Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard

by Melody Carlson

  She shrugged. “It’s clear to me. I can’t vouch for my cousin.”

  “No, I didn’t think so. But I need to make a disclaimer.”

  “A disclaimer?”

  “After I tell Janice what I must tell her, she might not want me along at all.”

  “What are you going to tell her, Dad?” Sicily peered down at him with interest.

  “The same thing I’ve been telling her or trying to tell her practically since we met. That I’m not interested in a serious relationship with her.”

  “What kind of relationship are you interested in?” Waverly questioned.

  “No relationship to be honest.” He paused. “Or, at the very least, a friendship, but I have my doubts that she’s capable of that.”

  “Why don’t you wait and tell her after the party?” suggested Sicily.

  “Because I don’t want to,” he said back. “I want her to get this, Sicily. To know where I stand.”

  “Oh.” She nodded. “Okay.” She turned back to her painting.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “So I have your blessing then, Sicily?”

  “Yeah. I never liked Janice in the first place.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I just thought you did, Dad.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around lately.”

  “A lot of what?”

  “General confusion.”

  “So, is that it then?” Sicily squinted at the clock.

  “Uh, no, there was something else.” He glanced over at Waverly. “And I think I might as well say this in front of both of you.”

  With brush in midair, Sicily turned to stare at him again. “What, Dad?”

  “I might be about to make a fool of myself, Sis, but I figured you’d enjoy it.”

  “Huh?” She looked thoroughly confused.

  “Well, I wanted to tell Waverly that one reason I’ve been trying very hard to break things off with her cousin was so that I’d be free to pursue someone else.”

  Waverly took in a quick breath, bracing herself. What was he doing?

  “Who?” Sicily came down the ladder with a curious expression.

  “I’ve been hoping to ask Waverly out. But everything—mostly Janice—has been getting in the way.”

  “You like Waverly?” Sicily was down the ladder now. She came over and stared at her dad with a hard-to-read expression.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Is that okay with you?”

  She looked perplexed. “I don’t know.”

  Waverly wondered if she should say something, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a single word.

  “But you like Waverly,” Blake tried.

  “Yeah, Dad, but she’s my friend.”

  “Oh?” He glanced uncomfortably at Waverly now. “Is my face getting red yet?”

  She nodded. “A little.”

  “Maybe I should leave.” He started toward the door.

  Sicily looked at Waverly now, holding up her hands in a helpless gesture.

  “I have an idea,” Waverly said.

  Blake turned with a slightly desperate look in his eyes. “Yes?”

  “Why don’t we all try to be friends?”

  “All?” He appeared confused. “As in all who?”

  “The three of us. You and Sicily and me.”

  He broke into a smile. “Yeah. That sounds good.” He turned to Sicily. “How about you? Does that sound good?”

  She grinned. “Okay. But don’t forget, Dad, she was my friend first.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t forget.”

  Waverly went over to unlock the door for him. As their eyes locked, she felt an unexpected warmth rush through her. What had she just agreed to?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Blake wasn’t eager to go home, so he ran some errands in town, taking his time to get the mail and gather a good selection of groceries and a few other things. He knew his leisurely morning was simply his guise for delaying the inevitable—breaking it off with Janice. And he did plan to do it today. It’s just that he was in no hurry. The more time he put between Janice’s fit at his house this morning and now was a good thing. But finally he had no more excuses to linger in town, yet he still had more than an hour until it would be time to pick Sicily up. Also, he was well aware that the heat of midday would wreak havoc on his groceries, plus there was ice cream involved.

  So he drove slowly home, enjoying the sights of beach properties, the Sound, and boats as he went. He still couldn’t get over the serene beauty of this place. At home he unloaded his car and put things away. At last, saying a little prayer along the way, he walked the path between the houses. As he knocked on their front door, he stood straight. Determined to permanently end this thing with Janice—no loopholes, no backdoors, no clauses—he braced himself.

  “Janice caught the ferry this morning,” Vivian informed him after he’d asked for her.

  “She’s gone?”

  “Yes. She wanted to return to Boston for a few days. Louise offered to drive, and they both left here around ten. They took a chance of getting on a ferry without a reservation, but Louise called awhile ago to say they were safely loaded on the boat and on their way. Janice plans to find a rental car, as well as order a replacement for her wrecked car. Plus it sounded like she needs to attend to some other business. They expect to be there a few days.”

  “Oh, I see.” His sigh was partly relief, partly frustration.

  “You didn’t get a chance to talk to her, did you, Blake?”

  “No, not really. The drama with her car sort of took over.”

  Vivian shook her head with a look of wonder. “Wasn’t that the strangest thing?”

  “You’re telling me.” Then he filled her in about speaking to Waverly this morning, and how they had agreed to be friends. “All three of us.” He grinned. “Sicily gave us her children’s stamp of approval.”

  Merriment twinkled in Vivian’s eyes. “Maybe you’ll consider including me in your new pact of friendship.”

  “Of course!” he said eagerly.

  “With Janice and Louise gone, maybe we could do something together this week, just the four of us.”

