California Man - The Author's Cut Edition

by EC Sheedy

  "I understand, all right. Maybe better than you think." His jaw tensed as he closed then opened his mouth. "But there'll be no more stud service. Like I said, I'll call you tomorrow."

  With that he was gone.

  * * *

  "Hello." Grace gripped the phone and peered at her alarm clock, blinking hard. Six a.m.!

  "Will you take care of the store for a couple of weeks? I've already called Marsha. She says she can help out."

  "Emily?" She sat up and flicked on the light. "What's going on? What's this about?"

  "Please don't ask questions. I'm catching the first ferry to Crofton. I'm going up to Vancouver Island for a while. I'll be gone until... for at least two weeks. Will you look after things for me? And tell James I've taken Bailly with me, will you? He'll want to know."

  "What—"

  "Grace, please..."

  "Okay. But tell me this much. Does it have anything to do with that California man?"

  "Sort of."

  "Oh, Emmi, I told you. Didn't I tell you?"

  "Will you do it... watch things for me?"

  "You got it. But call. Okay?"

  "Okay. Bye."

  * * *

  Quinn was at the bookstore when it opened at ten o'clock Monday morning. Grace looked startled to see him, then wary.

  "Where is she?" he asked with no preamble.

  She stepped past him to the door and put her key in the lock. "I take it you mean Emily."

  "You take it right. Where the hell is she? I called before I went to see James in the relay yesterday. I called her when I got back. I drove over to her place last night, and it was locked up tight. Her car's gone."

  "I think she decided to take a short holiday. You know, kind of a spur of the moment thing." She opened the door, then looked at him over the curve of her shoulder. After a moment, she said, "I'm sorry."

  He didn't ask what she was sorry about. Didn't have to. "And how long is this 'short holiday' going to last? Did she say?"

  "Two weeks or so."

  "I see." He stood motionless. She'd ran out on him. His jaw was so tight it pained him—almost as much as the knot in his chest. Finally, he asked, "Will she be calling you?"

  "I expect so."

  "When she does, tell her I get the message. And tell her she won't have to stay away for two weeks. I'm leaving tomorrow."

  * * *

  A week later, close to midnight, Emily pulled into her driveway. What moon there was lay behind heavy clouds, plump with rain. She wished she'd remembered to leave her porch light on. The night was unbroken black, and she stumbled twice during the dozen steps to her door. Not so with Bailly, who was at the door in seconds, wiggling his butt and waiting for her to catch up. Ridgebacks always liked to be first to the door.

  "I'm glad one of us is happy to be home, Bailly."

  She flicked on the light, dropped her suitcase inside the door, and went into the kitchen.

  "Water, fellah?"

  While Bailly slurped noisily, she headed back to pick up her suitcase. She was tired but knew with certainty she wouldn't sleep. Crossing back through the silent living room, she turned on another lamp. That was when she saw it.

  The envelope was half under her case near the door. It said only EMMI in bold black caps. She knew immediately who it was from and sensed the beginning of another endless weep coming on. She stroked the envelope, then folded it. She didn't want to see the hard etch of his pen on white paper, didn't want to read his words, didn't want to suffer his loss again. She'd done the right thing.

  "Emily?"

  Startled, Emily dropped the envelope.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." It was Lynn. "I saw the light, wasn't sure you were back, and decided to check. I wanted to talk to you." Lynn looked at her friend's ashen face. "Jeez, I did scare you, didn't I? I should have knocked."

  "No. It's okay." Emily gave her a quick welcoming hug. "Come in for a bit. I'm glad for the company."

  Lynn sat in the big chair near the dark fireplace. "How was the trip?"

  "Good." Bailly flopped down beside Emmi, and she scratched behind her ears. "We needed those few days, didn't we, bud?" Bailly gave her an adoring look, laid his head on his paws, and closed his eyes. Emmi turned back to face Lynn and pasted on a smile. "We went to Tofino to do some whale watching. It was great." She tried to sound enthusiastic.

