by Jan Thompson
“How long is she staying at the hotel?”
“Through Sunday. We’ll figure out something for July.”
“She’s ahead of you, Seb.”
“No worries. It’ll be only for about a month and a week or so. After that she’ll be at UGA.” Sebastian tried to keep his voice even and calm.
“You don’t sound happy for her.”
For us.
Sebastian knew Skye would pick up on his emotions, even over the phone. They might be four years apart, but they had been taking care of each other since they had been teenagers.
“I told you I don’t like this plot of yours to get Talia back,” Skye said.
“What does that have anything to do with Emmeline’s housing situation?” Sebastian rolled on his back. I really need to get some sleep. Long Friday coming up.
“Don’t you see, Seb? You got Em involved in your life, and inevitably you’re in her life. Like it or not, you’re both a part of each other’s lives now, and in the future you’ll look back and realized this was your timeline that shaped whatever is to come.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t want to see Em hurt.”
“Skye—sister, buddy—listen. Em is tougher than you think.”
“I don’t care how tough she looks to you. I’ve known her for a year now. I know she is vulnerable, and I don’t want you taking advantage of her. I don’t want her moving from house to house cleaning bathrooms and changing diapers for the next six weeks.”
“I don’t either. But I’m spending a ton paying Helen Hu to find Em’s brother. I’m not spending anymore money renting a house for her to live in for a month. Renting a house is not part of our deal.”
“The deal to get Talia back and mow over Emmeline in the process?”
“No. I care for her.”
“Who? Emmeline? Talia? Which one, Seb? You need to stop leading both women on.”
“I’m not—”
“Want to know the truth, big brother? Talia is history, Seb. History. As in your relationship is over. Dead and gone. If you don’t move on, you will never have a chance at happiness with someone who might be truly God’s choice for you.”
“Skye, you can’t even get a boyfriend so don’t tell me about God’s choice.” Sebastian could hear his sister exhale loudly. “My relationship with Talia might be complicated—”
“As in non-existent complicated?” Skye sounded tired. “Seb, I’ve been on my feet all evening at the cooking competition. I got back to my hotel room forty-five minutes ago to this mess. I’m asking you to do something about it because I’m quite sure if you hadn’t interfered with Em’s life, everything would’ve been fine.”
“So it’s my fault now?”
“I’m not totally blaming you. That Bart fellow is icky, but we have all told her to move out. Who knows if your being there affected him, made him feel competitive. He’s never got inside Em’s house at night before.”
“That we know of.”
“Em’s a light sleeper, and she had a new lock put in for her bedroom door a few months ago.”
“Good for her.”
“So you’re going to fix the situation?”
“Already did. The hotel bill is on me. I told you.”
“Until Sunday.”
“Em has four jobs and she can pay for a place to stay in July without our help.”
“Four part-time jobs,” Skye reminded him. “Those extra hours that Talia promised her haven’t come about yet.”
“Yes, but jobs nonetheless. It’s only through July. She’ll go back to music school”—Sebastian’s voice caught and he didn’t know why—“and it’ll all be over.”
“So Talia ruined your life, and now you’re ruining Em’s.”
“It’s not like that—Skye? Hello?”
What is wrong with her!
Sebastian turned off his iPhone, returned it to its charger on the side table. He adjusted the pillow under his head, and rearranged the comforter to tuck himself in.
But sleep wouldn’t come.
All he could think of was Emmeline Eleanor O’Hanlon.
Emmeline the siren harpist.
Emmeline the beautiful spirit.
Emmeline who had told him, “Don’t forget God.”
Who’s plan is this to bring Talia back to me?
Do I even want Talia back?
She’s Jared’s girl now.
Even man’s plan could work. Talia had talked to him more in the last two weeks than the last two months since she had dumped him for Jared Urquhart.
To make Talia jealous, Sebastian knew he had to go further with Emmeline.
And ironically, he wasn’t prepared to do that with impunity.
The closer he had been to Emmeline, the stronger his feelings were for her, and the less he had thought of Talia though Emmeline kept bringing her up.
He was confident that Emmeline had no idea that he hadn’t been play-acting when he kissed her that night outside her apartment. He had wanted Bart to stay away from her.
He hadn’t been play-acting either when he stood between Emmeline and Rafferty. Or Jared.
And on Wednesday night, he had wanted to put his arms around Emmeline forever.
Such things are never meant to be.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Such a luxurious hotel stay couldn’t possibly last.
Emmeline felt like it was someone else’s vacation, not hers, as she stepped into her tower room at the Blue Ocean Beach Villas. Still, she felt pampered after a long day of music library work and the final rehearsal for the Brock-Flanagan wedding coming up on Saturday.
She almost didn’t see the blinker on her hotel room phone as she waltzed about the open space. The concierge had left a message that she had a visitor waiting for her poolside.
At the name, Emmeline jumped into her flip-flops and dashed out of her tower room. She took the elevator down to the outdoors toward the oceanside pool.
“Skye! What are you doing here?” Emmeline waved to her friend sitting on a deck chair facing the ocean.
