Persuaded

by Misty Dawn Pulsipher

  Hanna wasn’t entirely sure that the Musgroves’ aversion to the beach house had much to do with the kids. More likely it had to do with their daughter-in-law, but she kept the thought to herself. “Well, it was generous of them to let you guys use the place.”

  “Oh, please. They have more than enough money, Hanna. It was the least they could do, anyway, since Charles’ dad is always pulling him away from the family to go deep-sea fishing or scuba diving or hunting—you’d think they were bachelors, the pair of them.”

  Hanna thought quickly as she followed Mary down the stairs, contriving a way to change the topic. “It must be so relaxing, having all this family time together. And Ella to help out with the kids too.”

  “Ha! What family time? It’s usually Walter and me inside all day while the other three are doing whatever they want outdoors.”

  “You could join them outside. It can’t be good for you to be stuck in the house all day, Mary.”

  “You know I can’t be in the sun for long, Hanna. Do I need to remind you why?”

  “Because you’re a vampire and you’ll turn into a pillar of ash?”

  Mary eyed her sister darkly. She had never been one for humor.

  Hanna swallowed the laughter before it escaped, taking Mary by the shoulders. “You’re not going to die of skin cancer like Mom, Mare. You know that was an extreme case, right?”

  Mary’s eyes misted over at the mention of their mother, who had died when Mary was very young. Hanna would be surprised indeed if her sister had much memory of her at all.

  “Anyway,” Hanna continued, threading an arm through Mary’s and towing her toward the door, “long sleeves, sunscreen, and hats. Now that I’m here, it’s time to start enjoying your vacation, whether you want to or not!”

  Mary slit her eyes at Hanna, but allowed herself to be led out the door and onto the sand all the same.

  The scene hadn’t changed much from the one that met Hanna from her window; the only difference was that Ella had flipped onto her stomach and unhooked her bikini top, baring her back to the sun. Charles and CJ were a good distance from shore, Charles sitting atop his surfboard and CJ doing his best to imitate the action with his boogie board.

  “I wish Charles wouldn’t take him so far out,” Mary said to Hanna, clucking her tongue in disapproval as they approached Ella.

  “He has a life jacket on,” Hanna pointed out.

  When she spoke, Ella looked up. “Hanna, you’re here!” Bolting up off her towel, Ella clamped a hand over her bikini top as she embraced Hanna. Ella had always been energetic, and it seemed that in her early twenties, her bubbly reserves were still going strong.

  “Hey, Ella. It’s good to see you.”

  “We’re going to have so much fun! Now that you’re here, I’ll have someone to go running with in the morning.”

  “I told you I’d go running with you,” Mary reminded Ella as she passed the baby monitor into her hands.

  Ella backpedaled. “It’s just you’re not usually up when I go, Mary. I’m kind of an early-morning exerciser.”

  Mary looked away. “Keep an ear out for Walter—if it’s not too much to ask.”

  Ella rolled her eyes and dropped the baby monitor on her towel. “So are we good to go running in the morning, Hanna?”

  “Sorry to disappoint, Ella, but I don’t run. Like, ever. I’m more of a walker.”

  “Speed walking’s good.”

  Hanna thought of her stroll down Main Street earlier. That sounded much more appealing to her. But Ella’s face was alight with a hope that pinched Hanna’s compassion nerve.

  “Sure,” was all she got out before Ella smothered her again. All at once, Hanna’s getaway felt a lot less like a vacation.

  FIVE

  HEAD-BUTTING

  Her eye half met Captain Wentworth’s, a bow, a curtsy passed; she heard his voice . . . a few minutes ended it.

  —Jane Austen, Persuasion

  Hanna woke obscenely early the next day. Glaring at her alarm, she silently cursed her inability to use the word no as she clicked it off. She doubted very much if her nephews were even up at such an hour, even though they had always been early risers. Making her way into the bathroom, Hanna silenced the resentful voice in her head—the one that told her she should still be sleeping. After splashing water on her face, smoothing her dull hair back into a ponytail, and brushing her teeth, she felt better. She quickly traded her nightshirt for shorts and a tank top, layered on her worn gray hoodie (“old reliable” as she had lovingly christened it), then stepped into a pair of tennis shoes.

