Until Autumn Falls

by Elana Johnson

  He met her at her door, his hands stroking down her arms as his eyes looked, searched, examined for what was wrong.

  “I’m fine,” she said, though she liked the concern in his dark eyes, the thrill of his touch as it twirled through her insides.

  “It’s not like you to forget things,” he murmured.

  “And it’s not like you to freak out over a half an hour.” She tilted her head back and peered up into his face. “Now you know how I felt when you were a whole day late.”

  The softness in his face disappeared. “You still mad about that?”

  She wasn’t, and she shook her head no. “Did you think I left town?”

  “The thought crossed my mind, yes.” He draped his arm around her shoulders and they turned toward the house. “And I sort of went into a tailspin.”

  “But you didn’t call for thirty minutes.”

  “Didn’t want you to feel rushed.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad you came. Jared’s been hinting at the fact that the reason Betsy Ross broke down on our last fishing trip was because I’d been kissing you on the boat.”

  Hilary groaned. “He’s a believer in the superstitions?”

  “Not as much as me.” Tripp reached the gate. “But he won’t say anything now that you’re here.”

  “Wait.” She put her palm on the fence so he couldn’t swing it out. “Is that why you’ve been at my place for the past two weeks? Because we can’t…because you think that’s why Betsy Ross broke down?”

  Tripp shrugged. “One could argue that it was just bad luck, that cable breaking. Cables wear out, you know?”

  “A rational person would say that.”

  He bent his head toward her, his lips skating along her jaw. “But you get upset when I don’t come in from a trip on time, so there’s no need to tempt fate.”

  A shiver ran through her with his warmth so close, his words so husky. “Which means no more kissing on the boat.”

  “Right.”

  The whole superstition about boats dug at Hilary’s patience. She’d enjoyed sleeping on the boat, the gentle rocking of the waves oddly relaxing. “Don’t you have another boat?”

  “A few, yes.”

  “Don’t they have staterooms?”

  “One does.” He pulled the gate open. “But she’s docked way down in San Diego right now.”

  “San Diego?” Hilary didn’t know Tripp ever left Redwood Bay. She’d never noticed him leaving for more than his deep sea trips.

  “Yeah, a buddy of mine rents her from me for his whale watching business.” Tripp faced his family and sighed. “You ready for this?”

  She smiled and snaked her arm around his waist. “Of course. I like your family.”

  He gazed down at her, pure adoration and affection streaming from his eyes. “I do, too. Millie brought some leftover pastries from Diana’s bakery. I think I’ve eaten about six lemon bars already.”

  Hilary giggled as he patted his stomach and said, “I might not be able to stuff anything else in, but Polly went and made her famous sweet and sour meatballs.”

  “I’m sure you’ll manage,” Hilary said as she double-checked that her jacket was zipped high enough to cover her scars.

  Two hours ago, she’d been ready to show the world who she wanted to be. But now, faced with the reality of it, she pulled the zipper a bit higher and promised herself she’d try again next week.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tripp sensed more than anything that Hilary had something on her mind. Something she hadn’t told him. Something bothering her.

  He hoped to the stars and back that it wasn’t his clumsy mention of getting married. She hadn’t reacted the way he’d hoped—not even a little bit. He’d never heard her voice turn so scratchy, so squeaky, so shrill.

  Feeling foolish and embarrassed, he’d taken her home and retreated to his own house. He’d put in a load of laundry just so he wouldn’t be a liar, but he’d forgotten to move it to the dryer before coming to Polly’s. He’d gone out to the backyard and lain in the hammock he’d hung in one of the trees. He’d tried to sleep, but thoughts of Hilary kept him awake.

  He’d spent a couple of hours working through how he could fix what he’d done. Then a wave of anger would drown out his rational thoughts. Several minutes would pass where he saw red that he was the one who had to cater to her every need. What about what he wanted?

  Then he’d feel like the most selfish man on the planet, and he’d cycle back to what he could do to rectify the situation.

