Rider took the pies with overtly cheery excitement that failed to thaw the icy stillness permeating the room. He deftly swept an arm around Jamie, herding her into the kitchen asking, “What kind of pies would you say these are, Jamie?” He shifted his glance to Teddie, begging for support. “Teddie, maybe you could get Wes and Luke to show you where the dessert plates are while Jamie and I cut these.”
Teddie took the hint and tried involving the boys, but neither one of Avery’s sons seemed willing to move from his spot near the door.
“Wow!” Mark said to Wes. “I’ve never seen Gabriel gush over a woman before. He must really like your mom. I know I’ve been blaming him for my problems with Gina, but he didn’t deserve that. Wes, he’s really a good guy.”
“Is he, now?” Wes replied.
“Yes, he is, and why are you acting this way? You don’t even know Gabriel.”
“Go ask Emilia.” Wes regretted his words as soon as they left his lips.
Mark’s hands moved to his hips as he glared back. “Why don’t you just tell me yourself?”
Wes shook his head. “I had no right to say that. I’m sorry. Your past with the Carsons is none of my business, but I’m not going to let some controlling, manipulator hurt my mom.”
“What? If you’re my friend, you’ll just tell me what this is about.”
“You’re probably going to have questions I can’t answer, and I don’t want you getting into this with Gabriel in front of my mother. She doesn’t deserve to be drawn into it. Talk to the girls. Tell Emilia I told you.”
“Fine,” Mark said as he headed for the door. “Make my apologies to your family.”
As Mark left the house, he passed Gabriel and Avery sitting on the wicker divan on the front porch.
“Mark’s in an awful hurry,” Gabriel said. “What were he and Wes doing here tonight? Why aren’t they with the girls?”
Avery immediately tensed.
“And why are you here? I thought it was a miracle when I pulled up and saw lights on in the house. I thought that you, of all people, wouldn’t have missed the gala or the fireworks display from the terrace of your beloved Cà d’Zan.”
Looking flustered, Avery sputtered, “That’s right—the gala! It’s been so hectic around here the last few days, I guess I forgot.”
“Well, I for one am glad you forgot about it. All your talk about missing the mountains and going home scared me to death. I wanted to hurry down here and show you the island the way I know and love it. I want you to love it again too, Avery.”
Gabriel’s words drifted through Avery’s mind as the shivers and knot returned. If we loved ourselves half as much . . . we wouldn’t be in this situation . . .
“Gabriel—” Avery fumbled with her hands, wondering why she, the bestselling novelist who had penned hundreds of clever, attention-grabbing lines for her imaginary characters could not think of a single coherent reply, let alone something with any trace of elegance attached to it.
“Yes, Avery?” Gabriel smiled as he lowered his head to peer into her face. “I know your family is here. I know you haven’t seen them in a while. Neither have I seen mine, of course, so I don’t want to monopolize your time, but I’d like us to spend a few hours together, so I can show you the Anna Maria I know.”
Avery gulped and clasped her hands to still their shaking. “You would?”
“Yes, I would. Let’s each spend time with our children. I’m sure they’ve missed us as much as we’ve missed them, but will you promise to set some time aside for me?”
Avery felt the knot growing in her stomach. It sounded like he was asking her out on a date, asking her—Avery Elkins Thompson, the nearly fifty-year-old, recently widowed mother of three and soon to be grandmother—out on a date? Paul had been gone barely a year.
“I know you’re still grieving, Avery. I, of all people, understand that, and I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Don’t think of it as a date. Just consider it a sightseeing adventure between good friends.”
Finally taking a breath, Avery felt her cheeks flush with humiliation. He wasn’t asking me on a date. I’m such a fool! She couldn’t believe how many times such a thing had crossed her mind, like every time she stood on the widow’s walk where she had seen him overlooking the sea and when she played his old Three Dog Night albums while dusting his ugly Buccaneers’ lamp. She always admonished herself and pushed the thought away, but, sure enough, she seemed to drift to the powder room, unable to resist sniffing the bottle of cologne he left in the medicine cabinet, imagining what it would be like if that scent floated in the doorway one night . . . like right now.
A haunting debate ensued in her mind. She told herself that her longings were as much about her loneliness for Paul and her hunger to be wanted again as they were about Gabriel. Then she thought of their children, how the same roadblocks that hedged up Wes and Emilia existed between their parents. She questioned why Gabriel’s face ran through her mind when she was walking along the beach, but then again, she’d argue that it was the same beach she’d walked along hand in hand with Paul and the children. But here Gabriel was, wearing that cologne.
She thought of the kids, she thought of Paul, she thought of her vows. Not just till death do you part, Avery. You’ll love Paul forever. Her giddiness turned to guilt.
“Did I miss something?” Gabriel asked with a frown.
Avery deflected the question by moving her right hand to her hair. “What do you mean?”
A nervous smile crossed his lips. “For a moment after I invited you out, your face just lit up, and then all of a sudden it went pale, as if you’d seen a ghost.”
I invited you out. . .
