Summer Reads Box Set, Books 4-6

by Freethy, Barbara

  She sent him a reluctant smile. "Good point.”

  "Hey, they're kicking off."

  Alli looked back at the field and yelled, "Go Honeybees," as Megan's yellow-and-black team kicked off the ball.

  And they were off, twenty-two little girls battling for a soccer ball as their parents yelled encouragement from the sidelines, some more critical than encouraging, Alli thought as one parent told her child to get off her butt and run.

  It reminded Alli of the beauty pageants she'd participated in before her mother had decided they really only needed one contestant in the family. Before that, there had been a litany of "Stand up straight, Alli; suck in your stomach; throw back your hair; look like you're having a good time." Torture was more like it. Well, she'd never do that to Megan.

  Alli turned her attention back to the game, but she became more annoyed as Megan was repeatedly elbowed and pushed by one decidedly bigger child.

  "Go forward, Meg," she yelled. "Stay forward."

  "She's fine," Sam told her.

  "She's supposed to be forward."

  "She's helping her defense."

  "But she'll get too tired if she runs the whole field. All right, that's the way." She clapped as Megan's team took the ball down the field and Megan took a shot at the goal. In her excitement, Alli grabbed Sam's arm. Unfortunately, the ball just missed. "Oh, darn, she was so close."

  "She'll get the next one," he said.

  "Hey, come on," Alli yelled as Megan went down on the ground, tangled up with another girl.

  "She's okay," Sam told her.

  "You think everyone is okay," she snapped. "Megan looks like she's crying. That girl tripped her."

  "It's the way the game is played."

  Maybe it was, but Alli didn't like it. And the tension of the game only seemed to increase the tension within her body. Concentrate on the game, she told herself again.

  "Oh, my God," she cried, as a girl on the opposing team gave Megan a shove that sent her flying head over heels. "She can't do that, Ref. Come on."

  "Alli, let it go," Sam said.

  But Alli's eyes were on Megan, who was slowly getting up off the ground, wiping tears from her eyes.

  "She shoved her," Alli told the referee, who was standing just a few feet away from her and happened to be a guy she'd gone to school with "Come on, Larry, that happened right in front of you. Are you blind?"

  Larry shook a finger at her. "They were both going for the ball. They just collided."

  "No way."

  "That's enough, Alli," Larry said. "If you can't keep your mouth shut, leave."

  "I'm not going to leave when some kid is deliberately trying to hurt my daughter."

  "That's it, you're out of here."

  "What?" she asked in amazement.

  "Hey, you can't throw her out," Sam interrupted. "She's just concerned about her kid."

  "You're out, too, Sam," the ref said.

  "Me, what did I do?"

  "You're both out. Parking lot now, or your kid's team forfeits the game."

  Alli barely heard the murmurs of protest from the parents behind her. "You are such a power freak, Larry. These are eight-year-old girls."

  "Last warning. Leave or the game is over."

  Sam clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her away from the field. He didn't release her until they reached the parking lot. She stared at him, her chest heaving, her breathing ragged. "I can't believe he did that."

  "I can't believe you did that."

  She was somewhat surprised by the unexpected smile in his eyes. "You're not mad at me?"

  "Mad? No." He shook his head in amazement. "You, Alli, are a piece of work. You went after Larry like a mother bear protecting her cub. I thought you were going to rip his head off."

  "I would have liked to do just that. I swear, he's been mad at me since I wouldn't let him cheat off my paper in the sixth grade." She paused. "Do you think I overreacted?"

  "I think you always overreact."

  "So what was your excuse? You yelled at him, too."

  "I didn't like the way he was talking to you.”

  "Really? Then thank you."

  "No, thank you." He put his hands on her waist and looked down into her eyes. "For reminding me that caring a lot about someone isn't a crime and doesn't deserve to be punished."

  She was confused by his cryptic words, but he was standing so close to her she was too distracted to ask him to explain. In fact, all she could do was look at him, feeling once again hopelessly, helplessly in love.