  And when she hadn’t shown up…. Tripp swallowed the desperation still pulsing just beneath his lungs. At first, he hadn’t worried. People ran late, even if Hilary had never been one of those people. By a quarter past, he’d become downright frantic. Sophie had seen it first, and she and Polly managed to get him in the house and talking.

  He hadn’t told them much, just that Hilary was never late and he was worried. For five terrifying minutes, he’d even thought that his blunder about getting married had scared her into leaving town immediately.

  “You’re quiet today,” Hilary said, pulling Tripp from inside his mind.

  “Nothing to say.”

  “Sophie’s tried to talk to you three times.” Hilary kept her face close to his so the others couldn’t overhear. “What’s wrong?”

  He glanced down the table to where Sophie sat. She looked away, but not before he caught the worry in her eyes. “Not feeling very social.”

  Hilary didn’t say anything else, just went back to her still mostly full plate. He pushed his concerns to the back of his mind and called down to Sophie, “What are you doing now that you’ve closed the Sandy Tortilla?”

  She smiled at him, her eyes kind and thankful. Tripp had always loved Sophie like a sister. “Getting ready for the baby.” She patted her stomach. “She should be here soon.”

  “When’s Mont coming home?” he asked, though he’d asked her last week too.

  “Ten days.” Sophie beamed. “He’s not auditioning for anything until the next year, so we’ll be home together for a couple of months with the baby.”

  Fondness made Tripp smile. “That sounds amazing.” Hilary stiffened next to him, and he slid his hand onto her leg and down to her knee. “Not sure what I’d do with a baby myself.”

  Sophie laughed, and it sounded a bit on the hysterical side. “I’m terrified. I know how to grill burritos. I know nothing about being a mom.”

  Polly pounced, soothing Sophie and saying she’d do just fine as a mom. Tripp took the opportunity to escape from the conversation by standing and taking his plate to the trashcan. Jared joined him there, and Tripp gave him a glare. “What?”

  “Millie said she saw you at Genn’s.” Jared at least had the decency to keep his voice barely audible.

  “She tell anyone else?”

  “Just me.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You guys are getting married?”

  Tripp shook his head in tight little bursts. “She’s not ready.”

  “Neither’s Millie.” Jared sighed. “But you can be engaged even if you’re not ready to be married. Not everyone is Sophie and Mont and gets married six weeks after the proposal.”

  “I didn’t buy a ring,” Tripp said. “I was just looking at prices.” And now that he had them, he could make more definitive plans. “Polly helped me realize what Hil might like.”

  “You know why Millie was there, don’t you?” Jared’s expression darkened.

  “No.”

  “She was exchanging the ring I bought for her. Apparently, I got the wrong cut.” He lifted his soda to his lips and drained the last of it. “So I wouldn’t pick anything out, cousin. Let Hilary do the heavy lifting on that one.” He tossed his empty can in the trashcan, where they still loitered. “Then you won’t be offended that the woman you love didn’t like the ring you picked out for her.”

  Jared stalked away, leaving behind the bitterness in his words. Tripp watched him for several seconds. He touched Mil
lie with affection, grinned at her, the love for her obvious. So he had his feelings hurt. Didn’t mean their relationship wasn’t solid, wasn’t worth fighting for, wasn’t healthy and loving.

  Hilary approached him, a look of pure fear etched in her eyes. “What?” he asked.

  “I—” She cleared her throat. “I want to show your family my scars.” She glanced around like an unknown enemy might jump out and attack her at any moment. “I mean, I wasn’t going to, but you do things you don’t want to, and they love you, and worry about you, and well, I want them to be my family too.”

  He searched her face for the real meaning behind her words, but he couldn’t find it. Was this another conversation about marriage? Or was she simply saying she wanted to trust his family with her past the way she’d trusted him?

  “Will you—will you help me?” She swallowed like she’d tried to eat an entire apple without chewing it.

  “Sure.” He put his hand on her lower back to guide her, but she didn’t budge. “Maybe you can work up to it for next weekend.”

