Deliver the Moon

by Rebecca J. Clark

  His deep sigh caused his bare chest to rise and fall. “It’s a broken record with us. I’m always pressuring you into things you’d rather not do. I won’t do that to you anymore, which is why I’m taking you home.” He reached for his shirt and spread it onto the ironing board.

  “You think I can’t make my own decisions.” Statement, not a question.

  He began ironing out the wrinkles in a plain white T-shirt. “No. But I do think you hate making waves, that you’ll go along with something to avoid conflict.”

  “It always comes back to my parents, doesn’t it? You’re referring to the way you think I cave to them all the time, aren’t you? And I know you still think I’m with Evan because of them.”

  He finally stopped with his uncharacteristic domesticity and swung around to face her fully, his expression unreadable, formidable. “I don’t want to fight with you, Lou.”

  “How many times did I hear that when we were married?” She turned away, blinking back the threatening tears.

  “Louisa.”

  After a few more fast blinks, she turned around.

  He exhaled slowly. “You told me last night you weren’t able to relax around me. Maybe you’ll never feel totally at ease with me again, I don’t know, but would it help if I dropped this whole fate thing?”

  “You don’t believe we’re meant to be together anymore?” she asked.

  He took a long time answering. “I still believe that you’re the only one out there for me, but it has to work both ways. You have to believe that, too. If all you’re able to offer me is friendship, then that’s what I’ll take.”

  “I thought you said we could never just be friends.”

  “Did I say that?” At her nod, he said, “It’s better than nothing.” He pulled the shirt over his head, his chest and stomach muscles rippling with the movement. Her heart rate jumped a few notches.

  She cleared her throat. “So you don’t want to stay here another day?” She couldn’t breathe as she awaited his answer.

  His eyes looked suddenly tired, and he rubbed at them as he crossed to the bed to shut the suitcase. He carried the luggage to the door. “I’d stay here with you forever if you asked me to.”

  His gaze caught hers for a few heartbeats.

  “I’ll go pack my things,” she finally said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sarah spread cream cheese onto a bagel and handed it to Arty. He took a bite then held out the bagel to her, holding it while she took a bite. They grinned at each other.

  “I love you,” Arty said.

  She swiped a wayward bit of cream cheese from the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too.”

  She stood and brushed crumbs off her lap. “I’m going to the room to grab my things, then I’ll be back to take a shower.”

  Arty arms snuck around her waist, and his hands splayed across her belly as he rose to stand behind her. “We’ll figure this out, Sarah,” he whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “We’ll get through this.”

  She covered his hands with her own and sighed, leaning her head back to rest on his shoulder. “I know we will. But it’s just so hard knowing that I’ll never…”

  Arty turned her in his arms and peered down into her eyes. “I know.” He dropped a soft kiss onto her upturned mouth. “I know.”

  Feeling lucky to have such a wonderful man as her husband, she blew him a kiss over her shoulder as she stepped onto the bungalow’s front porch, closing the door behind her. She sighed contentedly, feeling more at peace than she had in weeks.

  As she passed the next bungalow, the door opened, and Louisa stepped onto the porch, head down.

  Sarah realized that was Gabe’s bungalow and smiled. “Well, well, well.”

  Louisa’s head snapped up. Her face was pale, and a frown tugged at her lips. “Oh, hi.” Her smile looked forced.

  “You okay?” Sarah joined Louisa on the path through the courtyard.

  “I should be asking you the same question.” Louisa cocked her head back toward the bungalows. “I take it you two made up?”

  Sarah grasped her arm and stopped her as they passed the swing. “Something happened with you and Gabe, didn’t it?”

  Louisa turned her head and peered past Sarah’s shoulder a moment. “No. Nothing happened. We’re heading back to Seattle in a few minutes.”

  Sarah blinked. “But why? We have the rooms until tomorrow.”

  “You and Arty should stay on, of course. But Gabe and I…” She swallowed. “Well, there’s no more need for us to stay, is there?”

