Chapter Fifteen
“I saw them, Hy,” Bethany said, following Hyacinth down one of the aisles in her shop as she put bolts of fabric back on the shelves. “Sitting there all cozy. It was the same guy she was topless with. Do you really think Paul needs to be with her? You know she’ll cheat on him.”
“I don’t know that. And there might be an innocent explanation.”
“Seriously? If you believe that, I’ve got a two-carat diamond ring to sell you for a buck.”
“They could be just friends.”
“They were looking friendly all right. You oughta tell Paul.”
“Why don’t you tell him?” Hyacinth didn’t want to see Paul get hurt, but she’d be much happier if someone else took on the unpleasant duty of bearing bad news.
“Treeva and I already tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t listen. With everything you do around church, he’s bound to listen to you.”
“I’m not so sure.” If Celeste Jones was really seeing someone besides Paul, he’d find out soon enough. He didn’t need to hear it from Hyacinth.
“Suit yourself,” Bethany said with a shrug. “But you know she doesn’t deserve him.”
No, she didn’t, and Hyacinth knew, knew Celeste Jones would never love him as much as she did.
“And she’s gonna get him.”
Sadly for Hyacinth, it was looking more and more that way. Should she tell him or shouldn’t she?
She wrestled with the dilemma all evening and into the wee hours. Finally, around 3:00 a.m. she reached the conclusion that she wouldn’t say anything. Not unless she had a sign from heaven. Like a lightning bolt.
The lightning bolt came. Literally. Saturday found her dashing for the church side entrance with her flowers for the sanctuary, rain pelting her, thunder rumbling overhead.
She was struggling to get her church key when Paul opened the door, obviously on his way out. “Oh, Hyacinth. Hi,” he said and held the door for her.
He was never around on Saturday mornings. What was he doing there? Was it a sign? Lightning crackled overhead, making her jump.
“Thank you,” she murmured and walked in past him. Then, once inside, the words dried up.
“Those are pretty,” he said, pointing to the lilies from the shore by her rental cottage on one of the town’s two little lakes.
“They’re my favorite,” she said. Say something more, she urged herself. Do you have a favorite flower? No, that would sound stupid. Men didn’t have favorite flowers. Did they?
“We all appreciate you sharing them with the rest of us. You do a lot to make things look nice around here.”
“I try,” she said.
“Well, I gotta go. The door’s locked, so just shut it behind you when you leave.”
The lightning crackled again, and the hairs on the back of Hyacinth’s neck stood up. Okay, she knew a sign when she saw one. “Uh, Pastor.”
He paused, looking at her expectantly, a smile still on his face.
How to phrase this? She had no idea. She caught sight of a stain on his shirt and stalled. “Did you know you’ve got a stain on your shirt?”
He glanced down. “Where?”
“Right there,” she said, pointing to his chest. His left pectoral to be exact. Paul Welch had such a beautiful chest. Paul Welch had beautiful everything.
“I wonder where that came from.”
“A little baking soda will take it out.”
He nodded, obviously impressed with her knowledge regarding stains. When it came to neat and tidy, Hyacinth was an expert.
“Thanks,” he said. “What would I do without you to watch over me?”
He needed watching over. She took a deep breath. It was now or never. “I was talking with Bethany yesterday.” Was it her imagination or had his smile cooled? He didn’t say anything to interrupt her, so she was forced to go on. “I know you’ve been seeing Celeste Jones, and I don’t want you to think...” Oh, this was awkward. “Well, Bethany saw her on the beach with another man.” Paul didn’t appear to be taking this well. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you or not. Bethany thought—”
This time he did interrupt her. “I don’t care what Bethany thought, Hyacinth, and you don’t need to be asking what she thought, either.”
At his words she felt heat race up her neck and across her cheeks. “No, you’re right. She just felt someone should tell you.”
“And that someone should be Celeste, don’t you agree?”
“Of course,” Hyacinth murmured. The thunder rumbled and the lightning flashed outside, coming in through a window and lighting up the hallway where they stood. It reminded her of the photo-enforced traffic light that went off whenever someone was foolish enough to run the red. She suddenly felt ill. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you thought you were helping, but spreading gossip never really helps.”
“You’re right. I just...” Oh, spit it out. “I guess I like you too much to want to see you get hurt.”
She couldn’t believe she’d actually found the nerve to say that. If this was a movie, Paul would say something like, “Hyacinth, do you care that much?” Then, of course she’d say, “I do. In fact, I don’t simply like you. I love you. I’ve been in love with you for the past year.” Then he’d say...
“I appreciate that, but don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”
What happened to “What would I do without you to watch over me?” Apparently, that only applied to stains on his shirt. Sigh.
Hyacinth nodded, promised not to listen to any more gossip, then scatted. She was going to throttle Bethany.
* * *
Paul’s sermon on Sunday was on the dangers of gossip. Celeste was sure it had something to do with her getting caught on the beach with Henry. She should have felt vindicated but instead she was embarrassed.
