by Sarah Morgan
“Did you ever think you couldn’t do it?” The words tumbled out, revealing more than she’d intended to reveal, and Ryan gave her a long, steady look.
“Is this about me or you?”
Her hand shook on the cup, and she put it on the nearest countertop. “Did you ever worry that you wouldn’t be able to keep them safe?”
“Safe from what?”
“Everything.” Her mouth felt as if she’d run a marathon through the desert. “There are dangers everywhere.”
“I made plenty of mistakes, if that’s what you’re asking. Fortunately, kids are resilient. They survived the culinary disasters, the laundry mistakes, the fact I couldn’t sew and didn’t have a clue about child development. Rachel followed me everywhere. I think she was afraid I might disappear like our parents.”
She tried to imagine it. The teenage boy and the little girl. “It must have been a wrench when you left to go to college.”
“Are you kidding?” He gave a short laugh. “After spending my teenage years with three kids crawling all over me, I was so desperate to escape this place I would have swum to the mainland if that was the only way to leave the island. By then I had my bedroom back, but I was looking forward to a night that didn’t start with reading Green Eggs and Ham.”
“You didn’t miss them?”
It was a moment before he answered. “I loved them, but, no, I didn’t miss them. I badly needed to get away and have a life that didn’t include school plays and parent-teacher conferences. My grandmother had help from the other women in her group and several of the islanders. In a way, they were an extended family. They had rotations for babysitting, collecting from school. When there were school events, Rachel had all of them in the front row.”
It made her smile. “This was the same group who were meeting for book club the other night?”
“Yeah. And Kathleen, of course.”
“You had a great deal of responsibility at a young age. That’s why you’re not married?”
He laughed. “Let’s just say I value my independence. The ability to come and go as I please. I don’t plan on giving that up anytime soon.”
Emily picked up her coffee, pulled out one of the pretty blue kitchen chairs and sat down. Through the open door she could see Lizzy throwing the ball over and over again while the dog bounded after it, tail wagging. “The first time I met Kathleen, I couldn’t believe she was real. I’d never met anyone like her. She was so kind and genuine and interested. She never expected anyone to conform. She truly valued individuality.”
“Yes. She was a special woman with a gift for reading people.”
“I barely spoke on my first visit.” Emily took a sip of coffee. “I was overwhelmed by everything. The exchange of ideas. Laughter. It was alien to me because my home life was nothing like that.”
If he was wondering how her home life was, he kept the questions to himself. “You came often?”
“Every summer. I had nowhere else to go, and Skylar would do just about anything to avoid going home, so Brittany invited us here.”
“It wasn’t enough to be together at college?”
Emily finished her coffee and put the cup down. “When Brittany invited me into her room on that first day, I wondered how on earth I’d survive living next to someone as volatile as her. Skylar arrived a couple of minutes later, dropped off by the family chauffeur rather than her parents because they thought she was throwing away her life studying art when she could have been a lawyer. I took one look at her clothes and assumed we’d have nothing in common. I admired her dress, trying to be polite, and she told me she’d made it herself for less than ten dollars. Then Brittany took a call from her lawyer about her divorce while we sat open-mouthed. I assume you know all about that as you’re friends?”
He didn’t look at her. “Yeah, I know.”
“She was a mess, but in a way it broke the ice. Right from the start there were no barriers. We talked until we couldn’t keep our eyes open. At the beginning, all we had in common was that we’d been let down by the people closest to us. Maybe it was a sense of isolation that brought us together. I don’t know, but we understood each other. Our friendship grew from there.”
“I can’t believe our visits didn’t overlap.”
“Maybe we didn’t notice each other.” Her heart thudded uncomfortably as his gaze locked on hers.
“I would have noticed you.”
“Ryan—”
“I would have noticed you.” His voice was soft, his eyes fixed on her face with such unwavering attention that she felt something uncurl deep inside her.
Most people looked at another person and saw the surface. Ryan ignored the surface and looked deeper, as if he’d learned that the face someone presented to the world had no more substance than a picture.
He hadn’t touched her, and yet her skin tingled and her body heated.
The tense, delicious silence was broken by Lizzy, who came back into the kitchen, the dog at her ankles. “Can she stay with us?”
With visible effort Ryan transferred his gaze from Emily to the child.
“I have to take her back to my grandmother, but I’ll bring her to see you again soon.” He leaned forward and picked up the final bag. “I’ve brought you some things to keep you busy.” He pulled out a bucket and spade in bright sparkly pink. “You are living next to one of the best beaches on the island. You’re going to want to make the most of that.”
And just like that, the mood was shattered.
Emily stared at the bucket, numb, while Lizzy reached for it.
“Emily doesn’t like the beach.”
Pulling herself together, Emily stood up. “We’ve been busy, that’s all. Maybe in a few days.”
“I could go by myself.”
“No. You mustn’t go near the water.” The words came out in a rush and she saw Ryan’s eyes narrow. “I— We— Let’s take a few more days to settle in and then we’ll see. The bucket is a thoughtful gift, Ryan. And the hat was a great idea.”
What wasn’t a great idea was a trip to the beach.
