Her Tie-Dyed Heart

by Sarita Leone

  When she didn’t back away, he leaned closer. So close, the tip of his nose brushed her hair. He sniffed.

  Speaking with his lips near her temple, he lowered his voice. “But this rose doesn’t smell like a rose…it’s more like a blueberry rose…”

  She inhaled. Held the breath. Turned her head ever-so slightly.

  Steve couldn’t help himself. He had to taste her lips.

  His mouth found hers and it was just as he’d imagined it would be. Soft. Moist. Sweet.

  With a moan, he deepened the kiss. For a second her lips didn’t part, and a flash of uneasiness shot up his spine. They hardly knew each other—hell, they didn’t know each other, and this kiss could get him a fat lip. Or worse. His nuts tightened in anticipation.

  No worries.

  Her lips parted, and a soft sigh escaped her. So sweet and feminine.

  She surprised him again. Tender turned sexy—in a heartbeat. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, and she kissed him the way every man dreams a woman will someday kiss him.

  Steve’s cock came to attention. Every nerve ending hummed, his whole body alive, fueled by desire and need. It had been so long—too damn long…

  He pressed her back against the sand, covered her body with his. He ground himself against her hip, moaning as he sucked her lower lip between his teeth.

  “Mm—oh…I—ah…”

  Throaty murmurings, they only excited him further. She wriggled against him, her toned thighs twining with his, moving more excitedly with each kiss.

  Then it hit him. Hard.

  “Steve—I—ah…”

  He opened his eyes. Looked into her face. There was no need for words. Her eyes spoke, loud and clear.

  Pushing against the sand with his palms, Steve raised himself and stood. He looked down at her, all disheveled and girl-next-door sexy. Raking a hand through his hair, he turned toward the shoreline.

  With an erection practically banging its way out of the zipper of his jeans, he stalked down to the water’s edge and did what any man would do in that situation. He began to walk. Fast.

  Chapter 7

  Sleep had been an elusive bedfellow. Annie’s eyes felt like she’d slept in the surf, so gritty and tired it was a chore to focus. The little one had been snoring softly when she’d let herself into their bedroom. Sienna hadn’t stirred all night and was still asleep.

  She, however, had stared at the ceiling all night long.

  Incredible how a kiss could stir so many emotions.

  Rising with the sun did have its advantages. Two macramé plant hangers lay in the grass beside her chair. It was not her nature to sit still, except when channeling her creative energy. When it became obvious that she would get no rest at all, Annie grabbed her supplies, made a pot of tea, and took everything outdoors.

  The porch railing was an ideal height for working with the long lengths of jute required to knot the planters. A low stool, found in a corner of the potting shed, kept her off the ground. The conditions, conducive to meditative thinking and isolated productivity, suited her mood.

  She’d tugged on shorts and tied a halter top on, so as the sun rose higher in the sky her back warmed. Chasing some of the chill from around her heart, her mother would have said. Motherly wisdom stayed with a daughter long after a mother was gone.

  So many people missing from her life. So many empty spots…each person gone, impossible to replace.

  Clarisse poked her head out the back door. “I thought I might find you out here.” She held a cup of tea in one hand. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Not at all. And you don’t need to ask—after all, I’m the one invading your yard, remember?”

  Clarisse had dressed. Pedal pushers, once navy blue but now faded and patched paired with a black Keep On Truckin’ t-shirt. Her feet were stuck in leather scuffs. Not the kind of outfit one would expect from the over-sixty crowd.

  As she lowered herself to the top step leading down to the yard, Clarisse shook her head. Her waist-length braided gray hair slid across her shoulder, an emphatic movement to underscore her feelings.

  “I could only be invaded by those I don’t want in my home. So, my dear, you and Sienna could never, ever invade. I love having you here. Can’t you tell?”

  A lump rose in Annie’s throat. She concentrated on the intricate spiraling knots for a moment. When she’d made a four-inch spiral, she threaded two oversize wooden beads onto the proper strings, knotted them into the pattern, and let that chain drop.

