Tell Me

by Strom, Abigail

  There were a few cars in the parking lot, but tourist season wouldn’t start until June and it wasn’t crowded. He pulled into a spot near the lane and turned off the car.

  He looked over at Jane. She was smiling, her face full of anticipation, and he’d never felt farther away from her or more incapable of telling her what he was feeling.

  The island was beautiful. More beautiful than he’d imagined. And Jane was right—it really was like the book they’d listened to. There was a magic in that, especially for her, and all he wanted to do was share that with her.

  He’d give anything if they could have come here for a different reason. Not for Horn-Rims, but just for themselves.

  If they were here for themselves, they could wander along the red sand beaches and wade in the ocean and kiss whenever they felt like it. They could stay in a white clapboard inn surrounded by gardens, with rocking chairs on the porch and fireplaces in the bedroom, and they could make love all night long.

  And right now, the glow on Jane’s face would be because the two of them were about to go out and discover the Lake of Shining Waters together.

  “I shouldn’t be so excited,” she said. “I’m the bearer of bad news, after all. But it’s incredible to be here after loving Anne for so many years, and I can’t help looking forward to this walk.” She glanced at her watch. “Half an hour till sunset. He might be there already, though. I’m going to go now.”

  “He won’t be there.”

  When Jane looked at him, some of the pleasure was gone from her expression.

  Guilt tugged at him. I’m sorry, he wanted to say, but the words didn’t come.

  When she spoke, her voice was stiff. “Do you want to come with me?” she asked. “To oversee your bet?”

  It took him a moment to remember what she was talking about. Damn, he’d forgotten all about that.

  “That’s all right,” he said. “I trust you.” He paused, and then he forced himself to speak again. “I’ll wait here. Good luck, Jane.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a half smile, and then she was out the door, walking toward the grassy lane, her face toward the sunset.

  He watched her go. Back at the motel she’d changed into jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, the same dark blue as her eyes. Her long brown braid swung as she walked. She was wearing sandals instead of her muddy sneakers, and he wondered if her feet hurt from yesterday’s hike.

  If so, she didn’t show it. She was tougher than she looked.

  But she was in for a disappointment when Horn-Rims failed to show up for their meeting.

  Maybe it had been a mistake not to go with her. He could keep her company until it got dark, and when she finally acknowledged that the man she’d built up as some kind of romantic hero was just an ordinary asshole, he’d be there for her.

  And then, maybe, they could have the trip he’d fantasized about. A few days together away from everything. A way to say goodbye before they went their separate ways.

  Or even to convince Jane to come with him, after all.

  He got out of the car and went after her.

  The lane curved through stands of spruce trees and little meadows, blowing grasses and flowering shrubs. Then it came around a bend to give a clear view of the Lake of Shining Waters, sparkling in the setting sun as though it were covered in diamonds.

  The sun was in his line of vision, and he used his hand to shade his eyes. Jane was fifty yards ahead of him on the path, heading toward a small wooden bridge where . . .

  He stopped.

  There was a man standing on the bridge with his back to them, leaning over the railing and watching the geese and ducks drifting past. It was hard to tell from here, but he thought—

  The man turned and saw Jane.

  Jane started to walk faster, and by the time she reached him she was practically running. He’d started forward to meet her and held out his arms, and then they were hugging like long-lost siblings.

  Or lovers.

  A vise was squeezing his heart. This was what he’d been afraid of—that Jane’s romantic fantasies would somehow come to life and take her away from him. That what she wanted from him he could never give, and that what he could give her would never be enough.

  He was a cynic when it came to people, and he had no interest in fairy tales. He wanted real life, the natural world, and he wanted Jane with him. But she lived in a world of stories, of dreams, and even if his job didn’t take him around the world and away from her, he could never be the hero she wanted.

  He didn’t think Dan could be, either. Sam was the sister he’d fallen for. But watching them together at the Lake of Shining Waters, he remembered the day in Jane’s shop when the two of them had bonded over a book.

  Jane thought of Dan as a kindred spirit. And in spite of everything she and Caleb had shared on this trip, she would never see him that way.

  He couldn’t watch anymore. He’d always thought he had a high tolerance for pain, but it turned out he was wrong. Because no matter who Jane ended up with someday, it wouldn’t be him, and he was getting a preview right now of what that would feel like.

  It hurt like hell. It hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before.

  And there was no way he was sticking around for it.

  He turned and went back the way he came, and when he got back to the car, he pulled out his phone and started making calls.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jane told Dan what had happened to Samantha, and she told him what she’d done—creating an imaginary woman with her personality in Sam’s body. Dan was kind and understanding, and obviously very sorry to hear about Sam’s death, but he didn’t seem like a man who’d just learned that his dream woman had not only died, but had never really existed in the first place.

  “Can I ask you something?” Jane ventured.

  They’d gone to sit on a wooden bench not far from the bridge, with a view of the lake and the sunset.

  “Of course,” Dan said, turning to face her.

