shield her from the cold wind, and taste her like he’d been aching to every minute of every day since the last time they’d kissed.
“I used your kitchen,” she said. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s fine. Smells amazing.”
“F-for tomorrow,” she said, her teeth chattering now. “You g-going to D-Delia’s?”
It was more dark than dusk, and he tugged on her hand. “Come on. We can watch the rest from the other side of the glass.”
“K-kay.”
They laughed at that and stepped back inside the lantern room.
He closed the panel to the gallery and they stamped their feet a few times and shook their hands, but it didn’t do too much to restore the blood flow to their extremities. “Not much warmer in here, really.”
“I thought about bringing up a basket or something, but figured it wouldn’t be much fun to have turkey and frostbite for dinner.” She turned then and ran her hand over the lens that dominated the center of the room. “I was surprised it’s a second-order Fresnel. Pretty powerful. I would have guessed fourth or even fifth.”
“The other light across the bay was destroyed, so this became the main beacon. The Fresnel was installed about twenty-five years before the tower was decommissioned. I know my great-grandfather, who was the keeper at the time, had been making quite a ruckus about the U.S. not getting them installed fast enough.”
“Well, it took almost forty years after they were invented to even start being installed. Stupid politics.”
Both were shivering now and his teeth were starting to click, too. “Ready to go down?”
She shook her head even as she grinned and said, “Yes.”
He let her go in front of him, waiting until she cleared each set of steps before he put his weight on them. She barely made them shimmy, whereas they made quite a protest with his added weight.
She paused and looked around the Watch Room, deep in shadows, more dark than light, but another round of shivers sent her across to the steps heading down to the base. He followed, same as before.
He caught up to her on the ground floor where she was looking up and around, and he could see the wheels already turning. “Missing your clipboard, are you?”
“You have no idea.”
He chuckled and she shot him a smile. “You know, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be in here. It’s in much better shape than the cottage. But it’s going to be monster to redo, well, everything.”
“I know.” And I don’t care. I hope it takes the rest of my life to fix it. Hell, he’d have happily handed her the key to his entire kingdom, if he’d had one, just for the look of anticipation he saw on her face. He’d all but begged her to consider staying, when they’d been at the station earlier that week. Seeing her in her true element, he realized that had been more selfish than he’d imagined. He’d wanted to believe she could find a substitute in Blueberry for what her work made her feel, but looking at her, he couldn’t imagine there was such a thing.
He wondered if he’d been too hasty in deciding he couldn’t leave Blueberry. It wouldn’t be the same after she’d gone. It would feel like nothing measured up, anymore. Good, but not as good as when she’d been there. Happy, but not as happy as when he’d shared it with her. God, who was he kidding? It was going to be awful.
Watching her studying, examining, her brain whirring and so fully in tune and invigorated, even as she looked as if she was going to shiver right out of her boots, he thought it might be slightly less awful if he could at least picture her like this. And know that wherever she was, this was how she’d be feeling, what she’d be experiencing. That couldn’t be all bad.
“You look like someone stole your puppy.”
He jerked his gaze to hers. “What? Oh. No, just . . . thinking.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of that, too.” She turned to the door. “But I don’t want to talk about it here. I’m freezing. Come on, I have something else I want to show you, anyway,”
She surprised him by grabbing his hand and tugging him out the door. Both had to put their shoulders into getting it closed again; then laughing, they ran like a pair of lunatics across the grass, freezing their asses off. She guided him to the side door on the north wing of the house. “In here.” She tugged at the door, but he simply picked her up by bracing his hands on her arms and moving her bodily to the side, then gave a mighty tug until it popped open.
“Neanderthal.”
He shot her a grin. “Good Neanderthal or bad Neanderthal?”
“Why do I think you’d take either as a compliment?”
“Because you know me?”
She shot him the kind of smile he hadn’t seen from her since—since a time he’d be better off not thinking about if he wanted to make it through whatever else she had planned.
She led him down the long window room, as it had always been called, until they reached the glassed-in veranda that stretched across the center back of the house.
“I have to warn you, it’s not going to be warm in there, either.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” She tugged the connecting door open and stepped inside, then turned and said, “Voilà!”
Knowing he was likely gaping, he stepped in behind her, almost forgetting to pull the door shut behind him as he took in the complete transformation of the veranda space.