“We’re supposed to love each other,” Paul said, “be an example to others. Gossiping is not showing love. Gossip taints the person you’re gossiping about, prejudices people against that person. It also taints you and makes you look small.”
Celeste checked out Hyacinth, sitting with her friends Bethany and Treeva. Her cheeks were red and so were Treeva’s. Bethany’s husband watched her speculatively and she raised her chin as if to say, “Not me.” Then she shot Celeste a look that threatened terrible consequences, as if Celeste was somehow to blame for their public scolding.
This was her fault? They were implying she’d known what they’d said or done and had sicced Paul on them?
“I feel like I’m on trial,” she confessed as she, Jenna and Tyrella left the sanctuary.
“Don’t,” Tyrella said. “You’re not the one who’s misbehaving, girl.”
Sabrina had joined them now. “Who’s misbehaving?”
“No one,” said Jenna. “You want to drive home?”
“Hudson asked if I can come over.”
“Homework done?”
Sabrina nodded.
“Okay, then, go have fun.”
And that left the sisters free to discuss the latest complication in Celeste’s love life as they drove back home.
“He hasn’t called me in two days,” Celeste said miserably. “And he didn’t talk to me after church.”
“In case you didn’t notice, he was surrounded by the entire building committee. I know for a fact he’s been up to his ears working with them on the new addition.”
“He has a cell phone. He could’ve at least called.” Of course, she could have, too. “I think he’s distancing himself from me.” Another failed relationship. At the rate she was going, she’d make it into Guinness World Records.
“I’m sure he’s not.”
“Well, he should. Nobody wants us to be together. How’s anything going to work between us if people don’t like me?”
“One lovestruck
woman?” Jenna scoffed.
“And her two deputy bad girls. And they’re only the ones I know about.”
“That’s because there aren’t any others. And those three are such a small percentage of the people here, it’s practically microscopic,” Jenna said.
“Maybe I’m being paranoid,” Celeste said with a sigh. “I just hate feeling like I’m back in high school. I mean, how old are we anyway?”
“Not everyone’s going to like you. That’s how people are. You know that. Don’t worry about the ones who don’t like you. They don’t matter.”
“You’re right,” Celeste said.
“Of course I am,” Jenna said as they pulled into the motel’s parking lot. “It’s still no fun, though, especially when you’ve done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment.”
Seeing the funky old place and Aunt Edie’s house next door was enough to remind Celeste of the good things in her life. And the good people. She had family here, and friends whom her sister had kindly shared. She was having a great summer. Did she really need to let a trio of petty women ruin that? But...
“What if Paul and I do get serious, end up getting married?”
“Then I want to be matron of honor,” Jenna said easily. “And we’ll have a huge beach party to celebrate.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“The people who don’t approve will leave and take their bad attitudes someplace else. Stop worrying and enjoy the ride.”
“Enjoy the ride. That’s what Emerson used to say,” Celeste muttered.
“You’re with Paul now. This ride’s as safe as the bumper cars at Nora’s funplex.”
“Yeah, well, those can get a little bumpy,” Celeste retorted.
“But they’re fun. Come on, let’s go make lunch.”
They’d just finished making egg salad sandwiches when Celeste’s cell phone announced a call coming in from Paul. She said a cautious, “Hi,” her heart thumping. In spite of his sermon she knew he was going to dump her. She was too much trouble.
“I thought I’d see if you had plans for tonight.”
He wasn’t going to dump her? “Are you sure you want to hang out with me?”
“Of course,” he said as if she was crazy to even ask.
She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I was going line dancing with Jenna. Want to come?”
“I’ve got two left feet. How about dinner instead?”
Celeste had gotten hooked on line dancing, but she could do that any Sunday night. “Okay.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Don’t tell me, let me guess,” said Jenna. “That was Paul.”
Celeste nodded.
“Told you.”
“Yes, you did,” Celeste said and hugged her. “Thanks for always being right, sissy.”
Jenna smiled. “Well, I am right about this. Paul is perfect for you.”
It certainly seemed that way. He wanted all the things she wanted—a home, a family, kids.
“And a dog?” she prompted as they toyed with their desserts.
“You know I’m not big on dogs,” he said, “unless they come with the right woman. And Nemo’s beginning to grow on me.”
If that wasn’t further proof that things could work out between them, she didn’t know what was.
After dinner they enjoyed a walk on the beach. He held her hand. This was what love was supposed to be like. She sent a quick thank-you heavenward that she’d finally found a man she could trust—and trust herself to fall in love with.
Back at the motel parking lot she made a halfhearted attempt to get out of the car and he got the message and kissed her. It was a lovely kiss, tender and so romantic.
“Celeste, it’s probably too soon to say anything.”
“Oh, go ahead,” she murmured.
“You’ve got to realize I’m falling for you big-time. You’re so easy to be around, so much fun.”
