Tides of Hope: It's Never Too Late For Second Chances (A Nantucket Island Romance Book 1)

by Dawn Tomasko

  Sara longed to go to him, to regain the close intimacy and openness they shared before their brief separation. But she couldn't. "The time apart made me think. I put expectations on our relationship, on you. We agreed we wouldn't do that to each other, and I know it’s not fair of me. My happiness is my responsibility."

  Keenly aware of him, she knew he moved toward her. "I agree, but in a relationship, two people have a responsibility to share the joys and pains of daily life.” Close behind her, his voice became strained. Warm breath caressed her ear, and fine hairs stood up on the back of her neck.

  Sara felt a sick sense of loss. If only they could go back to the way things were before his trip off island.

  Gabriel’s hand came to rest on her hip. "I didn't do that, and I take full responsibility for it. Don't you think you should hear me out? I'm human and make mistakes."

  "Of course, but I don't blame you,” she whirled to face him. "You need to know I don't expect you to make me happy. Our relationship can be whatever we decide. We agreed not to make rules or set guidelines. I expected too much,” she ended with a shrug.

  His hands gripped her elbows. "No, you didn't. You expected what I should have given you. Just as I expect you to forgive me when I screw up."

  "Don't worry, I'm not going to pressure you into anything. We can take one day at a time and enjoy being together.” The words sounded so damned reasonable, but her voice sounded hollow and thin. She cleared her throat to ease the tightness.

  A frustrated groan escaped him. "Friendship with benefits? I don't think so. Companionship can be found at the nearest bar. The kind of woman you are doesn't want that, and neither do I."

  Sara's throat started to close off. "I don't know what I want. After years of marriage, and then the divorce, I came here to stand on my own two feet. I can do that, and should have."

  "You do! I’m not asking you to stop. What I did wasn't fair, and I apologized. Now you're not being fair. You want to be with me, but this withdrawal of emotion puts a wall up between us. A wall I worked very hard to break down. Where do we go from here?"

  Short, fast breaths wheezed from her lungs, and she brought her hand up to rub her chest. "There's no wall—"

  "There is!” he shouted, his hands came up, cut through the air between them. On sheer instinct, she flinched and brought her arms over her head. Deep down, Sara didn’t fear Gabriel, but the ferocity of his outrage startled her.

  "Oh, my God, Sara you know I'd never lay a hand on you. I'm fucking this up. Please, baby, you know me.” With each tiny step back, he took one forward. The self-reproach on his face pricked her conscience, yet she stayed locked in her conviction.

  Giving a jerky nod, she wrapped her arms around her middle. "I do know."

  Gabriel took a step forward. "Don't you understand? What we have together is honest and pure. It's real! Do you want to cheapen it now? Work with me, sleep with me, but check out emotionally?"

  She trembled with the effort to maintain that wall. It was her lifeline, the only thing standing between her and a dam of emotion she couldn’t reign in.

  "Look,” he implored, took her by the shoulders gently, rubbing his thumbs in small circles. "I don't blame you for feeling this. You've come to expect disappointment and pain from people you love. Your mother, David, even your daughter. But damn it, don't shut me out."

  Sara stared ahead blindly, her body rigid. The damned anvil returned and sat squarely on her chest.

  "We have something special. We'll hurt each other sometimes, Sara, but that's part of the deal. It's a risk we should be willing to take. I'm here. I came back. We both deserve better than this.”

  Every second she slipped farther away and couldn’t stop it. "What if I don't have it in me? What if I can’t be that way? You could be asking for something I don't have the ability to give. There's no reason we can't pick up where we left off. Things worked for us before your trip to Connecticut."

  "They were, but they changed. I changed. Now I want more.” He waited for a response. When she remained silent, he let his hands fall to his sides.

  "I almost lost my father. Seeing my mother grapple with it, well, it was one of the most painful things I've seen. If he died, part of her would have died with him. I saw how it hurt her. I learned something when we were apart. The women in my past? I’m embarassed to say they were momentary distractions from an otherwise busy existence. Being with you is different, and I see it now. Love is worth it. Worth the effort, the good and the bad. We agreed to slow and easy, to no expectations.” Briefly, he closed his eyes. "But I want more. I need more."