“I’m offended.” Skye Langston didn’t get up. That pout.
Sigh. “You are? Why?”
“Your emails.”
“Which ones?” Emmeline sat down on the empty deck chair next to Skye’s.
“About a place to stay?”
“I didn’t send you one,” Emmeline confessed.
“Exactly!” Skye sat up. “And why not?”
“You’re out of town. You’re busy. And you’re Seb’s sister. Conflict of interest.”
Skye was silent.
“Who forwarded you my email?” Emmeline asked. “Avery?”
Skye refused to say.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at some food festival?”
“I didn’t win the cook-off last night.”
“I’m sorry. Next time then. When did you return?”
“I took the first flight out of Miami this morning. But Saffron’s chef is there for the next two days. They won’t miss me.”
“We’ll always miss you, Skye.”
Skye took off her sunglasses. “Em.”
“Yes?” Emmeline kicked off her flip-flops and stretched on the lounger.
The wind kept kicking up her skirt. She finally put her flip-flops on top of her skirt on her thighs to keep it down. Otherwise, the lounger was quite comfortable and she felt like she was falling asleep.
“I have two guest rooms, Em,” Skye said. “Sometimes when chefs come to town they stay with me, but hardly anyone else. I could use a roommate through July if you promise—promise!—not to clean my house. I have a housekeeper who does that, and I have someone else clean up my kitchen and do the dishes for me. So you are not allowed to do any work in my house.”
Emmeline thought for a good long minute. “I’ll pay you for the rent.”
“No. My stupid brother has troubled you enough. This is the least I can do.”
“I could offer to cook but compare
d to your chef skills, I’m like PBJ, you know.”
“Didn’t I say you’re not to work in my house?” Skye shook her head.
“What can I do in return?”
“Maybe between the two of us we can drive some sense into my brother.”
Emmeline laughed. “I’ve been praying for God’s will for his life.”
And mine too.
“Good prayer, Em.”
“Want to see my tower room—I mean, suite?” Emmeline perked up.
“Sure.”
As they walked, Emmeline pointed up. “You can see it from here. That corner space there on the top floor. I woke up to the ocean this morning.”
They got in and out of the elevator. Emmeline unlocked the door to her suite.
Skye waltzed in. “This is really nice.”
“I know. I called reservations just to find out how much each night costs.” Emmeline pointed to the balcony. “Nearly fell out of my cushy chair.”
They laughed.
“You see why I need to get out of here, Skye. I can’t impose on Seb like this. And he’s letting me use his SUV to haul my harp around.”
“I know. I spoke with him last night.”
Emmeline stood at the balcony, letting the wind blow her hair about. The June air was warm but she liked it. She’d never been one for cold weathers and snow.
Give me sunshine and ocean anytime.
Sadly she’d be landlocked at UGA soon.
“How’s the situation with Talia?” Skye asked. “Seb said it’s slow going.”
“Talia told me to stay away from Jared.”
“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”
“We’re rehearsing plays at Jared’s house because he’s underwriting Theater by the Sea. Sebastian goes to watch us. Talia shows up to hover over Jared. I just want to go back to music school.”
Skye hugged her. “I hear you. I’m sorry Seb dragged you into his messy life.”
“I agreed to it. I know, I know. You told me so.”
“My brother is blind.”
“I’m praying for him, for God to show him His will.” Emmeline squinted “Hey, lookee there. Porpoises in the water.”
“Where—oh I see. Nice!”
They stood there for the longest time until Emmeline remembered she had to get ready, eat dinner, and go pick up Sebastian for the Friday night rehearsal.
“Would you like to come?” Emmeline asked.
“To what?”
“Watch our rehearsal.”
“No, thanks. I don’t have the patience. But I want you to pack up and give me your luggage. I’ll take it back to my house. You’re coming over to stay with me until you go back to Athens.”
“Seb said you’re bossy.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Well, okay. Thank you for the offer, Skye. I packed light, so it shouldn’t be too hard to get my stuff together if you give me about five minutes.”
“Sure. I’ll just sit here and fry.” Skye settled on a bistro seat by the balustrades facing the ocean on the little balcony. “Want to get some dinner?”
“Sure. Let’s ask Seb if he wants to join us.”
Skye paused for a moment.
“What?” Emmeline said.
“You are developing feelings for my brother.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?”
“You’re thinking of his well-being.”
“Because I thought he might want to join us for dinner? Anyone can care. That doesn’t mean I feel anything.”
“Has he kissed you?”
Emmeline continued stuffing her duffle bag.
“He has, hasn’t he?”
Emmeline looked up. “Feel free to have a conversation all by yourself.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“If you must know, Seb was protecting me from Bart.”
“And how did he do that?” Skye was in her face now. There was nowhere to go in the bathroom. Emmeline packed her toiletries as quickly as she could.
“Well…”
“Uh-oh. He kissed you.”
“It was the only way.”
Skye rolled her eyes. “I cannot believe you’re on my brother’s side.”
