by Irene Hannon
“Did I pick the wrong kind of soup?” he asked with a tender smile.
She shook her head. “No. Th-this is fine.”
“Then, what’s wrong?”
She swallowed with difficulty. “It’s just that I—I appreciate all you did today, Jake. It was too much to ask.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“No, but...well, I feel like you were sort of forced into this.”
“I wasn’t forced into anything,” he assured her firmly. “I wanted to help.”
“I guess I owe you now,” she replied with a sigh. “Big-time.”
Jake cupped her flushed face with both hands, and his gaze locked on hers. It was difficult to concentrate on his words when his thumbs began to stroke her cheeks. But she tried.
“Maggie, you don’t owe me a thing. If I spent the rest of my life trying to ease your burdens, I could still never make up for what I did to you.”
Maggie’s spirits took a sudden, unaccountable nosedive. Was that the only motivation for Jake’s good deed—to make amends? Was that the reason he’d offered her his friendship?
Jake saw the sudden dark cloud pass over her eyes and frowned. “What’s wrong now?”
She shrugged and transferred her gaze to her soup, playing with the spoon. “Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”
Jake studied her a moment, then nodded toward the tray. “Well, eat your soup and get back in bed. Everything’s under control downstairs. The girls will take care of breakfast.”
“I feel better since I slept, Jake. I can—”
“Maggie.” He cut her off, his voice gentle but firm. “I want you to promise me you’ll take it easy until at least tomorrow afternoon. You need the rest.” When she didn’t reply, he sighed. “Look, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me, okay? Otherwise I’ll be awake all night worrying about you.”
She looked at him curiously, started to ask, “Why?” but stopped herself in time. She could deal with those kinds of questions later, when she’d regained her strength. In the meantime, after all he’d done for her today she could at least give him some peace of mind in return.
“All right, Jake,” she agreed.
“Good.” He glanced at his watch, then grinned ruefully. “Well, I better get home and put together some dinner for Dad and me. Or maybe I can convince him to go out. He hasn’t been in the mood yet, but it’s worth a try tonight,” he mused. “Now eat your soup.”
She gave a mock salute. “Aye, aye, sir.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I got used to giving orders in the navy. It’s a hard habit to break. How about, please eat your soup?”
“That’s better,” she conceded.
He sat there for another moment, his eyes soft on her face, and Maggie felt her breath catch in her throat. She knew that look. It was the look he used to get at his most tender moments, right before he kissed her, and her pulse went into overdrive.
Jake’s gaze dropped to her full lips and a surge of longing swept over him. With a supreme effort he forced his gaze back to hers.
His eyes had deepened in color, Maggie noted, and she stared back into their unfathomable depths as he reached over to stroke her cheek with a featherlike touch. A pulse began to beat in the hollow of her throat as he slowly, very slowly, leaned toward her.
Maggie knew she should resist while she still could. But instead of listening to logic, her eyelids fluttered closed and she leaned ever so slightly toward him, inviting his kiss. She felt powerless to stop herself.
And then his lips, warm and tender, gently—and briefly—brushed her forehead. That was it. The kiss was over in an instant, so quickly that Maggie, who had expected so much more, was momentarily left off balance. Her eyelids flew open and she stared at him as he abruptly stood up.
“Good night, Maggie. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
And then he was gone.
She stared after him, still trying to figure out what had just happened. She thought he was going to kiss her. Really kiss her. And she’d offered no resistance. But instead of the passionate kiss she’d expected, he’d given her a brotherly peck on the forehead.
Why? Was it because he really did care about her only as a friend? Or was he just being noble, refusing to take advantage of her weakened physical condition?
Maggie didn’t have a clue. But she knew one thing very clearly. Jake’s brotherly kiss on her forehead just hadn’t cut it. For better or worse, she wanted more.
* * *
Jake pulled up in front of his cottage and turned off the engine. It had taken the entire drive from Maggie’s place to his for him to regain some semblance of control over his emotions. And he was still shaken by how close he had come just now to blowing it with her. Thank God he had found the discipline to back off, to stop at that brotherly kiss on the forehead, when what he really wanted to do was claim her tender lips with a kiss that expressed all the passion and love that was in his heart.
As each day passed, he knew with greater certainty that his feelings for this special woman had never died. During all the years of separation they had simply been stored in a quiet corner of his heart, growing in intensity as they waited for the opportunity to be given full expression. Now that the opportunity was at hand, they were clamoring for release.
But he had to be cautious. He felt sure that Maggie wasn’t yet ready to accept such an admission on his part, that she was still very confused about her own feelings, grappling with questions and doubts, just as he had been initially. She needed time. He needed patience.
Jake drew a slow, deep breath. Only now was his pulse returning to normal, his respiration slowing. He’d known any number of women through the years who attracted him, but he’d never come this close to losing control. The only woman who had ever been able to do that to him was Maggie, beginning that summer when he was seventeen. She obviously hadn’t lost her power over him.
