He shot her a glance. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, but she kept turning the pages.
“There’s one about gambling on the riverboat,” Jason continued. “I dealt cards. I’d go down to the lounge and play the piano. Here’s one about being ‘on my own and almost grown.’ About being lost and ‘woven in the shadows of other people’s lives.’ I started playing in clubs, writing and drinking. I wrote about everything—about children playing, about working people and homeless people—but you were always in my mind. In my dreams.
“You might think that no one would care about street people, but Phil Collins had—” He stopped midsentence. A drop of water had fallen to the page, then another drop splashed, this one landing on his finger. He tilted his head back and saw a river of tears flow down Lila’s face. Then she started to sob.
“I can’t bear it,” she whispered. “I can’t bear it that you went through all of this. So alone.”
She shifted the book to the sofa and reached toward him. “You were just a boy…with no one. Anything could have happened to you.” She stroked his cheek. “And the songs—the songs are who you really are. They’re what’s in your heart. This is the person I remember. Sweet and kind. And smart and strong. And caring about others.” Her arms twined tightly around his neck, and his heart overflowed with love for her.
He levered them both up and held her close in his arms, nuzzled her. “You were with me every night,” he whispered, “but this is better than any dream.”
He captured her lips. She opened to him and he explored her mouth, their tongues in duet with each other. He wanted to inhale her, all of her. Closer and closer. He kissed the spot behind her ear and felt her shiver. Oh…he remembered…when Lila shivered…
“Your call, sweetie,” he gasped, his reaction to her now obvious to them both. “Before I forget my own promise to go slowly. Yes or no?”
She pulled off her blouse in one quick motion.
“Does that answer your question?”
SHE LET HER BLOUSE REMAIN on the living room floor. Shoes lay in the hall. By the time they reached the master bedroom, Lila had left a trail of clothing behind her. And so had Jason.
She tingled everywhere, and he hadn’t really touched her yet…except for those kisses. And holding her hand. And telling her how absolutely beautiful she was.
But he was wrong. It was he who looked like a Greek god of old. “Wait, wait,” she said when they reached the bed. “I want to look at you. I want to see…”
And she saw shoulders broader than she remembered. She stroked them. Chest tapering down to a narrow waist with abs that rippled. Her fingers followed the center path. Arms with muscles firmly developed, and, goodness…he was taller. No high-heeled shoes on her feet now. Barefoot to barefoot, they faced each other. Now, she stroked his face and felt the slight roughness of incipient whiskers. No more bare areas.
She stared at him inch by inch, and her body temp ricocheted off the charts. “My God, Jase,” she whispered, brushing her hand across his chest again, loving how the rough texture of the curling hair felt against her fingertips. “You’re so different. You’re…you’re…so big….”
“And getting bigger by the second….” he replied, his voice hoarse.
Oh! He was right. She grinned up at him. “Let’s see if you remember…”
And then he caught her up, lifted her high, and they fell on the bed together, Lila nestled in his arms. Lila, in another world. Jason’s world.
“I’ve waited nine years for this, love,” Jason gasped. “I can’t wait a minute longer.”
She rolled toward him. “You don’t have to.” And they flew. Hard. Hot. Fast. Done!
They stared at each other, eyes wide. “What was that?” Lila panted, her voice squeaky.
When Jason laughed, happiness resonated in his tone. “That was, shall we say, blowing the froth off the beer…or taking the edge off the appetite…or playing a short prelude to a symphony….”
“Enough! Enough explanations! I get the point.”
He became quiet. Very quiet. “Do you, Lila? Do you understand the real point?”
Serious and intent when he spoke, his question crashed against her heart. She felt her lips tremble as she replied. “Of course, I understand, Jason. But I need to take it slowly for a while. One day at a time.”
“Slowly? All right, sweetheart. We can do that. We can start again—slowly.” He hoisted himself to one elbow and looked down at her on the bed. “But I want to see your beautiful body, these beautiful breasts….” He stroked them as he spoke, brushing across one nipple, then the other.
She knew he was misunderstanding her on purpose, but didn’t care as she lost herself in his actions and started quivering inside.
“And don’t forget my beautiful stretch marks while you’re at it,” she joked between gasps. The stirrings inside her intensified and began twirling like a growing tornado.
“Lila, honey, those stretch marks are the most beautiful part of all,” he said, “at least, to me.”