  Ella was already downstairs, stretching and looking more attractive than anyone had a right to at such an hour. She wore a tight white T-shirt and hot pink bottoms that barely qualified as shorts for all their length. Her long, dark, wavy hair had been left down. Hanna never understood how people could exercise without pulling their hair back. Sure you looked sexier with your hair down, but once the sweat started flying, did it really matter?

  “Morning,” Ella greeted, bouncing up off the floor and taking a water bottle from the fridge. “Wow, Hanna, we need to get you out in the sun.”

  Hanna looked down at her long, slender, pasty legs and suddenly wished her own shorts were longer—even though they had a good six inches on Ella’s. “Yeah, good luck with that. I’m pretty sure I’m like one-sixteenth albino.”

  Ella’s answering laugh turned into a startled choking noise when Mary joined them.

  “Hey, Mare. Coming with us?” Hanna said, hoping the forced brightness in her tone masked her doubt.

  “Of course she’s not!” Ella blurted. “Mary’s, like, allergic to exercise.”

  Mary’s brown eyes flashed. “I am not.”

  “But you never come with me,” Ella said, flummoxed.

  “You’ve never asked me. You just assume I don’t want to go.”

  “You’re usually still asleep,” Ella pointed out.

  “Well, she’s here now,” Hanna cut in before Mary could retort. If there was one thing she detested, it was bickering. “Do you want anything to eat, sis? Or some water?”

  “I’m good.”

  “You sure?” Hanna pressed. “You shouldn’t exercise on an empty stomach.”

  Mary ignored her, trailing Ella outside like a lost puppy. Hanna followed, shaking her head. How was it that she always, always found herself caught between a rock (Mary) and a hard place (Ella)? If Hanna had thought that she would get a refreshing, brisk walk this morning, she was sadly mistaken. Ella, evidently deciding that Hanna’s company wasn’t worth the addition of Mary’s, abandoned the speed-walking idea completely and took off at a sprint. Mary followed, not to be left behind let alone outdone by Ella. Hanna had never been one for following trends, so she slowed to a stroll. There was an early-morning chill in the air that had her pulling her hood up. The sky was clear as the sun opened its eyes over the ocean, illuminating the foamy surf with its watery light. The rhythm of the tide felt like a beckoning call to Hanna, drawing her toward it with its hypnotic, lull.

  Hanna made her way down the beach at a deliciously lazy pace. Moments later, her sluggish progress came to a standstill when she looked up to see Ella flying back toward her—all alone.

  ☼

  Derick grasped his right foot from behind and stretched his quad. The sun was almost up, making its debut in the pale predawn sky. He’d gone to bed early the night before, his sincere fatigue supplying his excuse for missing the barbecue. After a good twelve hours’ sleep, he felt like a new man. Rising around five a.m. this morning, he’d sat on the steps just outside his room and listened to the waxing and waning of the tide. With his eyes closed and the salty air in his mouth, his senses were finely tuned to the ever-increasing feeling of homecoming. It had graced him very few times in his life—that sensation of being in the right place at the right time, accompanied by an almost audible “click”—like the last piece of a puzzle snapping into place: yesterday with Sophie, his first America’s Cup
victory, the first time he’d taken the helm of the Laconia.

  He felt it again now—his flesh and blood and bones sighing with relief as he settled into the path meant for him. Having an excess of energy this morning, he decided to start the day off right by going for a run. Since he’d already gone back to the Laconia for his things the night before, he went the other way. There wasn’t much on the north beach, at least not for a mile or so. Then Derick found himself looking at a sign that read, Old Lyme Carnival. The gate was closed, but it seemed that all the necessary components were there—bumper cars, roller coasters, a Ferris wheel, and games that stole money with their promise of oversized plush toys.