  “You’re very kind.” She picked up the next chain on the planter and began to replicate the spiral. The task went quickly now that she’d decided how big it would be.

  “It’s not kindness, I assure you. Haven’t you heard? Why, I can’t believe Brian’s parents haven’t told you the news.”

  Uh oh.

  “News?”

  Clarisse sipped her tea, then went on. “Yes, the news, my dear. Why, don’t you know I’m a feeble-minded, doddering old fool? And a mean, crotchety one at that?”

  Annie hadn’t been raised by a pack of wolves in the wilderness. She knew when to refrain from commenting. She finished the second spiral, added beads, tied it off and let it drop.

  The other woman had no intention of letting the conversation drop as easily as the macramé fell from Annie’s fingers.

  “Come on, confess. You can’t imagine I don’t know what they’re saying, can you? I may be old—there’s no getting around that grim fact of life—but I’m not incapacitated. Surely you can see that, can’t you?”

  Spreading her arms, pulling the incongruous t-shirt wide, Clarisse waited. Annie was pretty sure she would wait, frozen, until she got a reply.

  Diplomacy wasn’t a strong point.

  “I never thought you would be incapacitated.” The final spiral required nearly no attention, her fingers took over and left her mind free, so she met the other woman’s penetrating stare. “Really, I didn’t. If I had thought that was the case, I wouldn’t have brought my daughter to Lobster Cove, would I?”

  “I suppose not.” Clarisse dropped her pose. She took a swallow of tea, a thoughtful expression on her face. “But you were told I’m feeble, weren’t you? Please, tell me the truth.”

  The beads went on. The strand tied off. Then, it fell into place beside the other two. The planter was nearly complete. Now all she had to do was gather up the three strands, knot them together to form a bowl for a hanging pot, then join them in a decorative knot strong enough to support pot, soil, and plant from a hook on a ceiling.

  She picked up her mug of tea. Took a sip. Weighed her words.

  No good ever came of lying. She taught that to her daughter. If she wasn’t willing to walk the walk, she shouldn’t talk the talk.

  “No one ever said you’re feeble…”

  “Aha! I knew it! They did send you to look into what’s happening up here.”

  Annie shook her head in denial. “No, that’s not it at all. I admit, I think Brian’s parents are concerned about you, but that’s because they love you. Not because they think you’re feeble. Oh, hell, no! That word? It never even came into the conversation—I give you my word it didn’t.”

  “I believe you. But if I may be so bold, what did come into the conversation?”

  No sense stalling.

  “Look, it was no big deal, really. I needed a change of environment, a different place with new faces and no sad memories attached to it. And they’re of course concerned about you, being all alone in this big place with no one to keep you company. That’s natural; they love you, and it’s got nothing to do with anyone thinking you’re incapable or incapacitated or any other ‘in’ word you can dream up.”

  She let that sink in.

  “If we’re laying it all on the line here, the truth is that this is more about me and Sienna than it is about you. Yes, we all love you and want whatever’s best and convenient for you, but that’s not the reason I’m here. Maybe I’m too selfish to move across the country to benefit
someone I barely know. I’m just not that good a person, Clarisse.”

  A protest would have come, but Annie held her hand up. If the tactic worked for cops and cars, it should work with elderly relations. It did, but Clarisse waggled her eyebrows in silent disagreement nonetheless.

  Annie took a moment, then went right to the heart of it.

  “You and me? We each needed something—or someone. Our visiting takes care of both of us. But the one who matters most, to me at least, is Sienna. She’s already been robbed—from birth—of one of the most important figures in her life. It’s something I can never replace, a hole she’s always going to have in her life. I can’t help that.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. She hadn’t felt it form, but the wetness on her skin caught her off guard. With a slow fingertip, she brushed it away.

