First Come Twins

by Helen Brenna

  She leapt into his arms and he backed her against the door. Her arms went around his neck, and he held her there, closer, tighter. Meeting him, touch for touch, she felt like his memories and tasted like his dreams. Her ragged breath in his ear, his lips on her neck, he tripped back in time.

  “Oh, God, Sophie. Sophie, Sophie,” he murmured, kissing her face, her neck, her lips again and again. “You’re the only—”

  “Sophie?” A knock sounded on the door, and Noah stilled. It was Jan. He grabbed the knob and gripped it, holding the door closed only an instant before Jan tried opening it. “Sophie, are you in there?”

  They both held still, barely breathed as they waited for Jan to leave. Seconds ticked by without a sound. Finally, he lowered her to her feet. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “I wanted that as much as you did.”

  For an instant longer, he allowed himself the pleasure of her touch, and then he stepped back. “You’re thinking with your heart, Soph, not your head.”

  “So you’re going to think for me?” She was angry and he didn’t blame her. “Since I’m incapable?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, but it’s what you mean.”

  It wasn’t at all what he’d meant. He didn’t want to be responsible for hurting her. Again. That was all.

  “I’m so sick of everyone on this island thinking they know what’s best for me.” She spun around, furious.

  Good. Maybe that’d keep her away from him.

  “Are you saying you want this?”

  “I don’t know what I want.”

  “When’s the last time you and I stopped at kissing?” he asked, pushing home his point. “This wouldn’t be the end. I’d want more. You’d want more. I can’t do this to you. Not again.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Nothing’s changed, Soph. In a few weeks, a month, maybe two, I’ll be leaving Mirabelle. We’re back to square one.”

  “You could never see yourself staying on the island?”

  “No.”

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why not?”

  He covered his face with his hands. “I remember when my mom left my dad, I was so angry at her. Couldn’t understand how she could leave me, leave my dad, leave our home. It wasn’t long before I started to see the island through her eyes. Turns out, I’m just like her.”

  “That’s your dad talking.”

  “I used to think so. Now I’m not so sure. Some people are happy in one place. Me? I felt like a caged animal here. I still do. You can walk and walk and walk and you’re still on the island. No matter where you go, you end up in the same place. The same faces, the same buildings, even the same rocks, over and over. Day after day after day. I can’t do it, Sophie. I need privacy. I need anonymity. I need change.”

  “You’re still running away.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “From what?”

  “I don’t know. Your dad. Yourself.” Her anger turned to annoyance, frustration. “You’ve moved on from one place to the next for fifteen years. Haven’t you figured out by now that you take yourself wherever you go, Noah?” She opened the door.

  “Well, good heavens, there you are.” Jan’s voice came from Sophie’s office. “Josie wanted to run a menu change by you for next week.”

  “Whatever she does is fine,” Sophie said.

  “That—”

  “I don’t care, Jan!” Sophie marched off.

  Noah came out of Sophie’s private room and found Jan still standing in Sophie’s office. As he pulled the door firmly closed behind him, locking it, she glared at him.

  “Yeah, I know.” Noah brushed past her. “Stay away from Sophie.”

  STILL FUMING, SOPHIE STALKED toward the Rousseau family apartment. Who did Noah think he was, deciding for her how things would be between them? He didn’t have a right. She made her own choices. She decided. She—

  You’re a part of this island, chérie…You have to keep the Rousseau traditions alive.

  She was kidding herself. First her parents, then Isaac, then the kids, then these islanders. The only decision she’d ever made for herself was to let her decisions be dictated by others, by the past.

  How the hell had her life gotten to this place? This hadn’t been her plan. Her plan had been to head to college with Noah. Afterward, they were going to work, travel, get married, maybe have kids, maybe not. Instead, her father had died and obligation had overrun dreams. The problem was that obligations had kept piling up.

  Suddenly and profoundly sad, she opened the door to her apartment to the sound of raucous noise. Apparently, the nieces and nephews, tired of karaoke, had decided to hang for a while. The girls were in the kitchen listening to music, talking and giggling, and the boys were in the family room killing aliens. Nail polish was out and pillows were being thrown.

  “Hey, Mom,” Lauren said.

  “Hi, Aunt Sophie.” A round of greetings sounded at once from her sisters’ daughters.

  “Hi, girls,” Sophie said, then she looked into the family room. All the nephews were present, but her son was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Kurt?” she asked Lauren.

  “Don’t know. He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

  Lauren was her social butterfly, while Kurt was more introspective and quiet. No doubt several days of activities and late-night sleepovers with cousins had caught up with him. She found him in his room, where posters of sports cars plastered every inch of the walls. Lying on his bed, he decompressed with his iPod.

  “You okay?” she mouthed.

  He nodded. His red-rimmed eyes, though, were a clear indication his feelings went a little deeper than needing some time alone. Stepping inside, she closed the door and sat in the papasan chair in the corner, waiting. Kurt so seldom talked about anything with her. If she was patient, his words might escape.