She knew she wasn’t ready for that.
She wasn’t sure she ever would be.
*
SKYLAR ARRIVED LATE Friday afternoon, bringing an explosion of color and city sophistication to their peaceful existence. “I’ve brought provisions.” She winked at Emily, delved into the bag and pulled out a parcel that she handed to the child.
Lizzy looked at her, dazzled by the halo of golden hair and the bright smile. Skylar wore a cluster of silver bangles on her wrists, and they clinked together as she moved her arms. Lizzy lasted five minutes before climbing onto a chair to take a closer look.
“They’re shiny.”
“They’re silver. Want to try one on?” Sky slid one off her arm. “I made them.”
Lizzy was wide-eyed with awe. “How?”
“It’s what I do. I make jewelry.” She made it sound like a fun hobby, but Emily knew Skylar was starting to make ripples, not just in the jewelry world but also with her glass. She’d recently had a small exhibition in New York, showing not only glass and jewelry, but also ceramics and some of her artwork.
Lizzy fingered the bracelets. “Could I make them?”
“Yes. Not silver, but there are other types of jewelry that are just as pretty. We’ll make something tomorrow. The first stage is always design. Do you have paper and coloring pens?”
Lizzy shook her head and Sky smiled. “Look in the white bag. There are glitter pens underneath the fairy wings and tiara.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Why not a cowboy outfit?”
“Wanting to be a fairy princess is a perfectly reasonable ambition when you’re six.” Skylar thrust a bulging bag toward her. “This is for you.”
“You bought me fairy wings and a tiara?”
“I bought you the adult equivalent. Something suitable for a summer at the beach, so you don’t have to walk around looking as if you’re taking a lunch break from running a prison. You’re
welcome.” Sky leaned forward and hugged her tightly. “Stop wearing black and undo a few buttons. Let the sunshine in. If you won’t do it for me, do it for your health. Maine has over forty-five identified species of mosquitoes, and black just happens to be their favorite color. Right now you are an insect banquet.”
Later, much later, after a supper of pizza and ice cream followed by a girlie movie marathon, they waited for Lizzy to fall asleep and then curled up on Kathleen’s sofas and shared a bottle of wine.
“I’d give anything for a slice of Kathleen’s apple-topped ginger cake.” Skylar stretched her arms in a long, languid movement that reminded Emily of a contented cat. “With maple cream.”
“It would cost you around a week pounding on the treadmill.”
“It would be worth every stride and every bead of sweat.”
“I don’t know how you can keep such terrible eating habits and stay so slim.”
“It’s nervous energy. So, how has it been?” Settling into the sofa, Sky curled her legs under her, her waterfall of white-blond hair flowing over her shoulder. “I didn’t see anyone with cameras when I arrived.”
“No. I’m starting to think I overreacted. If they’re looking, they’re not looking here. Ryan thinks they’ll be bored with it soon.”
“Ryan? You met a man?” Skylar looked interested. “Tell me more.”
“He’s a local businessman. He owns the Ocean Club. Friend of Brittany’s.”
“Friend? Friend, as in someone she knows, or someone she’s had sex with?”
“I haven’t asked.” And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“That’s the difference between us. It would have been my first question. Let’s ask her, although I’m pretty sure she would have told us if there was something to tell.” Sky reached for her phone. “Is he sexy?” She tapped at the keys and pressed Send.
Emily thought about the hard planes of his handsome face and the power of that body. Oh, yes. “Why is that relevant?”
“Because you need some light relief after Neil. You’ll have lines on your forehead before your time, and no man should ever do that to a woman.” Putting her phone down, Skylar leaned forward and topped up her wineglass. “Do you trust him?”
“Ryan? Yes.” It surprised her to discover that she did. “Tell me about you. How is Richard?”
“Busy. Running for senate means he isn’t home much. He wants me to give up my business and travel around the state with him. He says he needs my support.” She talked quickly and Emily listened, dismissing the nagging voice in her head that told her Skylar wasn’t suited to that life.
Who was she to give advice?
What did she know about long-term, functioning relationships?
“Do you want to give up your business?”
“No. I love what I’m doing and it’s going well. A new store in Brooklyn has just agreed to stock my jewelry, and a gallery in London is hosting an exhibition for my new collection Ocean Blue, so I’m crazy busy getting ready for that.”
“You have an exhibition in London? Skylar, that’s wonderful!” Emily reached across and hugged her friend. “I’m so proud of you. Wow. Richard must be proud, too. And your parents? Surely now they can see this is right for you.”
Skylar took another gulp of wine. “My choice of career is something my parents don’t mention. And Richard doesn’t want me to go to London.”
“He doesn’t—” Emily was thrown. “But this is huge. Why wouldn’t he want you to go? He should be so proud of you.”
“The timing is bad. If he wins in November, he’ll want me by his side for all the Christmas functions.” Skylar put her glass down, her eyes miserable. “And I hate the way things are right now, Em. I bump into my parents and it’s as if we’re strangers. The only thing I’ve ever done right in their eyes is date Richard Everson. They want me to go home to Long Island for the holidays.”
“You said you weren’t putting yourself through that again.”
