“You okay?” Ellen fell into step beside her on the path to the beach.
“Oh.” Addie gave an embarrassed laugh. Apparently she’d made her frustration audible. “No, it’s fine. Just...a lot on my mind.”
“Hmm.” They crossed the sand and handed over their bundles to the crew working to load the skiff. “Tell you what. Let’s take a break.”
“Really?” Addie gestured back toward the house. “There’s still a lot to do.”
“We have plenty of people working and plenty of time. The ceremony’s not till four.”
Addie looked doubtfully at the line of burdened wedding guests approaching Lucky, reminding her of a colony of ants. “I’d feel bad if we didn’t—”
“Ahem.” Ellen crossed her arms across her chest. “I’m the bride, and I get to decide.”
Addie giggled and curtseyed meekly. “Yes, ma’am.”
“C’mon, let’s go.” She took Addie’s arm companionably and led the way back up the hill toward the house, turning left onto a narrow trail Addie had noticed before but never followed. “Have you been down here? It’s one of my favorite spots.”
A few dozen yards later they emerged from the trees onto a part of the island dominated by great granite ledges that sloped into high tide, which, along with a good breeze, was sending waves crashing into shore, causing spectacular eruptions of white, foamy spray.
“Ellen, this is wonderful.”
“Come on.” Ellen strode out onto a section of ledge near a large crevice in which small stones had collected; a gift from the power of the sea.
“I love to sit up here and chuck rocks in the water. It’s crazy but fun. Good stress relief, too. Want to?”
“Sure.” Addie couldn’t say stone-throwing tempted her that much, but this was Ellen’s parade and she wasn’t going to rain on any of it.
“Wait up here, I’ll climb down and get us a bunch.” Ellen scooted down, leaping the last few feet and landing with a clacking crunch at the bottom of the crevice. A minute later she reemerged, grinning triumphantly, bulging pockets making her hoodie sag midthigh. “Got ’em.”
“Good haul.” Addie gave her a thumbs-up, still feeling uneasy about ditching work, wondering what Derek was up to.
“Have a seat. I’ll divide them up.”
Addie wiggled around until she found a place that fit, and accepted a lapful of assorted size rocks, smoothed and rounded by constant tumbling.
“Now.” Ellen sat, picked up a stone from her supply and hurled it. A second later, the most delightfully liquid thwunk and splash made them both laugh for no particular reason.
Addie took her turn. Another thwunk, more splash, strangely and wonderfully satisfying.
“Okay.” Ellen consigned her next one to the deep and smoothed her hair, which the breeze promptly messed up again. “I have a confession.”
“What’s that?” Addie threw another rock, farther this time, enjoying the release.
“I used to be really jealous of you.” Ellen tossed one high in the air.
“What?” Addie was so astonished she didn’t watch for it to come down. “Of me? What on earth for? You’ve got everything.”
“Paul was in love with you for years.”
Addie’s jaw dropped. She laughed uncertainly. “With me? Paul? No, no, he wasn’t. Not with me. You’re confusing me with someone else. We hung out together all the time as friends. With Sarah and Kevin and a lot of others. It wasn’t me.”
“Yup, it was.” Ellen threw her next stone, then wiped her hands together, that’s that. “He was absolutely crazy about you. You were his perfect woman.”
“But...but that’s impossible.” She laughed again, incredulous rather than amused, mind racing back over their grade school years, remembering parties, movies, board game tournaments, softball and soccer and tons of plain old hanging out, trying to see now what she must have been blind to then. “He never said anything. Showed anything.”
“Lucky for me.”
“No, no, Ellen. I would never have—” She broke off, not sure if it was polite to tell someone you found the love of her life sexually unattractive. “I mean Paul is like a brother to me. Always has been.”
“He knew that. That’s why he never told you.”
Addie anxiously studied Ellen’s profile. Her voice and expression were unconcerned, but sometimes people could hide bitterness. Addie didn’t sense any, thank God. “Wow. That is just so...weird. I never picked up on a thing.”