  “What?” he said, flicking out his earbuds.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Give him a minute. Sophie bit her tongue, glanced at the pictures of cars with names like Lotus, Diablo and Viper and a pang of guilt swept through her that Kurt would have virtually no use for a driver’s permit when he turned fifteen next year. Was she being fair to her kids by raising them on Mirabelle?

  Oh, hell. One thing at a time.

  “Not talking about it definitely won’t help,” she said. “Talking about it might.”

  Kurt stubbornly glanced away. His gaze caught on the picture of him and Isaac on one of their last camping trips and his eyes watered. “Dad should be here for Marty’s wedding. For all this family stuff. He would’ve had an awesome time.”

  Sophie held her breath and battled to keep her mouth shut and her butt in that chair. The urge to go wrap her arms around him and rock him the way she had when he was a baby overwhelmed her, but Kurt was struggling so hard at being a man. Making him feel like a child again would only make him want to push her away.

  “Things don’t seem right without Dad.” His voice caught and a tear dribbled down his face. “I miss him.” Then he sniffed and angrily swiped at his cheek. “But you don’t,” he said.

  It felt like a slap. Maybe because it was partly true.

  “You don’t have time to miss Dad,” he continued. “You’re too busy liking Noah.”

  “That’s not fair.” The words were out before she could bite them back. She looked away and took a deep breath. “It’s partly true,” she said, softening. “But it’s not fair.”

  “So you do like him?”

  She tried to frame an explanation of her feelings for Noah, but how did one describe what seemed like a lifetime? “Noah and I were friends, best friends. Like you and Ben,” she said, giving it a shot. “Having Noah back here again after all those years is really nice. I missed him. I miss your dad, too.” In a different way.

  “Did you love him?”

  Her heart stopped. Her relationship with Isaac had been…simple, but compl
icated. Hard to understand and harder to explain, especially to an adolescent. “Who?” she asked, hedging.

  “Noah.”

  That, she could answer honestly. “Yes.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  She still wanted him. That kiss in her office, the way she’d leapt into his arms without any hesitation, proved that beyond any doubt. But love? “I don’t know, Kurt.”

  “Then why did you sleep over at his house last night?”

  “Wh—”

  Then she remembered. When she’d gotten home this morning, Kurt had rustled around on the floor. Obviously, he’d over heard her conversation with Marty. So this is what his rudeness toward Noah during the table tennis tournament had been all about.

  Guilt and shame settled. She slept at a man’s house. They didn’t understand her history with Noah. What kind of example was she setting for her children? How could she do this to them?

  “It was silly, Kurt. I fell asleep by accident. We both did.”

  “I feel stupid. Like I’m…jealous. But you’re my mom,” he said, looking disgusted. “I shouldn’t feel that way.”

  She locked herself into that chair.

  “I mean…I figured you’d date again sometime.”

  “I’m not dating Noah.”

  “But you like him. I can see it, Mom. And he likes you.” Kurt sat forward, shaking his head. “He’s Dad’s brother. Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

  No. Isaac was five years older. He’d babysat Sophie and Noah. He’d been like an older brother to her, someone she’d turned to for advice more often than not. And he’d never seen her as anything except a little sister, until she was a senior in high school. While Isaac may have noticed her when he’d come home from college for holiday breaks and summers, she’d barely seen past Noah to any other boy.

  “Don’t you feel like you’re…betraying Dad?”

  “No.” Sophie could answer that unequivocally, too. “Your dad…” She smiled, thinking of how he had also missed Noah. Isaac had never spoken about it, but his brother’s absence had left a hole in his life. “He’d be happy Noah’s come home.”

  Kurt picked at the light quilt covering his bed. “I heard Grandpa talking to Josie. He said Noah’s going to leave the island again. Said he probably won’t ever come back. Then what?”

  “I don’t know, Kurt. Sometimes even adults don’t have all the answers.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE GROOM’S DINNER, a relatively informal yet traditional affair, was held Friday night in the main banquet room at the inn. Table seating was assigned with placards. Sophie was near the front with her kids and her sisters’ families. She noticed Sarah had put Noah’s card toward the back with a group of Brittany’s coworkers. He hadn’t come tonight, and, after what had happened yesterday in her office, she understood.

  While her kids loved having all their cousins visiting, and her sisters, Beth and Jackie, were enjoying the time away from their hectic home life, the week had gotten long for Sophie. She couldn’t wait until Marty and Brittany were off to Europe for their honeymoon and the wedding guests had all cleared out, so things could get back to normal and she could get back to work.

  Back to normal. As if that were possible with this whole new hotel concept hanging over her head and Noah still on the island. She’d gotten over being mad at him. He didn’t want to hurt her and she couldn’t fault him for that. But that kiss in her office, the way it’d felt to have his arms around her, she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

  Later in the evening, several bonfires were built outside on the beach and a fireworks display had been planned for dusk. After roasting marshmallows with Lauren and Kurt and making s’mores for the little ones, Sophie, hoping for a few minutes of peace and quiet before the fireworks, wandered toward her forest and the weathered, gray trunk of a fallen tree. She’d no sooner left the dim firelight than she heard movement nearby.