  "This has to stop," she whispered, feeling the undeniable pull of attraction.

  "Later. We'll stop later."

  "Okay," she tried to say, but her response was cut off by the descent of his mouth on hers.

  One kiss wasn't enough, or another. She was addicted to this man, plain and simple. She loved his mouth, loved his body, loved the way he took control, the way he made her feel like the sexiest female on the planet.

  "We were always pretty good at this," she breathed when they finally came up for air.

  "Better than good."

  He lowered his mouth for another taste when Megan's shrill voice interrupted them.

  "Mommy, what are you doing?" she demanded.

  Alli and Sam broke apart to see Megan and half her teammates in the parking lot for halftime.

  "Uh, we were just discussing the game," Sam said.

  "You were kissing," Megan said, obviously embarrassed—but also somewhat delighted, judging by the look in her eyes.

  "I'm sorry, honey," Alli said immediately, deciding a change of subject was definitely in order. "I shouldn't have yelled at the referee, even though he was wrong."

  "That girl pushed me in the back," Megan said with a sense of her own importance.

  "I know she did. Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. I can take care of myself, Mommy.”

  "Yes, you can," Sam said, sweeping Megan into his arms. "You're a big girl now."

  "That's right," she said, somewhat appeased. "So what have we learned today?" she asked, repeating her parents' favorite question.

  Sam laughed. "Not to let your mother watch your soccer games?"

  "Hey, you got thrown out, too," Alli protested.

  "Defending you."

  "Same thing."

  "I think we need something," Megan said pointedly.

  Alli looked at her daughter, then at Sam, and saw the twinkle in his eye. "The Triple Decker--” she started.

  "Hot Fudge Sunday," Sam continued. "No nuts."

  "Extra whipped cream."

  "And two cherries," Megan said.

  Alli laughed along with Sam, and in that moment she remembered all the good times between them, the simple pleasures of ice cream and shared jokes and late nights by the fire.

  Sam set Megan down on her feet. "Do us proud, honey. We'll wait here until you're done."

  "Okay." Megan started to go, then stopped. "Are you going to kiss again?"

  "No," Alli said. "We're not going to kiss again.”

  "You shouldn't lie to our daughter," Sam murmured in her ear.

  "I didn't."

  "Yes, you did."

  Chapter Fourteen

  The entire left side of Phoebe's body felt too heavy to move. She closed her eyes, feeling weary. She hadn't slept well the night before. Maybe because she'd been sleeping during the day. Her body seemed to have the days and nights mixed up.

  "I'm going to get some coffee," William muttered.

  She blinked up at him. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to stay awake."

  "Then you should sleep. You've had a busy morning."

  He was referring to the CT scan she'd undergone as well as other tests she couldn't begin to remember. Dr. Price had been vague about her discharge date. She hoped it was soon. She didn't like the sounds or the smells of the hospital; they reminded her of the endless trips she'd made to the convalescent home to visit her mother. It was the only year in the past fifty that she'd left Tucker's
Landing for more than a few months at a time. Maybe that was why she felt so resistant to leaving again. Vacations were fine, but moves were different. And William didn't just want to take her on a trip, he wanted to move her back to Philadelphia, to the kind of life she'd left a very long time ago.

  She'd said no a dozen times, but he hadn't given up. A part of her was immensely flattered by his attention. Another part felt guilty for allowing it to continue. She wished she could return his love the way he wanted, for hurting him had never been part of the plan.

  Phoebe felt William's lips brush her forehead and she struggled to stay awake long enough to say good-bye to him. But when she finally got her eyes open he was gone, and the room was empty.

  It was also scary, the bright lights making her dizzy. She closed her eyes again, feeling more comfortable in her head, in the dreams she could create, rather than in the reality that faced her. She was getting old; her body was aging. But mentally she still felt like a young woman on the verge of life.

