On Love's Gentle Shore

by Liz Johnson

  “I’m at the airport.” Russell raised his voice to be heard over the shuffling of the other travelers. “I’m headed back to PEI. I got an early flight into Montreal. And I’m on the plane with Darren and Courtney.”

  Courtney, her bridesmaid. Courtney, whom she’d met through Russell. Courtney, who was supposed to be a friend.

  Courtney, in whom she didn’t dare confide.

  “Oh. Great.” Except it wasn’t great. Their arrival simply meant that more of Russell’s friends were on the way. More of Nashville would soon be on PEI. Because her wedding was right around the corner. Which only led to more of that chewed-up-steak feeling. “What time do you land?”

  “About eleven. I’ll get a rental car, and I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

  “I’ll wait up for you.” It wasn’t like she’d be sleeping anyway.

  “All right. If you want to.” A loud announcement in the background sounded like Charlie Brown’s teachers. “They’re about to board first class. Got to go. Love you.”

  He hung up before she could reciprocate, leaving her to stare at the screen of her phone and wonder what that had meant—she could stay up if she wanted to.

  They hadn’t seen each other in four weeks. Shouldn’t he be so eager to see her that he’d beg her to stay up? Just for one kiss?

  Maybe there was a more important question. Why wasn’t she more eager to see him?

  She wanted to pull out her hair or run ten miles or do anything but think about the answer to that question.

  It had nothing to do with the way Justin’s blue eyes had flashed like the sun across ice when he held her and looked into her eyes. And certainly the butterflies in her middle had been a result of the tumult of speaking to her father.

  She’d just been so busy for the last few weeks that she hadn’t had time to miss Russell.

  That was definitely it. And she wasn’t going to let these men and their ambiguous words keep her from getting some rest.

  Except it wasn’t quite time for a nap. First she had to check on a few wedding-related items. That meant a trip to see Marie.

  As she pushed back her chair, it scraped along the floor, drawing the attention of the little boy licking his fingers. With a wild wave, he bid her farewell, and she shot him a smile and a low-handed wiggle of her fingers in reply.

  The only boy she wanted to think about today was covered in blackberry drizzle.

  That couldn’t be a good thing.

  At the top of the stairs to the basement apartment, she ran into Seth, whose broad shoulders seemed to fill the entire width of the hallway. He towered over her, so she had to crane her neck to look into his face. But the silver tray lined with a lace doily in his hands made him a little more approachable.

  “Breakfast for the bedridden?” she asked.

  He nodded, his eyes a little wild, his hair more than a little mussed. She’d seen him running his fingers through it on several occasions, which made sense. He wasn’t worried only about his wife. His baby was at risk too. “She just woke up and said she wanted pancakes.” He nodded at the platter in front of him, which held three fluffy, perfectly round blueberry pancakes. A little jug of syrup sat to the side. “It’s the first time she’s been hungry in the morning in weeks.”

  “So Caden made up something special for her.”

  “Yes.”

  The scent of rich fruit and sweet maple wrapped around her, and she inhaled deeply. “Mind if I follow you down? Marie said I should visit today.”

  He rolled his eyes, but his smile was clearly for his wife. “She’s supposed to be on bed rest. But it’s like she doesn’t know how to rest. She’s always suggesting a quick trip to Aretha’s or to the store. Doesn’t she know what bed rest means? When I tell her she can’t, she’ll do something on her computer or come up with some new advertising idea. It’s like her brain has to make up for the rest of her not moving. So come on.”

  He led the way, not even flinching when he hit the squeaky step third from the top. When he opened the door, Natalie took a moment to wonder at the home Marie had made. The walls of the one-bedroom apartment were a soft gray, inviting and cool even in the warm summer months. And the window, though small along the top of the far wall, glowed with the sun’s morning light.

  Seth marched toward the bedroom, a man on a mission to get his wife whatever she wanted.

  Would Russell do the same for her? Would he drop everything to care for her if she was laid up?

