“Cabot’s not coming until Friday. What’s the rush?”
“It has nothing to do with Cabot! I don’t want to talk about Cabot!” She felt her cheeks redden, and she lifted her hands to them.
He crumpled his empty breakfast things in one hand and stood up slowly. “I know you don’t want to talk about him—with me, especially. And I know why, Allison.”
She closed her eyes against the hot tears that burned them. She heard him come toward her, felt every muscle in her body stiffen as he stood over her. When he touched the side of her neck, it was all she could do not to cry out.
“Look at me, Allison.”
She was surprised to find herself obeying him. His thumb continued to caress her neck. Something warned her that she was in grave danger. Something else told her that she didn’t want him to ever stop touching her.
“Why are you so determined to deny the obvious?” His voice was low.
She jerked away from his hand and stood up, then realized instantly that she’d made a mistake, because she now stood so close to him that her breasts were almost touching his broad chest. He blocked escape with his massive body. Unless she wanted to dive off the boat and swim for shore, she couldn’t move.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said tightly. “I thought you were going to take me back to the island.”
“You’re avoiding the issue,” he murmured, lifting a long strand of her hair between his fingers and bringing it to his lips. “We were talking about you.”
He bent his head slowly toward hers, and she didn’t turn away. As his mouth claimed hers, a sweet fire rose within her, burning away every reality but one: her desire for him. His arms enclosed her firmly, and her own hands lifted to curl around his neck, her fingers stroking the powerful muscles of his upper back and the thick hair at the base of his neck. She had no will of her own, only an aching hunger that made her cling weakly to him, even when he had stopped kissing her and was gazing down at her with bright, knowing eyes.
It took Allison a full minute before she shook herself violently and lurched out of the circle of his arms.
“Why did you do that?” Her voice was thick.
His lips curled into a slow smile. “Because you wanted me to.”
“I certainly did not!” She was trembling with fury, and with a deeper emotion as well: fear.
His smile disappeared. “I’m not going to apologize because you can’t bring yourself to recognize the truth of what’s going on between us, Allison.”
“Nothing’s going on between us! And nothing will! I’m engaged!” Her voice rose, close to hysteria. She shoved her left hand toward his face. “I’ve promised to marry Cabot Wilder. I love him! Don’t you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand. And I don’t think you do, either. But you keep trying to convince yourself that what you feel for Cabot is love, even though the truth is staring you right in the face.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You told me you wouldn’t harass me about Cabot anymore!”
He frowned for a moment, and then his face softened. “You’re right. I was pressing the issue. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I don’t seem to be able to help it. You’re more than I bargained for, Allison.”
“If you mean I won’t jump into bed with you like every other woman you smile at, then you’re right! I happen to have standards. When I commit myself to someone, I mean it. And I’m committed to Cabot.” She took a deep breath. “No matter what you may think, every woman in the world isn’t dying to melt into your arms, Brent Connors. Not all of us are so easily manipulated.”
He was frowning again. “What gave you the idea I was manipulating you? Or any other woman?”
“It’s obvious! The way you treat me. And Martha. And there’s that other girl—Emily somebody.”
“What do you know about Emily?”
“Nothing! I heard Abel mention her. She’s someone you’re seeing, isn’t she? Well, I suggest you keep seeing her and leave me alone!”
His face hardened suddenly. He seized her shoulders, the pads of his fingers digging into her soft flesh. “I’m not trying to manipulate you, Allison. I just want you to wake up and face the facts. Before it’s too late.” His jaw muscles worked tightly and Allison felt a flash of alarm. She had clearly roused some deep emotion within him; he was close to anger. She tried to shift away from his grasp, but his hands held her tightly.
“Why does it matter to you?” she said, her voice strangely hoarse.
His blue eyes darkened. When he spoke, his voice was very low. “Because I came very close to making the same kind of mistake you’re making. Last winter, I thought I was in love. If it hadn’t been for one incident that opened my eyes to what I was really feeling, I might have made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“You’re talking about Tracy Lawton again.” She spoke through dry lips.
His hands slid slowly off her shoulders as he nodded. “I know what I’m talking about, Allison. Believe me.”
“What happened?” Strangely, she wanted to touch him, to put her arms around him. She pressed her hands together at her waist. Her heart was pounding much too hard.
“I woke up. I saw who she really was. For almost four months I was enchanted by her intellect and her beauty. I didn’t even realize that it was the idea of her that captivated me, not the reality.” He sighed, and raked a hand through his hair. “I should have known better. Gran had warned me about her, but I didn’t listen until I saw her with a group of kids.”
Allison saw his shoulders sag and a look of pain cross his face. Something warm opened in her chest. She touched him, very lightly, on the arm.
“I took her to a skating party down at the old ice pond,” he continued. “Everybody was there, the whole island.” He swallowed, glanced past her at the water. “I knew Tracy didn’t like kids, but I didn’t realize how much until I saw her push a little boy down. He was having trouble staying on his feet; he kept wobbling around the pond, grabbing at people for support as they skated by. Tracy just brushed him off like an annoying insect.” He sighed. “The thing is, I knew all along, deep down, that she had this cold, iron center, but I closed my eyes to the truth. Until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”
Allison stared up at him. Something about the tone of his voice and the look on his face made her own eyes burn. He glanced down at her again. “Do you see what I’m saying about Cabot? You have to open your eyes, Allison. You have to listen to your heart.”