  Sarah squinted hard at her friend. “Is this coming from him or from you?”

  Louisa shrugged. “Both.” She pulled her arm from Sarah’s grasp. “I need to pack.”

  Sarah started after her, then suddenly stopped. “I forgot my…uh, I forgot something at Arty’s. I’ll, um, meet you in our room.”

  She practically sprinted back across the courtyard and flung open the door of the bungalow.

  Arty poked his head out of the bathroom as he brushed his teeth. He spit into the sink. “Well, that was fast. Where’s all your stuff?” He grabbed a hand towel from the counter and wiped his mouth.

  She kissed him and tasted the mint toothpaste on his lips, then tugged him into the main room. “You know how Gabe and Louisa went out of their way to play matchmaker, getting us here together where we’d be forced to confront our issues?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I think they’re in desperate need for the same treatment.”

  ****

  “Stop packing,” Gabe said in her ear.

  Louisa’s hand tightened on the cell phone. “What? Why?” She couldn’t stop the tiny thrill from speeding through her bloodstream and the smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  “Arty just came by. He and Sarah got into another big fight.”

  Louisa frowned and stared at the closed bathroom door. “But I thought—?”

  “You and I both. We thought wrong apparently.”

  Louisa immediately felt about an inch tall. She’d been so caught up in her own troubles, she hadn’t even noticed Sarah’s. She’d assumed since her friend had come out of Arty’s bungalow this morning that everything was okay. A few minutes ago, Sarah had burst into the room and immediately shut herself in the bathroom, and now the shower was on. Louisa had assumed she was just in a hurry to get back to her husband.

  She sighed, feeling lower than dirt, having let her friend down. “So now what?”

  “Arty mentioned wanting to leave this morning, but I convinced him to stay a few more hours at least.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “I, uh, told him you and I had some unfinished business to take care of and he’d be doing us a favor by staying.” He didn’t sound happy about that prospect at all.

  “Oh.” Unfinished business. It sounded so impersonal. But maybe that’s how she needed to view her and Gabe’s relationship—as impersonal.

  Right.

  Louisa wished she could say she was unhappy about the prospect of staying in Port Townsend, with Gabe, a while longer. She knew she should be unhappy about it.

  “I heard there’s a nice park on the water not far from here,” she said. “Maybe we could talk them into a picnic. I mean, what’s more romantic and soothing than a beach with waves lapping at the shore?” Romantic for Sarah and Arty, of course.

  “You think Sarah will go for that?”

  Louisa glanced at the bathroom, where Sarah was taking the longest shower known to mankind. “I’ll, um, tell her she’s doing us a favor, just like you told Arty.”

  ****

  Chetzamoka Park was just a short walk from Smith House. Gabe had a couple of errands to run, and Sarah and Arty planned to arrive shortly, so Louisa headed to the park alone.

  Wandering through the front gate, swinging a tote heavy with towels and sunscreen, she was greeted by a lovely rose arbor. She strolled through the tunnel of flowers, breathing in f
resh sea air and the scent of roses.

  Disappointment bubbled inside her. Not only were two of her favorite people still having marital woes, but Gabe was backing off. He no longer wanted to convince her she was meant to be with him. Apparently, he finally respected her wishes, respected her relationship with Evan.

  So what was with this feeling of rejection?

  She stopped at the edge of the lawn, peering out over the water. Low clouds hugged the horizon, hiding the distant land from view. She followed a path to the water, moving from the dirt trail to rocky shore. Small pebbles slid between her sandals and the soles of her feet, making her wish she’d worn more substantial shoes.

  The tide wasn’t out very far, and she stepped carefully toward the water’s edge, over increasingly bigger rocks. When cold water licked her toes, she lifted her feet one at a time to slip off her sandals. Pointing her toe, she dabbed the surface of the icy water.

  She glanced behind her, toward the upper park, hoping she’d see Gabe coming down the path. Not yet. Nor was there any sign of the newlyweds. She sighed.

