by Sarah Morgan
Greg was sitting by her side, holding her hand.
Nancy thought that the chances of the medical staff persuading him to leave at any point in the near future were zero.
Jenna’s eyes were closed but she opened them when she heard footsteps and her eyes brightened when she saw her sister and her mother.
“Hi.” Her voice was a croak, and Greg tightened his grip on her hand protectively.
“Don’t talk. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“We wanted to see you for a moment.” Nancy leaned down to kiss her. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” Jenna croaked. “Never better.”
Lauren stepped forward and kissed her, too. “Next time you want to get into trouble,” she said, “call me. I’m the ringleader, not you.”
Jenna gave a weak smile. “It wasn’t exactly planned.”
Nancy saw the look they exchanged.
Thank goodness they’d always had each other.
She gestured to Lauren, who nodded agreement.
“You’re going?” Jenna held out her hand. Her face was pale and the livid bruise had spread across her cheekbone.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” A good mother, Nancy thought, should know when to stay and when to leave. “I’ll bring food, because what they feed you in here will poison you.”
Greg stood up, too. “Thank you, Nancy.” He hugged her, something Nancy couldn’t ever remember him doing before.
He and Jenna had things to talk about. They didn’t need her.
She walked back to the car with Scott and Lauren. Now that the worst of the panic was over, she felt drained and exhausted. “How is the Sail Loft coming along?” She made an attempt at normal conversation. “When can I see it?”
“Not until it’s finished.” Lauren was flustered. “Scott’s done a great job.”
“I’m sure.” Nancy studied her daughter’s flushed cheeks and almost smiled.
Whatever the future held, she liked the idea of someone else having a romantic relationship in the Sail Loft. It might stop her thinking about Tom whenever she walked in there.
Lauren put her hand on Nancy’s arm. “It’s going to feel different, Mom, I promise.”
Nancy was touched by her daughter’s sensitivity. “I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
Hear that, Tom? We’ve painted you out of the place. I’m building a new life and your humping, faithless ways aren’t going to stop me.
“All your art equipment is safely stored, but I boxed up everything else that was in the cupboards, so you’ll need to sort through it at some point and decide what you want to keep.”
“I don’t want to keep any of it.”
Lauren looked doubtful. “Don’t you at least want to look?”
They’d reached the parking lot and Nancy saw Scott’s pickup parked on the far side.
“I want to start fresh.” She reached for her keys. “Now that I’ve discovered the cleansing properties of clearing out, I’m finding it surprisingly therapeutic.”
Lauren grinned. “Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?”
“Your old mother is buried under all the rubbish she held on to for decades. Your new mother is about to go back to The Captain’s House and work on the garden until it’s dark. I have some planting to do. Ben promised to work on the place this evening, and I plan on helping him. We’re giving the place a final makeover. Drive carefully.”
* * *
A few hours later, Nancy eased upright and her back screamed a protest. She’d worked hard, but work was the only way she knew to handle stress and anxiety, and she was stressed and anxious about Jenna. Had she talked to Greg?
Wincing, she rubbed her hand over her spine.
Ben was next to her, jamming the spade into the ground as he planted out the last of the shrubs they’d bought.
He glanced at her. “You should take a break.”
“We still have a lot to do.” It was surprisingly companionable, working on the garden as the late evening sun spread across the garden.
Ben pushed the brim of his hat back. “She’s going to be all right, Nancy.”
“I hope so.” She’d never be able to describe how it had felt to get that call from her daughter, knowing she was trapped in the car. At that moment in her life nothing else had mattered. Not the house, not the state of her finances. Not even Tom. “How did you know I was thinking of her?”
“You’ve called the hospital twice in the last hour.” His eyes were gentle and Nancy thought how calming it was to be with him.
“I guess I’m feeling a little overprotective.” She pulled off her gardening gloves. “I wasn’t a good mother, Ben. I don’t need to talk about it and I don’t need you to tell me all the reasons I’m wrong. I know it’s true. I’m trying to make up for it now.”
Ben put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you have your girls.”
She was glad, too. She was lucky.
The girls were the one thing she and Tom had done well together. Possibly the only thing.
She turned back to the garden. “We’ve given this place quite a makeover. The house and the garden. It’s looking good.”
“Good? It’s spectacular. Your garden is beautiful.” Ben removed his cap and wiped his brow. “A work of art.”
A work of art.
And Nancy realized that was exactly what it was. She’d stopped painting, but instead of using oil and canvas, she’d used flowers and plants to create great swathes of color that drew admiring glances from everyone who passed.
Her garden was a living, breathing work of art.
“You’re right,” she said. “It is.” There was more than one way of creating something that was visually pleasing. “I’d like to do the same with the garden at the Sail Loft. Will you help me?”
“You know I will.”
“We need to start by digging out that damn honeysuckle.”
“Is it going to upset you moving out for the summer?”
