by Jenny Hale
As they got closer, Callie could see the woman’s complexion; clearly she’d spent a lot of time and money to keep her skin looking flawless for her age, but her eyes told a different story. There was something behind them—they looked tired, or maybe sad. She couldn’t tell.
“Callie,” Luke said, stepping forward and handing her a new, ice-cold glass. He moved to the side to allow the woman to take the spot directly in front of Callie. “This is my mother. Mom, this is Callie.”
“Lillian Sullivan,” she said, giving her an appraising once-over, making Callie feel as if she were just another girl Luke brought to the house.
While the others fell into conversation, sitting down on the deck chairs, Lillian turned to her son. “Where have you been, dear? I’ve been looking for you all night.”
“I was showing Callie my work in the garage.”
Lillian was motionless for an instant, the comment noticeably affecting her. “Oh?” she said, before turning slowly and looking at Callie as if she’d only just now seen her. She smiled at her, and Callie had to work to keep her breath from coming out like a popped balloon. Lillian Sullivan could certainly be intimidating. But when she softened, it was like she was a totally different person.
“Have you seen Luke surf? I love to watch him surf.” She looked up at the sky and shook her head as if the memory was right there, before her gaze landed back on Callie.
“I haven’t,” she answered, nervously taking a sip of her drink.
Luke piped up, “I tried to get her to go surfing with me, but she wouldn’t go.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t go. You asked me to go today and the party was today.”
“So you would go?” He was grinning at her as he lifted his drink to his lips. What was it—whiskey and coke? She knew he was baiting her.
“Yes, I’d go.”
Amusement swelled in Luke’s features. “Are you nervous about surfing?”
“No.” What she couldn’t say out loud was that she was nervous about being with him. She was finding it harder to push her feelings away; unable to control how her body responded to Luke. Her skin felt all tingly and alive just looking at him.
“Callie,” Olivia called from the sofa. When she leaned around Luke to see her friend, she was surprised to find Aiden with his arm stretched out behind Olivia. They sure did look cozy. Olivia waved her phone in the air. “Gram’s coming to get Wyatt later. We can stay.”
“Yay!” Juliette said, coming back over after being sidetracked by a few of her friends.
Luke shook his head. “I’ll be helping Mitchell to bed tonight, I can tell.” He chuckled. “Julie isn’t always like this, but she deserves to have a night out. She’s only recently divorced,” he said quietly. “And she’s had a rough go of things for the last few years. I’m glad to see her finally happy.”
“Divorce is a messy endeavor,” Lillian said. “I know from experience.” She’d gotten a glass of wine from one of the waiters and was holding it with both hands, her diamond rings swinging around her finger with the weight of the stones. “It was devastating when I had to go through it, and I’m so sad Juliette has to go through the same thing.”
“Me too,” Luke said, putting his arm around his mother and kissing the top of her head. Then, switching gears in an obvious attempt to lighten his mother’s mood, he said, “I think you need to hang out with us tonight.”
She looked lovingly up at her son. “I’d never manage. I’ll be asleep before you all have even started.”
“Nonsense. Aiden and I will keep you going.”
Callie sat down. She was taken with Luke’s relationship with his mother.
He shook his mother’s shoulders playfully. “Come on…” he coaxed.
“Stop it,” she scolded with a laugh. “You’re going to make me spill my wine.” When he let her go, she added, “You can’t stay up too late if you’re going to take Callie surfing anyway. You don’t want to sleep all day.”
“Did you hear that, Callie?” Luke said, plopping down beside her on the sofa. “Mom says we’re going surfing tomorrow. I never argue with my mother.” He winked at Lillian.
Callie didn’t argue either.
Wyatt, exhausted, climbed into the back of Gladys’s car and covered up with the beach towel that Luke had returned as promised—all clean and freshly laundered. Callie had gone with Olivia to meet Gladys out front of the Sullivans’ so she could wish him goodnight before Gladys took him home. She noticed the news van had gone.
“I painted a few wine glasses tonight for fun with Adelaide.” Gladys opened her car door but stood just beside it, carrying on their conversation. “It was Adelaide Foster, Callie,” she said.
Callie tried to recollect the name—it sounded familiar.
“Oh! Yes. The lockbox. Did she give you Frederick McFarlin’s contact information?”
Gladys frowned. “No. I’m sorry. She couldn’t find it.”
“Aw, that’s too bad,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, we tried.” As Gladys climbed into the driver’s seat, they said a quick goodbye to Wyatt and headed inside.
When they entered the house, Aiden met them in the entryway. “Luke said to go upstairs and get him when you’re back in. He’s putting Mitchell to bed,” he told Callie.
Olivia followed Aiden into the living room while Callie took the steps carefully, the drinks she’d had making her just relaxed enough that she felt the need to hold the railing.
When she found the room, Luke was on the floor, leaning against a large, four-poster bed, reading to Mitchell from a chapter book. Something he’d read had made Mitchell laugh and Callie could see Luke’s smile emerge just before he turned to look at her.
“Hi,” he said, looking so content that she had to catch her breath. Images of him as a father flashed through her head, questions about what he’d be like years down the road came flooding in. She willed herself to stop.