“It’s how I saw it.” Emmeline zipped up her duffle bag. “It’s like the rest of what Seb has done for me. He puts me here to protect me from Bart who has the key to my apartment, as you know. He lets me use his SUV so that I don’t have to cycle in the rain. Oh, and he stood up to Rafferty.”
“You believe what you just said?”
“Pretty much.”
“Then your love life is doomed, Em. Doomed.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A long day didn’t prevent Sebastian from coming here to watch Emmeline and her friends in the Theater by the Sea rehearse for their upcoming Jane Austen parody series. Four outdoor weekends in July.
His eyes were on Nigel Miller directing the rehearsal, but his mind was constantly thinking of how he could approach Talia about their non-relationship. More than anything, he wanted to know if they were done with each other.
If they were, he could move on.
Somewhere tugging at his conscience was a past he couldn’t let go, an obligation to that woman whose innocence he had taken when they were both seventeen attending Frederica High School.
God, do You forgive me for that?
Should I marry Talia because of what we’ve done seventeen years ago?
They had been young and stupid and rebellious. Well, Sebastian’s parents had been rarely home, and Talia had come over almost every afternoon. They paid the rent, left food in the refrigerator, and then they were gone to who knew where.
Sebastian and Skye had been left on their own. And on their own, Sebastian didn’t know any better.
Not an excuse.
Fortunately, for both of them, Talia hadn’t become pregnant. Was that the mercy of God?
But now she hung over Sebastian like a dark cloud, reminding him of the sins of his youth. Should he succumb to his own way of fixing it by marrying her—a woman who still had no problem sleeping around?
Am I a hero or a coward?
Sounds coming from the entertainment room caused Sebastian to turn his head.
Talia.
The stage actors were oblivious to Sebastian’s mental battles. They were laughing and cutting it up as they strutted about the flagstone floor next to the shimmering blue pool. Emmeline was in the middle of the crowd.
Sebastian left his deck chair and ambled back into the entertainment room. Talia didn’t look up. She was pouring something at the bar.
As Sebastian reached her, he saw it was her favorite sangria, something he couldn’t have.
“Talia, we need to talk.” He slid onto a barstool.
“Jared’s expecting me in a few minutes. This is a bad time.” She drank that concoction deeply from the tall crystal tumbler.
“It won’t take long.” The last time they had talked was last Friday night in the kitchen in this cottage. The rest of the week, Talia had canceled their business meetings and lunches, and avoided him.
“Out with it, then, Seb.” She didn’t offer him any of her drink.
“What went wrong with us, Talia?” Sebastian placed both elbows on the counter.
“I don’t think anything did. We just grew up.”
“But you kept coming back to me.”
“Old habits.”
“Meaning what?”
Talia shook her new curls. “Meaning nothing, Seb. You’re safe.”
“I’m safe?”
“Always. You’re like my best friend, Seb. We’re business partners, besides, and we see each other at Saffron.”
“I’m confused.”
“Take my word for it. We’ll never be more than friends, but I like your company.” Talia poured extra Bacardi into her sangria.
The pungent smell of it reminded Sebastian of his parents binge drinking before they had left the house to party with their friends.
Sebastian had dreaded the morning after when their house smelled of vomit. It had been too much to ask a fifteen-year-old boy to deal with. He and his sister had to grow up fast.
“What do you want from me, Seb?” Talia asked.
“We should marry.” His own words sounded hollow.
Sebastian regretted even saying it now.
No, I don’t want to marry Talia, but it would make everything right, right?
“Marry each other?” Talia laughed. “Whatever for?”
“Pastor Gonzalez said that when two people are married they become one physically. The fact that we’d done—you know—meant what we did what God meant for two married people to do.”
“This is the twenty-first century, Seb. If I were to marry everyone I slept with…”
Sebastian clenched his fists on the granite bar counter. “I didn’t want to believe that, you know.”
Even though I know it’s true.
Talia laughed. “Don’t tell me not to have fun, Seb. Come on.”
“Among other things, you could pick up all sorts of incurable diseases.”
“Don’t worry, Seb. I won’t be able to give them to you since we don’t do anything together anymore—since you had your Jesus moment.”
That was a long time ago.
There’s nothing between Talia and me. Why am I hanging on to her?
Since Sebastian rededicated his life back to God some ten years ago, he had told Talia that he was determined to wait until marriage before they resumed their physical relationship.
Talia had taken it badly—or so he had thought—and moved to London, and she had stayed there until several years ago when she came home after declaring she had been bored out of her mind.
When Talia had come home, Sebastian talked to her and led her to Christ—or so, he had thought. They had been attending Seaside Chapel since then, remained celibate whenever they were together.
Still, when Talia was with someone else, she didn’t go to church on Sundays, and Sebastian didn’t ask what she did on Sunday mornings. Not his business.
He wondered now if she had been playing along only to keep his company—in between her conquests.
Am I simply a filler?
Somewhere at the back of his mind he often wondered what would happen if Talia became bored with him after they married.