  He was the same charming, handsome man she remembered—but how could she have thought she was attracted to him? Compared to Caleb, he was like a pale shadow. Dan was intelligent, pleasant, good-looking . . . but Caleb shook her to her very core.

  Of course Dan hadn’t been attracted to her, either. It was Sam he’d fallen for.

  Hadn’t he?

  “I was just wondering. After I read your letter, I thought you might really be in love with Sam. But now it seems like . . .” She trailed off.

  It took him a moment to answer. He looked out over the lake and then back at her.

  “I did believe what I wrote in that letter. Not just at the time, but for a few months afterward. But there were other things going on in my life, too. Things I didn’t tell you about.” He paused. “My wife and I separated last summer. She’d moved out of our house just three months before I met you. Looking back, it seems obvious that I was struggling to deal with that, which had a lot to do with the way I reacted to Sam. But it’s hard to see your own emotions when you’re in them.”

  “I can definitely relate to that,” Jane said wryly.

  He hesitated. “There’s something I should admit to you. Something I should have seen at the time, and which I’m not proud of.”

  “What?”

  He looked embarrassed. “The fact is . . . well . . . your sister strongly resembled my wife.”

  Jane stared at him. “She did?”

  “Not in the way she looked, but in her spirit. Her vitality.” He pulled out his wallet and showed her a picture. “That’s Julia.”

  She studied the photo for a minute. This woman was small, with dark hair and skin. Superficially, at least, the two women were very different. But the sparkle in their eyes was the same, along with their big grins and joyful expressions.

  Dan put his wallet back in his pocket. “My feelings for your sister had little to do with her and everything to do with my wife. I mapped all sorts of fantasies onto Samantha—especially after y
ou told me about her . . . or, well, you,” he added with a smile. “That made the resemblance seem stronger. My ex-wife’s taste in literature is much like yours.”

  “So neither Sam was real,” Jane murmured. “Not the one I created or the one you imagined.”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I realized about a month ago what I’d done, and I finally found the courage to talk to Julia about the problems that led to our divorce. We’ve been talking ever since.”

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  “That’s kind of you.” He paused. “Once I came to my senses, I was sure Samantha wouldn’t be at the bridge today. Why would she travel so far to meet a total stranger? But if she did, I couldn’t let her wait for a man who would never appear. So I came.” He smiled at her. “And here you are, for the same reason.”

  “I thought it was my fault. I mean, if I hadn’t told you all those things about Sam, you wouldn’t have written that letter. Or so I thought. And I couldn’t let you wait for her and wonder . . .”

  “I understand.”

  “That wasn’t the only reason I came, though.”

  “What was your other reason?”

  The sun had dropped below the horizon, and the light was fading. For now, though, color clung to the puffed clouds on the horizon.

  “I made up a version of Sam that didn’t exist. I wanted . . . it seemed important . . .” She groped for words. “I needed to tell you the truth.”

  He nodded slowly. “Why do you think that was so important to you?”

  How could she explain it?

  She took a breath. “When we were kids, there were times I made Sam into a villain in my mind because we were so different, or because I was jealous of her. And even after we grew up, there were whole parts of her life I didn’t understand or know much about. And then, after she died . . . I sort of did the opposite. I created this kind of idealized version of her. Caleb—the man who brought me here—keeps reminding me that she wasn’t a saint. That she was human. He helped me to get to know the real Sam again. The sister I loved.” She bit her lip. “That’s the Sam I wish I’d told you about.”

  Dan looked at her for a moment. Then he got to his feet and held out a hand to help her up.

  “So tell me now,” he said.

  She stood up beside him. “Tell you . . . ?”

  “About Sam. I’d like to know. We can walk along the lake, if you like. It’s beautiful with the evening coming on.”

  And so she and Dan walked beside the Lake of Shining Waters, and she talked to him about her sister.

  She told him about Sam as a child and as a teenager. She told him about Sam’s hike up Owl Mountain, when she’d decided she wanted to be a wilderness leader, and how she’d wanted her ashes scattered there. She told him about Caleb, too, and the business they’d started together.

  “She loved what she did. She was so full of life. More than anyone I know, except for Caleb. That’s why it seemed so . . . so wrong when she died. Like it couldn’t be. For a long time I just couldn’t accept it. It took me a long time to say goodbye.”

  “And now?”

  “I’ve said goodbye. But the funny thing is, now that I’ve made that peace, it doesn’t feel like she’s gone.” She put a hand on her heart. “It feels like she’s here.”

  On their way back to the bridge, they talked about other things. His life, and hers, and the strange confluence of events that had brought them so briefly together. She didn’t realize how much she’d also talked about Caleb until Dan said, “Your boyfriend sounds like a remarkable man.”

  “My—oh no,” she said quickly. “Caleb’s not my boyfriend.” She blinked. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. Any woman would be lucky to have him. He’s the kindest, most generous, most decent man I’ve ever known.”

  “Ah.”

  She glanced at him. “You put a lot of meaning into that Ah.”

  He smiled. “All right, then, I’ll be more direct.” He paused. “Don’t repeat the mistakes that brought both of us here.”

  “What mistakes?”

