Love on Lavender Island (A Lavender Island Novel Book 2)

by Lauren Christopher

  “Why didn’t they go for it?”

  “It’s expensive. And it’s on the wrong side of the island. The main road that originally drove out of here was washed out in 1953. See? It’s over there.”

  Paige peered around the rocks.

  “It would be hard for people to even get here to see it unless the entire road was rebuilt. The only way down is the way we came.”

  “It’s amazing, Adam,” she said breathlessly. “What a piece of history.”

  “I agree. It’s the only piece of land I still own.”

  “You own this?”

  “My dad, for some reason, made me a partner on the title to this property. It’s not very valuable because you can’t build anything on this tiny stretch of sand—and the rocks there prevent any building up that way—so those old seaplane ruins are all there’s room for. But this is the last thing I have of my mom’s. I can’t part with it.”

  “It’s beautiful, Adam.”

  He nodded, staring out at the crashing waves. Then he sat down in the sand and patted a place for her to join him. “So what’s your seaplane property?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “That secret you keep that you don’t quite want to tell anyone.” He skipped a rock over the water.

  “How do you know I have a ‘seaplane property’?”

  “Everyone does.”

  She helped him find another skipping stone while she thought that over. Could she tell him hers? She’d been keeping her yoga-studio idea secret for years now—quietly attending classes, getting her credentials, saving money, and scouting sites—but she’d never told a soul, fearing people would laugh. She couldn’t bear to have someone crush her dream like that. It was all she had. It was the one place she never felt like Calamity June.

  “I’ve, um, I’ve always wanted to open a yoga studio,” she finally said.

  He turned to look at her.

  She waited for him to laugh, or at least smirk, or ask her why he never saw her doing yoga, or take a quick skim of her fuller body out of disbelief, but he didn’t do any of those things. He just nodded his head and watched the ocean. “Where would you like to open it?”

  Tears of relief sprang to her eyes. She launched into her whole plan, describing how she envisioned it with teak walls and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at a grove of trees, maybe near one of the riverbeds in LA or by one of the valley parks.

  “And I want to specialize in yoga for people with chronic conditions, who might think they can’t do the positions. There’s an asana for everyone.”

  She demonstrated a few of the routines she’d designed, and he even tried to do a few of the moves as she posed him. He listened to her for nearly an hour, and asked a million questions that helped her give shape to her dream.

  “So why are you keeping this a secret?” he asked.

  “I’m worried people will laugh at me.”

  “Why would anyone laugh?”

  “I don’t look like a yoga instructor, and my mom wants me to be an accountant or take over her event-planning business or something.”

  “Paige, don’t let anyone talk you out of this. If you see this for yourself, make it happen. You don’t need permission from anyone.”

  He was right. The more she talked about it, the more realistic it seemed.

  “And you have your dream right here, along with your own private beach?” she asked.

  “That it is.” He surveyed it, then gave her a wolfish grin over his shoulder. “Want to get naked on it?”

  “Please tell me you didn’t have girls here all the time.”

  “Absolutely not. You are definitely the first. And only.”

  “All right, then.” She reached for his shirt, eager to see what his muscled chest would look like against the sand on this private beach. “Get over here.”

  Later that afternoon, after they’d both made it back to Paige’s house, had a late lunch, checked on Amanda, showered, and then had another romp in Paige’s new bed, Paige headed downstairs to get them both a tall glass of lemonade.

  Her heart was light with joy—she’d had a beautiful afternoon with Adam and was newly inspired about her yoga studio—and all she could do was postpone thinking about the end of the road for them. He would’ve been a beautiful man to spend a lifetime with. But he had his own agenda with his own teenage daughter, and Paige wasn’t being invited into their lives across the country. And she had never imagined that kind of life for herself anyway—she had never even pictured getting married, let alone having a teenager. Or living with a rancher. On a ranch. Or a pilot. In Alabama. Or wherever he ended up. And she definitely never imagined getting married to her teenage crush.

  He had said that word—love—but he didn’t mean it the way she craved to hear it. He’d said her spirit was what “everyone” loved about her, and he might be included, but he wasn’t exactly saying that. Her shoulders sank. She’d always run away from the word love—Todd and the other boyfriends of her life had always wanted to invoke it too early for her jittery taste—but somehow it wouldn’t have seemed too early for Adam. Maybe because she’d loved him most of her life, or maybe because he was the man she needed to hear it from—she didn’t know. But now she craved the word from him again.

  But that was futile thinking.

  They’d agreed to FRED. And she couldn’t change the rules on him now. If she tried, he might go running the other way. And she wanted to enjoy what little time was left.

  As she shut the refrigerator door, she thought she heard something outside. She whirled, pitcher in hand, and almost let the lemonade shatter at her bare feet. Coming in through the kitchen door, complete with pinched face and sunglasses, was her mother.

  Six days early.

