The Country Guesthouse

by Robyn Carr

  “I almost didn’t catch you in time,” he said. “I almost let you get away.”

  “My girlfriends are worried about my judgment. They’ll come for a visit, check you out, decide whether I’ve lost my mind.”

  “How soon will they be here?” he asked, nuzzling her neck. “I get a couple more days to seduce you, don’t I?”

  She laughed. She also shivered at the sensation of his lips on her neck. “You don’t need all that much time, Owen. But when did you discover you felt this way? I had no idea.”

  “It was pretty quick. Not immediately, but within a day I was asking myself, what is this feeling? I couldn’t risk scaring you away so I made myself slow down. You guys had been through a lot and the only thing I wanted was for you to feel safe and happy here. And with me—here with me.”

  “Owen, maybe you should have told me how you felt. When you were offering me a chance to stay longer...”

  “It’s been such a long time since I was in love, Hannah. You’re going to have to be patient with me. I’m a solitary old dog. But what I want is to be part of a family like yours. What I really want is to not let go of you for twenty-four hours. At least.”

  “Are you offering to tuck me in tonight?”

  “I could do that,” he said, aping Noah’s best-known phrase.

  “You’ll have to have pajamas,” she told him. “Noah sometimes wakes up in the night. Do you own any?”

  “There’s a trunk in the master closet, filled with my more personal items that I don’t bother to pack or move into the barn. There are some T-shirts and boxers in there. Will that do?”

  “That would be nice,” she said, giving him a kiss.

  “Do you have pajamas?” he asked, pulling her closer.

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to need them for a while,” he said. Then he kissed her with every fiber of emotion running through his veins. His hands wandered under her shirt, stroking her back, sliding under her bra to fondle her breasts and tease her nipples. His tongue made a playful tour of the inside of her mouth and both of them were breathing hard. He lifted his hips slightly. “Do you think he’s asleep?”

  “He was almost asleep when I tucked him in, but I’ll check.” She laughed softly. “I’m not going to get a glass of wine, am I?”

  “I’ll bring it. We’ll have wine. And other things.” He lifted her up so he could stand, placing her on her feet. “Come with me, sweetheart. Tiptoe. No need to wake anyone.”

  The front door was locked, the lights turned off, Noah and Romeo looked in on, the covers on the large, extra-long bed pulled back. The bedroom door had to be closed. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the bedside table. “Have you missed your bed?” she asked him.

  “It wasn’t the bed I’ve been wanting,” he said. He pulled her shirt over her head and kissed his way from her neck to her shoulder and down her arm to her wrist. He pulled his own shirt off and pressed her close against him, letting her soft breasts tease him. He pulled her down on the bed and lay facing her, leisurely kissing her and running his fingers through her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear. “I was afraid this might never happen. You were so insistent that you had to get back to Minneapolis.”

  “I have a cute little house there,” she said. “It comes with a cute little mortgage. I was so proud when I was able to buy it. My life has changed ten times since then.”

  “I hope from now on your only changes are welcome.” He slid her shorts down and flipped them away. “Starting here,” he added, sliding a hand over her belly and down. His long fingers glided toward her most private places and she opened her legs for him.

  She unsnapped his shorts and slid a hand inside. “Starting here,” she added with a soft, wicked little laugh. Her hand slid over his erection and he moaned. “Owen,” she whispered. “Get rid of these shorts and let’s get under the sheet.”

  He rolled with her right, then left. He pulled her under him and settled himself between her legs, gently prodding her. “How’s your birth control?” he asked.

  “I guess that means you don’t have a condom...”

  “I have some mighty dated ones in that trunk in the closet. If I wasn’t prepared it’s because I didn’t expect to be this lucky. How is this so far?”

  “Almost perfect,” she said. “I’m on the pill and it’s served me well.” She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him while her hands roved all over his back and butt. He was so beautifully put together, his muscles long and lean, his male butt solid and round.

  He pampered one nipple, then the other, then licked his way down her stomach again, this time not stopping until he reached the center of her body. He spread her legs and briefly buried himself in her soft flesh, his tongue torturing her. Her fingers were in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Thankfully he didn’t waste a lot of time because she was struggling. He came back to her lips and whispered against them.

  “Anything you want,” he said. “Anything.”

  “I want you inside me.”

  “Thank God,” he said, immediately sliding into her. He pinched his eyes closed and was still a moment, then began to move. She moved with him, clutching him tightly to her. She whimpered slightly, reaching for that moment. Her legs came around his waist and he grabbed her butt, pounding into her with hard strokes, pressing into her, reaching deeply.

  She had a powerful, blinding climax in his arms. He opened his eyes, looking down at her. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, riding it out. “Honey,” he whispered. “Hannah.” Then, unable to wait her out, he pumped a few short times and exploded with her.

  When he stopped panting, he covered her lips with short kisses, leaning on his elbows to keep his weight off her.

  “I hope that was okay,” he said in a rough whisper. “Because I think after that one time, I’m addicted.”

  She laughed softly. “It was very good,” she said. “Can you do that again?”