  One of the reasons she’d hesitated to go away with him for the weekend was her fear of what might happen between them—of what would happen between them if he pushed her in the slightest. She’d never had any willpower with him. At one point in her life she’d have followed him off a cliff if he’d jumped first.

  She closed her eyes against the breeze and took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe a little part of her had hoped they would end up in bed together this weekend. Just the thought sent the pulse points throbbing wildly throughout her body. It had been so good between them once, although she was certain her mind had embellished the memories of their intimacy. They were too incredible to be true.

  But Gabe gave her his word he wouldn’t pursue her. If anything were to happen between them, she would have to make the first move. The thought curled her toes and made her sick to her stomach. She’d wanted it the other way around. If he came on to her and she went along with it, she could always say he’d caught her off guard or that he’d swept her away. But if she made the first move, it would be tantamount to telling him that she forgave him, that she was choosing him over Evan. She wasn’t ready to do either now, if ever.

  Even so, her pulse fluttered at the thought that Gabe would join her soon, and she couldn’t help smiling.

  She finally stepped away from the water and peered up and down the beach, tilting her head to see beneath the rim of her wide-brimmed hat. The shoreline to the right was a string of waterfront cottages with flags flapping gently in the wind. To the far left was the Point Wilson Lighthouse jettying into the sun-dappled waters of Admiralty Inlet. Yesterday, she’d seen a postcard of the picturesque image. She’d been so enraptured of the white building against the backdrop of blue sky and waters that Gabe promised to take some photos of it to give to her, saying she might want to paint it someday.

  She grinned. He had her thinking like an artist again. Everywhere she looked she saw shapes and compositions. She saw colors to emulate, landscapes to sketch. She’d gone several years without picking up a pastel, but after only a short time with him, the artist inside her blossomed again. When she returned to Seattle on Sunday, she just might have to dig out her old art supplies packed away in her parents’ attic.

  Not far down the shore, she found an area clear of big rocks. After removing any sharp looking shells and stones, she spread out the blanket. Pulling a bottle of sunscreen from the tote, she rubbed the lotion into her bare arms and glanced toward the upper park, squinting her eyes in the bright sunlight. Still no sign of anyone else.

  Part of her wished Sarah and Arty wouldn’t be joining them, that she and Gabe would have this time alone. The thought sent a delicious shiver skimming over her skin along with the breeze off the inlet.

  ****

  Gabe figured they’d be on the beach, and there Louisa was. He adjusted his sunglasses against the sun’s glare. He didn’t see Arty and Sarah here yet and frowned.

  One look at Louisa, however, had his mouth curving into a grin. She sat on a boulder at the water’s edge, dangling her bare feet in the surf. A straw hat with a blue and white scarf tied around it shielded her face. Louisa loved hats. She liked them not only for their fashion statement but for the sun protection. Her fair skin burned easily, so she always kept sunscreen and a hat with her throughout the summer.

  As usual, his body tightened just looking at her. She was so beautiful. She was so . . . untouchable. He sighed and walked toward her. The wide brim of her hat kept her from seeing his approach.

  Dropping his bags on the blanket she’d spread out, he pulled his camera from its case, popping on a telephoto lens. He had just finished adjusting the focus, when she bent forward and dipped her fingers in the water, her hair falling over her shoulder and contrasting with her white blouse. Beautiful. He snapped a few frames of her like that. After a moment, she straightened and leaned back onto the rock, her hands supporting her from behind. Her eyes closed and her neck arched, inviting the sun to paint her uplifted face.

  Gabe zoomed in for a quick shot, then out again to capture all of her. When she kicked her foot out and splashed the water, he practically groaned. He couldn’t ask for better shots if he were deliberately posing her. But then, his best pictures had always been of her.

  She chose that moment to glance his way. He snapped a picture of the dreamy look on her face before her eyes focused on him. Her shoulders gave a small start.

