The nuns were right. Celibacy was definitely the way to go...
If Scott the Mechanic didn’t want to talk, he didn’t have to talk, and she didn’t have to fill up the silence with chatter. Her entire future wasn’t wrapped up in whether or not she was pretty enough, sexy enough, entertaining enough, everything enough for whoever the date du jour happened to be.
“O’Brien and Markowitz,” he said as they passed the exit to Bath. “How’d that happen?”
“We’re half sisters.” She had nothing against telling him the story, but this was Ellen’s world. She was only visiting.
“Same mother ?”
“Same father.”
“Markowitz or O’Brien?”
“O’Brien.”
“So how did Dr. Ellen end up a Markowitz?”
“Her mother married a Markowitz.”
“Did you grow up together?”
She shook her head. “We didn’t even know about each other until we were fourteen.”
He glanced over at her. “That must have been one hell of a surprise.”
“Sometimes it still is.” She curled her legs under her and smoothed her long gauzy skirt. “So what’s your story. How did a Southie stargazer end up fixing cars in Maine?”
His expression didn’t change, but she noticed the tiniest twitch beneath his right eye. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
“C’mon,” she said, her tone light and teasing. “You can do better than that. I want to know all about your ex-wives, your kids, the broken hearts you left behind in Boston.”
“There’s nobody.”
`There has to be somebody.”
“Not anymore.”
“Divorce?” The word no sooner left her lips than she knew how wrong she was. His expression still hadn’t changed, but sorrow was in that truck with them, taking up space, breathing the air.
“I’m sorry,” she said, placing a hand on his forearm. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“No problem.”
She waited, but that was all he had to say on the topic. She was filled with questions she knew she couldn’t ask. She pictured him as a newlywed, still high on discovery, one of those guys who married in his early thirties and got it right the first time. Or maybe he had married his high-school sweetheart right after graduation and lived a white-picket-fence kind of life until fate tore them apart, leaving him alone and brokenhearted and in need of the kind of comfort only a woman could provide.
Not her, of course, since she was celibate, but her imagination was still having trouble processing that fact. It persisted in conjuring up images of herself as a modern Florence Nightingale tending to the wounded on love’s battlefield, mending brokenhearted men, then sending them on their way to a lifetime of happy fidelity with somebody else while she waved goodbye and blinked back one perfect tear.
That was the O’Brien in her, proof positive that she was very much her father’s daughter. She was always looking for the romance behind the story, the pink satin bow on top of the pile of shit. Give her enough time and she could find the happy ending in Romeo and Juliet. You wouldn’t think Scott the Mechanic would be one of her bigger challenges, but he was. She studied his face for clues, but he might as well have been carved from granite. He said he had no one, but lots of men said that while their voice mail was busy logging you’re late for dinner messages from the wife and children. For all she knew he had a few kids out there somewhere who were being raised by a friend or distant relative, with only the occasional e-mail or phone call from daddy dearest to remind them that their father was still alive.
With the possible exception of her sister Mary Pat, everyone had secrets. Big ones. Small ones. Life-changing ones. Secrets that could break your heart or break your spirit if you let them. Billy’s secret had wrecked their family. That was a fact even she couldn’t find a way to romance. Her mother was forced to face her husband’s flagrant infidelities. Mary Pat ditched college for marriage and escape, while she and Ellen struggled to figure out their respective places in the revised family tree.
Sometimes she had the feeling the struggle would outlive both of them.
In the background Bonnie Raitt sang about heartbreak, one of those bluesy songs about bad men and good women and the mess they made with their lives.
With all due respect, Bonnie didn’t know the half of it.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Do you have the girls this weekend?” Ellen asked Hall as they walked across the parking lot to their cars.
“All four of them.”
“Kate and Elizabeth are coming up from New York?”
“Tomorrow morning. They’ll pick up Willa and Mariah and be here by ten.”
“Special occasion?” She still didn’t have all of the birthdays straight.
“Job interviews. The friend of one of their friend’s father owns a resort near Ogunquit, and he needs more wait staff for the outdoor dining area.”
“I waited tables one summer,” she said as they stopped next to her Cruiser. “I was probably the worst waitress the Hamptons ever saw.”
He laughed and leaned against the door of her car. “I’m surprised. You have a great memory, good personality, and superior upper-body strength.”
“I’ll admit my triceps are second to none,” she said, grinning at him, “but kitchen politics were my downfall.”
“Kitchen politics?”
“Let’s just say the cook had his favorites and I wasn’t one of them. His favorites waited the big tables with the heavy tippers. I ended up bussing.”
“You’re saying he hit on the girls.”
“Big time. I could take a stand because I didn’t need great tips to survive, but some of the others—” She stopped, remembering Hall’s daughters were going to spend the summer waiting tables.
“God damn.” He dragged a hand through his silvery blond hair. “If anyone tries anything with my kids, I’ll—”
“Kate and Elizabeth wouldn’t put up with that garbage for a second. They know you’re behind them emotionally and financially.” And, thank God, the world was changing. It wasn’t there yet, but it was better than it had been when she was in college.