He ruffled Mitchell’s hair. “That’s it for tonight, buddy. Happy birthday.”
Mitchell smiled and yawned, turning over in his bed, exhaustion winning out.
Luke nodded toward the door.
When they got downstairs, Olivia had already settled in beside Aiden in the living room. He had his arm around her in a way that could be just friendly but Callie had to wonder.
“I’ll get us a drink,” Luke said, leaving her to have a seat on her own. She went over next to Olivia.
“Aiden has always had great business sense,” Lillian was telling Olivia when Callie joined them mid-conversation. “Edward, his uncle, dotes on him any chance he gets.” Lillian smiled, clearly glad to be able to speak highly of her nephew.
“Oh, my gosh, I know,” Juliette said, her eyes heavy. “Dad just loves Aiden.”
Luke appeared, handing Callie some sort of pink drink with a wedge of pineapple and a maraschino cherry, his gaze lingering on Aiden.
Callie took a sip of her drink. The band started playing again, and Juliette popped up. “Oh! They’re playing ‘Brown Eyed Girl’!” Her feet were bare, her heels on their sides under the large window. Her glass of wine sloshed as she started to dance. “Luke, get out here and dance!” Juliette swayed before resuming her dancing.
“I think you need to dance, Mom,” Luke said, standing up. He turned to Callie. “The next song is yours, I promise.” He flashed that smile that sent her stomach whirring, so she took another sip of her drink to try to squash it.
Luke gently took his mother’s wine and set it on the table beside her. Then he took her by the hands and led her out to the dance floor. The minute they got out there, he dipped her dramatically, making her giggle. When he set her back up, she gave him a displeased look but she had a hard time keeping it on her face, her smile emerging again.
“Luke’s always been a mama’s boy,” Aiden said, his tone light-hearted. “He’s a one of a kind—so laid back, full of life.”
“I like that,” Callie heard herself saying and then realized the thought had actually
come out. She looked down at her drink, blaming the alcohol but really, it was true. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She resumed drinking her fruity concoction, not wanting to speak again for fear she might spout off about all of Luke’s wonderful qualities. When she raised her head from her drink, Luke was standing in front of her. “Want to dance?” The music was slow, the kind that made her feel like putting her head on his shoulder.
“Get out here right now!” Juliette called from her group of friends.
“What’s in this drink?” Callie asked, feeling the weight in her legs as she stood up. She used all her focus to get the glass onto the table. When she righted herself, she took hold of his arm to keep herself steady.
“A couple of different kinds of rum,” he said. “We don’t have to dance. I’ll get you a water. Sit back down.”
“No.” She smiled up at him. “I’m okay. It just hit me hard, that’s all.” She could feel the firmness in his grip on her as if he were making sure she wouldn’t fall. “Let’s dance.”
She put her arms around his neck and made eye contact. “I’m having so much fun,” she admitted.
The corners of his eyes wrinkled just slightly with his grin. “I’m glad,” he said. “I can tell that drink has hit you. Sure you don’t want some water?”
“I don’t need any water,” she said, feeling his hands on her hips.
“Okay.” He smiled again.
“What?”
“Tell me, what have you liked most about tonight?”
She reached up a little more and clasped her hands behind his neck, pulling their bodies closer. “I liked seeing your surfboards, hearing you talk about them.” She blinked, willing her eyes to open again. “I liked talking on the beach when we got here and I liked watching you put Mitchell to bed. I like this.”
He chuckled. “Let’s definitely get you some water.”
She stared at him alarmed. “Why do you keep telling me I need water?”
“Because you haven’t opened up so easily since I’ve met you. I can see how hard it is when you tell me about yourself. I like this version of you. Keep it. But without the alcohol.” He leaned down, his lips so close to her ear that she got a shiver. “I think you might actually like me.” He pulled back, grinning that crooked grin, those eyes like sapphires.
“You just like the chase,” she said, her thoughts still pouring out, and the sting on his face surprised her, making her doubt her ability to think rationally. Guilt swelled in her stomach for a moment, but then she faltered. What if he was playing her right now? “I’m probably the first girl who wouldn’t kiss you on command. Well, I don’t do that,” she said, the words coming out softly, giving away her uncertainty.
His gaze was intense, and their feet had almost stopped moving entirely. She could read him perfectly in that moment and he was telling her that she was wrong about him. Neither of them made a move. Finally, he said, “And what if I kissed you now?”
Everything in her body wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t trust her judgment. Things would be different once the alcohol wore off, she was sure of it. She mustered all the courage she had. “I said I won’t kiss you on command.”
The intensity faded and he looked away, contemplative. He nodded, pulling her closer, and they danced.
Fourteen
Callie rolled over on her air mattress, her head feeling like it was being hit with a million bowling balls and her mouth bone dry. She grimaced. The shuttle had taken them home well after midnight and both Olivia and Callie had fallen into bed in their respective rooms without even a word to each other. They were both completely exhausted. Wyatt had stayed at Gladys’s, and she wondered if he was still there. She tried to open her eyes, the sunlight making the pounding worse. Beside her was a glass of water and a note that read,
Luke’s staff brought the car home this morning. I didn’t wake you. I’m going to Gram’s to be nursed back to life. Thought you’d like a quiet house. O.