  She tried to picture it, but the image wouldn’t come. She could see her cell phone ringing, Russell checking in to make sure she was all right. She could see him at the studio recording another track. She could see him rushing in with a bowl of soup and dropping a kiss on her forehead.

  But in her imagination he always dashed away, back to his important life. Back to the things that must be done. And it made her taste something sour in the back of her throat.

  “Hi, honey. I brought a visitor.” Seth tiptoed into the bedroom, where Marie was propped against a mountain of pillows, her laptop in place across her legs and her fingers flying across the keyboard. She glanced up at her husband’s announcement, and her teeth flashed white even in the bright room.

  “Natalie. I’m so glad you’re here. We have so many last-minute things to confirm.” She patted the spot on the mattress beside her. “Sit down.”

  “Oh, you enjoy your breakfast first. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Nonsense. You talk. I’ll eat.” She set her computer aside, and Seth slid the tray into place over her legs. “Thank you.” She turned her lips upward, and Seth obliged with a quick peck and a gentle caress of her rounded stomach.

  It was a simple kiss, but somehow it felt like she was intruding on an intimate moment, and she quickly turned her head to stare at a magazine cover on the wall. The front page of Rest & Retreats magazine had been framed in floating glass, and she stared at it for a long second before she realized exactly what she was looking at.

  “That’s Rose’s Red Door Inn.” She felt stupid as soon as she blurted it out. Of course it was the inn. Its big blue walls, inviting garden, and candy-apple red door couldn’t be mistaken. But it was on the cover of a magazine under a headline that said “The Best-Kept Secret on the North Shore.” How had she missed that?

  “Yes. That’s our inn.” Marie glowed. Whether it was from pride or the baby was up for debate.

  “How did”—she waved a hand at the picture—“that happen? That’s a big travel magazine, right? Did Adam write that?”

  With a chuckle, Marie shook her head. “Actually, no. But he was here when it happened. I’ll tell you about it sometime. Today we have to tackle wedding things.” Again she patted the spot on the bed next to her. “Have a seat.”

  Seth had made his way to the door but turned back one more time before exiting. “Do you ladies need anything before I go?”

  Marie looked at her, and Natalie shook her head. “We’re fine. Thank you, though,” Marie said.

  When they were alone, Natalie whispered, “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this? I can take care of whatever needs to be done.”

  Marie cut into her stack of pancakes, loaded them onto her fork, and said, “I feel great today. I finally have my appetite back. So as long as you don’t mind a few drops of syrup on my notes, let’s do this.”

  Natalie nodded, and they dug in. Marie’s lists were neat and orderly, just like the woman herself. Each page of a small notebook contained major category tasks, and the completed projects had been crossed off line by line.

  Marie pointed her pen to the first page, which was labeled LOCATION. “Have you been to see the barn this week?”

  Natalie almost choked on her tongue. Why did that feel like such a loaded question? Probably because she’d been so actively avoiding said location since she and Justin had almost … since the last time she’d seen him. Because she didn’t especially want to see him again.

  Well, maybe a little. But from a good distanc
e. With plenty of other people around. And zero temptation to kiss him.

  “Um, no. I haven’t. But the last time I saw it, it looked almost done. The interior has been completely stained and it looks so good. You picked the perfect color.”

  “It was a team effort,” Marie said. It was a lie, and they both knew it. “How about the outside of the barn? Is Justin done painting it yet? Seth went over to help a couple of days ago and said there was only one wall left to complete.”

  She nodded. “Justin said something about painting the trim too.” But that was over a week ago, so maybe it was completed already with Seth’s help. After all, Justin had been avoiding her too. He’d had plenty of time to focus on getting the barn done because he hadn’t been saying more vague things to her.

  “Will you check on it?” Natalie’s poker face must have failed her because Marie immediately added, “Or I’ll ask Seth to go over there. No big deal. No need to add any pressure to the bride.” She patted Natalie’s hand, but it didn’t help.

  “No. I can do it.” Besides, Russell would be back tonight. She could take him with her. Then there would be nothing to worry about. “The tables were supposed to be delivered last week. I’ll make sure they’re all set up.”

