Married 'til Monday

by Denise Hunter

  “Summer Harbor’s a small coastal community, and the natives like it that way. Well, most of them. There are always those who try to start a B&B or a whale-watching charter or a cute little boutique, but it’s discouraged.”

  “Do they make it? The tourist places?”

  She shrugged. “Some. Travelers still manage to find the place. But it’s off the beaten path, so mostly it’s overlooked. There was an article in Coastal Living about ten years ago that listed it among the best-kept secrets in New England. Tourism has picked up since then.”

  Ryan put down his window and Boo scuttled into his lap, perching her paws on the windowsill, her little nose turned up and twitching.

  “I can smell the ocean,” he said.

  So could she. It didn’t bring the same feel-good memories for her that it did for everyone else. Her best memory of the ocean was because of Ryan. She still had those shells tucked inside her jewelry box at home. But that one memory wasn’t enough to erase all the bad ones that had come before.

  She wiped her palm down the side of her leg. She didn’t know which she was more nervous about—seeing her dad or faking their marriage.

  “Did you call your mom?”

  “At the last stop.” Abby was glad they were arriving after dinner. Her dad would probably go into the living room to read the paper, leaving her to catch up with her mom.

  They rounded the last curve, and Summer Harbor appeared below. The sudden view was impressive, breathtaking even, with the wide expanse of blue ocean, the rocky shoreline, the half-moon harbor dotted with boats. Tidy houses clothed in weathered gray shingles stair-stepped up the hillside beneath them, and the tall white spire of First Presbyterian Church stretched into the darkening sky.

  Ryan stared out the window. “It’s like a picture from a magazine. You never told me it was so pretty.”

  Beauty, as they said, was in the eye of the beholder.

  “There’s a lighthouse,” he said, looking toward the point. “Think we’ll have a chance to get over there?”

  “Hope so.” She intended to spend as little time at the house as possible.

  As they curled down the hillside, Abby’s heart beat up into her throat. Her mom would be glad to see her. She’d focus on that. Nothing was going to happen. Not on their anniversary weekend. Not with Ryan there. She was an adult now. Her father couldn’t hurt her.

  “Don’t forget your ring.”

  She hadn’t forgotten. Was just putting it off as long as possible. At the first stop sign she reached into her wallet and pulled it out, sticking it on her finger. She felt Ryan’s eyes on her and didn’t dare look. She didn’t want to think about the first time he’d put it there or the silly hope that had been in her heart when they’d exchanged vows.

  She pressed the gas pedal, turning onto Cromwell Drive. Her parents lived in a modest neighborhood on the outskirts of town. Her dad was a lobsterman, and her mom had worked at the town library for as long as Abby could remember.

  A few minutes later she pulled into the gravel drive in front of the two-story clapboard and shut off the engine.

  Ryan took in the tidy home before turning to her. “You okay?”

  She realized her fingers were strangling the steering wheel. “Yeah.”

  They were pulling the luggage from the car when her mom burst through the screen door.

  “Abby!” She was down the steps before the screen door slapped closed.

  Abby got only a glimpse of her mother’s pretty face before she was swallowed into an embrace, the familiar smells of Shalimar and books enveloping her.

  “It’s so good to have you home,” Mom said. She was short, only reaching Abby’s chin, and she was a bit thicker than she used to be. Abby had gotten her height from her dad. But the auburn hair and fair skin were all her mom.

  Abby pulled away, and her mom embraced Ryan. “Thank you so much for coming. It’s good to see you, Ryan. And who’s this little guy?” Mom picked up Boo and rubbed the dog’s belly.

  “Little girl,” Abby said. “That’s Boo. You said it was all right to bring her . . .”

  “Of course. She’s just a little thing. Hardly takes up a square inch. And you know your dad likes dogs. Let’s go inside. You hungry?”

  “We ate on the road,” Ryan said, collecting their two bags and leaving Abby empty-handed.

  “Where is Dad?” Maybe he was still at work or out having a beer with his friends.

  Mom wrapped an arm around Abby and led her toward the house. “Oh, he’s inside finishing up his supper. You know your dad.”