  “Gabriel, dammit! You scared me to death.” Her cheeks flamed. “How long have you been here?”

  He looped the camera strap around his neck and navigated the rocks as he walked toward her. “Long enough to get some incredible shots. You’re amazing, Lou.”

  Her blush deepened.

  She put a hand to her hat to keep it from blowing off in a sudden gust of wind. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d stood me up.” Her voice and her eyes were teasing.

  “Not a chance,” he said softly, coming up beside her. “Any sign of the others?”

  She peered inland. “Not yet. Maybe they met up and are hashing things out.” She scooted to make room for him on the rock.

  He shook his head and nodded toward their things. “I brought you something. Come over here a minute, will you?”

  Curious, Louisa followed him to the blanket. She sat down as he pulled a flat wooden box about the size of a briefcase from a paper sack. She took it from him with both hands and set it in her lap.

  “What is it?” she asked, peering up at him.

  “Open it and see.” He knelt beside her.

  Giving him a puzzled look, she flipped the clasps of the lid. It opened on hinges. She gasped at the contents. “Gabriel, what’s this for?”

  Inside the box was a brand new box of pastels, not the standard beginner’s kit, but top of the line sticks that serious artists used. She sorted through the rest of the contents with eager fingers, discovering a pad of good quality paper and an assortment of other materials.

  “Art was always such a passion for you,” he said softly. “I was sorry to hear you’d gotten away from it. If nothing else comes of this weekend, I hope you can recapture the joy you used to get out of your work.”

  “I was just thinking about how I needed to dust off all my art supplies. I was just thinking that,” she said again, her voice catching. Moisture rimmed her eyes as she turned to look at him. “I don’t know what to say, Gabriel. Thank you.” The sweet smile she gave him was more than enough thanks.

  He cleared his throat and showed her how the box converted into a portable drawing easel. “Why don’t you play with these a while? I can find something to entertain me.”

  “Oh, I haven’t drawn in years. I don’t know if I’d even remember how to draw a stick figure, let alone anything that resembles a work of art.”

  “It’s like riding a bike, Lou. It’ll come back to you.”

  She pulled the paper from the box and opened the package of pastels. H
er eyes widened as she took in all the beautiful colors, her expression that of an incredulous child.

  He reached over and nudged up the brim of her hat with his index finger. Her eyes were wide with excitement. He couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll see you in a little while,” he said. “Have fun.”

  ****

  “Shit! He’s leaving,” Sarah whispered, grabbing her husband’s arm. They stared through the shrubbery from the path. “How can they work things out if they’re not together?”

  “We can’t force them to talk,” Arty said. “What’s that he gave her?” They moved aside some rhododendron branches and squinted to see better.

  “She’s drawing something,” Sarah said excitedly. “He gave her art supplies. Ooh, that’s so sweet and romantic.”

  “I thought women preferred flowers and chocolate.”

  She punched her husband in the arm. “You’re such a man.”

  “I like to think so.”

  She punched him again.

  “Ouch.” He rubbed his arm. “I hope you don’t plan on staying here and playing Peeping Tom for the next couple of hours.”

  “You don’t want to?”

  He spun her in his arms. “I’d rather go back to the room and play something else.”

  She grinned. “Okay, but only if you promise we’ll check up on these two later.”

  He gave her a scout’s honor salute.

  ****

  Louisa watched as Gabe meandered down the beach, periodically pausing to snap a picture or two of whatever caught his fancy. He had such a way with the camera, able to make the most mundane object come alive, seem exciting. It was his passion.

  She scanned the beach for Sarah and Arty before glancing down at Gabe’s gift. This used to be her passion. She’d let it fizzle away for so long, she’d almost forgotten the joy it brought her. As she fingered the different colors, a happy feeling surged through her, reminding her of how she’d felt as a child when she’d received a brand new box of crayons and coloring book, knowing she would be the first to use them. She’d relished the first stroke of every new color; she’d regarded each new page of that coloring book as a future work of art.