She swallowed hard, trying to find words that would express what she was feeling. But there were none. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, to acknowledge the truth of his statement. But that was something she couldn’t do, not without betraying Cabot and her parents, not to mention herself and her whole frame of reference for the past twenty-four years. She cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry you were hurt, Brent, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me. I trust Cabot completely. He’s never done anything to make me doubt my love for him.” She straightened her shoulders. “And I don’t think I should have to keep saying this again and again. I love Cabot and I’m going to marry him. I wish you’d just leave me alone.” For some reason, she couldn’t look at him directly, and it was only after she had finished speaking that she became aware that he was gazing at her with an expression she’d never seen on his face. It seemed to be a combination of pain and bewildered resignation, and it kindled something sorrowful inside her.
“All right,” he said softly. “You win. I’ll leave you alone.” He turned abruptly and crossed the deck to the pilothouse, leaving her standing alone in the stern, startled and strangely sad.
They didn’t speak again for the entire trip back to Harper’s Island.
Chapter Eleven
When Brent tied his skiff up at the village wharf, Allison quickly climbed ashore and walked alone down the road to Isabel’s house. The trip from the mainland had been painful. Brent’s silence had cut into her like a knif
e.
She entered the kitchen nervously, wondering if Isabel would question her about her absence during the night. The older woman was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, reading a newspaper. She glanced up at Allison with a smile.
“Help yourself, dear. The teakettle’s still hot.” Isabel waved her hand in the direction of the refrigerator. “Feel free to eat anything you want. I don’t imagine you’ve had lunch yet.” She smiled over the rim of her teacup. “You got more than you bargained for last night, I reckon. Fog doesn’t get that thick more than once or twice a year, but when it does, you’d best stay put. I’m glad Brent didn’t try to make it across in that pea soup.”
Allison smiled weakly. She opened the refrigerator and located bread and some cheese slices. She’d never realized such simple fare could look so delicious.
“I’ve been thinking about this whole play group idea,” Isabel said. “Maybe we’ve been too hasty. You probably don’t want to start up something like that with your fiancé coming and all.”
“I don’t want to give it up!” Allison took her sandwich to the table and sat down across from Isabel. “I’m really getting excited about it.”
“It’s a big project, and it’ll be a real headache at times, especially with those Flory children to manage. I talked to their mother this morning, and she’s all for it, but it may not be a good idea for you. Ricky—he’s the oldest—has been a trouble to her since the day he was born.”
“He sounds like a challenge.” Allison smiled and took a bite of her sandwich. “I don’t think you know how much I’m looking forward to doing something useful.”
Isabel’s voice softened. “Well, to be honest, Brent mentioned to me that you and your fiancé were having some problems. This may not be the best summer for that sort of project.”
Allison flushed. “I’m afraid you have the wrong impression. Brent has some strange idea that I don’t love Cabot, and he—”
“So Brent is behind this.” Isabel nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I’m not surprised. I’ve never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at you. Not even that Lawton woman. And I’m afraid he’s the kind of man who goes after what he wants.” She took another sip of tea and smiled apologetically at Allison. “I wish there were something I could say to help, but where Brent’s concerned, I don’t dare to give advice. He’s always been his own man, even when he was a little boy.”
“I think he understands my position,” Allison said. “We had a long talk this morning.”
“Good.” Isabel put down her teacup and stood up. “And I’m glad to hear that nothing’s wrong between you and your fiancé. If you’re absolutely certain about wanting to go ahead with the play group, I thought I’d invite a few of the parents over after supper, and you could get acquainted.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’ll be out, then, for the afternoon.” Isabel turned in the doorway and smiled. “By all means, fix yourself another sandwich. You looked famished.”
Allison spent much of the afternoon in the tiny guest bedroom, staring out at the harbor. It was impossible for her to avoid seeing Brent’s house, and now she was beginning to regret having accepted Isabel’s offer of a place to stay during Martha’s absence. She knew she should be as far away from Brent Connors as possible.
By evening she was looking forward to meeting with the parents of the island’s young children. Isabel served a nourishing supper of corned beef hash and fresh peas from Abel’s garden. After dinner, Abel left for his weekly pinochle game at Peter Hayes’s house, and Allison washed the dishes. Isabel bustled around the kitchen and the living room, busily arranging things for the coming guests.
Six women came, and by seven o’clock they were all sitting in the living room, sipping coffee and watching Allison with solemnly curious faces.
“I’m so glad you all could come,” Isabel said, settling into a chair at last. “This is Allison Curtis, and she’s starting a summer play group up at the old school.”
As Isabel introduced the guests, Allison studied each face carefully, hoping to read some hint of acceptance in the noncommittal glances. She was particularly struck by the weary expression on the face of Natalie Flory. The woman, whom Allison guessed to be in her mid-thirties, had a hint of gray in her limp brown hair, but her sculpted cheekbones and wide mouth indicated that she had once been quite a beauty. She was sitting in a corner of the couch, a tiny infant cradled in her arms. When Allison asked about the baby, a thin smile came to her lips.