  “There may be things I can’t give back to my daughter, but there are other things I can make sure she’s got in her life.” She caught Clarisse’s gaze and held it. No room for miscommunication where her kid was concerned. “You’re one of the bits of her life I can gift to her. You’re her family; the same blood in your veins runs in hers. This place—it’s part of her history. I don’t want her to miss any of that. So, really, the biggest reason for our being in Lobster Cove isn’t you. It’s not Brian’s mom and dad. It’s not me. It’s Sienna…and that is the honest truth. It’s the only truth I know, the one where my sweet girl gets all she can get out of the life I can give her. That’s all I know, Clarisse.”

  Birdsong filled the air. A salty breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves on the poplars beside the greenhouse. Kissed by the sun’s rays, cradled in the cocoon of small-town America, it felt as if they were in the most peaceful place on the planet.

  Annie squared her shoulders. She picked up all the jute runners, separating them into place in her hands. She began the fun task of creating the pot basket.

  Clarisse’s teacup was empty, so she placed it on the wooden step beside her. Reaching out, she put a hand on Annie’s arm. She stopped working and looked up into the other woman’s face.

  A smile, pleating the wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. And, tears, slipping slowly down the paper-thin complexion.

  “My dear, you don’t need to know anything else. Your priorities are so straight, and your heart so full and open—good Lord, that child upstairs couldn’t ask for anything more out of life. You’re a good mother, Annie. And I’m blessed to have you and Sienna here with me. Thank you.”

  Clarisse wiped her cheeks with the back of her free hand. A small squeeze, then she took her hand from Annie’s arm and set it on her lap.

  “Thank you. Not just for your kind words, which I appreciate and oh, boy sometimes need more than anything! And not only because you’ve opened your home to us—which of course means the world to us. But thank you for letting us be part of your family, for welcoming us with open arms and just pulling us in and making us feel as if this is the exact place we’re meant to be. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, my dear. Very, very welcome.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes. Annie looked over once; Clarisse’s eyes were closed against the sunshine, her head tipped back and a small smile on her lips.

  She finished the plant hanger. Untied it from the porch railing. Picked up the other two, and held them loosely on her knees.

  “I should go wake Sienna.”

  “I’m afraid I tired her out last night. We did play a rousing few hands of Old Maid.” Clarisse opened one eye. “And I was, every time, the old maid.”

  No surprise. Sienna had a way with games, and usually came out on top.

  Clarisse sat straight, opening both eyes and picking up her empty cup.

  “Before you wake her, I want to let you know about a bit of…well, a bit of unsavory news. I got a phone call just before I came out here. I didn’t want to spoil the peacefulness we were sharing, so I didn’t say anything but I do want you to know—and without little ears to overhear.”

  A chill swept through her body.

  “What is it?”

  “Sometime in the night, probably during the high tide, a body washed up in the cove. A man—a young man, apparently. I’m sure everyone will be talking about it. I just wanted you to hear it from me, without Sienna around.”

  Annie could hardly catch her breath. She’d left Steve on the beach last night.

  What if he went in search of the mermaid city and…?

  Oh, no—it couldn’t be!

  Chapter 8

  “When can we go to the beach?”

  “Sienna, how many times have you asked that question this morning? Really, do you have any idea?”

  Annie’s usually wide streak of patience was thin and challenged, having endured the shock of the morning’s news and then the never-ending barrage of beach requests. She couldn’t tell the kid that there was no way to swim or build sand castles as long as police barricades made the area off-limits. And telling her a body had turned up just where she intended to spread the faded beach quilt—well, that wasn’t happening. No better way to give the girl nightmares than inform her dead people were showing up in the sand.

  “No. I didn’t count.” She sat where Clarisse sat earlier. Now, instead of a teacup on the step, a pink plastic egg. The Silly Putty from inside the egg stretched across Sienna’s knee.

  “Take my word for it, you’ve asked a lot.” Annie twisted the length of jute in her hands more emphatically than was absolutely necessary. “A real lot. And my answer is the same every time, isn’t it? We’re not going to the beach today. And if you keep bugging me, we won’t be going tomorrow, either. So just cool it, okay?”

  “But what then, if not the beach? What can we do?”