  Sara listened with rising dismay. He would not back down. Dear God, he was leaving her. What had she done? Stupid fool, she opened her life and heart to let him in, and he was ending it, because of a critical fault in her nature. Another epic failure. Sara's hand shook as she held it out to him. "Gabriel, please, don't do this."

  The indigo eyes she loved swam with moisture. "This is killing me, Sara. I can't do it this way. If I waited this long to find someone to share life with, I can't accept less than full measure. I understand I'm changing the rules, just as you did with Bree. Listen, I know what I’m asking. I know what it will take, what a risk this is. Find the courage,” he challenged, “because I promise, I’ll give you everything I have. That’s what I need from you.”

  With her heart ready to burst, Gabriel turned and walked toward the back door. Without turning back, he gripped the door, his entire frame rigid. “You’re the only one for me. When you figure this out, you know how to find me.”

  The screen door slapped shut behind him. Moments later, the truck engine roared and Gabriel drove away. Out of her life.

  Chapter Twenty

  Days dragged on, and adhering to her schedule, Sara kept busy. From sunup to sundown she worked on the house, in the yard and finished up her classes. Down at town hall, she registered her business and worked long hours on the computer in the library, doing research on marketing herself and building a website. A visit to the printers for business cards took up more time, as did long walks, and painting the spare bedroom at Charlotte’s in preparation for the baby.

  Numb to her soul, she moved on auto pilot. Nothing she did would blot out thoughts of Gabriel. Where was he working? What was he doing? Did he miss her as badly as she missed him?

  Without his big body wrapped around her, his voice in her ears, his mouth on her, his laughter, Sara felt incomplete. Nights were the hardest. Sara hated crying, yet she did, in the heart of night, alone in the cottage. Lovesick, that’s what she was. His absence carved an enormous hole in her life. A gaping wound nothing would heal, and no amount of busy work could cure. The size of the island could have them no more than thirteen miles apart at any given moment, yet it might as well have been a million.

  Frustrated with watching her struggle with it, Charlotte decided they would go off the island for distraction. Sara would have objected, but the trip involved shopping for the baby and she wouldn’t let her misery hurt her best friend.

  Loaded down with shopping bags, the two women walked through the Cape Cod Mall. They'd flown over to Hyannis early in the morning for ideas to decorate the cottage and to find a baby registry for Charlotte.

  They took care of the baby first, which both of them agreed most important. Sara found a few items for the house, but her heart wasn't in it.

  Affectionately, Charlotte gently bumped her shoulder to Sara’s. "Gary said Gabe's pretty torn up about what happened. They went fishing the other day. He made me swear not to tell you, but it's not something I can keep from you."

  Miserable, Sara looked at her friend, the empathy apparent in Charlotte’s eyes. "It’s affecting me too, more than I thought it could. But I don't know how to change it."

  "Yes, you do. Get your head out of your ass. He loves you, Sara."

  She shook her head. "No, he—"

  "Yes,” Charlotte gripped her shoulder. "He loves you. Maybe Gabe didn’t say it in so many words, but
can't you see it? In the way, he is when you're together? Everyone else can. Following your logic, yes, it's been a short time since you met. When the right one comes along, all the rest doesn't matter, or make it any less real."

  Stopped in front of a store window, Sara grimaced at her image. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, pale complexion and a visage deeply etched with desolation stared back at her. "If I give him the last little part, all I can say is it would be like dying. With David, I never went through this. Gabriel wants my heart, Charlotte,” Sara's voice cracked. Tears burned her eyes. "He wants all of me."

  Pushy and frank as always, Charlotte cut to the crux of the matter. "Doesn't he deserve it? Don't you? It's what you said you've always wanted. You're standing at the edge. All you need to do is put your hand out. What you want is right in front of you, and he’s waiting."

  A ferocious storm of emotion flooded her system. Sara set the heavy bags on the floor. "He's furious. Very hurt."

  "Talk to him,” her friend encouraged, folded her in a warm hug. "Believe me, I know how hard this is for you. Above all, you're a fighter. Are you honestly going to let him go? Can you live with the loss the rest of your life? Watch him find someone else? How long do you think a man like Gabriel will be alone? Sweetie, he's worth it and so are you."

  Four days later, she still hadn't decided how to approach him. Her indecision appalled her. Since their argument, Gabriel worked on other jobs around the island and did not return to the cottage. Charlotte informed her he intended to finish, but there was no sign of him.

  No phone calls. No texts. No working together. A supply order came in, and Sara told the driver to drop the load on wooden skids Gabriel left in the driveway for that purpose. To protect the countertop, sink, shingles, wood and other supplies from the weather, she covered the materials with a large blue tarp and tied it down tightly. For added insurance, she laid bricks on top of the tarp to keep the wind from lifting it

  Finished, she stood in the driveway, hands on her hips. Right now, he seemed farther away from her than when he was back in Connecticut. Enough. She would figure it out the best she could. Wherever he worked today, he would eventually go home, and when he did, Sara would be waiting for him.

  "Fine job, Mr. Donovan. You’re very skilled,” Mrs. Cheney told him. "My grandfather put this window in, and I couldn't bear the idea of losing it."

  The restored stained glass window reinstalled in its original place looked perfect. Painstakingly Gabriel removed it, handed it off to a specialist to be repaired. Then he rebuilt the header, which suffered dry rot over the years, not to mention some water damage. Yesterday the call came that the window was ready. Today, to Mrs. Cheney's delight, Gabriel put it back where it belonged and replaced the trim. After using caulk to seal the window, he stepped back, satisfied. He rolled his shoulders, to work the kinks out of his back and neck.

  "Here you go,” she handed him a check. A quick glance down showed a generous bonus, higher than his invoiced amount.

  "Thanks, Mrs. Cheney,” Gabriel smiled at the older woman. “Call me you need anything.” Right before he left, she handed him a tin full of homemade chocolate chip cookies.

  He loaded his supplies and tools back in the truck and headed out of 'Sconset back toward Town. ‘Sconset lay on the far end of the island, quite a ride from town. Some of the oldest buildings on the island lined the village lanes, unique in their personality and construction. He wouldn’t mind working here again. Not only had the job been a good one, but the farthest position from Sara's cottage he could get. He wanted to put distance between them for the twin purposes of clearing his head, and so they wouldn't bump into each other around Town. Seeing her might weaken his resolve.

  With one hand, he flipped the top of the tin open to sample the treats. Never before had a client given him baked goods, but who would expect it in the City? The residents of this quaint, picturesque place were a unique blend of old and new, friendly and gruff, super-rich and those barely getting by. At any rate, the people he’d met so far gave him a certainty he’d indeed found his home and that he belonged. Hungry, he ate several soft, warm cookies on the way back to his cottage.

  As always his thoughts drifted to Sara, as busy as he tried to keep himself. Gabriel missed her terribly, and it nearly killed him to set the bar so high the way he did. In his lead position at DE, he issued plenty of ultimatums, but never to a woman in his personal life. Before his father's heart attack, he'd been content to cruise along in their relationship, enjoy what they shared and not attempt to control its direction.

  But the conflict in his family and hers created an atmosphere where a casual relationship no longer worked for him. Because of it, Sara chose to withdraw, as he feared she would. Granted, he messed up, but the emotion he felt was honest. She willingly gave her body, and pieces of herself, but not her full heart. Now with the balance off kilter, he found himself unwilling to accept less. If she could spend twenty years with a man and not love him, would she do so with him? Live passionately, with humor and shared interests, but not with an open heart. If she did, how long could he bear it?

  When he was alone, his head filled with Sara, thus, he worked himself mercilessly, from sunup to sundown. Each night he went home physically exhausted and too mentally shot to think straight. He ate takeout or whatever he found in the refrigerator, sometimes not at all, then showered and passed out cold.

  Several times, Charlotte and Gary asked him for dinner, but he declined. Besides a single fishing trip he agreed to, Gabriel refused anything but work. Concerned, Gary stopped by one night to talk, but soon left, and a grateful Gabe sagged back on the couch in relief.

  Nearly home. Tired, he scrubbed a hand over his face. His body ached, his stomach soured from too much sugar. A long, hot shower and a glass of milk to cut the sugar would help. At the end of his lane, he stopped at the row of mailboxes to grab his mail. After he had stuffed it in the visor, he maneuvered the truck down the road and pulled in the driveway. The second he put the truck into Park, he looked through the windshield at his back deck. Sara stood there, dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a short blue jacket. From here, he could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders.

  His heart gave a thick thump, then slid into an unsteady rhythm. One way or the other, this was it.

  Now that he'd come home, Sara's nerves kicked up. Stuffing her hands in her pockets to still their shaking, she stood, poised on the top step. After he had shut off the engine, his shoulders rose and fell as though he let out a resigned sigh. When he came around the truck, lunch cooler in hand, she stood stock still.

  Paused at the bottom, he propped a booted foot on the bottom step. His eyes conveyed hesitation, exhaustion and a touch of curiosity. The wariness of his expression made her stomach turn. Sweat broke out on her upper lip, and her underarms grew sticky.

  "Hello, Gabriel.”

  "Where's your car?” he answered, turned his head to search for it, his voice cold and unfamiliar.

  "Charlotte dropped me off. We went to Town for a bit, then I asked her to bring me here.” Sara couldn't read him. He carefully banked all expression. The only sense of emotion she sensed in him came across in his voice.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Since lunch time,”

  “It’s six-thirty now.”

  Sara nodded. "I wanted to see you, talk to you. I hope you don't mind."

  The crease between his eyebrows eased. He went up the first step. "No, I don't mind."

  Her heart pounded, and the breeze made her shiver. What chilled her more was the coolness of his voice. Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she went down one step. Now they stood eye to eye, mere inches apart. Close enough to feel his warmth, to take in his scent, salt air, wood, and male sweat. In spite of the situation, her body reacted.

  "Can we talk? Please."

  Something shifted in his eyes. After long, agonizing moments, he gave a curt nod. So he would make her work for it. Well, she deser
ved it, and he'd said all he needed to say. Now, she supposed, the rest would be up to her.

  "Can I take this for you?” she offered and slipped her fingers into the handle of the cooler along with his. Even this bit of contact jolted her. The flash in his eyes told her it affected him, too.

  "Sure,” he replied, the timber of his voice vibrated through her as he let go of the handle. Pain and pleasure shot straight through her heart. Tentatively, Sara turned toward the house and walked to the sliding glass doors.

  "Door's open."

  Sara slid the door along the track and stepped into the kitchen. After she had set the cooler on his kitchen table, she pulled out a chair. "Do you want to take your boots off?"

  As he sank into the chair, he rolled his head to one side, then the other. Wanting to soothe him, she stood to massage his shoulders. Tight, coiled muscles met her fingers, and she worked to release the tension gathered there. Grateful he hadn't shoved away from her, she continued to use her fingers and palms to work the muscles. He groaned, rolled his shoulders. Gradually, he relaxed, if only a little bit.

  "That felt good,” he murmured and bent to unlace his boots. Hands gripped tight on the back of his chair, Sara found it hard not to run her hands down his wide, muscled back.

  "Long day.” With his toes, he levered off first one boot, then the other.

  Sara laid her jacket over a chair. "Do you want to take a shower? I brought wine, white and red.” At his questioning glance, she went on. "I hope it's okay. You look tired, and you're probably hungry. Let's take care of you first. Then we can talk."

  He turned to fix those serious indigo eyes on her, neither happy nor angry, but somewhere between pained and expectant. "There's cheese and fruit in the fridge and crackers in the cabinet."

  For the first time since he came home, she relaxed a fraction. "Sounds good. I’ll take care of it."

  While he showered, she picked up his boots and set them on the area rug by the sliding doors. He'd stuffed his socks into them, so she removed them and put them in the hamper outside the bathroom door. The small acts she performed made her feel closer to him.