First Come Twins

by Helen Brenna

  “No.” She dragged her shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra. “I don’t know how long I’ve got you and I want to make every minute count.” She was naked in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the window.

  The air left his chest, the angry wind left his sail. “You are so, so perfect.” He touched her cheek, trailed his finger down her neck and circled the nipple of one full and beautifully peaked breast. All at once, he felt like an ogre next to her in his own scarred, battered and hacked-up body.

  Then she kissed him sweetly and whispered, “I can’t believe I have you back.” Her lips trembled against his. “My Noah.”

  He was still her Noah, all hers. His misgivings dissipated, and he couldn’t get his prosthetic off fast enough. Once it was gone, she tugged off his jeans and boxers and dragged him back with her onto the bed.

  It took him a moment to get his balance with only one foot, but then he was over her, kissing her mouth, deeply, as if they’d never been apart. He drew her knee up and found her so slick with need, he almost lost it right there. He was inside her in one swift movement.

  “Noah!” she cried out, taking him in, moving with him.

  He couldn’t stop. A grown man and he felt as if he were seventeen all over again. He pulled away. “Slow dow—”

  “No!” She rolled over on top of him and took him back inside her, took him back in time. It was the Bayfield motel all over again. The rest of the world ceased to exist. There was this room and the two of them, their bodies, their lips, their skin. They came together. She was his. He was hers.

  THEY STAYED IN BED FOR HOURS, talked and laughed, whispered and snuggled, made love again and again. Dozed off as if they had all the time in the world. Sophie awoke hours later, muscles she never knew she had tight and stiff. She smiled, feeling Noah’s arms draped possessively around her.

  The afternoon had been heaven. She turned and studied his sleeping face. How she’d longed for a moment like this. Noah. Back. In her arms, in her bed, in her life. For how long? She’d given herself to him wholly and completely, knowing their time together would be so limited. Knowing he’d be leaving. Heaven and hell, all wrapped into one.

  And she was going to do it all over again, and again, and again, willingly, for as long as she could, for as long as he’d let her. Holding back the tears, she kissed his neck, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, gently waking him. His eyes opened and the fire burning there made her forget all about the heartbreak to come. She’d take heaven now. Hell would come soon enough.

  NOAH HAD NEVER BEFORE WANTED to stop the night from coming the way he did at this moment. In a very short while, Sophie would be leaving for the council meeting to vote on Marty’s proposal, and once she climbed out of this bed, their private bubble would pop. Everything would change.

  The first puff of cool evening air passed through the screen of the open window and Noah wished for a few more minutes, an hour, maybe two. Who was he kidding? He wanted a lifetime, and he wasn’t going to get it. He wanted to be a father. He wanted a wife, children, a home. A life. He wanted Kurt and Lauren to be his children. And he wanted Sophie by his side for the rest of his life.

  With Sophie in his arms, her head on his chest, he put his face to her hair and breathed her in. True love always found a way. How wrong could one man be? How could he have been so totally ignorant of his denial?

  He still loved her. She still loved him. If anything, what he felt today was stronger. Adult. Mature. More complete. There was no childish idealism, no infatuation. He loved her.

  But this time there would be no walking away for him while telling himself real love would find a way. Real love didn’t find a way all the time, every day. People had coined a name for such an occurrence. It was called a broken heart, and Noah had barreled full steam ahead, causing his own monumentally jagged fracture.

  Did they have any kind of a chance?

  “Sophie,” he whispered. “You awake?”

  “Mmm,” she murmured, trailing her fingers lightly through his chest hair. “Barely.”

  “I’m not going back to Iraq. I’m done traveling to war zones.”

  Abruptly, she sat up, dragging the sheet with her and focused on him.

  “I can’t go back to that life. Not anymore.”

  Her relief was visible. “That’s it? You’re really done?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll be satisfied, happy with that decision?”

  “I want to settle down. Dig in. Make a home.” Feeling raw and uncertain, he had to go one step further. He had to lay his heart on the line and hope like hell she picked it up. “Come with me?”

  “You said you were done traveling.”

  “Done going outside the States, but I can’t stay here. It’s still a damned small island. I’d be fine for a few years, but the winters here are brutal. Summer ends. Tourists stop coming. Snow falls, people huddle in their homes, and this place turns into a graveyard. You know that.” He paced. “Have you thought about Rhode Island? You and the kids. Making a life with me there. You’ll like it. I know you will.” He grabbed her hand and held it to his heart. “Marry me, Sophie. Put the past right once and for all.”

  “Leave Mirabelle?” She stood, wrapping the sheet around her. “That’s what you’re asking me to do?”

  “We could come back in the summers. When the kids are out of school.” He hopped up and yanked on his boxers. “It would work. We could make it work. Split our time between two homes. People do it all the time.”

  “What about the inn?” She stepped back, away from him.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. Quickly he put on his prosthetic, so he could be ready if she dashed out the door. “Maybe Marty could take it over? You could hire a general manager? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter—”

  “Doesn’t matter? Maybe it doesn’t to you, but this business has been in my family for hundreds of years.” She tugged her T-shirt over her head and stepped into her shorts. “I can’t just…just…leave.”