  "Great, huh? You look more like you spent the week in Transylvania visiting the count," she said. "You look hellish, my dear. Pure and simply hellish. Almost as bad as that beautiful man you were so anxious to leave behind—which was one giant mistake, I hope you know."

  "I did what was right for, uh, both of us."

  "You were callous and insensitive. Not to mention cowardly. Quinn is a special man. He didn't deserve that kind of treatment."

  Lynn spoke the words so matter-of-factly Emily didn't have time to be shocked. She went directly to anger. "Leave it alone, Lynn. You know nothing about it."

  "I know you dished out the treatment you got years ago without batting an eyelash. I know I thought better of you." Lynn gave her an intense stare. "You ran. And when you ran, you caused pain. Long-term pain, unless I miss my guess. My God, woman, that man loves you and you kicked him in the teeth."

  "He said that?"

  "He said nothing. He didn't have to. He came to say goodbye the day he left. He wanted to talk about a contract for James to be on the promotional material for his new foundation. He looked like... well, let's just say he looked as bad, if not worse, than you."

  "I didn't want to hurt him. I never meant to."

  "Well, you did."

  "It would never work between us. We're too different." Her argument and she was sticking to it, even if it was getting a bit worn around the edges.

  "That's BS and you know it. But if you're determined to live behind that wall of fear you've erected, so be it." Lynn shook her head, stood up, and headed for the door. "By the way, he's coming back in August. To finalize the contract and talk to James about the games in Vancouver. Maybe, just maybe, you have another chance. If I were you, I'd take it." She stopped. "I take that back. I'd jump at it even if there was no safety net."

  Emily looked at her through pain-washed eyes and forced a tense smile to her lips. "You came here tonight expressly to give me what-for, didn't you?"

  Lynn nodded. "And I won't apologize for a word of it."

  "You don't have to. I've spent weeks clinging desperately to the idea that it could never work for Quinn and me... told myself over and over again that I'd made the right decision. Done what was best for him. I needed to believe that." She used a knuckle to catch a tear at the top of her cheek. "Maybe I still do. Maybe I'll never know what's right. Never be sure."

  "Maybe you won't. Welcome to the world."

  The two women hugged before Lynn stepped outside. She turned back. "Remember, he's back in August, Emmi. Think about that, and think hard," she urged. "Second chances aren't always easy to come by."

  Emily closed the door, wiped her damp cheeks, and picked up the envelope from the floor. She tore it open.

  Emmi, I'll miss you in my life. I love you.

  I'll always love you. Nothing will ever change that.

  Quinn

  * * *

  When the ferry entered Fulford Harbour on a hot August morning, Quinn walked to the right side of the boat. From here he'd be able to see Lynn's place. James told him to watch for him, that he would be waving from the beach. That's what he would do, watch for James. He would not look at the house next door. The small cedar beach house where the woman he loved was planning to spend the rest of her life. It made his gut ache to come back here.

  Thank God it wouldn't be for long. He'd talk to James, meet with Lynn, get the papers signed, and be gone in a couple of hours. No man liked to return to the scene of his defeat. Who the hell needed a reminder? He saw James wave and waved back. After that no power on earth could stop him from looking at Emily's house. His heart stalled in his che
st, then pumped erratically.

  She was there, sitting on her log, Bailly at her side. He couldn't be sure, but it looked as if she was watching the ferry—watching him. He turned away, his rising anger and frustration telling him he didn't need this. When he was back in his car, he slammed his head back against the headrest and let out a ragged exhale. Damn the woman! Even seeing her from this distance made his blood race. If he could do it without being rude, he'd get off the island in an hour.

  * * *

  Emily stared at the ferry. Heart in throat, breath tight in chest, and hands knotted in her lap, she scanned the deck rails until she spotted him. Even though she couldn't make out his features, she knew the minute his eyes found her—the planet lurched. He was so close. She'd thought of nothing but this day for weeks, and still she had no plan. No idea what to do. The lines she'd composed vanished from her head at the sight of him. The curtain dropped on the scenes she'd created in her mind for the moment when she'd see him again. Gone, all of it, gone. She'd have to wing it. When he turned away from her, she swallowed deep. This wasn't going to be easy.