  The smell of baked ham filled her nostrils as they slipped inside. Abby was tempted to take the stairs straight up to her room, but she followed her mom through the living room where the news played on a new TV. The old wood floors creaked under them as they advanced to the kitchen.

  Her dad sat at the head of the table, facing the TV, his plate half empty.

  “Look who’s here, Bud,” Mom said in a voice meant to engender enthusiasm.

  He’d aged since she’d seen him last. The fine lines around his eyes had deepened, and his face had filled out. His salt-and-pepper hair had receded at the hairline, lengthening his forehead.

  “Well, look who it is.” Dad’s voice was still gruff and loud, his face unsmiling.

  A warm hand settled at the small of her back.

  “Hi, Dad.” Her voice came out strong, a contradiction with the earthquake happening inside.

  “Abby.” His gaze flickered over her, then turned to Ryan. “How you doing, Ryan?”

  “Bud. Thanks for having us.”

  “Who’s that you got with you?” Dad pushed back his chair, and Mom handed Boo over.

  “Her name’s Boo. Isn’t she darling?”

  Abby wanted to snatch her baby back, but she curled her fingers into her palm instead. Boo was trembling with excitement, and she prayed the dog wouldn’t tinkle all over her dad’s lap.

  Dad held the dog up, nose to nose, looking her over. “Where’d you get the mutt? Seems awful nervous.” He said the last with a bit of glee.

  Abby’s heart thrashed. She wished he’d put her dog down. “She’s a Yorkie. I found her at the shelter.”

  He set Boo on his lap, his big, calloused hand wrapped around her, holding her in place.

  Abby swallowed hard. She’d been here all of thirty seconds and already needed a break.

  She turned to her mom, who was pouring Dad a fresh soda. “Should we put our things in my old room?”

  “Of course. It’s all made up for you. You need help with the bags?”

  “No, we’ve got it,” Ryan said.

  Abby reached for Boo.

  “Leave her here,” Dad said. “I’ll take her out and let her do her business.”

  Abby’s stomach clenched. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Boo seemed happy enough. Was hardly shaking anymore. Dad did like dogs. He wouldn’t hurt Boo just to spite her, would he?

  “All right.”

  “Come back down after you’ve settled in,” Mom called as they climbed the stairs. “You can help me on my puzzle while we catch up.”

  They passed her parents’ room on the left, then the bathroom, and turned into her old bedroom on the right. It was faintly lit with her old white lamp. The full-sized bed took up most of the room. A bureau, directly across, allowed only one-lane traffic, and a nightstand completed the furnishings.

  She took her suitcase from Ryan and set it on the bureau. She looked out the window, checking on Boo. Her dad was watching the dog scuttle around the yard, his hands in his pockets.

  Satisfied all was well, she took a quick glance in the time-speckled mirror, verifying that she looked as bad as she felt. She needed a minute. She sank down on the faded quilt coverlet while Ryan stashed his duffel in the corner.

  The room seemed to have shrunk since she’d left. She didn’t know if it was because she’d grown or because it was filled with Ryan’s large frame.

  He sank down on the other
side of the bed.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said.

  “What—you think I want to sleep here?” He bounced a couple times. “Uh-uh. Too soft. I’ve already picked out my spot, right here.” He tapped his foot on the only space big enough for him and pointed a finger at her. “And don’t think you’re going to change my mind.”

  She humphed as she got up and opened the closet. She pulled out a couple blankets and dumped them on Ryan’s lap.

  She eyed the bed longingly. She wished she could crawl between the covers and stay there the next two or three days.

  “You okay?”

  “Of course. I should probably get back down there. Are you going to see Beau tonight?”

  “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “Yes.”

  His half smile made her stomach flop. “Well, sorry, wife, but I’m hanging out with you tonight. I’m meeting Beau for breakfast—you’re welcome to join us. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

  Talk about the lesser of two evils. “I’m sure my mom’ll need help with the party. Tell Beau I’ll catch him tomorrow night.”

  Ryan followed Abby down the stairs, fighting the anger that built inside. He was pretty sure Bud hadn’t seen his daughter since their wedding, and the man couldn’t get his butt off the chair long enough to hug her? He’d barely looked at her.