  “In a little while,” he promised. “Right now I want to feel your whole body against mine. You’re so soft. So sweet.” He turned her a bit so he could spoon her. He nuzzled her neck. “I’m so happy my trip was canceled.”

  She chuckled. “Me, too. What do you suppose people will say when they notice I’m still here?”

  “I don’t know what they’ll say about you but I think they’ll decide I’m less strange.”

  “I’m not sure anyone thinks of you as strange,” she said, holding on to the arms that held her.

  “They must. I even find myself strange. But right this moment? I find myself to be the luckiest man alive.”

  “We should put on our pajamas and open the door to listen for Noah...”

  “In just a little while,” he murmured. He turned her toward him and pulled one of her legs over his hip. “We can take a little more time.”

  “Oh, Owen. I do love the way you touch me.”

  “Good. I’m going to touch you every chance I get. Hannah, Hannah, you make my heart feel so full...”

  “So far...this is an excellent idea. I think photography isn’t your only gift.”

  A couple of hours later, still cuddling but pajama clad, Hannah opened her eyes to see Noah at the side of the bed.

  “Hannah?”

  “Noah, did you have a bad dream?”

  “No, but I was done sleeping.” He yawned. “For now.”

  “You can come in the bed but let’s take your braces off.”

  “’Kay,” he said. “Hannah, is that Owen right there? What is he doing there?”

  “Well, this is his bed I’ve been using so I imagine he’d like it back. And I don’t mind sharing,” she said, sliding off the braces. “Come here on my side. No, Romeo. You have to lie on the floor. There you go. Snuggle up, Noah. Close your eyes, please. I’m not done sleeping yet.”

  “’Kay
. You sure do fit a lot of people in this bed.”

  “It’s better when it’s not too many,” she said. “Shhh.”

  * * *

  Helen said she was relieved and not at all surprised that Hannah and Noah stayed. “I figured you for a smart woman,” she said.

  Leigh Shandon said, “I’m growing a nice little group of women friends. Maybe I’ll start a book club.”

  At the thought of books, Hannah remembered that great shelf in Owen’s library of children’s classics, each one too long to finish on a short vacation. Treasure Island, Swiss Family Robinson, Alice in Wonderland, Watership Down, Where the Red Fern Grows, Peter Pan, all the Harry Potter books. Since they were only going to be here for a couple of weeks, she’d been reluctant to get into too many of the classics, though she fell in love with them. Beautiful paper, illustrated, leather-bound. Because she thought time was short, she’d done most of the reading. They were reading Treasure Island. “Help me read a little bit, Noah,” she said.

  “I can do that,” he said.

  Noah was able to read whole sentences even from this complicated book. He had done this before when he’d been reading his own books, but she assumed his books were so familiar to him that he did it a lot of it from memory. “Noah, you’re a very good reader!”

  “Sometimes,” he said. “Not the real hard words.”

  “Who taught you to read?”

  “The teacher. And Linda. And Mom.”

  “Wow! You’re amazing!”

  He just shrugged. “I’m not that active.”

  “You’re sure active here!” she said.

  “I think it’s ’cause there’s no other kids,” he said. “When there are kids, I’m the slowest one.”

  That stopped her for a second. But then she said, “That’s going to change, too. And when you catch up to the other kids, you’re going to be able to read!”

  “A little bit,” he said.

  “Read me what you can of this page,” she said.

  He barely stumbled. He sounded out phonetically the words he didn’t recognize. Sometimes they had to talk about the meaning. Owen came from his barn to sit on the porch and listen for a while. He smiled and nodded at Noah. After about ten minutes, Owen went back to the barn and Noah read with Hannah.

  The temperature dropped, it rained a little and Owen made beef stew with biscuits for dinner, ice cream for dessert. Instead of sitting on the porch, they found a movie and lit the fire. When Noah was in bed, Hannah snuggled up against Owen in the great room.

  “Did you hear how brilliant Noah is?” she asked him. “I don’t know anything but I bet he’s reading at a fourth-or fifth-grade level. He’ll turn six before the end of the year, but c’mon, he’s only five! You are so smart to have some kids’ books. I guess that’s for the families that rent your house...”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t buy them for future rental guests. I bought them for my son,” he said. She slowly turned her head and looked up at him. “I have some things to tell you,” he said. “Some things that are going to be hard to hear.”

  New beginnings are often

  disguised as painful endings.

  —Lao Tzu

  7

  “His name was Brayden and he was the victim of a violent crime when he was seven years old. He was kidnapped from the sidewalk in front of our house. Well, two doors down. I was in the open garage. I never heard a car. He never yelled. His body was recovered eighteen months later. That’s when I left California. And I haven’t been back.”

  “Owen,” she whispered after a long moment of silence.

  “I know. It’s horrendous, I know.”

  “It must be so hard to talk about it,” she said, giving his cheek a gentle stroke.

  “I can talk about it. What’s hard is watching someone hear about it. Especially someone I care for. I usually talk about it with people who already know—my mother, my sister, even my brother-in-law. I know it’s shocking...”

  “It’s heartbreaking,” she said. “I don’t know how you survived it. Do people around here know?”