“No. You didn’t.” She said the words with unusual weight, which made Addie feel a bit anxious again, and unsure how to respond.
A heron flapped over, its wingspan impressive after so many gulls and cormorants. A crow gave a guttural croak from the trees behind them, as if annoyed at the intrusion into its air space.
Addie found herself tensing again, undoing the relaxation their rock-throwing session had started. She was beginning to think Ellen had some motive bringing her here besides Bride’s Prerogative to avoid work.
“Did Paul ever tell you how we got together?”
“You met on a blind date, took one look at each other and that was that.”
Ellen threw another stone, watched it splash. “That’s the version for public consumption. It was more complicated, and more difficult.”
Addie felt a jab of disappointment. She’d loved the idea that the two of them had found true love simply, honestly and easily. Did it ever happen that way? “Complicated how?”
“Paul fought how he felt for a long time.”
“No.” Addie was too flabbergasted to throw her next stone. “But it’s so obvious you’re perfect for each other.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Ellen arched an eyebrow at Addie, who was clearly being sent some signal, but had no idea what it meant. “However, it wasn’t obvious to him, not at first. He’d wedged himself into this narrow mindset about who he was and about his feelings for you. He wasn’t really open to me, even though he thought he was ready for a relationship, and had been dating around looking for one.”
Addie pelted the water with two rocks at once, hard, as if she was punishing them. “How did you convince him?”
Ellen nudged her, blond bob fluttering around a mischievous expression. “Take a wild guess.”
“Ha!” Addie’s grin stretched her mouth to its maximum. “I’m shocked. Shocked, I tell you!”
“I knew you would be.” Ellen waggled her brows lasciviously before settling back into being serious. “But that wasn’t the whole story of course. One day he told me that before he could commit to me, he had to tell you how he felt about you. He thought that was the only way to finally put those feelings to rest.”
“Urgh.” Addie cringed, waving away Paul’s imaginary speech like a bad smell. “That would have been so painful all around. For him, for me, for you...”
“I didn’t know how it would go.” Ellen shrugged, gazing distantly out to sea. “I was only sure of how I felt about Paul, and how I was pretty sure he felt about me underneath, and that I’d have to fight to keep him for both our sakes. So I told him if he didn’t stop hedging and making excuses, in short, if he wasn’t man enough to give us a serious shot, I was outta there.”
“Really? You would have left him?” Addie gasped, horrified to think that this perfect couple might not have made it as far as this weekend’s joyous celebration. Then she caught a look in Ellen’s eyes. “You were bluffing.”
“Of course I was bluffing!”
Addie burst out laughing. She liked Ellen more and more. “But Paul didn’t know that.”
“Exactly.” She heaved a larger rock over the ledge and nodded in grim satisfaction at the splash. “I gave him the ultimatum Friday, left him alone all weekend and caught up with him Sunday night. He was a wreck. Absolute mess. But he jumped, and I caught
him like I said I would.”
“Thank God he did.”
“The point of all this is, Addie.” She turned and fixed Addie with a look that made Addie brace herself. “We both took a risk for something we not only believed in but deeply wanted to happen.”
Addie narrowed her eyes. Okay. She was getting it now. Someone had been talking to someone about certain decisions involving big risks. “Gee, Ellen, is there any particular reason you happen to be telling me this now?”
“Who, me?” Ellen plonked a hand to her chest, eyes innocently wide. “No, of course not. Just a bride musing on her wedding day.”
“Uh-huh.” Addie picked up a good-size rock, heart beating like mad, not sure what she was feeling. “Has someone mentioned something about me and a certain, oh, I don’t know, other person lately? Anything?”
“No, no, not at all.” Ellen spoke reassuringly. Addie didn’t buy it for a second. “I have really good intuition about this stuff. You and Derek have been setting off sparks since you met. I thought maybe y’all needed a push in the right direction.”