  “Here we are again.” Noah was leaning against a nearby boulder.

  Part of her, she supposed, had hoped she’d find him here. “You didn’t come to dinner.” She sat next to him, close enough that her arm brushed against his. She knew she was flirting with disaster, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “I didn’t think it’d be a good idea. After a while, it’s a little much, isn’t it? All the people, the activity, the craziness.”

  “You coming to the wedding?”

  “Marty sounded as if he’d be disappointed if I didn’t.” He shifted away from her. “About what happened in your office—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Soph, that won’t make it go away.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.”

  “Right.” He was quiet for a moment. “Did you take those photos of the island?”

  She hesitated. “Yes.”

  “So after the inn closes for the summer season, that’s what you do? Take pictures?”

  “It’s become a hobby.” She nodded. “I know they’re nothing like yours, still I have fun.”

  “They’re not fun, Sophie. They’re…haunting. I can’t get them out of my head. You’re very talented.”

  She tried to slough it off, but his opinion thrilled something deep inside her.

  “Can I send some to several friends who run galleries?”

  Her reaction was swift and from the gut. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why? What would be the point?” She had to change the subject, quick. “So what’s it been like all these years, traveling the world in search of a story?”

  “Amazing. Rewarding. Exhausting.”

  Although she could force her photos out of her mind, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like flying the world over. These days she hardly ever left Mirabelle. She’d only been out of the state of Wisconsin three times. Twice to her sisters’ homes in Minneapolis and once to see Marty in Chicago. She’d never been on a plane, never been to an airport. It seemed odd for someone this day and age, but after Noah had left she’d never had a reason, let alone the desire, to travel.

  “Sophie?” He was back to her pictures.

  “No,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Why?” She was content with her life on the island as it stood. There was no need to stir the pot.

  “Sophie, your pictures will resonate with people. You have huge commercial potential.”

  “So?”

  She might have sounded indifferent. In truth, when he’d talked about her photos as if they were art, her heart had hammered in her chest as though her life hinged on his opinion. Why should she care? She’d taken the pictures for fun, for entertainment during the long, cold, off-season months. It had kept her occupied. It had helped her look forward to every day.

  He chuckled. “Okay, so it’s not a great way to pay the bills. I get it. Where’s the harm in sending out a couple shots? What are you afraid of?”

  He not only made her dream again, he made those dreams seem achievable. He’d always been that way. With Noah, anything seemed possible. Lakes and oceans and deserts had never stopped him from going where he wanted to go. He was fearless and brave, reminding her of everything she wasn’t.

  Until he kissed her, and something intense and passionate and true came to life inside her. “All right,” she said. “Sure.”

  “How…I don’t remember you liking photography.”

  At that, she turned toward him. “You did it. When you left your camera behind.” In an instant they were both transported back in time. Both of them remembering. She could see it in his face. “After you left, why didn’t you ever write or call?”

  “That’s a tricky one.”

  “The truth.”

  “Okay. For the first few months, I couldn’t bring myself to. I missed you so damned much my body actually ached, like I was going through withdrawal. By the time I came around later and realized how unfair I’d been, you’d already married Isaac.” He hea
rd her sigh, and realized now was the perfect time for a question that had plagued him for years. “Now I’ve got a question for you.”

  “Tit for tat, I guess.”

  “Did you ever really love me?”

  “How can you ask that?”

  “You married my brother so soon after I left. It’s not a big deal. Really. We got involved so young. I figured what you’d felt for me had been a teenaged kind of thing. What you felt for Isaac was stronger.”

  How could one man be so wrong? “Noah, I…”

  “It’s okay. Either way, I’ll admit, it was easier to stay away.”

  “Was what you felt for me some kind of teenaged thing?” she asked.

  “No. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  He’d left anyway, went out into the world to make his dreams of being a photojournalist come true. If he’d loved her enough, if there’d been any way to work things out, he would’ve come back.

  “Believe it or not,” she said. “You leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, too.” They’d shared so much together, been so much a part of each other’s lives.

  “If memory serves,” he whispered, “I think we were sitting very close to this spot the night of our first kiss.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  He glanced back at her, his eyes searching for her meaning.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I want you to kiss me again.”

  This time, she didn’t want a short and swift stolen kiss, as they’d shared in her office. She wanted time with him, time for languor and passion. Kissing Noah, or being kissed by Noah, had always been…What had it been like? Memories assaulted her, there were so many. He’d been everything a first love should be.

  “Kiss me.” She glanced at his lips and felt her own opening expectantly.

  “Sophie.” His whisper was raspy and filled with longing, his eyes intent. “I’m not a boy anymore.”

  “I know.”

  “There’s nothing innocent and sweet about what I want from you.”

  “I know.”

  The darkness of night surrounded them as he reached for her face and softly trailed his fingers over her cheeks. There was still time to change her mind, to step back. Until he gripped her upper arm, pulling her toward him, and reached under her chin, tipping her face. Any awkwardness and timidity that may have been between them in their youth was gone. In its place was a powerful adult need.