At those words she fell totally in love with him all over again. Without reservation.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BART QUINN would have celebrated his granddaughter’s wedding with as much hoopla as she wanted. Tom and Maggie would have gone along, too. But Lila preferred an intimate party at Sea View House. After a nine year interlude, neither she nor Jason wanted to wait.
Bart’s thoughts drifted from Lila to his daughter. Maggie had only needed one look at Lila’s and Jason’s happy faces and interlocked hands at the Lobster Pot on the night of the school safety program to ask, “When’s the wedding?”
Jason had met Maggie’s gaze straight on. “As soon as your daughter says yes.”
He’d pivoted toward Lila, his expression so hopeful and eager. And Lila had given him his answer before he’d even asked.
Bart Quinn had witnessed the whole thing. Including the kiss that followed. He grinned at the memory. There should have been fireworks.
So here he was on the last Saturday evening in June, standing in the living room of the Captain’s Quarters, a glass of single-malt scotch in his hand. Intimate was a relative term, he mused. In this case, a lot of relatives. Plus lifelong friends. He glanced at the assortment of ROMEOs, every one of them taking as much pleasure in this union as he did. He shook his head. Where does a man get friends like that?
He had new friends, too. The young couples were as loyal to the town as the retired old men. And as loyal to Sea View House as Bart was. He truly had a wonderful life in Pilgrim Cove.
“Attention, everyone. Attention!” Bart took himself and his scotch to the center of the room. “We’ve raised a glass to the bride and groom, and we’ve toasted little Katie who is, as she says, ‘happy, happy, happy.’
“And now a salute to the spirit of Sea View House, a place where hearts can heal, a place where love can be found, where love can grow.”
The guests nodded, smiled and sipped.
“Hear, hear!” called out Daniel Stone, a Harvard law professor who’d come to town looking for peace and quiet and had found Shelley Anderson and two kids instead.
“To Sea View House!” said Matt Parker, his free hand intertwined with Laura’s.
“To romance!” Rachel Goodman’s eyes were on her husband, Jack Levine.
“To life! L’chayim!” Lou Goodman’s addition boomed across the room.
Lila walked up to Bart then, so beautiful in her simple wedding dress, the least fancy of all the brides who’d come before. But that’s what she’d wanted. Classic straight lines and a short veil. “The vows are the important part,” she’d said. And here she was, ready to speak her own heart.
“I propose a toast to Sea View House,” she said, “and to Bartholomew Quinn.” She lifted her glass to the room. “In this house, anything can happen to anyone at any time at all.” She twirled toward Bart. “Even to you, Granddad!”
“To me?” She’d caught him by surprise. A rare event,
indeed.
“And why not? You’re a handsome devil, you are, boyo,” she teased, imitating his Irish brogue. “And single, to boot! Why, Granddad, you’re a great catch!” Lila raised her glass high. “To Bartholomew Quinn. Long may he reign, prosper and fill Sea View House with worthy tenants.”
She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “I love you, Granddad. Thank you, thank you, so very much.”
He blinked hard. “Saints above!” he blustered. “You’re still my lassie.”
“Always,” she replied.
But she twirled away to her Jason, which was as it should be, he thought. Each couple, each family. Together. So many links among those in the room.
Sam Parker came over, his hand outstretched, his eyes shining. “There’s nothing more for me to wish for, my friend,” he said, shaking Bart’s hand. “Every dream has come true. And you did it, Bart. When I wanted to leave well enough alone with these two, you dove right in.”
Bart patted his stomach. “It’s the instinct, Sam. You should know that everybody’s got a talent. Mine’s matchmaking! But I don’t say it out loud—bad luck, you know.”
“Well, thank God for…” Sam paused. “Listen to the music,” he said. “Jason’s added a new verse to the story.”
The entire room became quiet. Only Jason’s true tenor rang through:
“She stands beside the water’s edge,
Eyes burn with unshed tears,
A pledge of old,
Her hand I hold,
Love shining through the years.”
Bart blinked and looked slowly around the room. He was surrounded by miracles, gifts he’d learned never to take for granted. Family. Friends. And Pilgrim Cove, the town he’d loved since boyhood and continued to love.
More miracles were bound to happen here at any time. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Why, his phone might ring tomorrow with someone needing a special place! And the Quinn would be on the job. Yes, indeed. He certainly would.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-1146-9
THE DAUGHTER HE NEVER KNEW
Copyright © 2005 by Linda Barrett.
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The Daughter He Never Knew Page 21