  After turning back, Derick decided he wasn’t ready to go home yet, and pushed on toward the breakwater. Maybe he would visit the lighthouse—Sophie had called it the “Lymelight”—this morning. But as he approached the pier, he saw something ahead that foiled his plans.

  A figure lay flat on its back in the sand just ahead, and two more leaned over the prone person. Derick hurried up to the little gathering, seeing as he drew near that it was three women, one of whom lay unconscious on the sand. At his approach, one of the three looked up, her mouth popping open as she took him in. She bore a striking resemblance to a brunette Barbie doll. Derick ignored the feeling that she probably recognized him, kneeling down in the sand beside her. “Is she okay?”

  To his surprise, the answer came from Barbie girl’s companion in the gray hoodie.

  “She passed out,” she answered without looking up. “Ran for a mile straight without warming up—with no water and nothing in her stomach.”

  An overpowering sense of déjà vu washed over Derick, but it dissipated as Barbie girl said, “Mary’s so stupid.” She rolled her bright green eyes at him, smiling in an embarrassed sort of way.

  Derick couldn’t help noticing how attractive the girl was, even at such a moment. Ashamed of his weakness, he pushed two fingers just under the unconscious girl’s jaw—Mary, was it?

  “She’s got a pulse and it looks like she’s breathing,” he declared, ignoring the feeling that he was missing something.

  “Let’s sit her up and try to get some water in her,” hoodie girl suggested. It was immediately clear to Derick that she had more of an invested connection to this Mary than Barbie girl did. For some reason, at the sound of her voice an image burst in his mind—a memory, obscured as if he viewed it through darkened glass.

  Summer rain, drops of moisture on pale skin, soft blue eyes the color of an early-morning sky . . .

  The memory dissolved, leaving only a vague, niggling impression in its place as Derick leaned over Mary. He eased his hands under her so that he could use his own weight as leverage to lift her, then drew back when his head collided painfully with hoodie girl’s. Pressing a hand to his forehead to stop the throbbing, Derick looked up to apologize—and that was when his heart stopped.

  Summer rain, drops of moisture on pale skin, soft blue eyes the color of an early-morning sky . . .

  Staring back at him were those pale blue eyes—eyes set in a face he’d memorized at one time, then went to the ends of the earth to forget.

  ☼

  For an instant, all Hanna could see was static and pops of light. It was almost comical, like in the cartoons when someone bumped their head and had a halo of stars. As the gray retreated from the edges of her vision, she knew something was wrong. She had obviously been too worried about Mary to realize that the voice was familiar to her, that she had entered that place in her life without warning—that point in time she had both dreamt of and dreaded.

  Her senses were on overkill, the roaring tide almost deafening in her ears, briny air thick in her nostrils, the tiny, sharp crystals digging into her skin as she knelt in the sand.

  The gray-green eyes staring back at her were warm at first, concerned and caring. But as they took her in, they cooled to something she couldn’t name before hardening to recognition.

  In that moment Hanna knew—more than she’d ever known anything—she was the last person on earth Derick Wentworth wanted to see.

  SIX

  TEARS and TOURMALINES

  A few months had seen the beginning and the end of their acquaintance.

  —Jane Austen, Persuasion

  The ocean air breezed lazily through Hanna’s open window, stirring her hair with invisible fingers. She sat on her bed, turning a small object over in her hands, her back flush with the headboard and her eyes fixed on the impending storm outside. Even in monochromatic tones the view was breathtaking. The line where the tortured water kissed the brooding sky was fuzzy, smudged like an impressionistic painting. The weather coincided perfectly with Hanna’s mood, almost feeling like a friendly embrace.

  Everything that took place on the beach after Mary’s fainting episode was meshed together in one blurry image. Hanna vaguely remembered the water bottle she’d been holding slipping from her fingers, serving as Mary’s wake-up call as it smacked her in the face. Derick—just thinking the name gave her a pang now—and a suddenly concerned Ella helped Mary back to Uppercross while Hanna tried to recover from the shock of seeing him enough to follow. She managed to reach the door first and opened it for the others. Derick and Ella tried guiding Mary to the couch, but instead she directed them to her room, where she had lain ever since.