“No. The Sail Loft is closer to Jenna. I’ll be able to drop in and visit without getting stuck in hideous tourist traffic.”
His gaze was steady. “You haven’t been there in so long, I thought you hated it.”
“Lauren has redecorated. I’m quite sure I won’t recognize the place.”
“I’ll miss you.”
His comment confused her. “I’m only moving a few miles away.”
“I’ll miss working on this garden with you.” They’d agreed that he would continue to maintain the garden throughout the summer. Because the coastal garden was an important part of the house, Nancy had deemed it a necessary expense.
“Will it be too much for you to handle by yourself?”
Despite being the wrong side of sixty, Ben was lean and fit. It hadn’t occurred to her for a moment that he wouldn’t be able to cope. If he couldn’t then it gave her a problem, because her finances wouldn’t stretch to another gardener. “Do what you can, Ben.”
His eyes gleamed. “You think I’m breaking up under the pressure? I still have some good years left in me. That isn’t why I’m going to miss you, Nancy.”
“Oh! Well then, what—” She broke off, stumbling over the words, remembering how she’d felt that day when she’d glanced through the window. “But—Ben Winter, are you hitting on me?”
“I’m not sure if that’s what it’s called when you pass sixty, but yes, I’m hitting on you. Why so surprised?”
Nancy almost dropped the plant she was holding.
Her mouth moved but no words came out. Ben had been married to the same woman for forty years. Lucille had died five years earlier, and now he lived alone in one of the smaller houses on Main Street. She knew there were plenty of women on the island who were interested in him. She’d never seen him interested in any of them. Nancy sus
pected he’d buried his pain under work, as she had.
Never in a million years had she suspected his feelings might go beyond friendship.
He was waiting for her to say something, and she had no idea what to say. She clutched the tomato plant like a lifeline.
“I’m not exactly relationship material.”
“You only think that because he crushed your confidence.” Ben picked up the spade and rammed it into the ground so hard Nancy expected the earth to shake.
“It isn’t about confidence. I’m too old and cynical to even think about love, Ben.”
“So let’s not fall in love.” He winked at her. “We can have sex until our bones crack.”
Suddenly she was laughing uproariously. She couldn’t remember when she’d last laughed so hard.
“Oh, Ben—”
“I’m not joking, Nancy.”
“Well you should be.” She felt flustered. Flustered and flattered. Sex? It was ridiculous to even think about it. But his eyes were so blue. And the way he was looking at her made her feel like dragging him inside the house and locking the door. “Imagine what people would say.”
“I don’t give a damn what anyone says. And you shouldn’t care either. This is your life, Nancy, not theirs. You should be living it.”
She felt as if she was teetering on the edge of something desperately exciting. “I value our friendship. I wouldn’t ever want to lose that.”
“Who said anything about losing it? Not all relationships go wrong, Nancy. Not all men are like Tom.”
Somehow he knew, and she was surprised to discover she wasn’t embarrassed. If anything she was relieved they had no secrets. Secrets, she’d discovered, were clutter. They filled a space inside you and gathered dust. They stopped you connecting fully with people.
She should say something. But what? Her feelings were unfamiliar and she wasn’t sure she could put a name to them.
Ben waited a moment and then turned away. “It’s getting dark. We should finish up here.”
She felt a flash of panic.
He thought she was rejecting him.
“Ben! Would you—” She stopped. How should she put this? “Would you like a drink? The house is empty.” Obviously. He already knew that. Oh, Nancy, you’re a fool. A fool!
“Are you really offering me a drink?”
“No.”
He smiled and cupped her face in his hands. “You can say what you mean, Nancy. You don’t have to choose your words with me, second-guess what I’m thinking or keep secrets.”
Secrets. Oh, how she hated secrets.
“Are we being hasty, Ben? Maybe we should—”
He kissed her.
She’d thought that part of her life was over and yet here she was being kissed in a way she wasn’t sure she’d ever been kissed before. His hands held her face while his mouth slowly seduced hers and it felt incredible. It felt right.
A thick, syrupy pleasure heated low in her pelvis and spread through her limbs.
Ben Winter. Kissing her. She felt strangely vulnerable and yet at the same time she knew Ben would never hurt her.
Hot tears scalded her eyes. Who would have thought it?
At her age, when she’d thought this aspect of her life was over and done.
She swayed against him but he held her firmly, a rock on which she could safely lean.
When he finally released her, she felt dizzy and heavy with longing. “You don’t want to wait?”
“The good thing about maturity is that you’ve learned there is no point in waiting around for something you already know you want.” He took her hand and led her toward the house.
“My daughter is in hospital—”
“And she’s safe. But if you’d rather wait—” He paused, ever thoughtful. Ever caring.
Ben.
“No.” Life was short, and she’d already waited long enough.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, she gazed at the house.