  CHAPTER 24

  Paige stood with her mouth agape as Ginger bustled into the kitchen, chattered a few hellos, and set her Hermès scarf and purse on the island. As soon as her sunglasses were off, Ginger twirled slowly and took everything in.

  “Well, I thought it would be further along, but . . . ,” she said, offering up what seemed like a begrudging nod and smile.

  Her smile stopped midway when Adam landed at the base of the stairs. He was fully dressed after his and Paige’s last tussle in the sheets—his blue work shirt now buttoned, his jeans now buckled, his hat in his hand—but as he smoothed his hair back, Paige knew her mother was reading the situation correctly.

  As Ginger’s eyes widened, Adam ambled forward. “Ginger. It’s been a while.”

  Ginger’s fingertips touched the wood grain as if she were hanging on. Her gaze swept slowly from Adam’s descent from the bedroom to Paige’s disheveled hair and misbuttoned blouse.

  “I see I’m just in time,” she said icily.

  “Mom, I was going to—”

  “How are you?” Adam held out his hand.

  Her mom took it, but only for a second and only at his fingertips, then busied herself with her purse in a gesture that Paige recognized as nervous. “You look just like him.” Her voice first sounded accusing, but then Paige noticed it held a note of awe.

  “Mom, what are you doing here so early?”

  “I came to see how things were going. I got an interesting phone call. Perhaps my timing was off. I can see now why things weren’t getting done around here.” She tied the scarf back around her neck and lifted her purse.

  “Look,” Paige tried again. “This isn’t—”

  “I’ll be outside,” Ginger said in Paige’s direction. “I wanted to see the property and see the views again. Come see me when you two are done.”

  She bristled out the door.

  “Sorry.” Adam touched Paige’s elbow. “I didn’t realize who it was until I got down the stairs. Let me go with you to talk to her.”

  “No. I need to go alone.”

  “I want to . . . talk to her. Or defend you. Or something.”

  “Defend me?”

  “I want to tell her what a great job you’re doing. You’ve k
nocked yourself out around here, and I want to let her know that our spending time together had nothing to do with anything. This place looks worlds better from when you arrived. I know she’s going to be less than thrilled with the idea that we’re sleeping together, but—”

  “I told you she doesn’t know.”

  “I thought you were going to tell her.”

  “I thought about it. But I didn’t have time. I mostly told her we weren’t,” she whispered back.

  “Weren’t what?”

  “Sleeping together.”

  “We weren’t?”

  “Well, we were, but I told her we weren’t. Or I didn’t admit we were. Or . . . whatever. I just didn’t tell her anything.”

  “Paige.” He pivoted her toward him. “You’re a grown woman. You can do what you want. You can open a yoga studio, or live wherever you want, or date whoever you want. Don’t let her bully you.”

  “She’s not bullying me, exactly. She just wishes I was stronger.”

  “You are strong.” He cupped her face. “And you’re beautiful. And you’re perfect. And you don’t need to keep proving yourself to her.”

  “Just like you don’t need to prove yourself to your dad?”

  He cocked his head and let go of her face. His eyes went into storm mode.

  “Adam, I know you have that box sitting in your kitchen because you’re afraid of what’s in it. Or maybe what isn’t in it, more likely. You always wanted his approval, just like I always wanted my mom’s. So don’t give me that ‘you’re a grown-up so it doesn’t matter what they think’ crap. It always matters. To some of us. Those of us who never got that approval growing up will keep fighting for it for the rest of our lives. And I feel bad that you didn’t get to finish your fight. But your dad would be proud of everything you’ve done here. And so would your mom. And maybe your dad couldn’t show you or tell you while he was here, but maybe all he had to give was whatever is in that box. Maybe some of your answers are there. Maybe your fight is over.”

  Adam stared at her for a long time, his blue eyes going from stormy to calm.

  “That’s all he had to give?” he asked. The bitterness in his voice didn’t call for an answer.

  Paige watched as his scowl returned, his eyebrows furrowing, first looking thoughtful, then frustrated, then pained; then the pain was released altogether. Finally, he reached up and took her face in his hands again.

  “Thank you, Paige,” he said, almost in a whisper. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Once Adam left, Paige took a deep breath and glanced at her mom way out across the property, about a hundred feet, standing at the edge of the cliff, staring at the ocean view.

  She sighed. She’d have to get this over with.

  As Paige approached, she watched her mother’s shoulders, weakened from chemo—they seemed shorter and narrower—but yet still in possession of such power.

  “Are you sleeping with him?” her mother asked, her back still turned.

  Paige’s heartbeat picked up. Immediately on the defensive, as usual, she took a deep breath and pressed her hands into her pockets. “Yes.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “I tried to tell you a few times, but before I could—”

  “I thought we went over this, Paige. I told you about him, and about his father, and—”

  “Mom!”

  Ginger took a sudden step backward and blinked back surprise at Paige’s abruptness.

  “You do not let me finish a sentence,” Paige said. “Will you let me speak?”