  She shook her head, that determined edge entering her eyes. He loved that look. It spoke of her strength, the iron she possessed, the way she wasn’t going to let someone else keep her from doing what she wanted. Sure, sometimes Tripp found her stubbornness to be less than admirable, but right now, he adored it.

  “Hey, guys,” he called. “Hilary has something she wants to talk to you about.” He tucked his hand into hers and squeezed, trying to give her his extra strength.

  She leaned into him and they crossed the patio back to the covered area. Jared met Tripp’s eye with a question in his, and Tripp gave a tiny shake of his head. Sophie also volleyed her gaze from Tripp to Hilary and back, her nerves laid open for anyone to see.

  The longer the silence stretched, the more worried Polly and Millie became too. “Hilary?” he asked, finally tearing his eyes from his sister to look at Hilary.

  She reached for her throat, where the zipper lay right against her throat. “Okay, so I left…my life a couple of years ago, and I’ve been hiding—” She glanced at Tripp, those beautiful eyes wide and clear.

  He nodded for her to go on. “It’s okay,” he said. “They won’t care.” He noticed Millie scoot closer to Jared, who shifted his feet left, then right.

  The sound of the zipper rent the air, and Tripp kept his attention on his family. He tried to send them good vibes, the ability to react appropriately, to show love and kindness.

  “I was attacked.” She shrugged out of her jacket, and Tripp watched his sister’s eyes fall to Hilary’s left shoulder. “He left some scars.”

  Polly stared at Hilary’s scars, then lifted her eyes back to Tripp’s and finally Hilary’s. “Oh, honey.” She swarmed, bringing Sophie and Millie with her. The women clustered around Hilary, who allowed one tear to fall before she quickly swiped it away.

  Tripp got jostled to the side, and he stepped away to join Jared. “All those scarves,” Jared said. “I knew she was hiding something. I thought maybe a big birthmark or something.” He glanced at Tripp and back to Hilary. “I see why she’s not ready to get married.”

  Tripp heard a noise and realized he’d made it, like he’d been hit. He flinched away from the truthfulness in Jared’s words and nodded, his jaw tightening no matter how much he wished it wouldn’t. “She wants to be part of the family,” Tripp said, his voice so much lower than normal.

  Jared nodded and joined the women, nudging Millie aside until he could envelop Hilary in his arms. He leaned his head close to her ear and said something, but Tripp couldn’t hear from so far away.

  Hilary’s eyes closed and she nodded. Jared stepped back, his emotion storming across his face as he returned to Tripp’s side. He didn’t speak, just clapped his hand on Tripp’s shoulder and nodded.

  Tripp glanced back at Hilary, who begged him with her eyes to come save her from his sister, who had two fingers pushing Hilary’s tank top to the side. He flew to her side, swatting Polly’s hand away from Hilary’s chest. “Hey, you ready to go?” He met Polly’s eye. “Is it okay if we head out?”

  Her face was flushed, and she looked like she might cry. “Let me box up some leftovers for you.” She rushed off before Tripp could protest, and he took Hilary out front while they waited. She slipped back into her sweatshirt, zipped it to her throat, and leaned on him like she couldn’t stand on her own.

  * * * *

  Tripp thought he should’ve sold his house to Jared for how often he was there. He’d practically moved in with Hilary, his toothbrush in her bathroom, his razor in her shower. She brought him a hot lunch almost every day while he worked in the shop and his office, and he wondered how he’d ever survived with a peanut butter sandwich and a granola bar.

  With only three days until October, Tripp booked a deep sea expedition for the following week. Because it was the off-season, and thus more dangerous, he’d just made a lot of money. Hilary showed up with chicken and waffles, the syrup in a container that looked like it had come from Lucy’s.

  “Want to go down to the beach this afternoon?” he asked her. “Sophie asked me to check something at her stand.”

  “Sure.”

  Tripp moaned at the first taste of fried chicken and maple syrup, his eyes rolling back in his head. “I think I’ve gained twenty pounds.”