  And he might turn me away...

  Rubbing her damp hands on the side of her jeans, she stood, and prepared herself to take the biggest risk of her life. She swallowed again and headed for the house. The ferry was at the dock. In minutes Quinn would be at Lynn's. Whatever plan she came up with in the next half hour or so would have to do. She had to see him before he left the island.

  * * *

  Quinn had barely completed the turn out of Lynn's driveway when he saw her, standing in the middle of the road. She stood astride the bike he'd given her, arms resting on the handlebars, Bailly sat beside her. Together they made an effective roadblock, and both woman and dog were looking at him. Quinn stopped the car, studied them, but didn't turn off the ignition.

  To Emily it seemed an eternity before Quinn pulled the car to the side of the road, another eternity until he stepped out of the Rover onto the road.

  When he walked toward her, all power and lean muscle, Emily felt tossed and winded; her fight or flight reflex set to high alert. She searched her mind frantically for a next move, a line of words, anything that would make sense. Nothing.

  "Hello, Emily," he said, his tone bordering on formal.

  He stood directly in front of her, very still. Waiting. She lifted her head to meet his eyes. When she saw the coolness there, her mouth went as arid as her brain.

  "I have some strawberries," she blurted, the inane comment spurting from nowhere.

  He didn't answer. Good goddess, Emily, how could he? He eyed her, one eyebrow raised in question as she tried again.

  "I'm asking you to lunch," she said.

  "I've eaten."

  "Oh." She ran her hands along the cool metal of the bike's handlebars. "How about a bike ride then?"

  "I don't have a bike with me."

  Silence.

  He wasn't going to make this easy. You don't deserve easy. She fixed her gaze on him, feeling the tiniest bit stubborn. "A walk on the beach?" she asked.

  "No time. I've got a ferry to catch."

  Emily lowered her eyes and chewed on her lower lip. She bit too hard and winced. Quinn waited.

  "Is that it then?" he asked.

  "No." She wasn't letting him go yet. She was barely getting started.

  "No?" he repeated, the barest hint of a smile touching his mouth. "Then what else have you got to offer?" His words challenged, dared.

  Soft breath skimmed over her lips and everything in her, everything that was shy Emily Welland went on full stop. Utterly calm. She lifted her eyes to meet his. "My love. That's what I'm offering. I love you, Quinn."

  Wind rustled in the trees along the roadside. A gull squawked. Then silence.

  He took a step toward her. "You've said that before, Emmi. The question now is how much? How much do you love me?"

  "Enough. Enough to go with you, be with you anywhere. Enough for... everything."

  He reached for her then, pulling her to him roughly, the cold metal of the bike an unyielding fence between them.

  His mouth hovered over hers. "No more cold feet. You do a runner on me again, and I won't be responsible for my actions. I love you, Emily. I want you. I need you. All of it, damn it." His gaze was fierce.

  She took courage from the strong beat of his heart and smiled into his eyes. "No more running. I promise. And if you marry me, I'll probably never have cold feet again."

  He smiled. "Not in my bed, you won't. I promise you won't have cold anything. You have my word on it."

  The smile was for the moment, the promise for a lifetime.

  Epilogue

  After dinner, the three women spread themselves comfortably around Emily's cozy living room. Grace sprawled on the sofa, Lynn took the rocking chair beside the fireplace, and Emily curled into the old wing-back. Each held a steaming, convivial cup of coffee while outside the moon hovered low, quietly silvering the waters of Fulford Harbour. Bailly wandered in, surveyed the room's inhabitants, and promptly curled up at Emily's feet.

  Emily and Lynn were comfortable in the silence. Grace was not.

  "So," she began, "when exactly does that heavenly California man of yours get back?"

  "Friday morning. But I'm not going to see him before the wedding," she added, ruing their agreed upon plan. She couldn't bear to think of his being on the island and not with her—not even for one night. He'd been gone almost two weeks now, and it seemed a lifetime.

  Grace sipped her coffee. "You mean he's not going to be here until the day before the wedding? He's really pushing it, isn't he?"

  "I guess, but as it turned out, he didn't have much choice. There are meetings on the sale of his business, and what with everyone's schedules, they were impossible to delay. And I think things are moving faster for the foundation than he expected. It looks like he's made a good connection in France for games as early as next year."

  "May second to ninth, according to James," Lynn added with a proud grin. "And you know he's never wrong about dates."

  "You heard from James?" Emily asked.

  "Yesterday. He called me right after Quinn talked to you. He's having the time of his life in Los Angeles. That man of yours has been wonderful with him. He's been to Disneyland, on a studio tour, and to a wax museum of some kind. He was so excited I barely understood him. He said he missed me, but I think Quinn had to remind him to say it." Lynn groused but looked pleased.

  Grace chimed in. "The little traitor. Seduced by the bright lights and big city. Huh?"

  "Big time."

  Emily sat up straighter in her chair, worry wrinkling her brow. "You're going to be okay with this, uh, arrangement, aren't you, Lynn?"

  Lynn's brown eyes turned serious. "How can you even ask? It's the opportunity of a lifetime for James. Official spokesman for the Marion Foundation. My son. Can you believe it?"

  "He'll be away a lot," Emily said. "Quinn wants him to be an integral part of the foundation. You'll be lonely."

  Lynn's eyes leveled to meet hers. "I haven't loved that boy all these years, challenged him until at times he should have hated me, to let a little loneliness stand in his way now. His world—my God—his skills are growing everyday. My stupid heart nearly bursts thinking of it. I'm so proud, I—Well, anyway, Quinn's good for him, and it's time he spent more time around men."

  Grace piped up. "Ditto for you, kiddo. And me."

  "You've got a one-track mind, Grace. Has anybody ever told you that?" Emily teased.

  Lynn added, "A man is the last thing I'm looking for."

  "Hah!" Grace interjected. "The first comment from a woman who's made the biggest catch of this century without even fishing, and the second from a woman who hasn't so much as glanced at a member of the male sex, other than that handsome son of hers, for fifteen years." Grace threw up her hands in mock surrender. "With friends like this, no wonder I'm single. You guys are no help at all. I give up. That's all. I'm quitting, throwing in the towel."
>
  Lynn lifted her gaze to heaven and Emily gave a delicate snort. They both grinned.

  "Very dramatic, Grace, but I think there's as much chance of you calling off your manhunt as there is of my starting one," Lynn said dryly.

  "True," Grace admitted without guile. "But then, I really can't help myself. I'm a very focused person. But hey, enough about me, let's talk about Em's wedding—and what I'm going to wear," she finished airily.

  "It's a wonderful idea to get married on the beach, Emily," Lynn said, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It will be a perfect background."

  "If the weather holds," Emily added. "If it doesn't, we'll go inside. The guest list is small, so Paul's house will easily handle us all."

  Lynn shook her head thoughtfully. "Who would have believed it? Shy Emily—a September bride."

  "It feels like some kind of miracle," Emily added dreamily, envisioning her husband to be. She couldn't think about him without being claimed by a hazy swirl of passion. His eyes, mouth, the thickness of his sun-glazed dark hair, his teasing smile—and now his ambition for the foundation. They all merged and layered to create the man she loved with all her shy—courageous—heart. She stared unseeing into the cool coffee at the bottom of her cup, warming in the image, the certainty of the amazing life they'd have together.

  "Yoo-hoo! Emily." Lynn nudged her with the toe of her shoe.

  Grace stood up in mock exasperation. "It's no use, Lynn. It's time to go. The woman is officially living in a parallel universe. I don't think we can expect an intelligent conversation out of her for at least a year. She's crazy in love. That's what she is."

  "Guilty as charged." Emily said.

  Grace laughed, but her words no longer teased when she said, "Not that I blame you. He's truly wonderful."

  When Emily stood, Grace gave her a rough, affectionate hug. "But then so are you. And don't ever forget that." Her grip tightened, and she swallowed hard before releasing her. "I love you, Em." Giving Emily no time to respond, Grace all but ran out of the room.