by Sarah Morgan
Brittany raised her eyebrows. “Well, that’s an unusual reaction. Most people take a while to warm up to our dog. Of course that’s partly our fault for calling him Jaws, which isn’t exactly a name guaranteed to endear him to people. I love him, but I’m the first to admit he’s not the most visually appealing animal on the planet.”
“I think he’s gorgeous.” Giving Jaws a final pat, Frankie rose to her feet. “Do you know any of the details about this wedding?”
“What details do you need?” Brittany filled her in. “Take anything you want from the garden. I want Emily’s day to be perfect and we’re all grateful to you for stepping in. Is there anything else you need?”
“Wire to tie the bouquets. And ribbon? Hair ribbon would do.”
Brittany pulled a face. “Wire is easy. Ribbon, not so much. I’m not a hair ribbon person, but I know someone who is. I’ll text Ryan and ask him to bring over everything Lizzy owns. In the meantime I’ll fetch wire.”
“That’s fine. We can add ribbons later. What color is the bride wearing?”
“The bride is very pregnant.” Brittany’s eyes glittered with humor. “So she’s wearing a cute cream dress. Our friend Skylar designed it.”
“So we need to try and detract from the bump?”
Brittany laughed. “I’m sure you’re great at what you do, but I can tell you that nothing on the planet is going to disguise that bump.”
“Not disguise, but I don’t want to make the bump seem bigger by making the bouquet too puffy.”
Brittany led them around the side of the cottage and they followed her through a gate and into the coastal garden that hugged the back of the house.
Frankie’s expression turned from surprise to wonder and she glanced at Brittany. “You’re a gardener?”
“Hell, no. I’m an archaeologist. I’m more likely to kill the plants while I’m digging than do anything healing to them. This garden was my grandmother’s baby. She spent every spare moment here. She passed away a few years ago, but one of her friends—our neighbor—still comes and tends it.”
“It’s beautiful. Calming. Unbelievable for a coastal garden—how does it survive the harsh winters?”
“No idea. You’d think all the plants would freeze like the rest of us.”
“It’s not the freezing that’s a problem, it’s the thawing. You want them to remain dormant.” Frankie bent down and examined the soil in the bed nearest to her. “Seaweed mulch.”
“Yeah?” Brittany glanced at Matt and grinned. “If you say so.”
“It’s great for the soil and the slugs hate it.”
“Grams fought a constant war against slugs.” Brittany pushed her hands into her pockets. “You think there’s something here that can make a decent bouquet for Em?”
“Plenty. Is there anything you don’t want me to touch?”
“Strip it bare if you need to.”
“Phlox Carolina—the white one.” Frankie walked toward the border closest to her. “We call it wedding flox. And there’s Leucanthemum vulgare—” She was talking to herself, distracted, excited as she stepped eagerly into the garden, and Brittany raised a questioning eyebrow toward Matt, who shrugged.
“I don’t know what that is, either, but no one knows flowers like Frankie so we can leave her to it.”
“Great. In that case, I’m going to finish getting ready. Feel free to use the kitchen table to assemble your masterpiece. Yell if you need anything. And don’t let Zach feed Jaws any of the bacon.”
She left them to it and Frankie dug her sketches out of her bag.
Matt watched her. “What can I do?”
“Stand still and hold whatever I hand you.” She moved around the garden like a butterfly, pausing, admiring, snipping and gathering.
In under ten minutes she had a large armful of flowers and foliage. “I can work with this. Let’s take this through to the kitchen and I can start making up bouquets.”
The kitchen of Castaway Cottage was the heart of the house. A large table dominated the center of the room, and shelves were adorned with driftwood, jars of sea glass and shells.
Matt could imagine Frankie sitting there, lost and confused by what was happening at home.
The front door was open and Jaws ambled in and out freely, trailing sand from the beach beyond. Sunlight played over the polished floorboards and the rug in striped blue tones added to the beachy feel.
It was at times like this when he missed the island.
In the height of the summer it was idyllic, but Matt knew that when winter came the place would take on a different feel. Snow would blanket the roads and the garden, turning it into a mysterious frozen wonderland. The community would be stripped down to locals and a few die-hard winter sports enthusiasts.
Zach put mugs of strong coffee on the table. “I cooked bacon and there are fresh rolls in the basket. Help yourselves. It will be a long time until you eat. I’m going to change.” He walked out of the room and Matt filled a roll with bacon while Frankie worked.
“You should eat something. You must be starving after all that exercise.”
“I’ll eat in a minute. I have three of these to make.”
“Give me a job.”
“Could you cut me some lengths of string?” Frankie pushed it toward him and went back to work with the flowers.
He cut string and watched as she transformed a heap of flowers into a stunning bridal bouquet. Her fingers worked swiftly as she snipped stems and twisted leaves.
“For someone who hates weddings you’re certainly good at this.”
“This isn’t about weddings, this is about flowers. And it’s not going to be perfect. It would have helped to see the dress, but it’s the best I can do.”
Her best was impressive. She held up the bouquet, a froth of creamy white blooms with delicate floral tendrils tumbling like a train.
He knew nothing about bridal bouquets but even he could see the artistry in her creation.