Jake stepped out of the car and walked toward the house, trying to psyche himself up for the long evening ahead with his father. He didn’t feel up to that ordeal—or to cooking. Wearily, he pushed the door open, took one step inside, then stopped in surprise. Appetizing aromas were wafting his way, and he frowned in puzzlement. Warily he made his way to the kitchen door, where a quick survey revealed the table neatly set for two and his father at the stove.
“Dad?”
Howard turned in surprise. “Oh. Didn’t hear you come in. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. You have time for a shower if you want one.”
His father turned back to the stove and Jake stared at him, speechless. “Dad...are you making dinner?”
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” he replied gruffly.
“But...why?”
The older man shrugged. “You worked all day over at Maggie’s. That was a nice thing to do, with her sick and all. Figured you’d probably be hungry when you got home. I didn’t have anything else to do anyway.”
Jake struggled to grasp this unexpected turn of events. His father actually sounded...well, if not friendly, cordial at least.
“Dad...I bought some sparkling cider when you first arrived,” he said on impulse. “I thought we could have it with our first dinner here in the cottage. But...well, things didn’t quite work out. If you’d like to have it tonight, it’s in the cabinet next to the dishwasher.”
His father’s only response was a grunt, which Jake couldn’t interpret. But when he reappeared ten minutes later after a quick shower, dinner was on the table. And so was the cider.
* * *
“Maggie, my dear. How are you feeling today?”
Maggie glanced toward the familiar voice of Millicent Trent and smiled at the older woman seated in a wicker settee on the front porch.
“Hello, Millicent! Welcome back to Whispering Sails. I’m much better tod
ay, thank you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t on hand to greet you when you arrived.”
“Don’t give it a thought. The young man who showed me to my room last night was very nice. And he seemed quite concerned about you.”
Maggie flushed. “It was just a flu bug, I think.”
“Well, I must say you still look a bit peaked,” Millicent observed, peering over her glasses.
“I’m a little tired, but I feel fine,” Maggie assured the older woman. “I’m sure I’ll be completely back to normal by tomorrow. The girls won’t let me lift a finger today, so I’m getting lots of rest.”
“Well, then, can you spare a few minutes to visit with an old lady?”
Maggie smiled. “I don’t know about an old lady, but I certainly have time to visit with you.”
Millicent chuckled. “You do have a way with words, my dear. Oh, Allison, would you mind bringing your aunt and me some tea?” she called when the younger girl stepped outside.
“Not at all, Ms. Trent. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Now then, we can have a nice visit. Let’s start with that young man. Who is he, my dear? I’ve never seen him around here before, and you know I’ve been a regular since the first year you opened.”
Maggie took a moment to settle into an adjacent wicker chair, trying to decide how to answer the older woman’s question. Millicent had become almost part of the family through the years, her annual two-week visits as predictable as the tides. She’d retired ten years before, apparently from a very prestigious position in publishing, and she had no family to speak of, as far as Maggie knew. But although she and Millicent had shared many a cup of tea and discussed everything from philosophy to the latest books and plays, they never talked about more personal matters. But for some reason, Maggie felt comfortable confiding in her about Jake.
“Jake is...an old friend,” Maggie replied carefully. “He’s recently moved to this area, and our paths just happened to cross.”
Millicent eyed her shrewdly. “A friend, eh? His interest seemed somehow more than friendly to me.”
Maggie blushed. Millicent might be old in body, but her mind was still as sharp and perceptive as someone half her age.
“To be honest, Millicent, I’m not sure what his interest is,” Maggie admitted. “The fact is, we were...well, we were engaged once, many years ago.”
“My dear, I had no idea!” Millicent exclaimed, laying her hand on the younger woman’s arm. “I always suspected there was an unhappy romance in your past, but I never wanted to pry.”
“It wasn’t an unhappy romance,” Maggie corrected her. She leaned back against the cushions and gazed thoughtfully into the distance as Allison deposited their tea, her lips curving into a sweet smile as she retreated to memory, oblivious to the view of the bay spread out before her. “It was a wonderful romance. Jake was my first love. In fact, he was my only love. But a few weeks before we were to be married, he... Something happened, and we... The wedding was called off. Jake joined the navy and I left the Midwest and moved to Boston, then eventually here. I hadn’t seen him in twelve years when he literally appeared out of the fog at the inn a few weeks ago.”
“My!” Millicent breathed softly, clearly mesmerized by the story. “What an odd coincidence.”
Maggie nodded. “I still have a hard time believing it myself.”
“And he lives here now?”
“Yes. In Castine. He’ll be teaching at the Maritime Academy in the fall.” Maggie briefly explained the events that had precipitated his move.
“My!” Millicent repeated. “That’s quite a story, my dear. I take it your Jake has never married?”
“No.”