  Marie flipped a page in her book. “Perfect. The linens should be delivered on Wednesday. Did you get antiques from Aretha?”

  “Yes. Well, almost. I need to go pick them up, but they’re picked out.”

  With an easy flick of her wrist, Marie made more notes on her sheet. “Great. What theme did you go with?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue, but somehow it felt like years since she and Aretha had talked. Since then she’d survived the run-in with her dad, the “event” with Justin, and too many hours of missed sleep. So the words weren’t quite there. What had they decided on? “We picked a bunch of lamps and lanterns.”

  “Lights and shores?”

  “Yes, that’s it. But I don’t know how we’re going to make it feel like the shore.”

  Marie tapped her pen to her lip once, then again. Then her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Seashells by the cake. The round tables will already be full with lamps and orchids. Let’s not add to them. We’ll keep the shore confined to the side tables. I’ve got some brown burlap panels that we can use to look like sand. And when we add colorful seashells, it’ll be perfect.”

  She checked another item off her list and added two more to-dos. With each flip of the page, they marked off another piece of the wedding puzzle.

  Food? Harrison had completed a menu for the buffet-style catering. Short ribs and crab cakes and lobster rolls.

  Flowers? Lois had come through with beautiful arrangements and promised to have them at the church and the barn first thing next Saturday morning.

  Cake? Caden was already working on the classic white and red velvet tiers, which would be set on wooden stair-stepped cake stands handmade by Seth.

  Dress? She needed to try it on one last time to make sure it still fit. Maybe she should be more worried after all the carbs she’d been eating at Caden’s table. Then again, she’d done more manual labor this summer than she had in fifteen years. It should all balance out. She hoped.

  “Music?”

  Natalie blinked. “Um. No. I don’t have a plan beyond the pianist at the church.”

  “Not a problem.” Marie’s lips tightened like it might indeed be a problem. She set her pen to tapping the paper until her eyes brightened. “Of course. This is PEI. There are a hundred ceilidhs and kitchen parties on this island. Surely we can drum up someone who’s available on Saturday.”

  “As long as it’s not—” She chomped into her tongue and winced against the sharp pain. She’d been about to say Justin’s name. But they were supposed to be on good terms. They were on good terms now. So it wouldn’t make any sense. There was no plausible reason why she wouldn’t want him to play the music at her reception.

  Except, well, it would be too much. His voice serenading her first dance with her new husband. That didn’t work for her at all.

  “As long as it’s someone Russell likes. He’s the musical one, after all.”

  “Of course. I’ll make some calls. I’ve been sending guests to see the weekly show by the family at Stanley Bridge Hall for years. Maybe they’ll help us out.”

  Marie moved on, farther into her book until her words were barely an echo, because suddenly all Natalie could think about was Justin at her wedding. Would he expect to be invited? Had Marie assumed and added him to the list? Would he even want to be there?

  “So that brings us to guests. Any last-minute additions?”

  “You got Mama Kane and Aretha and Jack?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Caden and Adam were on the list.”

  Marie nodded. “Yes. Adam’s the best man.”

  Right. Of course he was. “Then, I think we’re good.”

  Marie nodded slowly, but she didn’t close her book. “Aretha came by the other day. She said your dad was in town.”

  Natalie’s whole body stiffened until she nearly fell off the edge of the bed. This could go nowhere good.

  “Did you talk with him? Would you like to invite him? There’s plenty of room at the barn.”

  Marie had gone exactly where Natalie had known she would. Right past innocuous and directly into danger. She sucked in a stabilizing breath, clasping her hands in her lap and staring at the magazine cover on the wall. “I did see him. No, I don’t want to invite him.”

  “What did he say?”

  It’s none of your business. You weren’t here when he made my life a nightmare and then refused to let me out of it. The words screamed through her mind, but Marie didn’t deserve them. She’d never been anything but kind.

  Natalie bit back the bitterness and said simply, “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It’s hard with fathers and daughters, isn’t it?”