  Worse, Abby seemed to expect it. He didn’t understand a man who treated his own flesh and blood that way. Especially not someone like Abby. Lillian tried to make up for Bud with kind words and forced enthusiasm, but some things couldn’t be compensated for.

  In the living room Lillian was hunched over a puzzle in the corner behind Bud, who watched TV from the sofa, his bare feet propped on the coffee table. Boo was curled up on a pillow nearby. She lifted her head and wagged her tail as Abby headed toward the lone chair opposite her mother.

  Ryan could sit with Bud on the sofa, but he was here to win his wife back, not catch up with his ex-father-in-law. So he beat Abby to the chair and drew her down onto his lap.

  Her breath caught as she fell onto him.

  Lillian flickered a smile at them over her bifocals. “There’s more chairs in the dining room.”

  Ryan tightened his arm around Abby before she could move away. “That’s all right.” Her slight weight felt just right. He tucked his arm around her, his hand flat on her stomach.

  She surprised him by folding her arm over top of his—until her nails dug into his wrist.

  “Well, let me at least get you a drink.” Lillian popped up.

  “I’ll help you.” Abby tried to stand, but Ryan held her in place.

  “No, de-ah, you stay right where you are.” Lillian took their orders, losing a few r’s and dropping them in random places like a good Mainer, then scurried into the kitchen.

  Abby glared at him, pushing his hand off her waist. What are you doing? she mouthed.

  He pointed to his wedding band.

  No, she mouthed. She started to stand, but he held her there easily.

  Lillian entered the room, and Abby stilled. Her mom set their drinks on the table, then handed Bud a glass, dropping a gentle hand on his shoulder as she passed.

  “You two are so cute. It does my heart good to see that you’re still so close. Oh! You’re wearing Nana’s ring. I thought you’d misplaced it.”

  “We found it,” Ryan said.

  “I’m so glad. I know it means a lot to you.” Lillian placed a piece of the puzzle, turning it every which way. “I guess you’ve heard about the nor’easter heading our way.”

  “I saw it on the news,” Ryan said. “It’s still going strong?”

  “As strong as it’s likely to get this time of year. It’s supposed to hit tomorrow after midnight. Hopefully it’ll hold off till after the party.”

  “The party’s not outdoors . . .”

  “Oh, no, it’s at the Hotel Tourmaline, on the island of Folly Shoals.”

  Abby had relaxed, and Ryan took advantage, pulling her closer. She fit into his chest like she was made to go there. Her hair smelled like the citrusy shampoo she used, and he drew in a big lungful. Man, he’d missed holding her. He’d keep her on his lap until his legs grew numb if she’d let him. His fingers ached to tangle in her long, auburn locks, but he was already pushing his luck.

  They hunched over the table, working on the puzzle of a lighthouse on a rocky coastline. Abby squirmed until Boo wandered over. She used the excuse to get up and drag a dining room chair to the puzzle table.

  Ryan mourned the loss, but assured himself there’d be more opportunities. Many more.

  They continued working for over an hour, chatting about tomorrow’s party, Lillian pulling Bud into the conversation whenever she could.

  She asked about Ryan’s family, her eyes brightening when he mentioned his twin nieces. Too late, he realized his mistake.

  “Oh, your mother’s first grandbabies! She must be so thrilled.”

  “Ava and Mia are adorable.” Abby slid a piece of the shoreline into the puzzle. “Look, Mom, I finally found it.”

  “I’ve been so eager for a grandchild myself,” Lillian went on, meeting Ryan’s gaze across the table. “I keep asking Abby when you two are going to start trying, but I can never get an answer out of her.”

  “Well, we’re not quite there yet.” Ryan found Abby’s hand under the table and grasped it.

  She pulled away.

  “Oh, leave ’em alone, Lil,” Bud said. “Maybe they don’t want kids.”

  Abby’s back stiffened, her eyes falling to the table.

  “Nonsense. They’ll be wonderful parents. I hope you won’t wait too much longer. It’s harder after you’re set in your ways.”