  She laughed. “You have not.” She squeezed his biceps. “Maybe in muscles from all that lumber lifting.”

  “Going out on Betsy Ross in a couple of weeks. Just booked a trip.” He watched her for signs of distress. She gave none. “It’s a short one. Three days. Tuesday to Thursday.”

  She tucked her hands into her jacket pockets and nodded. “Sounds fun.”

  “It won’t be fun,” Tripp said. “It’ll be cold.” The door opened, and Jared came in.

  “Hey,” Hilary said. “I left your lunch at Millie’s place.”

  “Thanks, Hil.” He flashed her a smile and rubbed his hands together. “Cold today.”

  “See?” Tripp nodded toward Jared. “It’s already cold. And since when are you making lunch for my cousin?”

  Jared ducked into the bathroom, calling, “I never asked her to.” He poked his head out as the sink started. “But don’t stop, okay, Hilary? Everything is delicious.”

  She shrugged and Tripp chuckled, and he said, “Let’s go to Sophie’s stand right now.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m done here anyway.” He wasn’t done with the cabinet order that had come in last week, but he didn’t want to work on it. “She said she just needs me to look at the doorframe. Said it’s crooked or warped. The door is hard to open and close.”

  They went to the beach where the Sandy Tortilla stood. Only one person could be seen braving the end-of-fall weather. Tripp assessed the door and decided he needed a couple of things from the hardware store.

  “Mind if we walk along the beach first?” Hilary asked, threading her fingers through his.

  He didn’t mind and he went with her, their steps soft and squishy in the sand. He thought she’d go down to the water and back, but when she reached the harder, more packed sand, she turned right.

  He went with her, his curiosity licking toward his skull. Just around that outcropping of rock was where he said they could make love away from the tourists. Of course, there were no tourists now….

  Tripp glanced back to his truck. He wasn’t ready for this. No blanket. Nothing to keep Hilary warm. “Hey, should we—?”

  “I want to see this beach.” She released his hand and danced ahead of him. “Isn’t this where you wanted to take me that one day?” Her coy smile testified that she already knew it was. He shrugged, which caused her to laugh. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders as she went around the rocks, and he darted forward to catch her.

  She squealed and skipped away from him. He growled, the sound shutting down into silence when he saw she’d gone back up the beach. She stood on a heavy blanket that had been laid in the sand in a tiny alc
ove.

  “I think this will shield us from most of the wind,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and studying the sky behind him.

  With wooden steps, he approached her. “Are you saying you brought this stuff out here?” He examined it. A blanket spread out. Several more stacked in the corner. Pillows. Even bottled water. “When?”

  “A week or so ago. I was just trying to figure out how to get you down here.” She toed the sand. “I believe this is one of your bucket list items.”

  “And autumn has fallen,” he whispered, shifting forward.

  She bent and reached for something. “I want to show you something first.” She lifted a piece of paper and handed it to him. “That’s me. Or who I was. I ripped up the original my parents had sent me. I printed that one off the Internet last week, just before I came out here.” She took a deep, deep breath as Tripp studied the paper.

  Jillian Russell. The name meant nothing to him. He recognized Hilary, though her eyes seemed so different. They certainly didn’t belong to the sexy, vibrant woman he’d fallen in love with.

  “That’s Dante.”

  “I see that.” Tripp wanted to hate the man, wanted to feel something for him. But he didn’t. Maybe pity. He extended the paper toward her. “You’re still Hilary to me.”

  “I don’t want it. Rip it up.”

  He tore the paper in half. “Are you—well, what does this mean to you?” He matched the halves and tore them again.

  “It means I’m Hilary,” she said. “I just wanted you to know. I’ve been holding onto Jillian all this time, but I think I’m ready to let her go.”

  He ripped faster, the pieces becoming smaller and getting stolen by the breeze. He finally threw the stack and stepped forward to kiss Hilary. She sighed into him and excitement raced through him that she’d thought of everything. Everything he needed to make this bucket list item perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: