by Marie Force
"Oh, Joe," she whispered through her tears. "I love you so much." I hate that I have to do this to him, but I can't turn my back on this opportunity again. Not even for Joe. And I can't expect him to give up his whole life for me. He'd hate me for that someday.
Blinded by tears, she knew she shouldn't attempt to drive but didn't want to sit in front of her mother's house crying her eyes out, either. She drove slowly on the way home, knowing that once she got there, Riley and the others would provide the comfort she so desperately needed.
At her house, she indulged in a snuggle with her animals before she let the dogs out and reached for her cell phone. She couldn't delay this any longer. Joe was due to pick her up in just over two hours. As she ran a hand over the black silk dress she'd taken out earlier, she wondered where he'd planned to take her. "What does it matter?" she asked herself as she found his number in her phone.
"Hey, baby," he said when he answered. The sound of his familiar voice sent love and regret surging through her. "How was the shower?"
"Good. It was fine." She wanted to tell him how Maddie's mother had come, how she had made that happen, but she couldn't get the words past the huge lump in her throat.
"What's wrong, honey? You sound funny."
"I don't feel so good." She winced at the lie, knowing she was only postponing the inevitable. "It came on in the middle of the shower, and now I'm miserable." That was certainly the truth.
"Oh, bummer. I had a big night planned for us, but we can do it another time. I'll come over and take care of you."
"No."
He paused. "Why not?"
"I feel gross. I don't want you to see me like this. I'd really rather be alone tonight."
"Is something else wrong, Janey?"
It was all she could do not to break down at the hurt she heard in his voice. "I just… I need to be alone. Is that all right?"
"If that's all it is."
"I've got to go," she said.
"Janey—"
"Bye, Joe." She closed the phone and stretched out on the sofa as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She had no doubt it was better this way. But if that was true, why did it hurt so much?
Joe stared at the fog outside the window of his South Harbor office. Something was up. She wasn't sick. How he knew that he couldn't have said. He just knew. "Oh, Janey," he said. "What're you doing?"
He glanced at the suit he'd brought from home to wear on the date that wasn't going to happen now. The way he saw it, he had two choices—sit here and do nothing, hoping she'd come around, or storm over there and demand she tell him what was going on. Neither option was all that appealing, but the idea of doing nothing was unacceptable.
Since it was foggy and chilly, he grabbed a company pullover and headed out of the office. On the short walk to Janey's house, he replayed their brief phone call and tried to figure out why he hadn't believed her when she said she didn't feel good. He knew her. The closer he got to her house, the more annoyed he became. If something was wrong, why couldn't she just tell him the truth rather than giving him the brush-off? That's what he intended to find out.
Approaching her house, he noticed the lights were out and wondered if she was even home. He experienced a moment of trepidation as he opened the front gate. What if she really was barfing her guts up and would be embarrassed for him to see her like that? Well, too bad. He was in for better or worse, and it was high time she realized that.
He knocked on the door, and the dogs went crazy inside.
"Janey?" he said, knocking again. "Come on, honey. I need to see you. I know something's wrong."
The dogs continued to howl, but Janey didn't come.
"I'm going to wait, Janey. I'm not leaving until I see that you're all right. If you don't want me to call Mac—"
The inside door swung open.
One glance at her ravaged face told Joe that something was very wrong. He pulled open the screen door and stepped into the dark room. The dogs danced around his legs. "Baby, what is it?"
"I, um…" She looked up at him, her eyes shiny with tears. "I can't do this, Joe."
"Do what?"
"This. Us."
He forced himself to remain calm so he could figure out what the hell was going on. "What happened today? What changed since we woke up together this morning and made love—twice?"
Sobs shook her petite frame, and it took all he had not to go to her, to put his arms around her and assure her he'd fix whatever had her so upset. But he couldn't seem to bring himself to move.
"I never should've let this happen," she said between sobs. "I was messed up. Mixed up. You tried to tell me…"
Joe took a deep breath, hoping to slow his rapid heartbeat. "What happened today?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"I woke up from the daze I've been in since everything with David, and now I can't seem to stop crying or thinking about all the years I gave him and how I have absolutely nothing to show for them." She was crying so hard Joe wondered how she was able to breathe. "We were supposed to get married and have four kids. I wanted those kids. That's what I wanted."
This was what he had most feared—that when the shock wore off, she'd discover she wasn't at all ready to move on with him. And where would that leave him? Right here, loving her and losing her.
Needing an outlet for the energy zipping through him, he ran his fingers through his hair and tried to resist the urge to tear it out. "You can still have anything you want, Janey. I'd give you anything and everything. You have to know that."
She shook her head. "I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't."
He felt like she'd ripped the heart from his chest, and right then and there, he realized he'd never get over losing her. Not after all they'd shared.
"Janey, whatever is wrong, we can fix it. If you need more time, take it. But don't try to tell me what's between us isn't love. You'll never convince me of that."
Janey wiped the tears from her face. "Then I won't try."
Hearing that, something inside him broke, and he knew he had to get out of there or risk saying something he'd never be able to take back. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I think we could've had something pretty great, but I'm certainly not going to beg. You know where I am if you change your mind."
Joe forced himself to turn around, to walk out the door and down the stairs. Once he was through the gate, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Mac's number.
"Sleeping," Mac mumbled.
"Wake up. Something's wrong with Janey."
"What?" Mac asked, instantly awake. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know. She won't tell me."
"What happened?"
"I wish I knew. Will you go over there and check on her?"
"On my way. Are you okay, Joe?"
"I'm confused. Everything was fine this morning and now it's not. Something happened, but she won't tell me what it is."
Mac remained silent.
"You know, don't you?"
"Joe—"
"Forget it. I don't want to know. If she can't tell me herself, screw it. Screw this whole thing. I'm done."
"Wait—"
Joe slapped his phone closed. Enough already.
Chapter 23
Luke dragged his old wooden rowboat onto the sandy beach and stowed the oars inside. The fog was gone, and a full moon lit the big pond. Even without the light from above, he could've found this particular stretch of beach in his sleep. Accompanied by a chorus of crickets, the path to Sydney's summer home was as familiar to him as anything in his life.
How many nights had he arrived just like this, under the cover of darkness, and sneaked into her yard to throw pebbles at her window? How many nights had they spent together on the beach, making love until dawn when she'd tiptoe back into her house and he'd hold his breath waiting to hear they'd finally been caught? Too many to count.
He wasn't sure what had hurt more—hearing that Sydney, his Sydney, had married some guy she met in college or that she'd lost her husban
d and children in a tragic car crash. Luke had devoured every word he could find on the Internet about the accident. They'd been coming home to Boston from a weekend in New Hampshire and were stopped in a traffic jam. From behind them, a drunk driver had come barreling into their minivan, killing the children instantly. Sydney had been asleep at the time of the accident, which safety officials said probably saved her life. Her husband Seth had died later in surgery.
Even though Luke thanked God every day for sparing her life, he ached for her unbearable loss. After hearing last night that she was back on the island, he needed just a glimpse of her, any sign that she was still alive and breathing. So he traveled through the dunes and the dense growth that covered what used to be a well-worn path. A branch full of thorns grazed his face. Judging from the warm sting on his cheek, he figured it had broken the skin, but still he pressed on.
Loving Sydney had made his life. Losing her had turned him into a cranky loner who never again let anyone get close enough to truly touch him. He and Sydney hadn't really broken up, per se, but rather drifted apart. After her second year of college, when she hadn't come to the island for the summer and stopped returning his calls, Luke had gone to her parents' house to find out why.
The wealthy Donovans, summer residents for decades until they retired and became year-rounders five years ago, had never approved of his interest in their fair-haired daughter. However, they'd told him she had an internship, a fantastic opportunity, and wouldn't be coming out that summer. Luke, who'd been unable to leave the island for college because of his ailing mother, had already waited nearly a year to see Syd again. The news that she wasn't coming had crushed him. And that she hadn't seen fit to tell him herself pointed to the unimaginable possibility that she had met someone else.
That summer he became a loner. Of course there had been other women since her but only to provide an occasional physical release. None of them had mattered to him.
He wondered, as he crept through the brush, did she still have that long strawberry blonde hair that reached almost to her waist? How many times over the years had he recalled the way her gorgeous hair would drape them off from the rest of the world as she straddled him and rode him to one incredible climax after another? Did she still get a thousand new freckles for every hour she spent in the sun? Were her eyes still as blue as the ocean and her pale skin soft as silk? Would she ever again let loose with her trademark all-consuming laugh? Had she loved her husband as sweetly and as purely as she had once loved him? Did she ever think about him? About them? About what they'd shared for the four most memorable summers of his life?
As he approached the big yellow house with the wide front porch, he knew he might never get the answers he so desperately wanted. The last person she needed to see in the midst of her terrible grief was an old boyfriend who'd never stopped loving her or thinking about her or remembering her.
But he needed to see her.
In the Donovans' yard, he got as close as he dared to the well-lit porch, thankful for the lingering clouds that dimmed the moon's glow. When he saw her sitting in a rocker, a quilt around her shoulders, he suppressed a gasp. There, after all this time, his Sydney, the love of his life. He hadn't seen her in sixteen years but would've known her anywhere. Her long hair had been cut to shoulder length, but the color was just as beautiful and vibrant as he remembered. It wasn't possible to tell whether she still had freckles or if her eyes were as blue.
She stared out at the distant pond, lost in thought. While he'd like to think she was remembering him and their time together, he knew she was picturing her children playing on the rolling lawn and beach. They'd come every summer, her and her banker husband and their two children. Luke had never seen them, had never thought to seek her out, but he'd always known exactly when they came and exactly when they left. Since she was married and lost to him, it hadn't occurred to Luke to try to see her again. That chapter was closed, finished. She had chosen someone else, and Luke had no alternative but to live with it.