“Hmm. And what do you intend to do about the situation?”
“Do?” Maggie repeated with a frown.
“Yes. Do. I would say the man is quite taken with you still, my dear. I can see it in his eyes when he talks about you.”
Maggie flushed. “You sound like the twins,” she declared.
“Well, the young and the old often have a clearer vision of life than you people caught in the middle,” Millicent observed. “But I suppose the most important thing is how you feel about this young man.”
Maggie sighed. “I really don’t know, Millicent. I loved him once. With all my heart. But...well, I got hurt. He...he wasn’t there when I needed him the most. I’m afraid to...well, take that risk again.”
Millicent nodded sagely. “I can understand that, my dear. Perhaps the best thing to do is give yourself some time to become acquainted again. People can change, you know. And twenty years from now you don’t want to look back with regrets.”
Maggie studied her curiously. The bittersweet quality in the older woman’s voice tugged at Maggie’s heart. “Millicent...I don’t want to pry, either, but...well, it sounds like maybe you had a similar experience.”
The older woman took a sip of tea and nodded slowly. “Yes, Maggie, I did. Many years ago. Long before you were born, in fact. It’s one of the reasons I come back here each year, in fact. You see, this is where I fell in love.”
“You lived in this area?”
The older woman smiled. “Actually...I lived in this house.”
Maggie stared at her. “Here?” At the woman’s nod of confirmation, Maggie frowned. “But...but I researched the history, and I never saw the name Trent.”
“That’s because I took my mother’s name when I moved to New York. I thought it had more of a literary ring to it.”
“You mean you actually lived at Whispering Sails?” Maggie repeated incredulously.
“Yes. It wasn’t Whispering Sails then, of course. It was just home. My father owned a very successful shipping company, and Robert—that was my beau’s name—was a merchant seaman who sometimes worked on my father’s ships.”
She paused, a smile of sweet remembrance lifted the corners of her mouth.
“We met the summer I was twenty-two. He was a handsome man, with sun-streaked brown hair, tall and strong, with the bluest eyes you could ever imagine. Bluer than the sea on a cloudless day. We fell in love, madly, passionately, with the intensity reserved for the very young. But my father would have none of it. His daughter deserved better than a seaman, he informed me. And what of the career I’d planned? He’d sent me to college, much against his better judgment, and now that I had the degree I’d so desperately wanted, he expected me to do something with it.
“Robert and I had a wonderful summer together, and when it was drawing to a close he asked me to marry him. I thought about it a long time, Maggie. I loved him as I had loved no one before or anyone since. But he was poor, and content with his lot, and I was wealthy and ambitious. I wanted to make something of my life outside of Blue Hill, and I had just been offered a prestigious position with a publishing company in New York. Plus, much as I hate to admit it, my father had finally convinced me that I was too good for a mere seaman. So in the end, I turned him down.”
She gazed out over the water, and her voice grew quiet. “I regretted my decision within a year. New York wasn’t nearly as glamorous as I’d expected, and living among so many different kinds of people made me realize how arrogant my attitude had been. I wasn’t any better than anyone else. Not as good as most, in fact. And I missed Robert desperately. To love with such intensity...what a gift that is. And what a sin to waste it.”
Her voice faded, and Maggie leaned toward her. “But why didn’t you tell him you’d changed your mind?” she pressed.
Millicent turned to her with a smile of regret. “At first I was too ashamed—and too proud, I suppose—to admit my mistake. But eventually, after two years, I realized what a fool I’d been. And so I wrote to him, and asked him to meet me on his next trip to New York. I didn’t tell him why, because I wanted to apologize in person, to beg him to give me one more chance.”
> “And did he come?”
She shook her head. “No. You see, by then he was engaged to another woman. He was an honorable man, my Robert, and I knew he wouldn’t break his engagement. Nor would I ask him to. So I simply wished him well.”
“And you never saw him again?”
“No,” she replied sadly. “But we corresponded after that, each Christmas, until he died five years ago.”
“So you...you never married, Millicent?”
She shook her head. “No. Not that I didn’t consider it. But no one ever again touched my heart the way Robert did. And I wasn’t willing to settle for less.”
Maggie knew exactly what she meant. It was the same legacy Jake had left with her.
“I’m so sorry, Millicent,” she murmured, deeply touched by the sad story.
The older woman nodded. “So am I. Especially after I received this.” She withdrew a slender chain from beneath her blouse and fingered two jagged pieces of silver which, when fitted together, formed one heart. “Robert gave me half of this in the middle of our special summer,” she related softly. “He said that part of his heart now belonged to me and asked me to keep this always, and that he would do the same with his. I’ve worn my half faithfully, all my life.”
She paused and gently fingered the two pieces of silver. “When he died I received a package with the other half from his daughter, along with a letter saying that her father had always carried it in his wallet and had left instructions for it to be sent to me when he died.”