  “Yes, Sophie, you can.” He stepped toward her and stopped. “You can let someone else in your family take charge and carry the burden, so you can live your life. You deserve it. You deserve to be happy.”

  “I like Mirabelle. I am happy here.”

  “That’s what you’ve told yourself all these years, so you could get by. But this isn’t the life you wanted.”

  “What I wanted changed. Just because you can’t live here doesn’t mean other people don’t want to. People sometimes move here to stay. People who are happy, content, say it’s the best thing that ever happened to them and their families.”

  “They’ve chosen Mirabelle. They weren’t born here.”

  “I’ve chosen Mirabelle.” She put her hands out at her sides. “That’s what you can’t accept. I ended up choosing an island over you.”

  “There’s a difference between choosing this island life and hiding away from the rest of the world. Somewhere along the way you wanting to stay on Mirabelle changed to hiding on Mirabelle.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “You can’t see it.” Frustration burned in his gut. He felt her slipping away and was helpless to stop it. “You hide behind your life here, behind your ancestors’ expectations. Rousseaus have to live on Mirabelle. The Rousseau forest has to stay completely intact. A Rousseau has to run the Mirabelle Island Inn. That’s bullshit!” He laid it out, risking everything, knowing he had no choice. “You use all that as an excuse to keep yourself locked away. You’ve been hiding for years.”

  “What am I supposed to be hiding from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You know everything else.”

  He studied her, debated. “Pain. You’re hiding from pain.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Everyone has pain in their life.”

  “And everyone copes differently. While you’re on this island, you can pretend everything is okay. That one day will flow smoothly into the next and you’ll be able to handle anything
that’s coming. You can contain your pain. Like the shores of this island.

  “Your father dies and you compensate by making his life’s work yours. You keep him alive every time you keep that inn exactly the way he made it. Your mother dies, and you redouble your efforts. I leave, break your heart, and you find someone who…won’t ask too much of you. My brother.”

  Her eyes turned red as tears pooled. She looked away and swallowed.

  Had he gone too far? Maybe. Maybe not far enough. Some of what he was saying seemed to be hitting its mark. “You pretend everything is the way it’s supposed to be, Sophie,” he continued, softening the tone of his voice. “Because it’s Mirabelle. Because life on Mirabelle is supposed to be picture-perfect. So you tell yourself you have everything you’ve ever wanted. You lie to yourself. Every day.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is, Soph. I know it is. Because I’ve lied to myself for fifteen years.” He ran his hands through his hair. “You were right. All the while you’ve been hiding, I’ve been running away. From you. From my dad. From Isaac. Well, I’m done.” He reached for her, and she backed away. “If I can be done running, you can be done hiding.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  But she wasn’t sure. “I can see it in your face, right now. You wondering if I could be right. Think about it, Sophie. Your actions through the years. Even your photographs…tell a different story. You’ve given up fifteen years of your life. For the kids. For your dad and mom. For the inn. For Mirabelle. Don’t you think it’s time you start living for yourself?”

  She moved toward the doorway. “You’d say anything to get me to go with you, wouldn’t you?”

  “This isn’t about me, Sophie. It’s about you making your own life, not letting this island make your life for you. Don’t let fear run your life.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “Yes, you are. When you step off this island everything shifts. You don’t know the people. The people don’t know you. Strangers won’t take care of you. You’d be on your own, making your own way. You can’t handle that, can you?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I hurt you and I’m so, so sorry. And if you leave this island and come with me, I’m bound to hurt you again. I’m not perfect, but I promise I will never, ever stop loving you. Marry me, Sophie. Come with me.”

  “You need to leave.” She backed into the hall. “So go.”

  “What?”

  “Get…off…my…island.” She turned and ran down the hallway.

  “Sophie!” He followed as fast as he could. This was it, his last chance to make her see. “Is this the message you want to send Lauren and Kurt?” he asked, pulling out all the stops.

  “Don’t you dare bring them into this!” She was at the front door before he’d made it down a few steps.

  “They’ll follow your lead. Lauren will hesitate. Kurt won’t ever leave.”

  “Get off!” she yelled. “Don’t ever come back. Ever. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’re wrong. So, so wrong.” She ran out the front door. He watched her disappear down the hill. Out of his sight, out of his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  STILL FUMING, SOPHIE STALKED through town to the council meeting. Lauren and Kurt, coming from the direction of the marina, caught up with her on their bikes. They’d probably just gotten home from fishing with Jim and Josie.

  “Mom, what happened?” Kurt asked.

  “I’ll bet she was at Noah’s.” Lauren didn’t wait for her response. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Sophie kept on walking.

  “Yeah, right,” Kurt said.

  “You should work it out with him, Mom,” Lauren said.

  Sophie looked at each of her children, alternately, directly in the face. “Why do you two care?”

  “We just thought…Noah…” Lauren said, her voice trailing away.