A light glowed in the kitchen and she could hear the call of seagulls.
“It’s looking good, isn’t it?” As far as she was concerned, The Captain’s House had never looked better. Who would have thought that a big clear out and some love and attention would make such a difference? It was as if it had shaken off the tiredness. “It’s been given a new lease on life.”
Tightening her grip on Ben’s hand, she walked into the house, hoping the same thing was about to happen to her.
30
Jenna
Resolution: determination to do something
or not do something
“Can I get you anything else?” Greg hovered over her like a drone. “More soup? Another drink? Painkillers?”
“I’m fine.” Truthfully she wasn’t fine. She felt exhausted. The doctor had said that was normal, but she was worried about taking so much time off from work. Lindsey Hanks, one of the other teachers, was covering her class but she knew how much stress that would cause. “Maybe I can go back to work Monday.”
“No way. You had surgery and spent five days in hospital. I saw Jed Andrews this morning when I went to fill your prescription, and he gave me a vivid description of how they had to cut you out of the car. You could have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t.”
The doorbell rang and Greg went to answer it.
He returned with armfuls of flowers and a stack of cards.
Jenna opened them one by one, tears in her eyes.
To Mrs. Sullivan. You are the best teecher. Come back soon.
Mrs. Sullivan, we miss you. Miss Hanks shouts more.
Mrs. Sullivan, sorry you broke your car.
There were paintings, heavy on the glitter and glue, and she examined each one carefully, imagining the children sitting quietly, their little faces set in concentration as they splashed paint and sprinkled glitter.
A painting session was not for the fainthearted. She made a mental note to thank Lindsey Hanks.
“They love you.” Greg moved the cards carefully and sat down on the bed. “I saw Lindsey in the store yesterday and she said they’re making you a class video.”
“I love them, too.”
Maybe it would be enough, she thought. She could shower other people’s children with love. Be the best teacher ever. At least that way she was making a difference.
“I keep thinking about you rolling the car.” Greg’s voice was hoarse. “It’s giving me nightmares.”
“Me, too. It wasn’t my finest moment. I’d be a terrible getaway driver.” She tried to make a joke, but he didn’t laugh.
“The fact that you called your mom and not me wasn’t my finest moment either.”
She’d hurt his feelings. “Everyone wants their mom when they’re sick or injured.”
“You don’t. You’ve never had that kind of relationship with her.”
“We do now. We’re getting along well.” She’d never be able to describe the feeling she’d had when her mother had rushed into the emergency room to be by her side. That gesture of love and support had been everything she’d needed.
“A few months ago you would have called me the moment you did that test. You would have talked to me, instead of driving to some lonely spot on the beach road to suffer on your own.” He was pale. “Getting that call from your mother was bad, but seeing you in that hospital gown with all those tubes and doctors round you was the worst moment of my life.”
“I planned to call you with the good news of my pregnancy, but when there wasn’t one—” Her voice wobbled. “I’m sorry. I should have called, but you were so mad at me.”
“I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at myself.”
“You were upset that I didn’t tell you about seeing my dad when I was young, and you were tired of me being fixated on babies. And I don’t blame you.
”
“That isn’t what was going on, Jenna.”
She felt exhausted. Too tired for the conversation she knew they should be having. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters. I was hurt that you didn’t tell me about your dad, that’s true. It was such a big deal for you and your sister, I couldn’t understand how you could have kept it from me. Don’t—” He pressed his fingers to her lips when she tried to speak. “Let me say this. I was afraid that what happened to you had something to do with the reason you chose me.”
“It did.” She saw his expression change and grabbed his hand. “Please listen! I loved my dad, but I never trusted him after that night. Even though I didn’t know he had other affairs, maybe some part of me knew that if he’d done it once he could do it again. I didn’t want that. I wanted a man I could trust. You were that man.”
“You’ve only ever been with me.” He slid his fingers under her chin and tilted her face. “Was it because you were too scared to spread your wings?”
“The reason I’ve only been with you is because you’re the only man I ever wanted. I was with you because I loved you. And I’m with you now because I love you. I always knew you were nothing like my father.”
He bent his head and kissed her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel you couldn’t talk to me.” He spoke between kisses. “I don’t ever want you to feel that way again. There’s nothing we can’t talk about.”
“I know.” She put her arms round his neck. “And I’m going to stop being boring and fixated on babies and pregnancy.” Somehow, she had to. She knew she’d never forget how low she’d felt when she’d done that test. “I know you don’t want a baby as badly as I do—”
“That’s not true.” Greg took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “I want a baby every bit as much as you do.”
“It doesn’t seem that way.”
He stared down at their joined hands. “Don’t you get it?” His voice was husky. “I love you, too. I loved you before I was even old enough to understand what the word meant. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, Jenna. I want to make you happy. But I can’t give you the one thing you want most. How do you think that makes me feel?”