Well, it looks like they’re gone,” Gran said and returned from the kitchen window to sit down over a plate of cold toast.
Meri took the plate, slid the uneaten bread in the compost can, and put two more slices in the toaster. “Should I call and invite Alden to breakfast? He probably doesn’t feel like eating, but I’m sure he could use the company.”
“No. We’re going to eat our breakfast and let him stew in his indecision. Then you’re going to walk over there. And you’re going to . . . I believe the expression is . . . kick his butt.”
“Gran!” Meri laughed. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Well, pardon me, Miss Priss, but nothing else has worked. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
The toast popped up. Meri buttered the pieces, handed them to Gran, then put two more pieces in for herself. “What do you think he’s indecisive about? Trying to keep Nora?”
Gran reached for the strawberry jam, put up last summer.
“Gran, I don’t think it’s so easy. He’d probably have to go back to court.”
Gran took a bite, chewed.
“Gran?”
Gran looked up, closed her eyes, opened them, and took another bite of toast.
After that they ate breakfast in silence. Finally Meri asked point-blank what she was supposed to do.
But all Gran would say was, “Think about it.”
Her grandmother wasn’t normally so vague. She was straightforward and said what she meant and felt. But evidently not today.
So Meri thought about it.
Through breakfast and on the walk toward Corrigan House, she thought about it, while preparing herself to be spurned, shrugged off, or ignored.
She wanted to be a good friend to Alden, not an obligation. She was beginning to realize their relationship had always been one sided—him giving and her receiving—even though it had been unconscious. But she didn’t want that. Had she taken him for granted so long that they would never be able to have an actual adult relationship?
And she didn’t know what Gran expected her to do. What did she mean by “kick his butt”? To punish him? Or to get him to move? And to move where? To get Nora to stay?
He was perfectly capable of doing that himself. And, besides, she’d never been able to make him do anything he didn’t want to do.
That thought stopped her right in the middle of the meadow. That wasn’t true, was it?
She’d spent her childhood, teenage years, even adulthood, wheedling, begging, demanding from him. She thought he would do anything she wanted . . . within reason, of course. But she hadn’t been so clever after all, had she?
He’d been putting up with her for all these years because of a promise he’d made as a boy. Mom said you had all of him and she never could.
Had he jeopardized his marriage, his family, for that promise? Meri didn’t want to believe it. There were plenty of times she hadn’t needed him and didn’t even think about asking for advice. She went for long periods without thinking about him at all.
Yeah, and where did you run when your world tilted out of control?
Maybe that was what Gran meant. Kick him away, cut him loose, let him get back to his life. Maybe he’d get married again. Hopefully choose someone better than Jennifer.
That idea didn’t sit too well with her. Selfish. She’d always been selfish. She was thirty for crying out loud. She didn’t need to be protected anymore. Why didn’t he get that? Why hadn’t she?
The day was beautiful, the clouds high in the sky, a few ballooning closer to earth. Meri could just make out the little tips of green as the trees and shrubs burst to life. It was spring. She could feel the warmth of the sun as she crossed the meadow. A perfect day for a new beginning.
Well, another new beginning. She’d had plenty of them in the last few weeks. But as she thought about it, they weren’t all bad. A little earth rocking but nothing she couldn’t handle. She did feel a little guilty over her inept meeting with Everett Simmons. But he hadn’t helped either.
And then there was Peter. He’d been gone less than three days. But he hadn’t called except to wake her up. He’d been partying and he sounded like it and he hadn’t thought about what time it would be in Rhode Island . . . that annoyed her more than anything else.
She hadn’t really had time to miss him, between shopping and Gran’s “spell” and Nora’s leaving—and Alden’s digging in the garden in the middle of the night.
Now it was Alden she was worried about, and that was a new experience. Worried and not knowing exactly why. Or what to do about it.
She knocked at the door, not expecting him to answer it. He’d either be in his studio working, or brooding in that beat-up chair, or sitting out on the rocks. She waited a respectable length of time, then let herself in.
“Alden?”
Getting no answer she checked out the living room, which in the morning sun was actually a rather inviting room. Or could be. As it was now, it could use a serious dose of fêng shui; even a mild restoration would help. Hell, a coat of paint would help. She went through the dining room to the sunroom. Empty.
Took a peek at the drafting table. Nothing there. Glanced at the wastepaper basket as she headed outside, It had been emptied. She went outside.
He was sitting on an outcropping of boulders nestled against a profusion of beach roses. From the top you could see past the breakwater into the ocean proper. His forearms were resting on his bent knees. His hair whipped about his face in the breeze.
He had to have heard her coming; it wasn’t easy to sneak up on someone with the rocks crunching beneath your feet. Not that she was sneaking. It would be easier if he did turn, acknowledge her. Then at least she’d know whether he was glad to see her, or if she was an intrusion.
Well, tough. She climbed up the boulders until she was standing just below him. “Move over.”