“Charlene’s four weeks old today. She’s the best baby in the world.” She held her out for Allison to admire. Allison saw a wisp of blond hair on the rounded head, and a red face with the eyes squeezed tightly shut. “She’s my fifth.”
Allison caught the pride in the woman’s voice and smiled. “She’s beautiful. May I hold her?”
Natalie nodded, beaming. It struck Allison that Natalie was probably a woman who had little time for pride or pleasure of any kind.
Allison cradled the baby against her chest, and felt a serene softness spill through her. Something about the tiny life she held made her feel gentle, maternal. She wondered what it would be like to rock her own children.
She tried to imagine that it was Cabot’s daughter she was holding, but something blocked her. The wisp of blond hair, perhaps? No child of hers and Cabot’s could possibly have hair that light. Perhaps Brent Connor’s child . . . What was she thinking? She felt a deep pinch of dismay and quickly handed the baby back to Natalie, as if her thoughts might contaminate the child.
The meeting went smoothly. The parents all seemed friendly and responsive to the idea of a play group. They promised to help as much as possible. They all agreed to meet again on Saturday morning, to help clean out the old schoolhouse.
“I’ll start next Monday, then,” Allison said. “I’ll be there from eight until two, and you can send your children anytime between those hours. Make sure to pack a lunch.”
The women left with broad smiles, talking happily among themselves. Isabel patted Allison’s shoulder.
“Well, what did I tell you? The nicest people in the world live on Harper’s Island!” She grinned, and Allison felt a little shock of recognition go through her; the older woman’s expression was exactly like Brent’s when he was pleased with something he had said.
“They’re wonderful,” Allison agreed. “And I’m really looking forward to working with their children.”
“You’ll enjoy it, dear. You know, I really feel as if I’ve known you for a long time. There’s something special about you, Allison. It makes me feel as if you belong here.”
Allison laughed. “The funny thing is, it’s just a fluke that I’m here at all. I was planning to go to California until Martha talked me into coming up here with her.”
“Well, thank goodness for Martha, then. We’re all lucky you decided to come to Maine.”
Allison felt bathed in Isabel’s big smile. She wished she could tell her how much she enjoyed being here, how at home she felt. The only problem she faced on Harper’s Island was how to deal with Brent. Perhaps, after this morning, that problem would stay resolved. She certainly hoped so.
“I think I’ll take a little walk,” she said cheerfully. “I could use some fresh air before I turn in.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, dear. You go right ahead. It’s a lovely, clear night. And one thing about Harper’s Island—there’s not a safer place on earth. As long as you don’t run into any ghosts.” Isabel smiled and stifled a yawn.
“Ghosts?”
The older woman nodded. “There’s a legend about a sea captain who haunts the island on summer nights. Tourist stuff, is my guess. It’s the kind of thing they eat up. I’ve lived here almost seventy years, and I’ve never seen anything myself.”
Allison laughed. “I guess I’ll take my chances, then.”
“Have a nice walk, dear.” Isabel yawned again. “I’ll go on to bed. Abel’s already asleep, and if I don’t join him soon, I�
��ll be nodding over my oatmeal tomorrow morning. Just make sure the lights are out when you come to bed.”
Allison went to her room for a sweater and slipped quietly out the kitchen door. The night sky was shimmering with stars, and a crescent moon hung low over the water. She walked slowly down the street toward the harbor, breathing the pure air with delight. How different it was from the city, and even from the suburbs! As she passed Brent’s house, she studiously avoided looking at the lighted windows, but she couldn’t stop her mind’s eye from seeing Brent at his kitchen table, reading a book, perhaps, or eating a late night snack.
She walked on quickly. Her heart was beating in her ears as she continued down to the harbor and stood at the top of the wharf, gazing out at the still water of the little cove. Silence enveloped her, settling around her like a cocoon. Her heartbeat slowed; she began to feel calmer.
All this foolishness was just that. There was no reason in the world for her to respond to Brent Connors with anything but suspicion and distrust. He was an arrogant, amoral man. He had probably told her the story of his relationship with Tracy Lawton just to manipulate her, to make her feel sorry for him. Well, it wasn’t going to work.
A small sound behind her made her start. Someone was there, hiding in the bushes beside the fishing shack. The muscles in her legs tensed. She turned to look, but her eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness.
Years of city and suburban living had taught Allison never to trust the darkness. Nervously, she turned and started to walk quickly back to Isabel’s house. The sound came again, closer this time. She looked back over her shoulder, but there was nothing there.
She was afraid to run. If someone or something was stalking her, it would sense her fear and leap to attack, like a vicious dog. She glanced at Brent’s lighted kitchen window. A few more steps, a quick turn, and she’d be at his front door. She imagined herself knocking, imagined Brent opening the door and gathering her into the safety of his arms. It was a fantasy, she knew, something she couldn’t do no matter how much she might want to. She’d told Brent she wanted him to leave her alone. What would he think if she came knocking on his door in the dead of night?
Island Summer Love Page 12