“I know what I said. They want me to bring Richard. And he wants to go, of course, because he needs my father’s support. So I’m facing a miserable Christmas with my parents, being held up as an example of a daughter who wasted her life. My younger brother passed the bar exam by the way, so I’m now officially the only non-lawyer in the family.” The smile stayed on her face, but her voice was thickened. “Whatever happened to the fairy-tale Christmas we used to dream about, Em? What happened to ice-skating, roasting chestnuts and family fun? Christmas in my house is about as much fun as a day in the Supreme Court.”
“You can’t give up your exhibition, Sky. They should be excited for you! They should— On second thought, don’t get me started on that one.” Emily flopped back against the sofa. “Can you believe this? On the outside you have the perfect family, but you’re no better off than I am.”
“I know. My friendship with you and Brit has been stronger than anything I’ve had with my family.” Sky stared down into her glass. “The other reason I don’t want to go home for the holidays is that I’m afraid Richard is going to make some dramatic gesture.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. He’s hinting at marriage again. He thinks it will help his image.”
Emily almost spilled her wine. “He wants to marry you because he thinks it will garner him public approval? What about what you want? And, more to the point, what about love?”
“I asked that exact same question.”
“And?”
Skylar took a mouthful of wine. “He told me not to be ridiculous. Said that of course he loves me. That goes without saying.”
“Love should never go without saying.” Emily felt a flicker of unease. “You did tell him how you feel about marriage?”
“Of course. I’ve always been honest about it. He knows it isn’t what I want. For me a relationship should be held together by strong emotions, not a piece of paper.” Some of the sparkle in her eyes dimmed. “Do you think I’m too romantic?”
“For believing in love? No, but that isn’t what matters. What matters is finding a man who understands and respects your views, whatever they are.” And she was fairly sure Richard wasn’t that person. Emily found his charm superficial and manipulative rather than genuine. She would never have put him with someone as creative and sensitive as Sky. It was like sending an armored tank to catch a butterfly. “Relationships are hard. Finding someone who wants the same things as you is rare. Finding someone who understands you, even rarer.”
“Are you about to tell me you had that with Neil? Because I won’t believe you.”
What had she had with Neil? She wasn’t sure she could put a name to it. “It was an easy relationship.”
“Is easy another word for boring?”
“Maybe. It was safe. I was with him for three years and not once did I ever feel confused about my feelings.” She’d known Ryan two days, and her feelings had been all over the place.
“It was your lucky day when he dumped you. The only thing I don’t understand is why you didn’t dump him first. You deserve so much better. All you need to do now is throw out everything black in your wardrobe.”
“I like black.”
“It makes you fade into the background.”
“That’s exactly where I want my body to be. In the background. You have no idea how many men have had conversations with my chest.”
“And I bet you managed to get them to look into your eyes two seconds after you opened your mouth. You’re bright and witty, Emily. Your body is your body. It’s the only one you have, and you shouldn’t feel you need to hide it.”
“You don’t understand. Even Neil agreed that my breasts, if not exactly my worst feature, were unfortunate.”
“He said that? I’m glad you told me because now if I ever get the chance to kill him, I’m going to make sure it’s a slow death. Why do you think he said that, Em? Because underneath the surface he was a jealous creep, and he didn’t want other men looking at you.”
Emily tried to picture Neil jealous. “I want people to take me seriously.”
“I understand. Look at this blond hair—” Skylar lifted a handful of pale silk “—do you think people don’t prejudge me? Of course they do, but I don’t care. I love my hair, and if they want to take it as a sign that my brain is minuscule, then it will give me all the more pleasure to prove them wrong. This isn’t about the way you relate to men. It’s to do with your mother.”
Emily examined her nails. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe. She used her body because she had a pathological need for attention and didn’t know any other way to get it. You’re nothing like her.”
“Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see similarities.”
“Change your mirror. I am going to take a pair of scissors to your clothes. It’s time you stopped hiding. You deserve a grand passion, and your breasts deserve to have a life outside the rigid confines of corsetry.”
Emily stared wistfully into her wineglass. “I’ve never had a grand passion. I’ve never felt that strongly about anyone. I’m not sure I want to.”
“That’s because you associate passion with the sleazy encounters your mother had. But that wasn’t passion. That was opportunistic sex.”
Emily thought about the constant parade of men when she was growing up. The cramped apartment had been busier than Times Square in July. The walls had been paper thin, the lack of air-conditioning adding to the oppressive atmosphere of the place. She was fairly sure her mother hadn’t been a passion addict, just an attention addict. “Lana inherited some of her traits. She had that same desperate need to be the focus of attention.”
She’d worked hard to be the opposite, but in doing so she’d put a label on passion as something to avoid, which had proven to be easy enough until now.
She thought about Ryan and the way he made her feel. Of the sexual awareness simmering beneath the surface of every interaction. “Do you see a future with Richard?”
Skylar lay back on the sofa. “He has many qualities that I admire. He knows what he wants and he’s determined to do what he has to do to get there.”
“And he wants you.” She didn’t voice her uneasy suspicion that Richard saw Skylar as an acquisition, a tool to enhance his political appeal.