  She smiled as she saw images of herself in her wedding gown walking down the aisle behind a trail of pink rose petals. Her father's arm had been strong and secure, but when he'd given her to John, she hadn't felt even a momentary loss, because she'd known so absolutely that John MacGuire was her soul mate. It was supposed to be a marriage of mutual convenience, two families uniting, but it had turned into so much more.

  Phoebe could hear John's deep voice repeating the vows, see the twinkle in his eyes as he lifted her wedding veil and kissed her on the lips. It was so real, so vivid, she could almost taste him.

  "I love you, John," she whispered, not knowing if she was really speaking or simply dreaming, because he was there again, dressed in his shorts, standing at the edge of the sea, the water pulling at the nearby sand in the age-old relentless movement of the tide.

  "I love you, too," he said. "Sometimes I can almost touch you."

  "Like now?"

  "Yes." He smiled at her, but his expression seemed more sad than happy. "The weather is getting warmer," he continued. "Wouldn't you like to go for a sail with me? We can wade out to the boat; it's very shallow, and the water will feel good against your skin."

  He beckoned to her, and she took a step forward, feeling the heat of the sand beneath her bare feet. She looked down at herself, realizing she was wearing a sundress from forty years ago. She felt something on her head and reached up to touch a crown of flowers. She remembered John putting them there during a long-ago picnic by the sea.

  "Phoebe?" John questioned.

  "We're not dressed for swimming."

  "We'll dance on the water, then."

  "As if we could."

  "Maybe we can," he said lightly. "Would you like to try?"

  She did and she didn't. She could feel a pull beneath her as if the ocean was trying to suck her in, and yet the water was still yards away.

  "Have the girls found the pearl yet?" he asked her.

  "They're still looking."

  "When they find it, our family will come back together."

  His words seemed suddenly to have a double meaning.

  "What do you mean, John? What are you trying to tell me?" His image began to fade. "Don't go yet."

  "I must."

  "Talk to me."

  "I will again, dear heart. Soon."

  "No, help me," she cried, feeling the sand beneath her feet shift. She was falling, and she couldn't stop herself

  "Phoebe. Phoebe. Wake up!" William's sharp voice pulled her back from the edge of the sea. She blinked her eyes open in confusion. Had she been asleep? Had she been dreaming? Hadn't William left just a few minutes ago?

  "You were calling out for help," William said worriedly. "Are you all right?"

  "I was dreaming," she muttered.

  "About what?"

  She shook her head. "I don't remember."

  "Well, everything is all right now. You don't have to be afraid. I'm here with you, and I'm not leaving until you can go with me."

  "I don't think I can leave the sea," she said abruptly. How could she leave a place that she continued to dream about?

  "You can visit the ocean whenever you want. But I need to live in Philadelphia to tend to my business and my son."

  She knew all about his only child from the first of two loveless marriages, for William had shared those stories ages ago. And the stories had only made her feel more guilty, for he had seemed to compare every love to the one he'd thought to have with her. And maybe they would have married if her parents hadn't asked her to at least meet John, consider marrying him. Perhaps if she hadn't met John, she and William would have gotten together. But the world didn't revolve on maybes.

  She gathered all her energy for a conversation she knew she had to have. "I don't think I can go with you," she said.

  "Not now, but soon. When you're better. I love you, Phoebe. You know how much I love you."

  She did, and the force of his emotions seemed too strong to rebut, especially since she didn't want to break his heart yet again. She'd thought for a time that she could marry him. He would be a companion, someone to share the days with, to laugh at a joke, to help with a crossword puzzle. But William wanted so much more from her than that.

  "I don't love you the same way," she said finally. "I wish I did."

  "I'll love enough for both of us."

  God, he sounded just like Alli talking about Sam. "I would be cheating you," she tried again. "I'm not the girl who got away. I'm different."

  "I know who you are, Phoebe. You're the woman I've loved my entire life. And we would have had our chance if it hadn't been for your parents and your loyalty to them. Maybe if I had been more well-off at the time, I could have taken you away from their plans. But I couldn't, and I am so sorry."