  Ginger’s eyes went wide. She nodded.

  “Thank you.” Paige let out a slow exhale. Her heart was still skittering over a few beats. She paced a few times in front of the view. Once her heartbeat felt as though it was settling down, she fixed her voice into something that sounded steady. “I didn’t mean to lie by omission. I meant to tell you a few times. But you jump in immediately with your commentary and opinions and direction and judgment, so I wasn’t able to complete a thought without getting wrapped around the axle. You bully me into saying what you want me to say, and you pressure me into buckling under your opinion.”

  “I don’t bully you!”

  Paige knew that would hit a nerve. She took another deep breath. “You do. You put your opinions onto me and expect me to take them up for you.”

  “Like what?”

  Paige looked at the grass. She didn’t want to upset her mother. But suddenly she realized how desperately this needed to be said. “Like I don’t want to act anymore. And I don’t want to go into the event-planning business. I want to open a yoga studio.”

  Her mother stared at her as if she’d just said she’d like to ride to Saturn. “A yoga studio?” she sputtered. “What on earth would you do with a yoga studio?”

  “Didn’t you say you enjoy the moves I’ve been teaching you and your friends?” Paige asked.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “That. That’s what I want to do with a yoga studio.”

  Empowered from her planning with Adam earlier, she went on. “I’d like to teach specifically for women dealing with chemo or pain or chronic conditions, and show them which moves they can do safely that might help with pain management.”

  Her mom simply blinked.

  But Paige felt relieved, strong, and ready to fight. “And secondly, you’ve imposed your opinions regarding how terrible Adam was.”

  Ginger shook her head. “Don’t try to make him my fault, Paige. He was a troublemaker. He was just like his father.”

  “No, he wasn’t, Mom. You might have said that to him, or said it to George, but that didn’t make it true. George was the troublemaker. He was the one who took your money. And he tried to give it back in land, but that was never good enough for you.”

  “This rocky land is useless.”

  “My point is that he tried, and you rejected him, and you broke each other’s hearts. But transferring that onto Adam or me wasn’t fair.”

  “Adam was just like him, Paige—can’t you see? With all that gallivanting around, and he started those fires, honey.”

  “That was never proven. And I can’t imagine he did.”

  “Then who did?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You and Adam were in both places. So if it wasn’t you . . .”

  This was the old argument. And the old story. The entire town seemed to have something to say about it and an opinion to weigh in with. But when the first accusations came down on “Calamity June,” Paige had been the one to tell her mother that Adam was in both places, too. She felt ashamed now that her tattle-telling had gotten him in so much trouble, but her mom had taken it too far.

  “I didn’t want you to get blamed,” Ginger said. “I was protecting you.”

  Paige nodded. She appreciated that. And she knew the fact that George hadn’t given Adam the same benefit of the doubt was what had ruined their father-son relationship forever.

  “But Adam was traipsing around with that girl all the time—do you know I caught them in George’s bed with their clothes off? He had trouble written all over him, Paige. Who knows how many girls he’d been with?”

  “That girl, by the way, was named Samantha, and they had a baby together.”

  Ginger’s eyes widened.

  “The ‘baby’ is here now. She’s sixteen. Her name is Amanda. Samantha raised her in Alabama and didn’t tell Adam about her, but then Samantha died six months ago and sent Amanda here, and now he’s taking care of her. And he wants to do the best thing for her. And he’s knocking himself out. And, in addition to his daughter, he takes care of animals—horses and cats and dogs—and people. He helps Kelly with her career and takes care of his brother and employs all the people up here and takes care of Gert and Bob, and—”

  “Bob Hastings?”

  “Yes. Do you remember Bob?”

  “Of course.” Ginger shook her head. “Go on.”


  Paige tried to get her bearings again. “Adam’s a wonderful man is all I’m saying. He’s kind and generous, and everyone on this ranch loves him. I had sex with him because I wanted to.”

  Ginger turned away quickly.

  “He didn’t pressure me or ask me for anything,” Paige continued. “He liked me, Mom. And I like him. But we both know this is a strange, temporary situation, and we don’t plan to continue anything. We’re adults, and we wanted this, and that’s just the way it is.”

  “Paige, put yourself in my shoes. You just sent your daughter up a mountain to take care of a business issue that you wish you were strong enough to handle. She goes up the mountain and gets seduced by a stepson you never trusted and who spent time in jail. Don’t you see how I must feel about this? Don’t you see how guilty I feel? Like I’ve sent you into a wolves’ den? I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “He wasn’t your stepson.”

  “It felt that way.”

  “And he was released from jail.”

  “He had a warrant even before that—remember?”

  “It was for jaywalking, Mom. They said that to keep him for questioning.”

  “Still.”

  “And he spent time in jail because you threatened to call the sheriff’s department if George didn’t.”

  “It was for his own good.”

  “I don’t think he would see it that way. He didn’t start that fire. And you broke up a family.”