“Girls just wanna,” she quipped.
His expression turned more serious. “I know you have that lighthearted side to you, but...”
Uh-oh. She was afraid to ask. “But what?”
He suddenly seemed at a loss for words. Not normal for Paul Welch.
“Paul?”
“People shouldn’t gossip, but it’s also a good idea not to give them something to gossip about.”
“If you’re talking about me sitting on the beach with Henry Gilbert...”
He shook his head. “I’m talking about you sitting on the beach on Henry Gilbert.”
“What?”
“At the bonfire on the Fourth.”
He hadn’t said anything about it and she’d forgotten. Well, almost.
She pulled away. “Oh, so we’re finally getting around to that. I was goofing around, being silly and I tripped.” And conveniently landed in Henry’s lap. It sounded made up even to her.
Paul was silent a moment, digesting that. “I guess for me it’s problematic, you being seen hanging out with someone else when we’re seeing each other. We are seeing each other, right? I mean you’re interested in taking this further, aren’t you? If you’re not, tell me now. Please.”
“Of course I am,” she said earnestly. “You shouldn’t even have to ask.”
“But I do have to.”
“Why? Can’t you tell how I feel about you?”
“I want to be sure, Celeste. After what I saw, what I’ve heard...”
“I explained about what you saw,” she said stiffly. “And didn’t you just preach a sermon on gossip?”
“Yeah, and I also said that when you hear things about people, it can color the way you see them.”
A chill in the air suddenly diminished the warm, romantic glow. “How do you see me?”
“As a beautiful and desirable woman.”
“Who can’t be trusted?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. Paul, I’ve been cheated on. I know how it feels. I would never do that to somebody.”
He took in her words, nodding slowly. “I guess I’m a little jealous. Of course other men are going to want you. But I want to be the only one you want.”
“You are,” she said, taking his face between her hands. “I’ve fallen for some real losers. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So, final warning. If you feel you need to get out, you’d better do it now. Otherwise, I have no intention of letting you go,” she finished with a grin.
“I don’t want out,” he said and kissed her again.
So there, that settled it. She’d met her perfect man at last, and that equally perfect life she’d envisioned was right around the corner.
* * *
Celeste was sure Henry would be at the beach by the time she got to his room to clean, but she found him stretched out on his bed, typing away on his laptop. In jeans and shirtless. Why wasn’t the man civilized enough to wear a shirt, for crying out loud?
“How’s the dog training going?” he asked, not looking up from the screen as she came in with fresh towels.
Dog training? She’d been too busy fixing her love life to deal with improving Nemo’s manners.
“Not very well. I guess I’d better start working with him, though, huh?”
“Probably. You want to work with him while he’s still young.”
“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”
“Something like that. Everything okay with the preacher?” he asked, still not looking up.
“Fine.”
Now he did look up and his expression was almost cynical. “I guess the woman on the beach didn’t rat you out for fraternizing with the enemy.”
“Oh, she did. And Paul preached a sermon on gossip.”
Henry did ma
nage a smile at that. “Smart man.”
Celeste had work to do. She didn’t need to stand around all day talking with Henry Gilbert. Giving people something else to gossip about.
Despite that, she sat down on the other twin bed. “How’s your writing coming?”
“Great.” Clack, clack, clack. “I just finished a scene. Want to read it?”
She was curious to read some of his book. But not the gory parts. “Is anyone getting murdered in it?”
“No murder,” he assured her.
“Okay,” she said.
He handed her the laptop and settled on the bed next to her, his shoulder up against hers. Paul would not approve of this. She’d move away as soon as she was done reading.
“I’m afraid,” she whimpered, and pushed closer to him as if she’d climb right inside him if she could.
“I know, but you don’t need to be. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
“Is that what you said to those two girls who were murdered? Matthew, I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to. Look at me,” he told her. She did, with those beautiful green eyes of hers.
Celeste had green eyes. Well, that was a coincidence.
“My God, but you’re beautiful,” he murmured and touched a strand of her golden hair.
Celeste’s hair wasn’t gold. It was platinum.
Was Henry wearing cologne? He smelled good. She told herself she wasn’t there to think about how Henry Gilbert smelled.
This wasn’t appropriate, he knew, but he didn’t let that stop him, not when she was looking at him the way she was.
“You’re the only one who can save me,” she said, and laid a trembling hand on his chest.
His well-muscled chest, with reddish hair. Celeste swallowed and read on.
He slid an arm around her waist and nuzzled her hair. She smelled like a summer garden. He wanted to stand there, holding her forever. No, he wanted to lay her down on a deep, soft bed and kiss every inch of her, make love to her every hour on the hour. Wanted to...
Aack! Celeste handed back the laptop. “This is a sex scene.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a love scene.”
Whatever it was, it had her stirred up in places that Henry didn’t need to be stirring. “I thought you were writing about a serial killer.”
The Summer Retreat Page 17