“Ha.” Addie hurled the rock as hard as she could. “I wouldn’t begin to know what the right direction is.”
“Addie, all I know is that the only two people who walk on water in Paul’s world are you and Derek.”
“And you.”
“Well, obviously.” She winked.
“Me, I was in the water yesterday.” Addie mimed a sudden drop. “I sank right to the bottom.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You were really important to Paul, his first ideal of love. And Derek was kind of his savior. My life with Paul wouldn’t have been possible without Derek. The close relationship Paul has with his family would not have been possible without Derek. Any kids we have would not have been possible without Derek. He is a good, good person who has had a lonely and hard life, and he needs someone really wonderful who can...” She frowned and gestured aimlessly. “I don’t know—”
“Rescue him?”
Ellen laughed. “That’s about the last word I’d think of when it comes to Derek, but I suppose there is an element of that. Anyway, I’m just saying, Addie, that sometimes we need shaking out of our usual ideas about ourselves and what we want and deserve in life.”
Addie pressed her lips together, suddenly annoyed by all the talking around the issues. “Can we just be blunt here?”
“Yes.” Ellen spoke with exaggerated relief. “Thank you. I would love to be blunt.”
“I permit you to be blunt. What exactly are you saying?”
Ellen sat up on her haunches and put her hand on Addie’s shoulder, her lovely blue gaze earnest and warm. “I think you should give Derek a chance next year. Give him a sense of home. I don’t think he’s ever had a real one.”
A jolt of adrenaline, a burst of joy, then, predictably...fear. Damn it. She was sick to death of being afraid.
“Wait a second.” Addie pointed accusingly when Ellen’s words sank in. “Give him a chance next year? That is way past what you can know by intuition. Even really good intuition.”
“Okay, okay.” Ellen captured Addie’s finger. “Put away the weapon, I’ll squeal. Derek and Paul talked last night and again this morning. I’m playing meddling matchmaker. That’s it.”
Addie blew on her finger and holstered it. “You should never work for the CIA.”
“Cracked like an egg, I know.” She gestured to Addie to throw her last stone and stood. “Now, sugar, having delivered my supersecret spy message, I am going back to help. You coming?”
“Absolutely.” Her stone made it farther than anything she’d ever thrown in her life, fueled by giddy adrenaline and a growing certainty.
The story of Paul and how he’d nearly blown the chance of forever happiness with Ellen affected Addie deeply. Fear had ruled her for far too long. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what could happen. Both were imagined negatives, neither were real threats.
Her feelings were real. Derek’s feelings were real. His offer to see where those feelings could lead was real.
And she might just have to accept it.
* * *
THE WEDDING WAS the most beautiful thing Sarah had ever seen. It didn’t hurt that she was already imagining hers to Joe. Because of course that was their next step. The Brisbanes’ house was a majestic white Victorian with sage trim, built by a ship’s captain in the mid-nineteenth century at the height of the region’s prosperity. It sat on a lovely sloping lawn with a spectacular flower garden, where the ceremony was held, designed to make the most of Maine’s short summer season—gladiolas were in full bloom in a riot of colors, black-eyed Susans and daylilies grew in profusion. Tables had been set up for the reception around the lawn, which had an expansive view of Machias Bay. The band was playing on the front patio next to a floor set up for dancing. The weather had been perfect.
Mr. Brisbane, Esq., had officiated at the ceremony, since lawyers were permitted to marry couples in the state of Maine. He’d spoken warmly of the couple, of their devotion to each other and to their families, had cautioned Paul and Ellen to be good to one other above all else, and generally reduced Sarah and many other guests to mushy sniffles, which got louder and more obvious when the couple recited vows they’d written themselves, gazing rapturously into each other’s eyes. Sarah couldn’t be happier for her brother and her new sister-in-law. The reception had been joyous, food and champagne plentiful, the dancing and socializing enthusiastic.
But now it was time for her.