Avery bolted to her feet. “Gabriel, it is wonderful to see you. Maybe we can get everyone together for dinner one night, but I can’t go out with you. I have obligations. I met a man—”
Gabriel’s face went slack as if every muscle that formed its handsome lines went dead. “You met . . . you met a man? You never said—”
“Yes, I did. I mean—it’s George.”
“George?” Gabriel yelped. “You mean the eighty-year-old-gardener-from-Ringling George?”
“Yes.” Avery went on defense. “He’s been hurt in a house fire and I’ve taken him in. I’ve promised to take care of him.”
Gabriel started to laugh. “He’s living here? With you?”
“Yes. I hope that’s all right. I suppose I should’ve asked you first.”
Gabriel laid his hands on her shoulders. As his laugh echoed in her ear she thought she felt him shiver. “When you said you met a man, I thought—” His voice was husky and dripping with relief. “I thought . . . well, what I thought doesn’t matter. Only you, Avery, would come so far away to heal and end up nursing everyone else. You’re a wonderful friend.”
Avery relaxed when she heard the familiar and comforting word “friend.”
“Then you’re not upset with me?” she asked as she searched his face for confirmation.
“No,” he muttered. “I could never be upset with you.”
The look in his eyes anchored her in place while their hands touched, as if by accident, his fingers brushing softly against hers before protectively cradling them within his grasp. A smile teased the corner of his mouth, but she was powerless to offer any reply. Prickles rose on her flesh, and a tickle raced up her spine, causing her shoulders to flinch. She felt as if she’d fallen into one of her books, a slow deep fall past fiction and into a new reality she could not foresee.
“Come with me for a few minutes,” said Gabriel. “I want to catch my first glimpse of the ocean with you and view it through your eyes.”
He dropped one of her hands and took a step, gently encouraging her to come. As if being willed to go, she followed behind, her only connection to reality being the feel of his rough, strong hand over hers. They continued off the porch and along the walk that ran beside the house. Anoles scurried across their lighted path, darting into the gardenia tre
es and hibiscus bordering the property. The night air was thick with gardenia, lemon, and jasmine, but Avery’s senses sought and found the one scent that mattered to her, the gentle essence of Gabriel’s cologne.
The crescent moon sat in the sky like a hook upon which the sublime moment hung, giving it and everything about it a supernal quality—the touch of this man’s skin on hers, the salty breeze that tasted like spent tears, the sand that surrendered to their steps the way her will surrendered to his call to follow.
They reached the wet, packed sand and gazed at the rolling waves. To onlookers, they appeared still, but Avery’s heart and breath and every nerve were in wild motion, responding to the movement of his fingers as they slid back and forth over hers, an ever-present reminder that he was there. She wondered what he was feeling. Did he know this was a more intimate contact than she thought she’d ever share with a man again, arousing feelings Paul’s health had denied them from sharing long before he passed?
Her dry lips parted, needing more air to fuel the deep, slow breaths timed to the circles he drew in her palm. She felt a tug and turned to find him staring at her, a want similar to hers in his own eyes.
“We moved into this home after Lucia died. I’ve never stood here with a woman. I’ve always been a spectator, watching other couples, other dreams. I’m ready to make my own dreams come true. What are your dreams, Avery?”
What were her dreams? The question seemed to be both a wondrous invitation and a leap into emotional danger. Her gaze dropped to the foamy bubbles rolling over her toes, reminding her of days spent making bubbles for ecstatic children. No matter how old the children grew, they could never resist joining in when soap and assorted wands appeared. In time, blowing bubbles gave way to discussing the properties of light that transformed the delicate spheres into floating rainbows, and marveling over the intriguing mathematics of how bubbles join at precisely one hundred twenty-degree angles—always. Avery found that constancy miraculous and beautiful. She explained how the forces of pressure and surface tension caused bubbles to form. They were born out of stress. Beautiful, strong, and perfect when unchallenged. The epitome of fragility under too much pressure or when pierced.
In that moment, she pictured what she and Gabriel had built through their correspondence as a beautiful bubble, born from their mutual pain. But there were so many tensions and stresses ahead—matters of faith, concerns about their respective children, ghosts and promises made in their pasts. Could whatever they were building survive the intense pressure of their differences? She knew the dreams that mattered most to her would never align with Gabriel’s, nor would his align with hers.
And then Wes and Luke called to her from the house.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or saddened by their voices, telling her she was needed in the house, but their call broke the moment as if they had popped a bubble. She was certain she was heartbroken either way.
She gave Gabriel’s hands a final squeeze and dropped them. Confusion filled his eyes, so she rushed in with a question. “How long are you staying?”
“I fly back Tuesday morning. The job is ahead of schedule, so I felt comfortable stretching the weekend out.”
Her two sons stared at her like marble figurines in the window. She took a step backward and dipped her head. “I should be getting inside. My family will think you kidnapped me.”
Disappointment pinched Gabriel’s features. A different tension immediately sparked between them as he nodded and led the way to the driveway where his rental sat.