As he watched her on the porch, he barely took a breath. His heart beat so hard and so fast he was sure she could hear it. How could she not? And then she began to cry, and it took everything he had to stay where he was, out of sight, out of mind, out of reach. Her anguished sobs reached him in places no one but her had ever touched. His own eyes burned and filled, but he didn't move. Time crawled to a stop, and he had no idea if he remained crouched beside the porch for five minutes or an hour. When the cramps in his legs became painful, he eased himself down to the damp grass. He knew he should go but couldn't leave her all alone. Not when she was so sad.
After awhile, her mother stepped onto the porch and bent to put her arms around her grieving daughter. Luke watched Mrs. Donovan help Sydney to her feet and slowly guide her inside. Syd moved as if she was still in great physical pain, which was hard for him to watch. For a long time after she went inside and the porch light went out, Luke stayed there, needing to be as close to her as possible.
And then, sometime later when he trusted that his legs would actually carry him, he made his way back down the path to the rowboat at the beach, already knowing he'd come back tomorrow night.
Probably the night after as well.
Janey lay on the sofa staring up at the ceiling. Turning Joe away had been, without a doubt, the most painful moment of her life, and she couldn't seem to stop crying. Her heart ached when she remembered the shattered look on his face. She would never forget that.
A knock on the door startled her. She sat up. Had he come back?
Mac walked in and came right to her. Sitting next to her, he put his arms around her.
As her brother's familiar and comforting scent surrounded her, Janey lost it all over again.
"Shh," he said, brushing a hand over her hair. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."
"I hurt him," she said between sobs.
Riley let out a concerned whimper and dragged himself over to her.
Hoping to reassure him, Janey reached out to scratch behind his ears. Among her many concerns since receiving Doc's call earlier was how she would manage eight pets in a Columbus apartment.
"What did he say?" Janey asked Mac.
"He's confused. He can't figure out what happened since this morning."
"Maddie told you?"
Mac brushed the hair off her damp face and smiled at her. "I'm so proud of you. Doctor Janey. How about that?"
Tears spilled from her eyes, and Janey wondered if they would ever stop. "You know why I had to end it with Joe, don't you? I couldn't string him along for the next month and then try to manage another long-distance relationship."
"You're not giving him enough credit."
"He'd walk away from everything that matters to him so I could realize my dreams. I couldn't do that to him."
Mac sat back against the sofa, bringing her with him. She rested her face on his chest, and he kept an arm around her. If he'd asked first, Janey would've told him not to come, but she was glad he had.
"Has he told you about how he came to own the company?"
"Wasn't it his family's business?"
"Uh-huh. Remember his grandparents? They lived out by the north light?"
"You guys were so much older than me—back then," she said with a small smile. "I never met them. I knew they were important to him, though."
"His dad was killed in a car accident when he was seven. I guess his mother was kind of a mess afterward. Her parents lived out here, so they packed up their place in the city and moved here. His grandfather had started the ferry company just after World War II. He took Joe under his wing and taught him everything he knew about running boats. Joe discovered he had a natural affinity for anything and everything to do with the water, but it wasn't his first love."
"What was?"
"You must know the answer to that by now."
"Oh … the painting!" She sat up so she could see him better. "Have you seen his work?"
Mac nodded. "Quite someth
ing, isn't it?"
"I couldn't believe it! Why didn't he go to art school?"
"He was on his way. He'd gotten into one of the best schools in the country, the Savannah College of Art."
"So what happened? Why didn't he go?"
Mac tilted his head, and his mouth twisted into an ironic smile.
"Oh, God. His grandfather died, and he felt obligated to keep the company in the family." Her heart ached when she realized the enormous responsibility he'd inherited at the tender age of eighteen.
"It was never his dream, Janey. He's had a very satisfying life doing something he truly enjoys, but it wasn't his first love."
"I've known him all my life, and yet there's so much about him I don't know."
"He loves you more than anything. You have to know that by now. Is there any chance at all that you might love him, too? Even a little?"
Janey blinked back more tears, bit her lip and nodded. "I love him so much."
"But are you in love with him?"
"Yes," she whispered, wiping her face. Any final doubts had disappeared the second he walked out her door earlier. "Very much so."
"It's not fair for you to make these decisions on his behalf. He's had his choices taken away before. It's really the worst thing you could do to him."
Moaning, she said, "I thought I was doing the right thing for him!"
"What would you say to letting your buttinsky big brother fix this fine mess for you?"
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'd say please, by all means, do what you do best and butt in."
Mac laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry, brat. It'll all be fine. I'll make sure of it."
Mac's wedding day dawned clear and sunny. He took a cup of coffee to the deck to look out over the yard and the tent that had been erected the day before. It didn't pay to gamble with New England weather, and Mac was taking no chances that this day would be anything less than perfect. He'd certainly waited long enough to find Maddie. In just a few hours, she'd finally be his wife. And with her came a son who Mac couldn't have loved any more if he'd been his biological child.