Callie took a big drink from the water glass, her stomach rumbling but the pain in her head preventing her from moving to get herself something to eat. The night was coming back to her in bits and pieces—she could recall leaving the car keys, dancing… She chewed on her lip, remembering her conversation with Luke. The thing was, even without the alcohol, she might have told him those things.
With a yawn, she slowly stood, the room moving with her. She took another drink of water and got her bearings. Her eye caught Alice’s journal on her dresser and she remembered Gladys telling her about Adelaide. It was a shame that Adelaide didn’t have Frederick’s contact details. Callie felt a renewed prickle of interest in the idea of finding him to return the journal and the lockbox. Perhaps the journal would contain Frederick’s business name, and she could find him that way. It would be a good distraction from the thoughts she had about last night, about Luke. She took it with her and went to make some coffee.
With the sound of the coffee machine percolating and an empty mug waiting to be filled, Callie opened the journal, thumbing through, looking for Frederick’s name when she stopped on the word “brother.” She read:
I’ve always been cautious with my own choices, and sometimes, I wonder if I’ve been a little too cautious. My whole life, I was so afraid of getting hurt that now I sit here alone, under this lamp, writing to you, my dear journal, my quiet companion. But my brother is the complete opposite. He allows his heart to lead him, he’s too honest, and he jumps before he realizes the consequences. Because of that, he has a child who will never know who his father is.
A child? Callie pursed her lips, shocked. Callie could relate to this entry so much. She, too, had been cautious about getting close to people. She stared at the words, wondering if she’d be alone at the end, with only a journal to keep her company. Callie didn’t blame her mother for her difficulty letting people in, but she’d had a part in it. She pondered whether her mother thought about her, if she was ever curious about what she’d been up to. Would she come to The Beachcomber if Callie asked her?
Thinking back to the journal, Callie wondered what it would be like to not have known her father at all. She might have chosen the question mark over the hurt of his absence. Maybe Frederick was doing his kid a favor. But maybe not. Did he sit somewhere missing his child? Did he feel like he’d abandoned his baby? She’d often wondered, growing up, if her dad had missed her, and sometimes she’d considered trying to find him, but her apprehension had prevented it. It was only after he died and one of his friends had called to let them know, with no personal message to her or her mother, and no attempt to reach out prior to his death, that her fears were confirmed.
As she poured her coffee, she heard a knock at the door. Callie squeezed her eyes shut, to alleviate the pounding in her head. Setting the mug onto the counter, she walked to the front door to answer it.
Luke, looking all alert and carefree, was grinning at her from the other side of the door. “Hey,” he said, his eyes moving down to her bare feet and back up. “Still answering the door in your T-shirts?” He grinned.
She moved out of the way to allow him to enter. She didn’t bother covering herself this time, her throbbing headache preventing her from caring. “My head is killing me.”
Luke came in and shut the door. “You need water.”
“I’m making coffee.”
“No, I mean ocean water. The sun and the movement of the sea will help.”
The faint memory of their surfing date feathered its way into her consciousness. “It might make me nauseous.”
He laughed quietly, his eyes on her.
She poured her coffee and added sugar and cream. “Want some?”
Luke shook his head, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting down. “No, thank you.” He looked out at the sea a moment through the window before turning back to her as she sat down beside him with her mug.
“Last night was fun,” he said. “How much did you drink?”
“I lost count.” She clos
ed her eyes and took a long sip of coffee. She was okay, as long as she didn’t talk…
“I shouldn’t have made you that drink at the end. It had too much rum in it. I’m sorry. I just thought you might like it.”
“I did. And how were you to know?”
He leaned forward. “At least it got you dancing.”
She narrowed her eyes at him but only half seriously. “Maybe you did know what it might do then.”
She expected some witty response about trying to get her to talk or something, but instead he said, “You know what I think? I think you’re relying on those articles you read about me because you can’t face the fact that you’re scared.”
“What?” What was he talking about? Had she missed something?
“You heard me. You’re scared to death to feel something for someone, to let someone in.” He scooted closer. “But I’m telling you right now that you don’t have to be scared. I wouldn’t knowingly give you too much to drink. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden agenda. I want to hang out with you…” His knee started bouncing under the table and he looked as though he didn’t want to finish his sentence, but then he became still and looked into her eyes. “Because I think you’re amazing, and when I leave you, I can’t wait to see you again.”
She looked down into her mug, the brown liquid still, the sunlight sending a tiny glare across it. All her thoughts were bumping into one another, and she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what to do or how to react because her own feelings for him were muddling everything up. How did he know her so well?
“Wanna go surfing?” he asked tenderly, as if he knew how hard it was for her to respond to that kind of admission. She didn’t know how to be honest with someone. Where was she supposed to draw the line? Was she supposed to just tell him every single thought she had? She didn’t know. But she was thankful that he could sense her uncertainty and he was taking it easy on her. “Well?”