“Or what.” She ran to catch up with him. “Grandma’s baking pies. She has one for you when we get back.”
“Great. How come you’re not staying at home, learning to cook and bake like other girls?” He laughed and nudged her with his elbow, unbalancing her. “I feel sorry for the guy who marries you. He’s gonna starve.”
“Will not. I’m gonna marry a man who knows how to cook. You’re a chauvinist. Who says the woman has to do the cooking? Your dad cooks.”
He stopped and stared at her, his eyes clouding. “Only because he has to.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay. He can’t cook the way my mom did, but it’s edible. Race you to the boat.” He took off at a sprint.
Jenny ran after him, not even trying to catch up. She chided herself for the slip she had made. She, of all people, knew how it felt to lose a parent. Her mother walked out when she was an infant. Her father was killed by a hit and run driver a few years later. Patrick’s mother had died three years earlier of cancer.
“Hi, Mr. Doyle,” Jenny greeted Patrick’s father as she climbed aboard the boat.
“Hey, Jenny. How’s your grandpa?”
“Better. Grandma says he’ll outlive us all.” She helped Patrick stow the ropes.
The boat cut through the current, bouncing across Penobscot Bay. A light wind blew Jenny’s long, chestnut brown hair across her face. As she pulled it back and fastened it into a ponytail, she looked up to see Patrick staring at her, a strange look on his face. He flushed and glanced away.
When they reached the island, Mike Doyle cut the engine and eased the boat up to the dock. Patrick scrambled out and secured the ropes.
“You kids stay out of trouble. I have to check the Dresden house, and cut grass at the Galloway’s. Be back here in an hour.” Mike walked to the golf cart parked near a shed.
“You need help, Dad?” Patrick asked.
“No. You two go on.”
Patrick led the way in the opposite direction. Jenny followed, speeding up to match his long strides.
“Let’s check out the construction on the new house.” He turned onto an overgrown path.
The skeletal frame of a house stood on a knoll overlooking a strip of rocky beach. Patrick stepped easily up onto the wooden structure, then turned and grabbed her hand, pulling her up beside him. She teetered on the narrow beam, and his hand on her shoulder steadied her. An unfamiliar tingle caused gooseflesh to raise on her arms.
He climbed a ladder to the upper level, reaching down to pull her up onto the ledge beside him. They sat, thighs and arms touching, gazing out over the bay.
Patrick pointed. “Look, there’s your house.”
“Where?” She shielded her eyes against the sun.
He flung his long arm around her shoulder and brought his cheek next to hers. He pointed again. “Right there.”
She leaned closer, her eyes following the line of his outstretched arm and finger. “Oh. Yeah, I see it.” The warmth of his cheek seared her face.
He crooked his elbow around her neck, holding her there.
She turned and searched his face. His eyes darkened, and his expression stole her breath. His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips.
When he pressed his mouth to hers, she closed her eyes. Their noses bumped and Jenny wasn’t sure what to do, so she let him lead. Patrick angled his face as his mouth covered hers. His lips were warm and soft. Moist. He caressed the nape of her neck, sending a shiver through her. The sensation of electricity raced along her nerve endings.
When the kiss ended, Jenny opened her eyes to find him staring at her. She bit her lower lip and steadied her gaze on his deep brown eyes. With the next kiss his lips lingered on hers, their teeth clicking together. Something she would later recognize as desire erupted and the nubs of her breasts strained against the fabric of her tank top. She lifted her arms and looped them around his neck.
He drew her against him, his breath teasing the hair at her temple. “I love you, Jenny.”
She tucked her face into the hollow of his shoulder and grinned. It was as if the world had come to a halt—no sounds, no movement. “I love you, too.”
Patrick rested his chin on top of her head. They sat that way until it was time to return to the boat. He clutched her hand to help her down from the beam and maintained his hold until the dock was in view. Then he squeezed once and released her, trotting ahead to help his father load a lawn mower onto the boat.
Thoughts whirled through Jenny’s mind, and her body felt electrified. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, though she tried to fight it. It had been her first kiss. Had it been his? He seemed to know what he was doing. Well, she guessed he did.
Patrick busied himself during the twenty minute run back to the mainland. But each time her eyes met his, he grinned.
Mike docked the boat, and then he and Patrick secured the mower in the back of Mike’s pickup.
Patrick swiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “Dad, Mrs. O’Connell has a pie for us. I’ll go with Jenny and pick it up.”
“Okay, but don’t be late. Jenny, tell your grandma I thank her.”
“Sure, Mr. Doyle.”
Patrick quickened his stride, staring at the ground before him as they walked.
Jenny intentionally bumped against him. “Was that your first time?”
“Huh?”
“Your first kiss?”
He kicked a large stone, sending it rolling off the path. “No.”
“Oh.” Her heart sank.
“Megan Harvey kissed me in the second grade.”
Jenny elbowed him in the side. “That doesn’t count.”
“Ouch.” He rubbed his ribs, feigning injury. “In that case, yeah, it was my first.”
“Mine, too.” Warmth filled her chest, and a smile stretched her lips.
They continued along, bumping against and bouncing off one another.