  “Don’t miss the person standing right in front of you. And don’t fail to look into your own heart, no matter how difficult it might be.”

  They were almost back where they’d started. They went the rest of the way in silence, and as they walked, she thought about Caleb. She thought about last December at her apartment, and last night on the mountain, and sitting in the car in the dark, listening to Anne of Green Gables.

  They were back at the bridge. She leaned over the railing, looking down into the twilight-gray waters, but what she saw was Caleb’s face.

  He was so stubborn. He’d rejected the very idea of finding middle ground. Why was he so determined to bring her with him on his adventures around the world instead of trying to see if they could make a long-distance relationship work?

  Why wouldn’t he compromise?

  She’d been proud of herself for being so reasonable, for controlling the part of herself that was willing to give up anything, to follow him anywhere, just for the chance to be with him. But why couldn’t Caleb understand that was no foundation for a relationship? Why couldn’t he be reasonable?

  Then she thought about his parents, and her heart clenched. How much damage had his mother and father, with their very different desertions, done to him?

  She remembered what he’d said when they got back to the car that morning—that asking a woman to travel with him was a first. She hadn’t given him any credit for that. But for Caleb, it really was a big deal.

  He’d structured his life so he could be alone without being lonely—out in nature by himself, or leading groups of adventurers. He’d never committed to a woman before. Then, when he finally wanted to, his instinct was to grab on too tight—and not give up any part of his own life.

  He was afraid. But in spite of that, he wanted to be with her. He was hanging in there.

  She thought about the way he’d made her feel that night in December and last night on the mountain. If there was no such thing as speech, if she had only body language to go on, how would she think Caleb felt about her?

  Her heart started to pound. “I need to talk to him.”

  “Your friend?”

  She’d almost forgotten Dan was there. “Yes.”

  He nodded gently. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  She started off down the lane, realized she hadn’t said goodbye, and came rushing back. “Good luck with your wife,” she said breathlessly. “I hope you guys work things out.”

  “Thank you, Jane. And thank you for the walk.” He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Now go.”

  The light was almost gone. She broke into a run halfway down the lane, so eager to reach Caleb that she stumbled twice.

  She burst into the parking lot, looked around, and stopped cold. Where was Caleb? Had he gone somewhere? When would he be back?

  Most of the other cars in the lot had gone. But a few remained, along with a taxi parked not far from where Caleb’s car had been. As she stood there wondering what to do next, the taxi driver emerged from his cab.

  “Jane Finch?”

  She stared at him. “Yes, that’s me.”

  “I’ve got your suitcase in the trunk. I’ve been hired by Caleb Bryce to take you anywhere you want to go.”

  She didn’t understand. “Is he all right?” A clutch of panic. “Is he on the way to the hospital or something?”

  “He seemed fine when I saw him. He told me to tell you he’d sent you an email.”

  An email. Maybe there’d been a family emergency—his brother or his aunt. But if so, why hadn’t he called her? She fumbled in her purse for her phone, glad now she’d gotten an international data plan, and opened her email.

  Jane,

  Since you made it very clear that our lives will never mesh, I figured I wouldn’t waste any time getting out of yours.

  You won the bet, which means I owe you a thousand dollars. I’ve hired this taxi to take you
anywhere you want, whether to a hotel or the Charlottetown airport or all the way back to New York. I’ll pay for your hotel, and if you decide to take a plane back, I’ll pay for your ticket.

  Caleb

  That was it. That was all he had to say to her.

  She reread the short paragraphs with growing fury.

  God, what an idiot she was.

  She’d told herself he wanted to be with her. That he was hanging tough even though he was afraid.

  She’d thought she knew how he really felt. She’d told herself to listen to his body language.

  How was this for body language? He’d actually run away from her.

  It turned out that a man could make love to you like you were the most important, most precious thing in the universe and still take off the next day.

  And this wasn’t even the first time. He’d taken off in December, too.

  Well, at least she could be sure of something this time. This would be the last morning-after the two of them shared, and the last time he had a chance to run out on her.

  “That bastard. That bastard!”

  The taxi driver looked startled.

  “The gentleman who hired me?” he asked cautiously.

  She wanted to kick something. But the only thing available was this guy’s tire, and that would be a lousy way to start off what was, apparently, going to be a longer relationship than anything she and Caleb could manage.

  “He’s not a gentleman, and yes.” She took a deep breath. “And I’m not taking a cent of his money. How did he hire you? Did he leave a credit card on file?”

  “Yes, he did, with unlimited authorization.”

  She pulled out her wallet, fished out her bank card, and handed it to him. “Cancel it and take mine instead.” She took another breath. “It looks like I’ll be staying here overnight. Where’s the nearest hotel?”

  It was dark by the time Caleb hit the Trans-Canada Highway again, but his mood was darker.

  Jane had read his email by now. He’d written it in a tangle of emotion, anger at himself and anger at her and anger at the goddamn universe for making him fall in love when he didn’t have a clue how to deal with it.

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He’d written to Jane in the heat of jealousy and bitterness and fear, and he already regretted it.