by Donna Fasano
“The kiss, silly.”
The fork clattered against the stainless steel countertop when she dropped it. Sara was certain she’d never tasted anything as sweet or as delicious as Landon’s kiss.
She felt both his hands slide up her back so she figured he must have set down the plate. There was probably cheesecake and crust crumbs all over the counter, but she didn’t care. The thought had her chuckling. This man had a way of making her care about one thing only—him!
He pulled back far enough so he could look into her eyes. “What are you laughing at?”
His chin sported a smudge of creamy filling, and she laughed as she reached up to clean it off with the pad of her thumb. “Nothing,” she told him, licking the cheesecake from the pad of her thumb. “Nothing at all.”
He held her in his arms and gazed into her face, his expression growing serious. “Listen, I’d like for you to help me find an apartment.”
She tilted her head. “Something wrong with our arrangement?”
God, how she loved having him upstairs. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed sex until he’d moved into her house.
“I need my own space,” he said. “I have one more shut off valve to install in one of the bathrooms upstairs at the B&B, and then my job will be done. I’d like to stay in town a bit longer.”
That news made Sara smile.
“And I’ve imposed on you long enough.” He gazed down into her face, his tone suddenly saturated with a sensuous quality. “Unless you’d move upstairs with me.”
It was a short sentence. Just half a dozen words strung together. But they caused a hard lump of something dark and scary to solidify in his chest, and before she knew what was happening, it was crawling all over her like a horde of scaly beetles, relentless and terrifying. She stepped out of his arms, backing up an inch or two, the edge of the counter hitting her at the small of her back.
“Oh, I… I don’t think so, Landon.” She tried not to frown, but she felt the muscles in her forehead tighten. “We, um… I, ah… I need to be careful about the choices I make. We need to take things slow. I need to make sure I’m doing the right thing.”
Suddenly chilled to the marrow, Sara hugged herself, rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms.
“The choices we make are so damned important, don’t you think?” She swallowed and moistened her still-sticky lips, the taste of nutmeg and vanilla distinct and pleasing and in sharp discord with the unexpected chaos that threatened to overtake her. “You really have to be cautious, you know?” Where had that pleading tone come from? “And then there are those choices life makes for you. Those can be utterly devastating. You’re just going along, enjoying all the things you thought were safe and solid and permanent, and life just punches you right in the face, knocks you off your feet. Nothing is the same. Ever again.”
Sara knew she was rambling, but she could no sooner stop herself than she could have stopped time or tide. “Life did that to me, Landon.” She pressed her hand to the base of her throat. “You know I was married. Greg. My husband.” Of course, he did. But the words kept toppling off her tongue. “Life just jerked him away from me. He was here one morning, and that same afternoon he was in a coma. Unable to speak. Unable to breathe on his own. Just lying there. Unresponsive. And then he… He just… I was… I was…” She shook her head. “It was awful, Landon. I felt as if I were living in a pitch-black cave. Somewhere where the sun never shined. For months. I was desolate.”
Her vision splintered as hot tears welled in her eyes. She thought she was over this, thought she’d put it behind her, moved past it, but the fear and the grief rolled through her just as fresh and horrific as the day she’d received the call from the nurse at the hospital about Greg’s accident.
Suddenly, she was enveloped in Landon’s arms. He gently guided her head onto his shoulder and kissed her temple.
“Sweet, sweet Sara,” he whispered. “What is this about? I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I was just teasing you. About moving in with me. You know… the mood felt right for lighthearted—” He flattened his mouth and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sara. It was a stupid joke.”
She blinked, and overwhelming emotion had her eyes welling with tears all over again. “It’s just… just that… I…”
“It’s okay. It’s really okay.” He slid his arms around her. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. Breathe and relax and smile. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Taking a deep, slow inhalation, Sara rested her head against Landon’s shoulder and consciously let go of all the pent up stress in her neck, shoulders, arms, and face. Even her scalp felt tense. Another deep breath and she felt a little calmer.
“Forget about what I said, okay?” he told her. “It was a dumb thing for me to joke about.”
Sara wanted to disagree. She wanted him to understand what she was feeling, wanted him to know that her anxiety was due more to her own insecurities than him. But her friendship with Landon—her relationship with him—was so mired in her dark, plaguing fear of loss and her need to avoid heartache; it was like a big ball of entwined rubber bands that couldn’t be untangled without one or two snapping. How could she get involved with him with the risk of disaster striking at any time, bringing with it paralyzing grief?
Who was she kidding? She already was involved with Landon. Just because she didn’t want to put a name to what was between them couldn’t change that fact.
Shut up! she silently shouted down the annoying voice in the back of her head.
“How about this?” he said, his voice still a mere whisper as he slid a comforting hand up and down her back. “Let’s just forget all about it, and you can help me find an apartment. Okay?”
Sara nodded, and then she tipped up her chin and gave him a light kiss on his jaw, hoping he would understand her silent gratitude.