“Wow.” Brittany paused in the doorway, “You have real talent.”
Frankie gave her a quick smile. “Thank you. One down, two more to go.”
Interesting, Matt thought, that she accepted the compliment from a woman without question but whenever he did the same thing she floundered and flapped.
Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that the compliment had been work-related rather than personal.
Brittany poured herself a coffee and watched as Frankie tied the other two bouquets. “Awesome. Are you done? If so, we should probably get going. Half the island is waiting for us.”
Matt saw Frankie’s expression change. So did Brittany.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I—” She paused. “I haven’t been back to the island in a long time, that’s all.”
“Is that a problem? Are you worried about not knowing many people? Because Zach and I can introduce you and—”
“That’s not it. If people don’t know me, that’s probably better.” Frankie put the scissors down carefully. “My family isn’t very popular around here and the locals have long memories.”
“Now I’m intrigued.” Brittany finished her coffee as Zach walked back into the room. “What did you say your last name was?”
“Cole.”
Brittany opened her mouth to speak again but it was Zach who stepped forward. He put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“Whatever your reputation, it will be eclipsed by mine. I’m the big bad wolf of the island. They’ll be too busy frowning at me to notice you.”
“They’re not that bad.” Brittany tidied up the table, gathering up pieces of stem and leaves. “They’ve accepted you. Mostly.”
“Exactly. I often feel as if I’m still on trial. They’re waiting for me to step out of line.” But Zach looked more amused than annoyed and Brittany hooked her finger into the front of his shirt and tugged him toward her.
“Just so we’re clear, I love it when you step out of line.”
She stood on tiptoe, kissed him briefly on the mouth, then turned back to Frankie. “Don’t worry about the locals. You will have a hero’s welcome. And now we should go or Emily will start freaking out.”
Zach raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen her freak out.”
“She freaks out in a quiet, tense way, and I don’t want her freaking out. I don’t want this baby arriving in the middle of the wedding.” Brittany strode around the kitchen stuffing various items into her purse. “So there’s a party tonight at the Ocean Club. I hope you’re both coming? Dance until your feet ache and all that.”
Matt wondered how Frankie would react to that but she nodded.
“If the locals haven’t chased me off the island by then, that would be fun.”
“No one is chasing you anywhere.” Brittany placed the bouquets carefully in a box. “I texted Ryan and he’s bringing every ribbon Lizzy owns. She’s insisting on wearing a tiara and fairy wings. We’ll meet him at the beach and make a decision about which is best.” She glanced at them. “Are you guys going to change? Because you might as well do that here. Saves you flashing the locals in the beach parking lot.”
Matt fetched their clothes from the car.
Frankie changed into the jumpsuit made of emerald-green silk, which made her eyes look luminous and brought out the bright copper shades in her hair.
Distracted, Matt fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. “You look incredible.”
“Thanks.” But her smile was anxious and he knew that despite Brittany’s reassurances, she was worried.
As they pulled into the beach parking lot he turned to look at her.
“You’re going to have fun, I promise. You look great, although random amazing sex would be easier if you wore a dress or a skirt.”
“Callum Becket thought the same thing in tenth grade, which is why I never wear dresses.”
It was the first time she’d told him anything specific about that time when she’d lived at home.
People were pouring past them on their way to the beach but Matt didn’t move.
“What happened?”
“My mom had just broken up his parents’ marriage. He was mad and full of raging teenage hormones. He seemed to think that as our parents were at it like rabbits, we might as well do the same. We were at the prom and he got two of his friends to hold me down while he stuck his hand up my dress. My new red dress. I’d been so excited about wearing it—” Her breathing quickened, but she must have seen the expression on his face because she gave a quick smile. “Don’t worry—Paige and Eva appeared just in time. Without his friends, Callum was pretty weak. I almost broke his wrist. He couldn’t write for a few days. But I decided I didn’t want it to happen again so I gave up wearing skirts except when school demanded it. And I took up karate so if it ever happened again I’d be able to floor the guy with a scissor kick. And now I’ve probably scared you.”
“Are you kidding?” What he felt was anger, but he didn’t tell her that. “It’s incredibly sexy having a girlfriend who can floor me with a scissor kick. Anytime you want to try that, go ahead.”
“How is it you manage to make me smile about things I never smile about?”
He slid his hand into her hair and brought her mouth to his. “Callum isn’t going to be here, in case you were worried about that. The Beckets left the island years ago, so there is zero chance of you bumping into him.” He felt her relax.
“Good. Because I wouldn’t have wanted to have to break his other hand.”
“I would have done that for you.”
“Really? You seem like a man who uses intellect and reason to solve most problems.”
“That’s always my first approach. But I’ve been known to revert to Plan B when the situation calls for it.” He hid his anger behind a smile. “We should go. They’re waiting for these flowers.”
They walked down the path to the beach but as they rounded the corner, Frankie stopped.
“That’s quite a crowd. I hadn’t expected so many people.”
“They’re a friendly crowd, Frankie.”
She stirred. “Let’s hope so.”
He hoped so, too, otherwise he’d be tempted to put Plan B into action.