  “No one has mentioned it. Nor has anyone asked me. This is a long way from LA but the case of Brayden Abrams missing, found murdered, then his killer’s arrest—all of that was at least regionally famous. And my ex-wife is still nationally known as an activist in child advocacy. She is still called Sheila Abrams even though she’s remarried. Not for me but for him. For Brayden. The short answer is—I don’t know who knows. I haven’t told anyone around here. For the reasons I explained. It changes the landscape of the friendship. Things become so awkward. Not for me—I live with that awkwardness every day.”

  “Is that why you took to Noah?” she asked.

  “No. I can honestly say no. I like children in general. I used to take pictures of kids—portraits, family pictures, school pictures, all that. From babies to graduating seniors. I’ve always gotten along better with kids and dogs than adult humans. Sheila said it was because I’m immature and hard to train. I hope she was kidding, but it’s possible... Ah, well, I think you know—Noah is special. Your friend must have been the most wonderful parent. And you’re wonderful, too.”

  “I guess that’s why your marriage didn’t survive,” she said. “Whose could?”

  “That’s a little more complicated,” he said. “We approached our loss in different ways, opposite ways. We were both devastated and, until he was found, terrified. I withdrew into myself. I hounded the police, studied other kidnappings and searched. I looked everywhere—on playgrounds, malls, diners, alleys, in dumpsters. I didn’t work, I roamed. Sheila went public, spiking awareness, bringing attention to the danger, the problem, the vulnerability of innocent children and she was brilliant at it. To be fair, she’d always been brilliant in front of an audience and I’ve always hidden behind the camera, an observer. Sheila is a lawyer and she’s incredible. And I’ve always been... I’ve always been like I am—someone who watches.

  “She wanted me to join her in her crusade to bring awareness to the problem so that something positive could come of it, even if it saved only one child. But that wasn’t my path. Grief is a poison and every human being has a unique approach to purging that poison. I wanted to feel that same fire Sheila felt but all I felt was despair. Sheila is now one of the most well-known advocates for lost and stolen children in the country. She’s a highly paid speaker, a media personality, a lobbyist. She’s testified in front of Congress and written laws. I can’t describe how much I admire her.”

  “You still love her,” Hannah said.

  “I will always love Sheila,” he said. “But I’m not in love with her. I’m in love with you.”

  She held her breath for a moment. “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “I didn’t say that so you’d say you love me, too. It took me a long time to even be open to the idea of loving someone. Sheila was stronger and better at moving on—she married an attorney who is much more like her. He’s a former cop, a smart and socially conscious man. They worked together, fell in love, married, had a couple of kids. One of them will eventually run for office, I’d bet my kidney on it. But when I met you and Noah, I knew in a day I had found a woman to love. I wanted to love and protect you both.”

  “But would you love me if I didn’t have Noah?” she asked. “Because you lost a child and Noah is so vulner—”

  “So smart and vulnerable and funny and sweet, and that’s the scariest part for me. Can you imagine what would become of me if we lost him? It’s almost enough of a reason to deny myself a relationship with you! But I can’t. I knew in twenty-four hours that if I could somehow manage to be the man you wanted, I was in. But I also knew you’d have to be willing to live with this ghost of mine. I believe it’s called baggage and it’s hefty. I’m damaged—”

  “No, you’re not,” she said. “No more than any of us. In fact, I think
it’s what makes you special. I’m so sorry for what you went through but I don’t think of you as wounded. You’re gentle and kind and stronger than anyone I know. You’re good for Noah but you’re also good for me. Still, I think giving it at least the summer is a good idea—who knows what we might discover about each other once we dig beneath the surface? We deserve a chance to see if we can be good for each other.”

  “I know you’ll be good for me,” he said. “The question is, will this broken man weigh you down? Because I’m tired of feeling crippled and sore. I want to be good for someone. I want to be good for you.”

  “You have been so far,” she said.

  “Promise me,” he said, lifting her chin with a bent finger. “Don’t accept me out of pity or because you think you can fix me. I was quiet and a little moody before I lost Brayden. That didn’t bother Sheila. She said she was happy to do all the talking.”

  Hannah smiled. “I can’t wait to meet this woman. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  “Not that I can think of, thank God. I’m sure that was a big enough load.”

  “Good. Then let’s go to bed and hold on to each other. I need some rest. I have to go into town tomorrow and get some referrals from Leigh Shandon. Even though I’ve kept up with Noah’s exercises the past few weeks, it’s important not to ignore his therapy protocol. We have to get back in the program.”

  “Good. Even though we’ve been having fun, I haven’t forgotten he needs routine therapy. And listen, if you’d rather have some space tonight, to think over all the stuff I just dumped on you...”

  “Don’t push it, Owen. Come to bed. Love me. I could use a little reassurance.”

  He grinned at her. “Amazing. I didn’t scare you off.”

  * * *

  It happened to her again—a missed call from Wyatt. Well, when you were having summer at the lake with your best guys, you didn’t look at your phone much. The only other calls she’d gotten were from Kate, Sharon and a couple of other friends who just wanted to check on her and see how she was doing. There were also a couple of numbers she didn’t recognize, which she chalked up to telemarketers. No messages, no texts. She’d looked at her email about once a week. She didn’t miss it at all.