  The macramé planter, her fifth so far—and the day was still young—came together like a dream. The jute was a favorite, some she’d tie-dyed herself last month. The colors were vibrant, and psychedelic. So alive, it made her smile.

  This one wasn’t going anywhere. She’d find a plant and a pot, and hang it somewhere—as long as Clarisse didn’t mind. And if she did mind, the planter would come in handy when they moved on.

  “I don’t know, honey.” She stretched her arms, then her back. Too much time on the little stool. “I’m sure there’s lots to do. Places to go and things to explore. We’ll ask. Maybe Clarisse has a good idea.”

  Just then, the screen door slapped open. Clarisse came out, holding bright red ice pops. She handed one to Annie and one to Sienna, then sat beside the girl and licked the one she’d saved for herself.

  Almost instantly, after the second or third lick, their hostess’s tongue turned cherry red.

  Sienna covered her mouth with a hand, giggling as she realized what the ice pops were doing.

  “What’s so funny, missy?” Clarisse winked at Annie, then opened her mouth wide, letting her scarlet tongue slide along the ice pop in full view. When the little girl pointed, she pulled her eyebrows high. “What?”

  “Your tongue!” Her daughter pointed a fast finger.

  Clarisse stuck her tongue out all the way, crossed her eyes and looked down. She wiggled her eyebrows, pulled a face and finally gave up.

  “I can’t see my tongue. My nose seems to be in the way. What’s the problem with it?”

  Annie watched her sweet girl giggle and lean against the woman beside her. They’d bonded instantly and were now fast friends. The pairing was working out better than she’d dare hope it might.

  Sienna gasped, then licked her ice pop. It was already beginning to melt, trailing a stripe of red down the side of her hand.

  “No problem—not if you like a red tongue!” Sienna collapsed into a new wave of giggles.

  Annie met Clarisse’s gaze. A silent invitation to join the silly parade.

  “How’s mine?” She stuck it out as far as she could, mimicked the cross-eyed expression Clarisse had pulled off, and was rewarded with a fresh wave of laughter—this time from both parties seated on the
back step.

  It doesn’t get much better than this.

  “Mama, yours is red, too. More even than Grammy’s!”

  Grammy? The two must have come to some kind of arrangement while she was—well, while she was doing whatever she’d been doing with Steve on the beach last night. She was trying not to think about it, what they had been doing. And, how it made her feel. Mostly, how asinine she must look this morning after running off like a virgin at an orgy.

  Back to Grammy and company, she reminded herself.

  A nod from their hostess. “It is at that, my dear.”Clarisse gave her pop a long suck, smiling around the red ice. “What about yours, our little gigglepuss? Let’s see that tongue before we declare a winner in the red-tongue contest.”

  With much giggling, Sienna poked hers out. Of course, they made a huge display, Clarisse covering her eyes, and Annie gasping so hard she began to cough—which brought more giggles.

  “That’s it, you win! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so red.” She turned to Clarisse. “Do you agree?”

  “Oh, yes. There’s no doubt, we have a winner—a blue-ribbon, best-in-show winner, I believe.”

  “Really? At least I win at something.” Sienna concentrated on licking the mess in her hand. The day grew warmer by the minute, and the ice melted quickly. “Even if we can’t go to the beach…”

  The beach again. Just when she thought the kid had forgotten the blasted beach, it was back in the discussion. Annie bit hard on the ice pop. It was better than uttering a biting word, wasn’t it? Not great for her teeth, but good for her daughter’s spirit.

  She never wanted to be one of those super-strict, spirit-crushing parents. She didn’t want to play it so loose and easy her daughter turned into a wild thing, but she definitely wanted the kid to learn to think for herself. Make decisions appropriate for her well-being. Be creative. Crazy. Have fun. Yet, still know the difference between right and wrong.

  A hard line, parenting. Especially when she walked it alone. But there had never been a person to share the responsibilities so it wasn’t as if she missed that lean-on-me support. Much. She hadn’t had it, but she could imagine how incredible it must be to share the biggest joy in life with someone.