He shifted to the side a few inches. She sat down and nudged him to give herself more room. He moved enough for her to sit next to him. But he just kept looking out to the sea.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he returned though she could barely hear him.
Now what? She didn’t have much practice taking the initiative with him. Last night in the garden had been disastrous.
“Did Nora get off okay?”
He nodded.
She couldn’t even read his expression with his hair blowing across his profile. She grabbed a handful and pulled it back so that he had to turn his head.
“What?”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course.”
Oh brother. What did she say next? I’m a grown-up now and you can talk to me like you would everyone else? Seemed like a stupid thing to have to say.
He looked away. And she joined him looking out to sea.
“Gran said I was supposed to come kick your butt.”
Now he looked at her. Finally. “She did not.”
“Yes, she did. And quite frankly when you go all Heathcliff on me, I feel like it.”
He was startled into a laugh. “Heathcliff? Hardly. Where the hell did you get something like that?”
“Carlyn. She thinks you’re—” She stalled for a word. She couldn’t say hot, or hunky; it just wasn’t the kind of vocabulary you used with Alden. “She said you really had that Heathcliff thing going for you.”
“Roaming the moors screaming Cathy, Cathy?”
“No. The TDH brooding thing.”
“I won’t even ask what TDH is.”
“It’s all good. I told her you had it all over Heathcliff, because you did things like take out the garbage.”
That got her a raised eyebrow and one of his most acidly sardonic looks.
“That’s not what I meant. Just that you’re useful. No. You’re, oh hell. You’re real. And you care more about others than yourself.”
“Don’t go all cornball on me.”
“Well, you do.” She put her arm over his shoulders. I
t was kind of shocking, because she never did stuff like that. He was always the one giving comfort. But it was time she started. She felt ridiculously foolish, but she refused to be cowed and her arm remained there.
He didn’t even react. His bones and muscles were as unyielding as the stony beach.
“Hey.” She gave him a little shake.
He turned to fully look at her, which pulled her arm from his shoulders; she let it fall.
“Meri.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What? Don’t close me off. You’ve never done that before.”
“I’m selling Corrigan House.”
For an eon, the world went dark and silent—then came slowly back into focus. “You can’t mean it.”
“I do. It’s brought nothing but misery. I’m sick of it.”
“No. You can’t.”
“I can. And I will. I’ll set up someone to look out for Therese.”
“But where are you going?”
“Manhattan. Somewhere. I don’t know.”
“But what about Nora and Lucas? It’s their home.”
“Not anymore. And keeping it will just cause them more harm.”
“No. That’s not fair. They love it here.”
“I’m sorry.” He pushed to his feet. Jumped down to the boulder below them, then onto the beach.
“You can’t.”
He’d already started back up the dunes but he turned. “Why? Why can’t I?”
“You just can’t.”
“Not good enough.” He turned away from her.
She sat there, stunned. Sell Corrigan House? He must have lost his mind. He couldn’t. Generations of Corrigans had lived there. Nora and Lucas loved it there. They wouldn’t let him. She tried to stand up, but her legs seemed to belong to someone else.
“Alden, come back here!”
He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. Just walked straight up the path through the beach roses until she could only see the top of his dark head, then nothing at all.
God, what had happened? Was it something that had happened with Nora, with Jennifer when they came for her? Was it something that Meri herself had done?
Had she pushed him over the brink somehow? Made his life untenable here? What was she going to do? He couldn’t leave them.
She struggled to her feet. Looked up the path to the house, then ran the opposite way. Across the beach, across the patch of sand and up the path that led her home.
There, it was done. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, especially not to Meri. He hadn’t even really decided to sell until that moment.
Meri didn’t need him. His children would be better off without him fighting with their mother all the time. There would be someone close by to help Therese with the heavier chores. Maybe it was time he let go and moved on.
He didn’t need to turn to know that Meri had gone back to the farm where she belonged. He felt her absence. He didn’t need to look to see the breakwater to feel its presence. It would always be there, just a pile of rocks in the sunlight. Changeable and frightening in a storm.
Had he fallen in love with his own mythology? that he was some child knight errant riding to the rescue in a little red dinghy, protecting the young princess until she could claim her throne? Slaying innumerable imaginary dragons and a few real, insignificant details that she could have handled herself?
Well, she was on her way: career, family, fiancé.
He’d done what he’d promised. Protected her, loved her, helped her become someone who could take care of herself. Choose for herself. And she’d chosen.
She didn’t need him anymore. And he’d done it to himself.
Chapter 23
Meri burst into the farmhouse.
Gran looked up, startled. “What on earth?”
“That idiot. That crazy idiot.” Meri gripped her sides. She didn’t think she’d remembered to take a breath as she ran, and her lungs were burning.
“Oh dear. What did he do?”
“He says he’s going to sell Corrigan House.”
Her grandmother frowned, folded the dish towel she’d been using, and poured herself a cup of coffee.
