Strawberry Lace

by Amy Belding Brown

  “No, you don’t.” She shifted toward him, unconsciously fingering the shell that hung around her neck. “It’s okay, really. I’m sorry I laughed.”

  He got to his feet. “I’ll take you back right away. Your friends are probably wondering where you are.” His glance shifted to the shell. “What’s that?”

  “It’s the present you gave me on Eagle Island. Remember?”

  “You saved it?”

  “Of course. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind either.” She smiled up at him. “Or my heart,” she added softly.

  “Chelsea,” he whispered. “My darling.” He took her hands and drew her up into his arms. He kissed her passionately, a long, ardent kiss, which seemed deliciously endless, until a dark thought teased the back of Chelsea’s mind. She gently pulled away.

  “What about your mother? She doesn’t want you to have anything to do with me.”

  “I’m frankly not interested in her opinions, if it means I can’t see you.”

  “But she threatened to cut off your inheritance.”

  “I’ll have to take that chance. I can’t live my life pursuing someone else’s dreams.” He smiled and touched the tip of her nose. “A wise person once told me that.”

  She smiled sheepishly. “I think I was really saying it to myself.”

  “But it does apply to me. My mother likes to play the autocrat, but no tyrant can rule without the people’s consent. It was past time for a revolution.”

  “Did you quarrel with her?”

  “I simply stated the facts. I told her who I was and that, no matter how much I loved her, I couldn’t live any life but my own.”

  “Is she furious?”

  “More frightened than anything, I think. She’s terrified of being left alone.”

  “Are you going back to Africa?”

  He shook his head. “Not right away. Actually, I’ve been asked to join a practice in Portland. There’s a lot of third-world poverty right in this area, and some local physicians feel they’d benefit from my experience.” He smiled. “I have to admit, it’s tempting. Ever since I met you, southern Maine’s seemed just this side of paradise.”

  She swallowed. “I can’t believe your mother’s going to stop trying to control you. I know what she did to Brandon; I know how strong she is—” Her voice broke off as his expression saddened.

  “If she was ever strong, she isn’t now. She’s not going to have the time or energy to interfere in her sons’ lives anymore, I’m afraid. They’ve diagnosed her condition as multiple sclerosis.”

  “Oh, Jeff, I’m so sorry.” Chelsea touched his cheek. “You know, the funny thing is, I like her. Maybe it’s because of the way she helped Lori, but I feel kind of close to her, like she’s somebody I respect and could even enjoy being with sometimes. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  He shook his head. “She’s getting the medical and emotional support she needs. And she seems more stable now that she knows what she’s dealing with.”

  “Maybe you should throw a get-well party for her.”

  “That’s a good idea.” He grinned. “As long as Strawberry Lace does the catering.”

  “You bet. We can’t afford to turn down a job offer.”

  “That reminds me: I want to make an investment in your company. I’m convinced that it could be a major force in the New England catering industry.”

  She laughed. “That’s stretching it a bit. Have you forgotten that we’re a two-person operation? Actually, more like one and a half right now.”

  “That’s only temporary. With increased financial backing, you could expand to compete with the big Boston outfits.”

  “Financial backing?”

  He smiled. “I may not have my inheritance yet, but I’ve set aside a sizable amount of money. Brandon’s been telling me for years I should be on the lookout for a good investment.”

  She gazed into his eyes. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

  “There is one stipulation,” he said solemnly. “You’re going to have to make time in your schedule for a serious courtship.”

  “Courtship?” Her voice was faint.

  He took her face between his hands. “I intend to pursue my own dreams from now on, Chelsea. And my first dream is making you my wife.” He kissed her again, softly at first, and then more insistently, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her tightly against him.

  She returned his kiss eagerly, pressing her body against his, running her hands up the firm column of his neck to stroke the soft, dark hairs that curled there. She was dimly conscious of the cry of a sea gull high above her and the sound of the waves licking the boat’s hull. When he finally released her, she had to sit down again, to stop the dizzy spin that whirled through her whole body.

  “Well,” he said, his smile deepening slowly, so that the long dimple appeared in his left cheek, “if I’d known this rescue operation would be so successful, I’d have stowed some champagne on board. I feel like celebrating.”

  “So do I.” Chelsea grinned up at him. “And I know where there’s a great party. Complete with wonderful people and good dance music, and it’s catered by the best service on the coast of Maine.”

  He laughed. “I’ll take you back, on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That you save all your dances for me.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  Jeff started the boat’s engine and swung the bow around to head back to Bryant’s Cove. Chelsea was certain she could already hear the sound of music, rolling toward them in three-quarter time across the sparkling water.