The windows had been scrubbed until they glistened as much as they could, given the salt scrub finish on the outside. The panels below the windows had also been scrubbed, as had the cement floor and the rear wall. Even the eaves of the overhanging roof were cleared of cobwebs and brushed free of debris. An old, heavy Aubusson carpet had been dragged in to cover most of the floor, and he thought he saw another rug or two under that one. On top of all of that was a more traditional red and black plaid blanket. Piles of throw pillows ranging from small to overstuffed were piled around the corners. Candles of all shapes and sizes had been placed all around the room in colorful flickering groupings and two small space heaters hummed quietly from opposite corners.
In the center of the old plaid blanket sat a stunning walnut picnic basket. Actually, that particular kind, oversized, with compartments built inside, were called picnic hampers, he recalled. At least that’s what Jessie’s mom had called them. As far as he knew, the McCraes had never had one. He’d have remembered one as beautifully detailed and lovingly restored as this one. “When did you do all this?”
“Rainy days are not my friends,” she said with a wry smile.
“I can see that.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I trespassed a little.”
He just shook his head and looked around again.
“I didn’t get too crazy as I’m not sure what all is going to have to happen to this room when we fully renovate, but for now I thought it would be a nice way to look out over the harbor during the winter months, view the sunsets, watch the lights came on along the harbor. And I thought we could start with that meal it was too cold to have up in the tower.”
“I—yes. It’s a wonderful idea.” He’d already used up most of his control just keeping his hands off her and his mouth shut long enough to stop him from blurting out . . . well . . . a whole lot of things, so there wasn’t much willpower left. He put what there was toward not getting his hopes up. About anything.
She stepped onto the blanket and sank down with her legs folded in front of her. She shrugged out of her coat and pulled off her hat. She raked her fingers through the curls, which did little to help the hat hair or static. Her quick eye roll and what can I do? shrug made him smile. And want her all the more.
Curling his fingers inward against the need to weave them through those flyaway curls and take her mouth like a man dying of thirst only she could quench, he sat down while his body would still let him. He should have chosen looser jeans. Not that it really mattered, since staring at her by candlelight for any length of time, while sprawled on that blanket with all those pillows so handily nearby was likely going to kill him, anyway.
“Oh, before I forget. I had a kind of epiphany today.” She smiled brightly as she tugged the hamper closer.
His eyebrows climbed at her sudden animation, but he was grinning at the same time. I love you, Alexandra MacFarland. I may never get to tell you, but God, I love you. “I thought I saw smoke from the lightning strike.”
“Just wait. You’re going to thank me, so be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
She nudged him with her toe and he nudged her back.
Grinning, he said, “So, what was the big lightbulb moment about?”
She talked while she opened up the hamper and set out the food. “I’ve been thinking about Eleanor.”
He was no longer listening. Because out came a platter of fried chicken, a small basket of homemade biscuits, cheesy pasta in some kind of warming tray, and a chocolate cake that might have brought a tear to his eye. Topping it off, from the bottom of the basket, a little cooler produced a six-pack of cold beer.
“Marry me,” he said, staring at the feast before him.
She laughed. “Glad you approve.” She tossed a roll of napkins at him. “Here, you’ve got some drool on your chin.”
He snagged them, but was still watching in awe as she unwrapped and set everything out. His stomach growled like a starved convict’s.
“So, about Eleanor.”
“Anything you want.”
She laughed again. “You’re making it way too easy, you know.”
“I see no purpose in making it hard for arbitrary reasons.” And dear God, he was still just as hard, even distracted as he was by the amazing smorgasbord she was setting out, even as he’d been when the only thing in the room he’d wanted to nibble on had been her. The last thing he really wanted to talk about at the moment was Eleanor Darby.
But fearing Alex might pack the food up if he didn’t play along, he snagged a biscuit and said, “So, what about Eleanor?”
“I know her hearing thing is next week and I was thinking. You said something back when the city hall thing happened. About animal control relocating her raccoon.”
“It wasn’t her raccoon.”
She nudged him again. “That’s not what I’m getting at. Since you have an animal control service, do you also have some sort of animal shelter? I know Eleanor doesn’t do well with people, and my guess is that includes cohabitating with four-legged critters. But she liked being a caretaker for the raccoon, as long as he stayed outside. And I was thinking, maybe her community service could be to volunteer at the animal shelter. If it’s not a good fit, it could always be changed to something else. But by volunteering she’d be contributing to the town to pay for her transgressions, and, who knows, maybe it will be the thing that—”
“Keeps her from straying to a full-time life of crime?”
“Maybe. Hopefully. What do you think?”
He finished off a piece of chicken and thought he really wanted to taste her next. “I think for someone who hasn’t lived here very long, you have pretty good instincts about the people who have.”
“So, is that a yes?”
“That’s an ‘I’ll make a recommendation to the judge.’ But, yeah, I think he’ll go for it.”