Jenny broke the silence. “It was nice.”
“Nice? I don’t think it’s supposed to be nice.”
“How’s it supposed to be?” She squinted at him.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Like in the movies, I guess.”
She giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I can’t imagine you and me doing it that way, all…” She fluttered her eyelids and pouted her lips, breathing hard and moaning.
He laughed, then took her hand and pulled her off the path. Backing her against a huge oak tree, he stood with a hand pressed on either side of her. This time their lips met without an awkward bump of noses or click of teeth. He moved his mouth on hers, and her arms found their way around his neck.
A current shot through her body, and she moaned. He slid his hands behind her, pulling her against him. Her hips tilted forward as if pulled by some force.
Patrick broke free and turned away. “Jesus, Jenny.”
“I’m sorry. Did I do it wrong?”
He shook his head without facing her. “You definitely didn’t do it wrong.”
“Okay. Then, what…?”
He breathed hard. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
“I can wait.”
“Just…go. I’ll be there in a minute.” He moved a few feet away from her.
She stared at his back, confused. A moment ago, he couldn’t get close enough to her. Now he wouldn’t even look at her. Tears stung her eyes as she turned and raced along the dirt path to the cottage.
Jenny and Patrick had been inseparable since Laura Doyle babysat three-year-old Jenny. Patrick, one year older, assumed the role of big brother. After both started school, he was her protector. They had been best friends, withstanding the ridicule and teasing of classmates.
And now they were…what? Did this mean she was his girlfriend? She touched her fingers to her lips. He loves me. Her heart sank, however, recalling how he had turned away from her so abruptly. I don’t get it.
Jenny sat on the porch while Patrick a
mbled toward her. She stood up. “I’ll get your pie.”
“Thanks.” He leaned against the post, acting as if nothing had happened.
She returned and shoved the pie at him. He bobbled the pan, nearly dropping it. “Whoa. Easy. Tell your grandma I said thanks.”
“I will.”
He grinned. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow? I’m going with my dad to Hawk Island. Want to come?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, I can’t. Not tomorrow.” For the first time, she didn’t want to be with Patrick—and, yet, she did want to go. Something had shifted between them, and the change confused her.
“Oh. Then I’ll see you on Saturday for the movies?”
“Maybe.”
He blinked, then turned and headed for home.
Jenny sat on the steps. The change between her and Patrick seemed monumental, and she didn’t have a clue why. The kiss both thrilled and frightened her. Or had she imagined it? Patrick acted as if nothing had happened. Tears threatened as they always did when she found herself wishing she had a mother to talk to.
She swiped angrily at her tears. Her mother had walked away from her when she was a baby. What good could the woman be to her now?
Chapter Four
Present day
Jenny set the two bags of groceries on the counter. She removed the box of flavored cereal and stared at it. Habit—to buy Cooper’s favorite. A lump formed in her throat. She stepped on the foot pedal of the trashcan and deposited the box. Once the bags were empty, she carried the trash out to the larger can at the end of the driveway, as if removing the cereal from the house would distance her from the pain.
Clouds gathered overhead, and the air turned sharply colder. She hugged her sweater close and looked out at the bay. Whitecaps topped the gray water, and foam sprayed over rocks along the shore.
She latched the screen door to prevent it from blowing open and then locked the inner door. After building a fire for warmth, she settled on the window seat with a hot cup of cocoa. Mist shrouded the dark outline of Cooper’s Island.
Jenny backed against the wall, stretching her legs across the brocade cushion. As fog swallowed the island, she relived that last summer she had spent with Patrick.
He had graduated from high school the previous year and took a job as deckhand on a schooner out of Camden. He sat with her grandparents in the bleachers and smiled proudly when she looked up from the gymnasium floor after receiving her diploma.
The graduating class of twenty-six seniors held one big party in the gym following the ceremony. When she and Patrick danced, he held her close and whispered, “You’re my girl, Jenny. Forever.”
She had snuggled against him, her head fitting under his chin. The plan was that they would both work and save money, and then they would marry in a year or two. Her grandmother and Patrick’s father tried to talk them into waiting until they were both at least twenty-one, encouraging them to go to college. Patrick adamantly refused to even apply to any schools. Jenny stuck by him, though ideas about college life and the world outside Miley’s Cove enticed her.
When the graduation party was over, Patrick drove his old pickup truck to Grover’s Point. It was where every date ended, where they explored one another, stopping just short of going all the way. The heat of their passion fogged the truck windows. Patrick pulled away from her, breathing hard. “God, Jenny. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”
She trailed her fingers up his jean-clad thigh, aware of the bulge at the zipper. “We don’t have to wait anymore.”
He looked at her, his eyes dark. “I want it to be right for you.”
“You’re right for me.” She moved closer, kissing his neck.
He found her mouth and probed with his tongue, then pulled back. “Not here. Not like this.”
“Where?”
“Let’s drive down the coast. We can get a room somewhere.” He kissed her again, and she moaned. Looking into her eyes, he asked, “Are you sure?”
She smiled. “I’m sure. Um, do you have…uh…protection?”