  Now the boys were outside with Charles, giving their mother “a piece of quiet,” as CJ so eloquently put it. Hanna, torn between the desire to hide in the house for the entire summer and the urge to relieve Charles of the boys (just for something to take her mind off him), settled instead for a self-inflicted time out in her room.

  Hanna’s thoughts weren’t at all what one might expect after “bumping” into her first love. They weren’t derailed by all the tiny ways Derick had changed or how he was the same. They weren’t even consumed by the sensation that broke upon her at the sight of him—at his seeming at once so familiar and so foreign—like a complete stranger she had known all her life.

  No, it was not any of these things that had Hanna’s attention. It was the object in her hands and the memory it carried. The box, made of dark cherrywood, was shaped and filed to smooth angles that looked like the facets of a diamond. Hanna twirled the box with her fingertips in deliberation.

  Her heart sped up now, at the prospect of opening it again after so long. After hesitating for just a beat, during which Hanna acknowledged and subsequently ignored the warning in her head, she went for it.

  The hinge gave a protesting squeak as she pried the lid open, and then her breath caught in her chest.

  There it was, still as polished as the day it had come to her. Didn’t this piece of jewelry know that time had moved on? That she had changed and it had no right to remain untarnished? Reaching out a shaking hand, she let her fingertips glide over the polished stones. Hanna knew that the memory was about to press upon her with pristine clarity and terrible beauty, but the damage had already been done. And after all, wasn’t that the point?

  She could feel herself being sucked back into the vacuum of time, and in some masochistic way she almost craved it . . .

  The Laconia swayed lazily, rocking them in her arms. Hanna had her back pressed to Derick’s chest, feeling as if she could stay in this moment infinitely. Why hadn’t anyone invented a device that could stop time? Someone should really see to that.

  Derick’s contented voice broke the stillness. “Do you like it?”

  “Oh, I’m way past like,” Hanna corrected, releasing a sigh of happiness as she held her left hand up. It was the most unique engagement ring she had ever seen. The silver band swirled up on each side of the stones, like arms reaching out to embrace a treasure: a large moonstone in the center and smaller green tourmalines on either side. How could Derick have known that she would pick out something unorthodox herself, if given the chance? How did he manage to capture the color of the sea and the two colors that fought for dominion in his eyes in one ring?

  Derick dro
pped a kiss on the top of her head. “Now we need to set a date. I’m thinking . . . next week?”

  Hanna sat up, pivoted in his arms with a laugh on her lips. She had expected to see him grinning, smirking, anything that would indicate he was teasing her. “You’re not serious.”

  Derick pulled his hands through her hair. “I don’t see any reason to wait. We both know what we want. Why not go for it?”

  Hanna sat up out of his arms, tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “But don’t you think next week is a little soon?”

  “It is soon,” he allowed. “But the deadline for starting my race is in two weeks, so I don’t really see an alternative.”

  Ah. Derick’s circumnavigation. When he’d asked her to marry him, she just assumed she had a window of distraction-free time to plan the wedding while he was gone.

  “I guess I figured the wedding would be after your race.”

  Awkward silence. “I’ll be gone for six months, Hanna.”

  “I know that. It’ll be awful and I’ll miss you like crazy. But it’s better than eloping over the weekend, don’t you think?” Hanna hadn’t meant for sarcasm to play any part in this conversation, but it crept into her voice all the same. “Weddings don’t happen overnight, Derick. They take time.”

  Derick was sitting so still, he could have been a statue. “I don’t want to be without you for six months, Hanna. If you’re okay with being away from me that long, then I think we have a problem.”

  This was getting out of hand. Hanna stood, pulling Derick to his feet and circling her arms around his waist. She kissed him softly, then looked up into his face. “Why don’t we talk about this tomorrow? It’s late and I think we’re both tired.”

  Derick said nothing. The only indication that he heard her was in the tightening of his jaw. Stretching up onto her toes, Hanna drew his lips down to hers again, having to apply a little more force than usual.