“Excellent. Thank you!” She handed him an open beer, then lifted hers in a toast. “To Eleanor finding a path away from a life of crime.”
“And out of my police station.” They tapped cans, and took their sips.
He took a bite of pasta and groaned. “You know,” he said, after finishing another bite. “When you get done restoring all the lighthouses in the world, you should think about feeding people for a living. It would be a true service to mankind. In fact, I’ll even offer to personally help you establish the menu.”
“Big of you,”
“I’m like that.”
Her eyes took on a mischievous light, as if she was going to make a suggestive comment, but she looked back at her plate instead, eyes still twinkling, and picked up another biscuit.
He slid the hamper over and looked at it more closely. “This is beautiful. Is it Delia’s?”
“Actually, it’s mine.”
He looked up, very surprised. “Really? Family heirloom?”
“Maybe someday. I hope so, anyway.”
He frowned. “I’m—not following.”
Her sunny confidence wavered and she suddenly found the biscuit she was picking apart to be the most interesting thing in the room.
“Alex?”
She worked at it another moment, then took what looked like a steadying breath and said, “Remember when I said back in the tower that I’d been doing a lot of thinking. About gut instincts?”
“Yes.” He stomped hard and fast on the surge of hope that filled him, like a man stomping out a fire before it burned him alive.
“You asked me to think about what I wanted. That day, in your office, when—”
“I remember what day. And what I asked of you.” He remembered every last word of that day. And how he wished he’d just given in and kissed her the way he’d wanted to. Even if it was the last time, at least he’d have gotten a last time.
“I said I would. And I have been. I-I didn’t go in the tower that day—which you know.”
“Yes. It thought that was a good idea. It had been a big morning and before that . . . well, there had been a lot before that, too.”
“You came to me that night, didn’t you? When I had the nightmare again?”
He just nodded. They were moving into territory where no amount of self-control or fire stomping was going to protect him. Hope stubbornly reared its optimistic, rose-colored-glasses-adorned head. Despite knowing he was just setting himself up for a crushing blow, he couldn’t quash it.
“I really hadn’t thought past coming here and figuring out whether I could even continue doing what I’ve always done. But I’ve thought a lot about it, about what I want from my future. My professional future. And I’ve thought a lot about the life I want to go with it. You made me think. Hard. So did Eula. And Delia. About friendships and playgrounds and what it would take to fulfill my needs and give me the drive and focus I need to do something that feels worthwhile, that’s as gratifying to me as this work is. I honestly couldn’t imagine anything that could ever compete with a lighthouse.”
Logan dipped his chin, knowing the truth of it. Hadn’t he just witnessed how strong that affinity was? Much as he wanted it to be otherwise, it was not the time to pretend things were anything but what they were. “When you were out there, j
ust now . . . you looked . . . ebullient.”
“I was. I am. I can’t wait to work on your tower.”
“Your tower.”
She flushed a little. It always charmed him when something caused that vulnerable side in her to come out.
My heart, he thought. Right at your feet.
“It is hard to think there wouldn’t be others. After this one.”
The vise grip on his heart returned with an even harder squeeze. Here we go.
“But it was harder to think that I’d have to leave Blueberry to see to them. I just . . . want both. But coming home for short stays between months- or even years-long projects isn’t what I want, either. It was all I knew growing up in Thunder Bay, but it’s already different here. I never really missed the bay because everything that was important to me went with me when I left.” She looked at him. “I will miss the Cove.”
He was surprised his heart hadn’t turned to dust, the vise grip was so tight around it. “Alex, just—for the love of God, tell me before you kill me.”
She looked honestly surprised by his outburst. “I am. I mean, it’s—”
“Did you find the missing piece to the puzzle?”
She nudged the hamper toward him. “You tell me.”
He looked at the beautifully restored walnut piece, then at her, then back at the basket, eyes widening. “You did this?”
“Every last freaking awesome inch of it. Yes, I did.”
His gaze flew to hers. She looked so damn proud. And happy.
“That’s . . . incredible. But how? Where did you even—?” Then it dawned on him. There was only one person. “Eula? You’ve been working for—”
“With. No one works for Eula. But . . . yes. That’s where I went when I left the station. I just . . . wanted to find out. I wanted to do something, anything, to take a step forward. Like I told you in your office, I felt like I’d been on kind of a roll in the forward-step-taking department that day. She’d offered another path from my crossroads. And she was right. I had to know what they all were before I could decide which one to take. Other than going to Delia’s to sleep, I’ve been at Eula’s pretty much every minute since.”
Pelican Point (Bachelors of Blueberry Cove) Page 31