“He can’t do that!” Meri couldn’t understand why Gran was taking it so calmly. Had Alden already discussed it with her? Was she in agreement? “He can’t.”
“Why can’t he?” Her grandmother raised her eyebrows and lifted the cup to her lips.
“Because . . .” Alden had asked her the same question. There were too many reasons to name.
Gran put her cup down and waited attentively. Meri recognized that look. She’d seen it quite a few times over the last thirty years, especially when the boys told a tall tale, or were caught fighting and each tried to blame the other, or when Meri tried to convince her that she should be allowed to do something that Gran considered entirely inappropriate.
But she was stumped as to why Gran was looking that way now.
“Because it’s been in the family for ages. Generations of Corrigans have lived there.”
“All of them are dead, why should they care?”
Meri was more confused than ever. “Would you want to sell Calder Farm?”
“No, but I have mostly fond memories here, my children grew up here, and hopefully I’ll live long enough to see my grandchildren grow to love it here.”
“Of course you will.”
“But Alden doesn’t have the luxury of good memories. His mother left him. His father was a bitter man. Not mean, but not nurturing. Then there’s that woman he married. Nora and Lucas left the beach when they were quite young.”
“Nora at least loves it here.”
“So for the few weeks she and Lucas visit, Alden should ramble around in an old dark house for the rest of the year. It is too big for one person. It’s falling down around his ears.”
“He could fix it up. He has the money.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t have a reason.”
“Sure he does. Nora wants to come live here. You heard her.”
“For another year and then she goes off to college. And then . . .” Gran ended on a half shrug.
“What about you? He’s your closest neighbor, and he looks after you.”
Gran snorted. “I don’t need looking after. And I have plenty of friends. I’ll do just fine without him. Why is this so upsetting to you? Why do you care so much that he keeps Corrigan House?”
“Gran, I spend most of my waking hours restoring houses that were sold or inherited by people who didn’t take care of them, houses that had years of neglect and mistreatment. Of course I don’t want to see that happen to Alden’s house.
“What if whoever buys it tears it down and builds a huge McBeachhouse or, worse, a hotel or a condo.”
“The zoning board would never allow a hotel.”
“But—”
“So you would have Alden tied to that old house just because you want it sitting there? Should he keep it even if Peter decides to stay in California and you move there?”
“What? I wouldn’t.”
“You’d choose staying here over starting a new life with the man you love?”
Would she? “He won’t stay there. Maybe for law school.” He had applied to Stanford, but mainly because of his uncle. He had his heart set on Yale. But what if he didn’t get in to Yale? For a split second Meri’s mind veered completely from Alden’s bombshell to her own dilemma. Would she move to California to be with Peter?
“But if he does?”
“It won’t come to that. Besides, what Alden does should have nothing to do with me. I told him so last night.”
“Ah, there’s the crux of the matter.”
“What? Is that why he’s selling? He’s finally free?”
Gran burst into a trill of laughter. “Is that what happened? You found out about his promise to Riley Rochfort and think he’s been imprisoned here ever since like some enchanted prince out of one of his books? And now that you’ve re
leased him, he’s going to hightail it away on a white horse?”
“It’s not a joking matter.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s that damn diary.”
“Gran.”
Gran pursed her lips. “I wish I had never given it to you. It changes nothing. We would still be sitting here having this same conversation if I had destroyed it years ago. What and who you are have nothing—nothing to do with your birth. Whoever said the truth will set you free was a damn fool.”
“I think it was somebody in the Bible.”
“John. Well, I apologize to the man.”
Meri bit her lip to hide a smile. “But Gloria Steinem said ‘the truth will set you free but it will piss you off first.’”
“Smart woman,” Gran said.
“So, Gran, what is the truth in this situation?”
Gran looked at her and sighed. “I don’t know. It isn’t my truth. All I do know is nobody’s looking in the right places.”
“What does that have to do with Alden selling Corrigan House? I don’t understand.”
“Meri, maybe it’s time you took a good look at your life.”
“My life?” Meri’s stomach turned cold. She groped for the nearest chair and sat down. “I know I’m lucky. You’ve all been so good to me. I’m grateful. You know that.”
“Oh, child. We’re family. Don’t you forget it.” She stood and carried her cup to the sink. Looked out the window.
Meri had to fight not to put her head down and cry. She lost. “I’m sorry.”
Gran turned. “For what?”
Meri shrugged. She didn’t know; she only knew that she felt miserable.
Gran pulled her to her feet and into a hug.
“I didn’t mean you’ve done something wrong. Those people who say you should live in the moment . . . sometimes we have to look at the past to see how we got to this moment, then look ahead and try to imagine what will make us happy to live in that moment when it comes.”
“No one can tell what the future will be.”
“No, but we can hedge our bets.”
Meri pulled away. “Gran, what do you know about betting?”
“That’s beside the point. You go think about things, things that have nothing to do with Laura’s diary. I’m going to work in the garden.”
Breakwater Bay Page 25