From where she’d been standing next to the bride during the ceremony, Sarah hadn’t been able to see Joe, but she could sense him behind her in one of the chairs set up for the guests, imagined that maybe he was watching her, too, that maybe he was thinking about them being up at an altar in front of an officiant reciting their own vows.
Maybe. She hoped.
The day had gone by in a blur. Sarah had done everything she could to treat Joe the same as usual, so her at-last declaration would be a surprise. And in case her certainty about how she felt about him waned, which it decidedly hadn’t. Once she’d finally admitted her feelings to herself, Joe had changed permanently into the more masculine, more handsome man she’d only caught glimpses of before. Frankly she’d had trouble keeping her hands off him. Just the idea of what she’d say and do to him tonight—soon!—had her shivering and hot at the same time.
Now, at last, the moment she’d been so impatient for and so nervous about was here. Paul and Ellen had left a few minutes earlier, the guests were starting to clear out and she was happy to say that Derek and Addie had left together soon after the happy couple. Sarah so hoped they’d work out. Why she ever thought Kevin would be right for Addie, she had no idea. Why she’d thought half the stuff she’d used to, she had no idea, either. Too much of her life had been spent in a weird distorting fog. Finally she was starting to see things—and herself—clearly.
If only she could see clearly how the rest of this evening would go. She knew Joe had feelings for her, had for a long time, but maybe he’d gotten to the end of his rope as she’d just gotten to the beginning of hers. Maybe he’d trust that she’d had a true change of heart. Maybe he wouldn’t. Sarah couldn’t blame him either way. All she could do now was put her plan into motion and hope for the best.
She scanned the thinning crowd until she found Joe, chatting with one of Paul’s friends next to the dance floor. Even her hundredth or so glimpse of him this evening thrilled her. They’d spent most of the afternoon apart—Sarah had maid of honor duties and she was terrified she’d give something away if she spent too much time with him. Joe could read her like a Nook.
Okay, Sarah. Ready, set, go.
She moved onto the dance floor and caught the eye of the bandleader, who nodded.
Now.
Squaring her shoulders, Sarah made a beeline f
or Joe. By the time she was next to him, the band had started her request, the last song of the evening, “It’s Your Love” by Tim McGraw, which he performed with his wife, Faith Hill.
“Dance with me?” She caught Joe’s hand and tugged him onto the floor, where a few brave couples had stuck it out nearly to the bitter end.
“I hate dancing.”
“So?” She turned to face him, standing close, and put her arms around his neck, aware of his tall, solid body in a way she’d never been before. “It’s the last song, you can manage one.”
“I don’t know, Sarah.”
She rolled her eyes, heart pounding, same old teasing Sarah, and yet she felt so different, so much more of a woman around him, so much calmer and more sure about who she was and what she wanted. “You can handle a slow dance. Even my two-left-feet brother can handle a slow dance. And frankly, if there’s anyone who needs to be afraid right now, it’s me.”
His deep brown eyes had been avoiding hers. At this, he looked down at her. “You? You’re a great dancer.”
“It’s not the dancing I’m afraid of.” She started swaying, aware of the song’s romantic lyrics flowing around them, the warmth of his body close to hers, the way it drew her. How could she have been so stupid for so long?
Joe...
“So?” His hands remained stubbornly at his side, though he made some attempt to move with her. Not wildly graceful, but not embarrassing, either. He was a fine dancer. “What are you afraid of?”
“The dance being over. The weekend being over. You leaving me.”
His mouth pressed in a line. A muscle twitched in his jaw. How had she never noticed its strength? “I’m taking a new job, not leaving you.”
“Joe?”
“What?”
“Put your arms around me.”
“Sarah...”
She moved closer, pressed against him. “Please, Joe.”
She felt rather than heard him sigh. Then his arms came around her, reluctant at first, then firm and protective, and for the first time in her life held by a man she wanted, Sarah felt absolutely safe and absolutely content. “Thank you.”
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