From the look on Hall’s face, he wasn’t interested in her historical overview. Not when it came to his daughters.
“I’m going to drive down there and talk to the owners before they sign anything.”
Her eyes widened. “Your daughters will be furious with you.”
“They’ve been furious with me before and I’ve survived. It comes with the territory. They’ll be on their own in a handful of years, and I won’t be able to protect them. I’m going to do what I can while I still have the authority.” He bent down and peered into her face. “Are you crying, Markowitz?”
She didn’t bother to try to hide her emotions. They were too big to contain. “You really are a terrific father.”
“I’ve been at it awhile. Sooner or later I’m bound to get a few things right.”
“Sorry.” She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s been one of those days. Fatherhood’s been on my mind.” Cy. Billy. All the twisted limbs of her family tree.
“Did you get the callbacks you were waiting for?”
“Two of them so far. The doctor you came up with seems to be on everyone’s short list.”
“He’s a good man and right there in Boston.”
“I was thinking about suggesting a trip to Rochester.”
“The Mayo’s always a good choice.”
“But?”
“Just a hunch.” He took her hand in his. “I don’t think there’s a lot of good news up ahead. He might be just as well off sticking close to home.”
“Assuming he has one. He’s never been the kind of guy who sticks around for long.” Her eyes welled again with tears. “Isn’t this ridiculous?” She swiped her eyes again. “I haven’t seen the man in almost four years. He never calls, he never writes—” She tried to force a laugh but th
e sound wouldn’t fool anyone. “Mary Pat is a daddy’s girl. I’m trying to find a way to prepare her for bad news, but I’m not sure she really hears what I’m saying.”
They both knew that very often a patient or her family heard only as much as they were capable of handling at any given moment. She had once had a patient who endured eight months of grueling chemotherapy before she was able to acknowledge that she was fighting cancer. No one could predict who would handle bad news with grace and courage and who would fall apart. It was a gamble not even Las Vegas would touch.
“Did Deirdre get off okay?”
She was grateful for the change of topic. “Scott came by for her around one o’clock.” She glanced at her watch. “They should be there by now.”
“So that means Stanley’s alone.”
“Scary thought, isn’t it? For once I’m glad I don’t have much furniture. I promised him a long run on the beach tonight if he was a good dog.”
“Feel like company?”
“Hall, I don’t think—”
“Do you feel like company?”
“Yes,” she said, “but—”
“I have a pair of jeans in the back of my truck. I’ll change at your place.”
“People are going to talk.”
“People are always talking around here. Another ten years and you won’t even notice.”
“Wanna bet?” she asked in her best New York accent.
“Ten bucks,” he said and she agreed.
She would trade ten bucks for another ten years in Shelter Rock Cove any day of the week.
* * *
Ellen ran upstairs to change out of her work clothes. “There’s some beer in the fridge,” she called down over her shoulder as she reached the landing. “Maybe some tuna salad. Grab whatever you want. And let Stanley out the back, would you?”
Stanley obviously understood English, because he threw himself at Hall like a guided missile.
“I get the message,” he said, tossing his jeans over his shoulder. He followed the dog down the hallway, through the kitchen, straight to the backdoor. “There you go, Stan. Knock yourself out!”
Stanley launched himself into the yard, then started tearing around like an escapee from canine prison. Hall left the door open, then ducked into the bathroom to change into jeans. Willa and Mariah still hadn’t stopped talking about Stanley. Their odes to the dog’s big brown eyes were meant to inspire him to buy them a puppy, but Yvonne had given him strict orders. “No dogs, no cats,” she had told him when he broached the subject. She was severely allergic and just the thought of living with a quadruped made her break out in hives. But what was stopping him from driving over to the shelter and finding a Stanley of his own?
He had a big empty house just like Ellen’s. He had a yard and no problem with slobber or chew toys.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Maybe Ellen would go with him tomorrow. They could take the long way to Idle Point, weaving in and out of the scores of shore towns that dotted the Maine coast, maybe stop at one of the steak houses that provided occasional relief from the basic seafood diet of the native Mainer.
He zipped up his jeans, then grabbed his dress shirt and trousers. Ellen was still upstairs. He could hear the water running as he walked back through the hallway toward the front door. There had to be a T-shirt stowed somewhere in the truck. Every time the hospital held a fund-raiser, he seemed to walk away with a couple more of them. He usually gave them to his girls to wear as nightshirts, but now and then he tossed one in the back of the truck for times like this. It was still too cold to go shirtless, and, face it, he wasn’t exactly eighteen any longer. At eighteen he could have gone shirtless in January and never noticed. Hot blood had its benefits.
He swung open the front door and found himself face-to-face with Susan and Claudia. Claudia toted a cake wrapped in some kind of fancy hot-pink cellophane tied with ribbons and streamers while Susan had a lock on a stack of casseroles in foil pans.