Chapter Twelve
Landon squatted next to the pedestal sink and checked to see if he needed a right-angle stop valve or a straight one. He heard someone behind him and hoped it wasn’t a guest staying at the B&B. They tended not to react too well when he told them they couldn’t use the restroom facilities because the water to the building had been shut off.
He turned his head and swiveled on the balls of his feet.
“Hey, Heather,” he greeted. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” she said. “I just folded these towels and need to put them away. It’ll just take me a second and I’ll be out of your way.”
Between Sara’s two best friends, Heather was the one he knew least. He spent most mornings in The Sunshine Grill, having coffee and chatting with Cathy and the locals. The time he’d spent with Cathy had helped him to recognize that there was anger beneath her brash tone. It was as if she were always on her guard, expecting to be hurt and lashing out with bold words so she could get her blows in first. He wasn’t sure what had honed her edge of bitterness, but understanding her behavior had helped him not take offense at her impetuous, often flip, opinions.
Now Heather was an enigma, a mystery he couldn’t quite figure out. Although she was always gracious, always polite, he got the distinct impression that she was uncomfortable around him, more so whenever they were alone. He couldn’t tell if it was him, or just men in general. However, since he’d been working on the plumbing in the inn, they often found themselves forced into a bit of small talk. Heather was always friendly enough, but she could never quite look him in the eye.
She was a beautiful woman; her long brown hair was shiny and framed a creamy complexion and intelligent blue eyes. She always dressed nicely but conservatively. Today, her pretty dress covered her from neck to ankles. It was clear to Landon that she tried to hide her voluptuous curves and wondered if she struggled with body image issues. No, Heather wasn’t cover-model thin, but she was nowhere near obese, either. Self-consciousness about her weight could explain why she seemed nervous whenever they were alone. Then again, his conjecture could be completely off ba
se.
He grabbed the pliers that were setting on the old, ragged towel he’d draped across the toilet seat. “Well, this is it. The last valve.”
“Oh, Landon, that’s great news.” She set the towels on the small antique dresser. “I won’t miss having to explain why the water’s been turned off most afternoons. People on vacation don’t like to be inconvenienced. Sometimes they can get a little snippy.”
“I’ve run into a few of those myself.” He grinned. Talking to her while squatting was causing him to crane his neck, so he stood up.
“I’m sorry if anyone was rude to you,” she said. “I sure do appreciate all you’ve done.” She focused on arranging the rolled up towels in the big basket that sat atop the dresser. “Sara told me you’d found an apartment.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice little place. One bedroom. A little kitchenette. I don’t need much.” He tapped the pliers against his palm. “She’s okay with it, I think. Sara, I mean. With me sticking around town.”
Heather grinned and glanced at him, although she didn’t hold his gaze for long. She nodded. “Yeah, I’d say she is.”
“You really think so?”
She stopped fidgeting with the towels and looked at him. “You really have to ask me that? You’re with her every day.”
Landon tipped his head to the side and offered a half shrug. “If anything was bothering Sara, you’d know it, right? You and Cathy are her best friends. The three of you are closer than sisters.”
Heather nodded. “We are. Closer than sisters. We watch out for each other, that’s for sure.” She glanced down, shifted the basket full of towels a fraction of an inch. “Don’t you worry. If Sara was unhappy, we’d let you know about it.” She pressed her full lips together for a moment, obviously suppressing a grin. “One time back in high school, Sara got her hair cut for prom. She was going to surprise Greg. Well, he didn’t like it and he said something mean. I don’t even remember now what he said, but her feelings were hurt. She almost decided not to go, but we talked her into it. Why should she miss prom, we told her, because Greg was being an ass? They got through the night, but Sara was hurt for weeks afterward, and Cathy and I made Greg’s life a living hell.”
Her shoulders shook with humor at the memory. “That poor guy. We chewed a whole pack of gum, piece by piece, and shoved those sticky lumps into the air vent holes of his locker. We soaped every inch of his car. He was furious. Oh, how he loved that Barracuda.” She laughed out right. “And when he drove it to school the next day, all sparkling clean, Cathy and I skipped last period and smeared a can of shaving cream all over it. He couldn’t see out any of the windows.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and then slid her hand onto her hip. “Even after the two of them made up, we continued to hassle him. We irritated the devil out of that guy. Sara asked us to stop, and Cathy and I both reminded her of how he’d made her cry. Finally, Greg apologized to us. He swore he’d never hurt Sara again. It was so funny. He was desperate to get back into our good graces, that’s for sure.” Heather crossed her arms as she got her grin in check. “The point to that story, I guess, is that, if Sara was unhappy with you, Cath and I would let you know.”
Landon smiled and nodded. The story he’d just heard didn’t sit well with him.
“So,” he quietly began, “was Sara’s marriage a happy one? I mean, was her husband good to her?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She nodded her head emphatically. “They were kids when that silliness in school happened. We all were; you know how immature teens can be.” Heather smirked. “Greg proved to be a fast learner, though. He loved Sara very much. And she felt the same. They were very happy together. When he died, Sara was—”
She smoothed her lips together and closed her eyes. When she spoke again, her tone was very soft. “It was bad, Landon. Very bad. She was pretty much crippled by the loss she felt. And Greg’s parents didn’t help matters. Not at all.”