“Where are you staying? I mean, you’re sort of homeless, aren’t you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to see if the girls’ sofa is available. If not, I can always sleep at my office. I’ve done it plenty of times before. I’ll be fine.”
Avery was touched by the thought that his primary concern was her guilt over displacing him rather than his regard for his own comfort. He smiled again, as if reading her every thought. “But you can make it up to me by accepting my invitation to dinner.”
The rumba beat of her heart was louder than her good sense. And there was that cologne . . .
“All right. You know the number here.”
His eyes crinkled with delight, and as he walked past, his hand brushed against hers and lingered there. “Good night, Avery.”
Her hand instinctively went to her neck, where goosebumps had formed at Gabriel’s touch. She lingered by the driveway until his car pulled away.
Knowing she’d face something akin to the Spanish Inquisition when she walked inside, she delayed on the porch until she knew what to say. Stalling, she pulled a few dead marigold heads off the flowers in one of the planters while she regained her composure. Once calmed, she strolled matter-of-factly into the kitchen and tossed the seed pods into the trash, rubbing her hands with deliberateness to stall a few additional seconds. She finally realized that Teddie was speechless. A bad sign, Avery thought. Fortunately, Rider made up a quick excuse and dragged his wife to bed before her verbal paralysis subsided.
As always, it was Jamie who challenged her, stepping forward, obviously prepared with a long list of questions. Avery decided that the best way to prevent the moment from deteriorating into something unpleasant was to face it head on, so she began circling the room, hugging and kissing each family member as she went.
“Whatever emergency sent you caterwauling for me seems to have resolved. I want to thank all of you for being so sweet to my friends today. I know you expected this time to be simple family time, and now we’ve got a houseful of people here that you barely know. I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of each of you. Since I need to be up at two to give George his medicine, I’m going to go to bed now.” Then she hurried up the stairs.
She nearly had the fright of her life at 2 a.m., when she went downstairs to give George his medications. His breathing was labored, and she couldn’t awaken the man. Her loud appeals finally brought him out of a deep sleep but not before also bringing Teddie in a run.
“Is everythin’ all right?” Teddie asked in a sleepy Texas drawl.
“I gave George his 2 a.m. meds, but he doesn’t look good, Teddie. Maybe I was wrong to bring him here. Maybe I should have listened to the doctors and let them transfer him to the nursing facility so he could be properly monitored.”
“What did he want to do?”
“He definitely did not want to go to the ‘home,’ as he called it.” She backed out of the room and closed the door.
“Then the only real question is whether or not you feel you’re in over your head.”
Avery slumped against the wall and brought her hands up to her face. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”
Teddie drew her friend into her arms. “This isn’t just about that sick old man, is it?”
Avery sniffed loudly and ran the back of her hand across her eyes. She took a deep breath and then sighed long and loud. “I feel like I did when I bought my new car . . .”
“Your new car?” Teddie repeated each word slowly and deliberately.
“You know how your old one has all your favorite stations programmed on the stereo, your seat is set exactly where you want it, and you know how hard to push the pedal to make sixty-five?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But then your old car dies, and you have to buy a new one, and it seems like you’ve picked the right one, but it doesn’t feel like it’s yours. Nothing feels right, and you have to fumble around until you figure out what each button does and where the wipers are. You understand what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“Sure. Just invite him over for a moonlit supper.”
Avery winced. “I’m talking about my life, Teddie.”
“Oh. I thought it was a metaphor about Gabriel.”
“Good night, Teddie.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Anna Maria Island, Florida, July 5
E milia’s phone rang while she was brushing her teeth. After quickly
rinsing, she grabbed the phone on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Emilia? It’s Mark. I need to talk to you. Will you be there for another ten minutes?”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’ll explain when I get there.”
Emilia was irritated by Mark’s call. This vacillation between Gina and him had reopened old wounds, plus, he had brought Wes and more heartache into her life. She regretted ever contacting him for help, and now he was on his way. She harrumphed and decided she would simply brush Mark off.
Emilia dressed quickly in her best business suit and ran a brush through her damp hair. She had more important things to think about. This was a big day for her. The layout for the cookbook was being finalized, and if everything went well, she expected the PR firm to make her a permanent job offer.
She heard Gina slap the snooze button on her alarm clock. Emilia hurried into the kitchen and grabbed a yogurt and a spoon and strode into the living room to gaze at the welcome scene of her father asleep on their sofa
She and Gina had arrived home from the museum gala around eleven to find their father sitting on their front steps, leaning against the post, alternately smiling and whistling. It had been a much-needed boost to both girls, and the three of them talked for an hour and killed a carton of mint chocolate-chip ice cream. After their father scrutinized the living room repairs, the conversation switched over to a discussion about Mark and Wes and the girls. Unwilling to delve into that area, Emilia and Gina artfully skirted each of his questions, redirecting them into more manageable topics of work, friends, and family while they made up the sofa bed.
“How are you and Mark getting along, Gina?”
“Hey, Dad, did you know Mark got Uncle Tino a great deal on a Mustang?”
A SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE BOXED SET Page 74