“Surprise!” Only Susan could make an innocent word sound like an indictment. She gave him one of those Mr. Spock eyebrow lifts that she used to practice in front of the mirror when they were kids. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”
Claudia’s eyes never glanced lower than his nose, even though she had probably seen his bare torso ten thousand times over the years, beginning when he was five years old. It seemed as if he had spent entire summers camped out on the beach behind her house—this house that now belonged to Ellen—girl-watching, catching rays, wishing he had been born a Galloway.
“I brought Ellen some housewarming gifts,” Claudia said, trying not to appear obvious as she peered over his shoulder into the shadowy front hall. “I probably should have phoned first.”
“Why?” asked Susan with the kind of snarky smile that would consign a kid to permanent detention. “This is much more fun.”
He blasted her with a look. “Ellen’s upstairs,” he said casually. “I’m going to the truck to look for a T-shirt.”
“And Stanley?” Susan asked.
He ignored her and headed for his truck. He had known the woman his entire life and never seen her like this before. Susan was known for her cutting humor. Her acerbic one-liners were legendary among her friends and family. But this was something different. These remarks were pointed, emotional, and aimed directly at him. If he didn’t know better, he would think she was jealous, but the thought was too ridiculous to pursue. They were friends. Wasn’t it Susan who had championed his feelings for Annie? She was the one who had encouraged him to state his case, to quit treating her like the Widow Galloway and start treating her like the woman he had loved for more years than he cared to remember. Susan had been behind him every step of the way, and when it became clear Annie’s heart belonged to Sam Butler, it was Susan who played matchmaker for him with every single woman who stumbled into her path.
But he couldn’t deny the fact that she was acting weird as hell and that it had all started the morning after his night with Ellen.
* * *
“Still think nothing’s going on, Ma?”
Claudia had to admit that catching Hall, shirtless, in Ellen’s house seemed highly suspicious, but she would rather cut out her tongue than admit it to her daughter. Susan had been acting very strange the last few days and she wasn’t about to fuel this particular fire if she could help it. She liked gossip as well as the next person, but there was something about the situation that made her feel quite protective of Hall and, in some ways, of Ellen as well.
They stood together on the front porch and watched as Hall dropped the rear gate on his Rover and rummaged through a pile of sporting equipment in search of a shirt.
“Don’t you have one of Jack’s T-shirts in the trunk?” she asked.
“They’re covered in axle grease,” Susan said.
“I saw a clean one under Charlie’s soccer gear.”
“Ma, will you mind your own business. I’m enjoying the show.”
“You sound like Sweeney. It’s unseemly for a woman of your age to ogle men.”
“First of all, I’m only forty-six. Second of all, I’m not dead.”
“And you’re married.”
“I know I’m married.”
“I’m not so sure you do,” she said. “You’ve been acting very strangely all week. Everyone’s noticed.”
“I’m menopausal,” Susan said. “Isn’t that what you’ve been telling everyone?”
“Would you rather I tell them that you’re throwing yourself at Hall?”
Susan plopped the casserole tins down on the top step, then stormed off in Hall’s direction, leaving her feeling much as she had during those long years when it seemed as if all of her children would be teenagers forever. She and her oldest daughter were too much alike for comfort. They were both strong-willed and pragmatic, a combination that led to constant skirmishes that had evolved over the years into a form of entertainment. And like her mother, Susan was a one-man woman. Jack A
ldrin might not be the kind of man you would find on the cover of a magazine, but he was a hardworking man who was devoted to his family, and the thought that her daughter might jeopardize her marriage for the possibility of a fling with an old friend made Claudia’s blood run cold.
“Hi, Claudia!” Ellen appeared in the doorway. She wore a pair of cutoff shorts that left her long slim legs bare to the evening breezes, a snowy white T-shirt with a bright red sweater tied loosely around her narrow waist. “Come on in.”
Claudia couldn’t help but smile. “You look like one of my grandchildren, dear. I forget sometimes how young you are.”
“Thirty-five next month,” she said with a fake shudder. “One step away from middle age.”
Ellen’s glance drifted toward the driveway, where Hall and Susan were engaged in animated conversation. Her expression softened, grew almost dreamy. Claudia’s heart seemed to expand inside her chest as she remembered the last time she saw a young woman look at a man that way. It was the first time Sam Butler walked into the flower shop. She had turned to ask Annie who he was, and the look of wonder and longing in her eyes had stopped her in her tracks.
Oh, Lord, what had they walked into?
“My special carrot cake,” she said, extending the gaily wrapped platter to the young woman. “We should have called first, I’m sorry.”
“No apology necessary,” Ellen said. She possessed the fair, translucent skin found on most natural redheads, the kind that blushed at the drop of a secret. She took the carrot cake from her. “My favorite! Why don’t you join me in the kitchen for a slice?”
Girls of Summer (Shelter Rock Cove - Book #2) Page 25