  Understatement of the century. “You have no idea.”

  Marie’s laugh was dry and humorless, and the grim line of her mouth spoke of an understanding, like she’d suffered too. “My dad’s no treat. He’s done everything in his power to hurt me, so I ran.”

  “To where?”

  Her eyebrows raised in surprise, as though it should be obvious. “To here.”

  “Well, aren’t we a pair?” Natalie wasn’t too lost in her own pain to find the irony of their situation. “You came here for sanctuary, and I left here because there was none.”

  Marie met her gaze, her own intense and sure. But her tone was gentle. “Maybe you weren’t looking in the right places. I can’t seem to get away from it. Jack, Aretha, Caden, Father Chuck—they all reached out to me when I needed them most.”

  “Well, I wasn’t so lucky. I was left with a mother who resented me and a father who betrayed me.” Her breathing picked up speed, matching the pulse through her veins and the thrumming at her temples. “And then he comes back to town and apologizes, like that’s supposed to make everything better. He let my mom abuse and neglect me because I was the reason she was stuck with him—stuck with a man who cheated on her and lied to us. And she hated her life so much that she did the only thing she could. She made mine miserable too. And he didn’t even bother to notice. He just stayed stuck in the bottom of his bottle, and when someone tried to help, he didn’t let them. He just left me to rot in that stinking house.”

  Her hands began to shake, but she couldn’t stop. The words were flowing on their own, like a dam had been closed for too long and the truth needed to be spoken.

  “And now he wants me to just forgive him? Because he’s sorry? He wants me to believe he’s changed. Well, I don’t care anymore. I just can’t. And I don’t want him at my wedding!”

  When her outburst finally died down, Natalie swallowed convulsively, trying to dislodge her heart, which had rammed itself into place. It didn’t budge as the silence lingered for a long moment. Maybe Marie was waiting to make sure she was really done.

  “For
what it’s worth,” Marie said at long last, pushing herself up against the pillows at her back, “I’d give anything to hear my dad apologize. For anything.”

  “But you don’t know my dad. He’s the worst kind of man. He destroyed families and ruined our reputation.”

  Marie frowned, the sadness in her face from deep wounds. “I’m not trying to play a game of who has the worse father or in any way excuse what your dad did, but I know a thing or two about bad fathers. My dad loves money so much that he tried to leverage the very worst thing that ever happened to me for a land deal.” She let out another humorless laugh. “And then he fought me tooth and nail for the trust fund my mother left me, the money I needed to keep this inn open.”

  Natalie blinked quickly, trying to figure out where to start with that information. The inn was in danger? Marie was a trust fund kid? Her dad was terrible!

  “Is the Red Door going to be okay? W-what happened?”

  “You showed up. Your booking this summer kept the doors open long enough for the judge in Boston to throw out my dad’s case.” A hint of a smile flitted across Marie’s exhausted features, and she pressed her hand to her stomach. “I’m free to use the money in my trust fund to take care of some needed repairs. And to take care of my baby.” Her pleasant expression gave way to another one of pain. “But my dad doesn’t want anything to do with us now. I tried to tell him about the baby. I thought maybe … Well, I hoped he’d care. If not about me, then about his grandchild. But he wouldn’t even see Seth when he went to Boston to sign the paperwork.”

  Natalie’s pulse slowed, her chest aching as she surveyed Marie. She was such a kind, warm woman. How could she have come from such an awful man? How had her goodness and gentleness survived in spite of a man who had done so many awful things?

  Natalie couldn’t make the puzzle pieces fit. And it poked at her, prodding her to ask questions of herself that she really didn’t want to answer. If Marie had moved on, if she’d dealt with the pain, couldn’t Natalie learn to let go?

  “I’m not saying an apology would excuse my dad’s actions—or your dad’s.” Marie shrugged. “I just think it’s a pretty significant gesture, humbling yourself like that. Admitting to your faults and failures. And it sounds like your dad recognizes that he made some pretty big ones.”