Chapter Fourteen
Marriage is the triumph of hope over reality.
—Frankie
It felt as if most of the island had turned up at South Beach to see Ryan marry Emily.
The beach was a splash of color, with outfits ranging from swimwear to floaty silk. Chairs had been placed in rows on the sand, and the cries of the seagulls and the crashing of the waves were interspersed with laughing children and barking dogs.
Everyone seemed to know each other and Frankie stood still, poised on the edge, feeling like the outsider. If she lingered here, perhaps no one would notice her and once the ceremony started she could melt away unseen.
She was about to run that plan past Matt when Ryan spotted them. He strode across the beach and pulled Frankie into a hug. “You’re the hero of the hour. You shouldn’t be hovering at the edge of the beach—you should be right in the front row. You’re our guest of honor.”
Front row?
Frankie’s stomach lurched. Sitting right in the front would mean there would be nowhere to hide. She’d be right there, watching while they exchanged vows. She’d be expected to wear a soppy, dreamy look on her face. It wasn’t a look she’d perfected. “No! I couldn’t possibly—you must have lots of people who—”
“Oh, Ryan is right, you must—” This time it was Hilda who spoke, and a pretty blonde woman with two children close by added her voice to the general atmosphere of persuasion.
“There’s definitely room up there. I’m Lisa, by the way. I own Summer Scoop, the ice cream shop on Main Street. If you have time, you must pay us a visit. Ice cream cones on the house.”
“Or we could buy a tub and take it home,” Matt murmured in Frankie’s ear, “and I could lick it off your naked body.”
It made Frankie want to laugh, and in trying not to laugh she forgot to feel tense about the prospect of sitting in the front row at someone’s wedding.
“Are you planning on doing that on Main Street?”
“It’s possible. I’ll try and let you know before it happens.” Matt took her hand and led her to the front. Some faces she knew, and some she didn’t. Some said how pleased they were to see her back on the island, some said how pleased they were she’d found flowers she could use for Emily. All were welcoming and friendly.
Finally, she slid into a spare seat in the front row. “I shouldn’t be sitting here.”
Matt sat down next to her. “Smile. You’re going to have fun.”
She wanted to ask how he thought she’d have fun when Hilda sat down on her other side.
“Remember, once an islander, always an islander.” She patted Frankie on the knee before turning to talk to the woman on the other side of her.
Frankie glanced around, saw soft smiles and misty eyes and wondered what was wrong with her. She felt nothing except faint panic and mild nausea.
To distract herself she focused on the small group of children who were fidgeting and holding recorders ready to play and then on Ryan, who was standing with another tall, dark-haired man who looked familiar.
She was trying to work out where she’d seen him before when Matt leaned toward her.
“He’s the Shipwreck Hunter.”
“Excuse me?”
“That guy you’re staring at, wondering where you’ve seen him before? His name is Alec Hunter. He’s a historian. He presented that series on shipwrecks that kept most of the nation’s women glued to their TV sets.”
“Of course.” She’d loved every moment of that series, and she’d bought his book. She was about to ask Matt another question when the crowd fell silent and the group of children started playing their recorders.
Because she was still looking at Alec, Frankie witnessed the exact moment Ryan turned his head and saw Emily. It was a rare moment
of unguarded emotion. Everything he felt showed in his eyes. She wondered how anyone had the courage to give that much of themselves.
Emily finally reached the front and Frankie automatically checked the bouquet. Considering how little time she’d had, and the restricted materials, she was satisfied. The shape ensured that it drew the eye away from Emily’s bump, not that either she or Ryan seemed to be disguising the fact that she was pregnant. Ignoring protocol, Ryan lowered his head to Emily’s and kissed her until the little girl standing next to them gave his jacket an impatient tug.
Brittany grinned at her in sympathy. “Ryan, you’re supposed to kiss the bride after the ceremony,” she said, and the little girl giggled.
She was holding the posy Frankie had made; her blond hair was caught up in a glittery tiara, but what really made Frankie smile was the pair of fairy wings she’d clearly insisted on wearing.
Hadn’t Eva had a pair at that age? Whenever they’d played make-believe games, Eva had been a fairy. Frankie had chosen elf or wizard.
Her mind wandered and she barely heard the words that Emily and Ryan exchanged.
Halfway through Lizzy started fidgeting and Ryan scooped her into his arms, holding her while he and Emily finished exchanging vows.
Frankie watched as the little girl’s hand closed over his shoulder. Something about the way Ryan held the child made her throat thicken. Lizzy was at that age where she believed adults had all the answers, and that daddies were heroes.
Once, she’d thought the same.
Coming to terms with the realities of her father’s human frailties had been part of her transition from child to adult.
She saw the way Ryan was looking at Emily and wondered if her father had looked at her mother the same way on their wedding day.
At what point had it all gone wrong? Had it been good at the beginning and gradually fractured or had there been flaws, weaknesses, from the start?
As she watched, Ryan took Emily’s hand and Frankie stared, mesmerized by their entwined fingers, slender and delicate threaded through firm and strong.
In the background she heard their voices as they spoke, but all she saw were those clasped hands. They were holding each other as if they had no intention of ever letting go.