He nodded, backing the truck to turn around. During the drive south toward Freeport, her hand rested on his leg, maintaining a physical connection. Anticipation mixed with anxiety. She knew the mechanics from Sex Ed class and girl talk with her friends. She and Patrick had explored one another’s bodies enough so that she knew the feel of him in her hand, the way his fingers teased her into ecstasy. But this was different. This time it would be a total giving of herself to him. She shivered, and he pulled her close.
The truck lurched to a stop in front of a small motel that boasted clean rooms and a forty-five dollar rate.
“Wait here.” Patrick jumped from the truck and strode to the office. He returned a few minutes later with a room key. “We’re around back, in number nine.”
She nodded, and he asked again, “You sure about this?”
“Will you stop asking me that? I’m sure. Okay? I’m nervous, that’s all. I haven’t…” She looked down at her fingers, woven together in her lap. “Have you?”
He shook his head. “Of course not. You’re my only girl, Jen. It’ll be okay.”
“But you already have condoms.”
His face reddened. “I hoped we would use them—eventually.”
The room was damp, and the odor of stale cigarette smoke hung in the air. He turned on the window air conditioner. “This’ll help freshen it up in here.”
She stood, awkwardly clutching her purse. He walked to her, his eyes locked on hers. He removed the purse from her hand and tossed it into a chair. Taking her hand in his, he led her to one of the two beds. When he kissed her, her body responded. His fingers grazed her breast, and a current ran through her center.
He stood, pulling her up with him. She smiled and tugged back the worn bedspread, not looking too closely at the faded gray sheets. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her pink silk blouse.
He brushed her hands away. “Let me.”
Her breath quickened at the lightness of his touch as he slid the blouse from her shoulders and removed her bra. He stared at her for a moment before bending to kiss each breast. She lowered her face, enjoying the tickle of his thick hair against her cheek.
She worked at the buttons of his shirt then traced her lips across his smooth chest. His mouth nuzzled a spot between her neck and shoulder. His erection pressed against her abdomen.
“I love you, Jenny.” His voice was hoarse.
“I love you, too.” She undid the button and zipper of her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Clad only in pink lace bikini panties, she sat on the bed and watched as he removed his jeans. Her eyes fixed on his erection straining for release behind blue cotton boxers. He lifted her chin and met her eyes, smiling. Sitting beside her, he eased her down on the bed. His hand cupped between her legs, his thumb hooked under the waistband of her bikini panties, urging them down. She lifted her hips to ease their removal.
He slid off his boxers and ripped open the foil packet, rolling the condom into place. As he kissed her, he slid a finger inside her. Her breath caught and she opened herself to him, hips rising with his touch. He withdrew his hand and raised her arms above her head, his palms pressed to hers, then thrust forward, entering her.
Jenny gasped at the quick, sharp pain. He moved in her, slowly at first, and then more urgently. After a few thrusts, he groaned and collapsed on top of her.
That was it? She stared at the ceiling.
Patrick rolled off her, panting. “God, Jenny. That was amazing.”
She didn’t respond. It had hurt a little, and she had expected it to feel better, like it did when his fingers caressed her, making her tremble with pleasure.
He got up and went into the bathroom. She sat up and examined the sheet and herself. Only a thin trace of blood on her fingers. She lay down again and curled on her side. Patrick returned to the bed and spooned himself around her. She smiled and settled into his body, pulling his arms tighter.
“I love
you so much, Jen. I can’t wait until we’re married, and we can sleep like this every night. But on a more comfortable bed.”
She laughed and took in a deep breath. Maybe it gets better.
The second time was better. Their foreplay gave her the release she anticipated. When he moved inside her this time, there was no pain. And when he shuddered and closed his eyes, she stared at his face, marveling at the power she held to give him such pleasure.
He fell asleep, and she lay in the crook of his arm, watching the rise and fall of his chest. She placed a palm flat on his abdomen, feeling the firmness and heat. She glanced at the clock. “Patrick.” Sitting up, she kissed him lightly. “Wake up. I have to get home.”
His eyelids fluttered, and he smiled up at her before pulling her over on top of him and hugging her.
She resisted. “We have to go. It’s late.”
He groaned. “One more time.”
“We can’t. I have to get home. It’s nearly midnight.”
He wrapped his arms around her and raised his head to kiss her once more. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me be your first and only. For loving me.”
She rested her cheek on his chest. “I do love you. I have since I was three years old. I miss you so much when you’re out on a cruise.”
“I miss you, too. Now, I’ll be dreaming of this every night.”
“Come on. Get dressed.” She rolled off him and searched for her panties.
Before they left the room, he hugged her against him. “We’re going to be so happy, Jen.”
And, at the time, she had believed him.
Jenny shook her head as if to dislodge the memory. Darkness had fallen outside and the fire sent shadows dancing around the room. Shadows used to unnerve her. Now she had learned to live with the shadows that followed her, looming around her, reminding her of what was gone.
Chapter Five
Days held an endlessness that Jenny found almost too much to bear. Other than stopping by the diner, she kept to herself. It was as if accusing stares and whispers followed her—the woman who killed her husband and son.
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