  “Absolutely. In fact, why don’t we have you and Waverly over for dinner at our place tonight? I just got groceries, and I have no idea why I bought so much.” Well, except that he was avoiding something. “How does that sound?”

  “Lovely.”

  “Great.” He nodded, pleased with this plan. “My culinary skills aren’t as good as your sister’s, but I’ll do my best.”

  “I’ve heard it said that dandelion weeds, eaten with friends, taste better than top sirloin steak that’s eaten with enemies.” She smiled. “Something easier to commit to back when I was still a vegetarian.”

  “Hopefully I can do better than dandelion weeds. Is seven okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  And it was perfect. Or almost. The chicken he’d grilled was a little on the dry side, but no one complained. Thanks to Waverly, the salad was delicious. Mostly it was the company that was perfect. What a difference it made, knowing that Janice was back in America for a while. He’d just heard that was what real Vineyarders called the mainland—America. Like it was a different country, and in a way it was. And right now, as they sat eating fresh strawberries and ice cream with their toes in the sand, it felt like they were a world away.

  The next few days passed blissfully, wonderfully, magically. With Janice and Louise still gone, Waverly had decided to stay with her mother and enjoy the benefits of beach living. Blake gave Waverly rides into town and even let her use his car for the whole day sometimes, leaving him happily homebound. While Sicily was off helping with the mural and other things, he puttered on a screenplay he’d started several years ago. And sometimes he sat and visited with Vivian, sharing iced tea or lemonade on the screened porch. Also he took photos, lots of photos. Not just of the gorgeous seascape or wildlife either. He was getting lots of great candid shots of the t
hree different generations of “women” in his life.

  It was interesting watching the four of them interfacing together. Not only did they get along extremely well, they functioned like a real family—a small, happy, healthy family. In the evenings, after dinner, he and Sicily and Waverly would take bike rides, exploring different parts of the shore. But Blake continued to take it slow and careful with Waverly. He could tell she was keeping him at a polite, safe distance, and he thought that was probably best…for now. Plus, it reassured Sicily that they truly were friends—all of them.

  On Thursday night he decided to take Sicily out—just the two of them. “Why don’t we invite Waverly and Vivian along too?” she asked. But he explained that mothers and daughters sometimes needed time to themselves. What he didn’t mention was that Janice and Louise were expected to return tomorrow.

  In a way, this week had almost seemed too good to be true. Sometimes Blake had wanted to pinch himself to check if he was dreaming. But tonight he was reminded that it had merely been a brief interlude. Like an island waiting for the hurricane to hit, he knew that Janice and Louise would get back tomorrow afternoon. According to Vivian, Janice had secured a rental car, ordered a new BMW, and was anxious to come back for the Pre-Fourth Friday party.

  On Friday morning Waverly came over just like she had the previous mornings during this blissful week. She showed up to either get a ride or borrow his car, but then he lured her to visit with a cup of coffee by reminding her she was saving money that way. But he was pleased to see that this morning, she’d come even earlier than usual.

  “You know that Janice and Louise get home today,” she said as they sat on his porch sipping their coffee.

  “I know, although I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

  “Mom told me that you haven’t completely broken things off with her.”

  “Not for a lack of trying,” he said. “Although I’d meant to make my intentions—rather my lack of them—a lot more clear by now.”

  “Mom said that Janice is in good spirits. She got a good rental car, which Louise is footing the bill for, and she ordered a new Beamer that’s even better than her other one. Between her insurance and The Gallery’s, it’s pretty much covered.”

  “Well, that should be a relief to you.”

  “It definitely is.” Waverly cleared her throat. “She also said that Janice shopped for a new outfit for tonight’s party, and she’s really looking forward to it.”

  “Uh-huh.” He gazed out over the calm blue water.

  “And you.”

  He turned and stared at Waverly. “What?”

  “And she’s looking forward to you too, Blake. I just thought you should know that.”

  He groaned. “Thanks. And I was having such a nice morning too.”

  “Forewarned is forearmed.”

  “So should I be expecting some kind of battle?” He studied her profile, which was perfect. Even with her lips pressed tightly together like that, she was still beautiful.

  She shrugged. “I guess that remains to be seen.”

  Now he realized that, although he’d made his attraction fairly clear to her, not to mention her mother, Waverly had never said or done anything to state exactly where she stood with him. Oh, he still had that kiss to remember, but what if he was imagining that she’d enjoyed it as much as he did? What if Waverly was thinking along the same line as Sicily—that they were all just very good friends? Like the Three Musketeers. Not that Waverly wasn’t a delightful friend. But was he willing to settle for only that?

  “Shouldn’t we be heading into town by now?” Sicily asked as she emerged from the house fully dressed.

  “What about breakfast?” he asked.

  “Already ate.”

  “Oh.” He looked helplessly at Waverly now. “So do you want a ride?”

  “Why don’t you just let Waverly take the car,” Sicily suggested, “since you told me I could spend the whole day there since we’re trying to get the painting finished today. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you certain?” Waverly asked.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I can work on my screenplay. It’s actually starting to gel, and a full day at it would probably be good.”

  Sicily leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Dad,” Waverly echoed with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Hey, I might be older than you, but I’m not old enough to be your dad.”