  He wondered if that was personal experience talking. “Have you seen Beau lately?” It was a clumsy attempt to change the subject, but he’d do anything to erase the tension from Abby’s face. “We’re having breakfast in the morning.”

  Lillian lowered her voice as Bud turned up the TV. “Oh, the poor de-ah. It was such a shock. Those boys . . . Too young to have lost both parents.”

  “What are they going to do about the tree farm?” Ryan asked.

  Abby tried another puzzle piece, some of the stiffness easing from her shoulders.

  “I don’t know. Christmas trees and maple syrup are both short-lived seasons. I mean, the syrup can be sold year-round, of course, but we don’t get a bunch of tourists looking to buy stuff. Not like Bar Harbor. More and more townsfolk are wanting to go that direction, what with the economy, but there are a few sticklers on the board who are as stubborn as the day is long.” She lowered her voice more. “And your dad is in their corner. Most of the fishermen are.”

  “They’re fighting the inevitable,” Abby said. “The old ways are dying, and the secret’s out. It’s only a matter a time.”

  “That’s what I say,” Lillian whispered. “But you can’t tell those old fogies on the board anything.”

  “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing Beau.” Ryan tried a piece and found a fit. “It’s been too long.”

  “You’ll meet his brothers at the party. We’re expecting around a hundred.”

  Abby covered her mouth in a yawn. “I’ll help you get everything ready tomorrow, Mom.”

  “Oh, I have plenty of people for that. You two just rest up. You’re overdue for a vacation. You should take Ryan up to Lighthouse Point and down by the harbor shops. There’s a new little café there with the best clam chowder. And you should stop in the Down East Roadhouse and say hello to Zac.”

  “One of Beau’s brothers,” Abby explained to Ryan, then realized he probably already knew that. She covered another yawn, then stood. “I think I’m ready to call it a night.”

  Ryan offered to take Boo out, then excused himself for the night, following Abby ten minutes later.

  She was already in bed when he reached the room, the lights out. He crept in as quietly as he could, but the floor creaks made stealth impossible. He foun
d the extra blanket and spread it on the floor, then took off his shoes and socks, wishing he could strip down. Bud didn’t seem to believe in air conditioning.

  He settled on the floor. There was no pillow, so he balled up the extra sheet under his head.

  “Don’t do that again.”

  He turned over at the sound of her voice in the darkness. “Do what?”

  “You know what. This little farce does not include lap time.”

  He sighed. “Relax, Abby. It’s not a big deal.”

  The bed squeaked as she flopped over. “Nothing ever is to you, Ryan.”

  It wasn’t true. Losing her had been a big deal. The biggest deal of his life. But she wasn’t ready to hear that yet.

  His head had sunk down on his makeshift pillow. It was going to be a long night without a real one. “Hey, Abby, you have an extra—”

  Something big and soft thunked him in the gut. “—pillow.”

  He traded out the old one, tossing the sheet aside, and settled in for what was sure to be a long night—pillow or not. “Thanks.”

  Chapter Eleven

  ABBY SLEPT FITFULLY AND WOKE EARLY. DAYLIGHT shone dimly through the sheer curtains. She didn’t have to look to know Ryan was still on the floor beside her. She could feel his presence even if she couldn’t hear his deep, even breaths.

  Today was her parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. It boggled the mind that they’d lasted so long. That her mom had put up with her dad that long. But then, they had an odd sort of relationship, and he was a lot nicer to her mom than he’d ever been to her.

  Her stomach growled, and she stirred. Her dad would be at the marina by now. She’d make her mom breakfast. She eased from the bed, taking a moment to study Ryan. He’d ditched his shirt sometime in the night, and the sheet was shoved off to the side. He still had those swimmer’s shoulders, and even in the dimness she could see the shadowed ridges of his stomach. Clearly he’d kept up his workout regimen.

  In sleep his face was relaxed, his lips slightly parted. His eyelashes were dark smudges against his cheeks. He looked sweet in a rugged kind of way. In the early days of their marriage she’d lain in bed and watched him until he’d awakened. There was something about all that masculinity at rest that intrigued her. When he would wake up and catch her staring, a knowing smile would curl his lips, and before she knew it, she was enjoying all that manliness up close.