“What do you mean? They didn’t rally around her? Give her some support? She was their daughter-in-law.”
“Well, Sara was the one doing the rallying,” Heather said. “Naturally, they were as devastated as she. Once Greg had been pronounced brain dead, it took several days before Sara and Mr. and Mrs. Carson came to terms with exactly what that meant. Sara sat by his bedside, day and night. Once she finally got to the place where she was able to let him go, the doctor asked Sara about donating Greg’s organs. Sara and Greg had talked about it, and she knew Greg would have been all for it. But his parents were dead set against it. Everything turned ugly, and there was terrible fighting.”
She took a long, soulful breath. “Losing Greg was bad. But having her in-laws all over her like that just compounded the tragedy of it. I don’t think they’ve spoken since.”
“Sara went against their wishes?” Landon asked.
Heather nodded. “Yes. Sara donated Greg’s organs.”
They both fell silent for a moment or two.
“How long has it been…” he hesitated, “…since all this happened?”
“Two years.”
Landon stared at the pliers in his hands, remembering how Sara had cried when she’d talked about her deceased husband. He knew he shouldn’t ask, but he simply had to know.
“Heather, do you think Sara is over it?”
She paused for a long moment, then reached up and combed her fingers through her hair. “I think people never really get over that kind of thing. Losing a spouse, or a parent, or a cherished friend. It’s not something you get over, is it? It’s more something you learn to live with. Sara lost Greg, and she lost his parents, all in one fell swoop.” She searched his face, then her chin dipped and she looked at the floor. “But I do think, for the most part, that Sara has reached the point where she’s living pretty well with her loss. And I think that has a lot to do with you, Landon. You’ve helped her heal. You really have.”
Warmth permeated his chest, coursing through his arms and legs, rushing to his face. Those words were good to hear.
“I hope she’s healing, Heather,” he said. “I really do. Because I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with her.”
Heather’s shoulders relaxed and her face beamed with a smile. “Isn’t this something you should be telling Sara rather than me?”
He tried to smile. He truly did, but he knew the twist of his lips only looked pained as he admitted, “I don’t think she wants me to.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Well, would you look at that bundle of preciousness?” Sara smiled as she watched the little girl approach her.
The child looked to be about four years old and she was decked out in glittering tulle from top to bottom. A bejeweled crown was perched on her head and she sported a scepter in her fist.
“Twick or tweat!” she called when she finally reached them.
Sara placed her hands on her thighs and bent at the waist so she was nearly eye-to-eye with the little girl. “You look so pretty.” Then Sara smiled and waved to the girl’s parents who stood a short distance away.
The child beamed. “My mommy buyed me this dwess.” She pirouetted for them. Then the girl focused her attention onto Landon. “I’m a pwincess,” she told him, the utter sincerity on her face expressing that she was certain he needed the explanation.
Sara bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“I can see that,” he said. “And you’re a beautiful princess too.”
The little girl smiled even bigger.
Landon held out the basket filled with cookie pops.
She gasped, her eyes and mouth rounding with delight. “They’re gigantic!”
Sara had baked large, ghost-shaped sugar cookies, decorated them with white fondant icing and used chocolate chips for the eyes, and then she’d inserted one extra-long lollypop stick into the bottom of each before wrapping them up in cellophane and tying the packages closed with black ribbon. The children, so used to receiving candy on this spooky night, seemed to love the cookie pops.
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br /> The little girl looked at her left hand, clutching the scepter, and then her right, holding her bag of treats. “Hey, mister,” she blurted, “can you help me? My hands is full.”
“I’ll be happy to help you.”
Landon took a cookie pop from the basket and tucked it securely into her bag.
“Fank you,” she said, and then she turned and scurried toward her parents.
“Have a good time,” Landon called after her. She stopped long enough to wave at him.
“This is fun,” he told Sara.
Since dusk, local children had raced along the boardwalk, trick or treating in all manner of costume. There had been bloody zombies and famous movie and cartoon characters, ghosts and pirates, cowboys, a cute ladybug with pipe cleaner antennas, superheroes, a fierce dragon slayer with a long, plastic sword, clowns both scary and funny, and a cackling witch or two.
“I knew you’d like it.” She leaned toward him, hugging his upper arm. “Thanks for being here with me.”
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
She rubbed her gloved hands together and nodded. “I’m good. You?”
He smiled down into her face. “I’m good too.”
They’d shared some awkward moments since Sara had lost control and cried in front of him. He seemed to take great care in what he said and how he acted, but tonight the air between them felt light and fun. The Halloween festivities had a lot to do with it.
“Seeing all these kids dressed up and running around,” he said, “makes me feel like I should have a few of my own. I think children would really alter your view of the world, don’t you think?”
Immediately, he seemed to realize how what he’d said might sound. “Wait now,” he rushed to assure her, “I wasn’t making any suggestions—”
Her snicker cut him off. “No assumptions made.” For a silent moment, she gazed out toward the ocean. The ever-present sound of the waves seeped through the night.