  She looked slightly hurt now, like maybe she wanted a dad.

  “Not that I wouldn’t be willing to try,” he said congenially.

  “How old are you anyway?” Waverly asked.

  “He’s forty-three,” Sicily informed her. “How old are you, Waverly? Like twenty-something?”

  Waverly laughed. “See why I love this girl? You bet, Sicily, I’m like twenty-something—just add at least ten years, and you’ll be closer.”

  Sicily looked genuinely shocked. “Really, you’re that old? Like as old as my mom?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Waverly confessed. “But I’ll be thirty-six on my next birthday.”

  Sicily cocked her head to one side as if seeing her with new eyes. “Wow, I had no idea you were that old.”

  “Yes, dearie, I am.” Waverly inserted a shaky old-lady tremor into her voice and stood up and walked with a hunched back. “Now, if you can help me find my cane and my hearing aid and my—”

  “You’re not that old!” Sicily laughed.

  Then they were off, and Blake was home alone to think about how he was going to get Waverly to let him know whether or not he even had a chance with her. He was determined to find out. But first there was Janice and tonight’s party. The only reason he’d agreed to that in the first place had been to placate Janice and take some pressure off Waverly. But if Janice had gotten over everything, and the car situation was smoothed out, maybe it wouldn’t rock Waverly’s boat too much for Blake to change his mind about being Janice’s escort to the party tonight.

  Really, who needed an escort to a beach party anyway? As enamored as Janice was with celebrity types, she’d probably be willing to go as a single. Plus, she’d have Reggie and Waverly to hang with. But therein was the problem: Reggie and Waverly. On a date together. Perhaps it was immature or selfish, or maybe it was plain old love, but Blake decided he was going to the party with Janice after all. After the party was history, he would calmly and maturely explain the facts to Janice.

  He worked on his screenplay until past one. Then, feeling hungry and a little lonely, he decided to call Vivian, inviting her to join him for a late lunch.

  “That sounds lovely,” she told him. “I haven’t eaten yet either.”

  “Are tuna-fish sandwiches okay?”

  “Perfect. How about if we take our lunch out on the beach—have a picnic?”

  “You are my kind of woman.”

  She laughed heartily.

  “I’ll be over in about half an hour,” he promised.

  “I’ll be here with bells on.”

  He took care making the sandwiches, chopping celery and using some fresh crisp lettuce. Then he added in some chips, a couple pieces of fruit, and some other goodies, and loaded it all into a grocery sack. Realizing it might be difficult for Vivian to get up and down to sit on a blanket on the sand, he decided to grab a couple of folding chairs. He’d noticed she was moving slower and with a bit more difficulty, although it could be his imagination, spurred on by knowing about her “condition.” Slinging the straps of the folding chair bags over one shoulder, he grabbed his grocery bag with the other.

  He happily went down the trail to her house, whistling along the way and thinking how handy this trail had been this past week. He set his picnic things by the porch, then went to the door and knocked. And waited. Then he knocked again, louder this time. And waited some more.

  “Vivian?” he called out, going around the house to see if she might be puttering with the flower pots or s
omething.

  But no one was there. So he went back around and knocked again. Then he opened the door. “Vivian?” he called again, walking through the quiet room.

  He could hear water running somewhere and, following his ears, realized it was in the kitchen. “Vivian?” he said as he went around the cabinets, thinking he’d turn off the faucet.

  But then he saw her, laid out lifelessly on the floor with shattered glass nearby and a spilled bottle of aspirin beside her. “Vivian!” He fell to his knees, leaned over, and checked for a pulse in her neck. Seeing it was there, but faintly, he wondered what to do first. Realizing she’d probably been about to take an aspirin, which he knew could be lifesaving, he quickly crushed one and slipped the white powder into her mouth. In the next instant, he called 911 on the kitchen phone.

  Before the ambulance arrived, Vivian regained consciousness and tried to sit up.

  “Wait,” he told her as he slipped a folded towel beneath her head. “Paramedics are on their way. Don’t move.”

  “No hospital,” she whispered.

  “But Vivian,” he pleaded.

  “I just fainted,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Lightheaded…blacked out.”

  “Maybe so, but what can it hurt for a doctor to look at you?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed.

  He felt like her betrayer as the paramedics checked her vital signs, hooked up some oxygen and IV tube, then loaded her into the ambulance. Her face was pale, her eyes frightened.

  “I’ll follow and meet you there,” he assured her. Then, realizing he was car-less, he asked one of the medics for a ride. They let him sit in the back, telling him to stay out of the way of the two medics who continued to help her. As the ambulance rushed through town with sirens on, Blake bowed his head and prayed.

  Holding her hand, he started to go with them into the ER but was instructed to remain in the waiting room. “Promise you won’t call Waverly,” Vivian told him in a firm tone, still holding his hand. “Not yet. Not like this. Promise?”

  “Okay, I promise.”

  She released his hand and was wheeled away. But now he was torn in two. How could he not call Waverly? What if her mother was dying? And at the same time, how could he break his promise to a possibly dying woman? Finally he realized that all he could do at the moment was to pray. And that’s what he did.