  Kurt glared at Sophie. “You love him, don’t you?”

  This was too much. Too much. It was bad enough she’d had to stand her ground with Noah, but the kids, too?

  “He’s leaving, isn’t he?” Kurt asked.

  Sophie nodded.

  “Why?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Not really,” Lauren said. “He can’t stay on the island and you can’t leave.”

  Can’t? Or won’t? That was always the question, and she was no closer to answering it than she had been fifteen damned years ago.

  “I don’t get it,” Lauren said. “If you two love each other, isn’t there some way to make it work?”

  “No.”

  “What happens if he stays on the island?” Kurt said.

  “He’d go crazy.”

  “If you leave?” Lauren asked.

  “I can’t leave the inn. I can’t drag you kids all over the country.” Can’t or won’t?

  “Mom, the inn will be okay,” Kurt said. “Besides, Lauren wants to leave Mirabelle. She’s always wanted to leave.”

  “What about you?”

  “I want you to be happy.”

  “I can’t be happy if you’re not.”

  “Lauren’s not always happy, and you stay on the island anyway.”

  Dammit, he was right, but she couldn’t look at that just now. She was too confused and emotional to think straight. They’d reached the town hall. Sophie was ten minutes late. “I have to go.”

  “So that’s it?” Kurt said, letting his bike drop to the ground. “You go to the meeting like nothing’s happened?”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Kurt said.

  She glanced at Lauren. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” Lauren looked as if she might cry. “It’s complicated, isn’t it?”

  IT WAS OVER. SOPHIE HAD NEVER been the type to throw fits. She’d meant every word she’d said and, still, Noah couldn’t believe it. He bent his head back, staring at the ceiling, trying to absorb it. They’d split again. Only this time, she’d left him. They were done before they’d had the chance to make it work.

  Son of a bitch! He hated this island. Hated everyone on this ridiculous small freaking piece of rock. He couldn’t wait to leave, and this time, this time, he was never coming back. “That’s the way you want it. You got it.”

  Furious, Noah packed what he’d need to get by for a few days and walked to the pier. Later, he’d hire someone to pack the rest of his things, ship them to Rhode Island, and then he’d sell Grandma’s house. For now, he needed to be any place but here.

  He bought a ticket to the mainland and with deep regret over his hasty departure left a message on his dad’s voice mail briefly explaining the situation and promising to keep in touch. Then he stood looking out over the water, watching the ferry dock at the pier. In no time, he’d be on that boat and on his way to gone, putting Mirabelle behind him. He turned around and took one last look up the hill.

  Main Street looked different than it had all those months ago when he’d first arrived back on the island. His ghosts were gone and he could see it for what it was, just a place, a pretty, quaint, quiet spot on the map with good, caring people. He wished them well. He hoped the island and its residents thrived, and he hoped to continue to visit his dad, Lauren and Kurt, but the truth was without Sophie there was no reason to stay one moment longer.

  “BUSINESS HAS PICKED UP,” someone from the audience called out.

  Sophie closed the town-hall door behind her and searched for a place to sit. The room was packed. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Yes,” Marty said. “Business has picked up, but only because of Noah Bennett’s article.”

  “So what we needed was more advertising,” someone else said.

  “Advertising and promotion are only a part of the problem.” Marty paced in front of the room. “When those tourists come, if there isn’t enough here to keep them active, there won’t be anything to come back for next year. It’s too late to get a pool and golf c
ourse built and running for this season, but if the guests this summer can see the improvements that will be in place for next summer, they’ll be back. They’ll tell their friends and relatives.”

  Heads were nodding in the audience. More islanders were turning sides.

  “I’ll put together a brochure, posters for all the businesses outlining what the new and improved Mirabelle will look like.” Marty stopped and faced the audience. “I’m willing to invest in this island, folks.” Then he turned to the council. “All you have to do is let me.”

  As Marty took a seat next to Brittany in the first row, Sophie noticed another open chair next to him. She scooted toward the front of the room while the air buzzed with conversation, some quiet, some heated, some enthusiastic, some angry. Carl Andersen slammed his gavel onto the desktop. “Okay, people. Quiet down, please.”

  Sophie sat, grabbed Marty’s hand and squeezed. He squeezed back and mouthed, “Thanks for coming.”

  After the crowd quieted, Jim Bennett took the microphone. “I’ve been pretty vocal about how important it is to keep Mirabelle whole, to keep her soul alive, but coming near death made me realize some things about life.” He paused and looked out over the crowd. “It would be wonderful to leave Mirabelle Island exactly as it is today and still keep making a decent living. In fact, maybe we could go one step further and create an island of the past. Where visitors could experience history. I can see it now, step back in time on Mirabelle. They could experience history as our ancestors lived it. Sounds appealing, doesn’t it?”

  Several faces expressed their approval. Many others frowned.

  “In the interest of authenticity,” Jim continued, “we could say goodbye to our TVs, computers, microwaves.”

  Those who’d been nodding their approval now shook their heads.

  “That’s ridiculous,” someone said.

  “No one’s asking for that.”