  "I loved John. My marriage turned out to be good."

  "I'm glad for that," he said gruffly. "I wouldn't have wanted you to be unhappy."

  "Then why do you want me to be unhappy now?”

  He looked taken aback. "I don't."

  "My life is here."

  "Your life could be anywhere. We'll spend half the year here if you want. Whatever you want," he said with desperation. "Phoebe, you were going to marry me before this happened. Don't change your mind now."

  "I've been dreaming of John," she said helplessly.

  "No, don't dream of John, dream of me," he said, pressing his forehead against hers.

  "He comes to me," she whispered. "He wants me to go sailing. I don't know what to tell him."

  William pulled away, looking very disturbed. "You have to say no, Phoebe. You have to stay here with me, you know that, don't you?"

  "Have the girls found the pearl?" she asked, evading his question.

  "Not yet."

  "They will," she said to reassure herself.

  "Maybe they shouldn't," he told her. "You need to hold on to this life, Phoebe, and let go of the one you had with John."

  William was right, but Phoebe was torn between them, the past and the future. And what did either matter when her present was so uncertain? She closed her eyes again, and this time she fell into a dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  Tessa sat on the bench seat, clinging to the rail as Sam powered the boat over the waves that made the floor beneath her feet roll with each bounce. The ocean was more turbulent than she had anticipated, especially since Sam had said the water was expected to be smooth and calm. Not that he seemed to be bothered at all by the sudden jerks and pitches.

  "Isn't this great?" He turned to her from his position at the wheel. "Don't you love it?"

  She drummed up a smile for him. "How far out are we going?"

  "Wherever you want."

  "This seems far enough."

  He sent her a quizzical look, then cut the motors, and she felt their speed decrease until they were simply rocking on the water.

  Sam came to sit next to her. "Are you all right?”

  "Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

  "You l
ook a little..." He paused as he peeled her tight fingers off the railing in front of her. "White-knuckled."

  "Oh, I haven't been sailing in a while. There's so much water, isn't there?"

  "It's a big ocean."

  "I thought we'd still be able to see Tucker's Landing, but we're too far out. Are there a lot of sharks out here?"

  "I don't see your friend Jimmy anywhere.”

  "That was a joke, ha-ha."

  "We're okay, Tessa. I don't remember you being this nervous on a boat. I guess sailing around the world is probably not one of your dreams anymore," he said lightly.

  "It would take far too long. Jets are much more efficient."

  "There's nothing wrong with a little time on your hands, a little space," he said.

  "There's nothing wrong with getting to your destination as quickly as you can."

  "What if you have nowhere to go?"

  "I always have somewhere to go. I keep myself pretty busy."

  "Do you like it?"

  "The modeling?"

  "All of it."

  "Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. It's like any job. I have to say that modeling opened up the world to me." She uttered a little laugh, realizing she'd just repeated something her mother had always said to her.

  "What's so funny?"

  "My mom used to tell me when I balked at entering another beauty pageant that modeling would open up the world for me, that I'd be able to see and do everything, to have more money than I ever imagined and meet incredibly fascinating people and live a life of constant wonder."

  Sam didn't say anything.

  "Aren't you going to ask me if she was right?"

  "I know she was," he said, with a familiar quirk of his eyebrow that set her nerves on edge.

  "She didn't tell me that it would be lonely, that people who didn't even know me would hate me for no other reason than that my hair was blond.”

  "Sounds like you're tired of the business."

  "I am tired, tired of being me," she confessed. "At least the me I've been the last few years. What about you? Do you like running your business?"

  "I do. It has its bad days, but on the whole it's a good life."

  Silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of the water lapping against the boat and the occasional seagull squawking about lunch. Tessa didn't know what to say to Sam. She'd been the one to ask for time alone, but now that they had it, she wasn't sure what to do.