by Lily Cahill
And it hadn’t been a lie, exactly, when she’d agreed to Clayton’s ridiculous plan about making their relationship public in two weeks. She wanted to do what he asked. Desperately. The idea of walking around with him in the town square sounded like the most incredible thing she could imagine. But in order to do that, she would have to leave home. And how was that going to happen? What else could she do that she wasn’t doing already? Hadn’t she been trying for years to take Bethany away from all this?
Accepting his offer for an apartment just wasn’t an option, not when she knew their relationship could never be permanent. An apartment made her a different kind of girl. It made her a Murphy, not a Hollis, and that was the one thing she could never, ever be.
And without a way to leave home, she just didn’t see how they could do what he was asking. His parents wouldn’t let them be. Butch wouldn’t let her win. Her father wouldn’t let himself lose. They’d all go after Clayton with every dirty trick in their arsenal, including her. She couldn’t put him through that. If it was only her, maybe she’d consider it. But she couldn’t put Bethany through that either, not when there was a chance they could both end up worse off because of it. No matter how much she thought about it, there just wasn’t a solution.
For now, all she could do was enjoy what they had. Enjoy it, and hope a bit of distance from his fight with Butch would make Clayton relax and forget long enough to let two weeks turn into three or four or however long she could hold on. Maybe, if she was very lucky, they could have the whole summer.
Even though Cora hadn’t made any promises—had, in fact, clearly discouraged Mrs. Briggs from endorsing her—Florence Briggs had sung her praises at her bridge party. At least, Cora thought she had. Just two days after their meeting, Cora received no less than five new orders from some of the wealthiest women in town. It was so many that Robby—the messenger boy from the general store—had suggested she might talk to the store’s manager, Mr. Powell, about setting up an order box there.
Cora didn’t know what to make of it. Had Clayton changed his mind about telling his parents? Did Mrs. Briggs think she had broken things off? Or had something that Clayton had said convinced her to be kind? Whatever it was, she wasn’t in a position to turn down the flood of new orders.
She had spent all of yesterday baking until she thought she might melt inside her kitchen. The June sun was out in full force, and with the oven on it was almost unbearable.
But today she was finally outside. Cora pedaled faster on her bike, relishing the breeze coming down from the mountain as she felt a tiny prick of rain on her nose. It was the very reason she had wanted to get an early start today. Her bike had been stacked high with cake boxes an hour ago, but she’d just delivered the last of the orders—a cherry pie for the diner—and now she was done with her errands for the day.
She wondered if Clayton would be free tonight. Maybe they could go swimming again if the weather cleared up, and she could wear her bathing suit for him. She liked it when they went swimming. She liked the not-swimming parts best of all.
Cora pedaled up to the library. It was something she and Clayton had come up with before they parted last. Since they couldn’t be seen together for a while, they’d decided to leave notes inside one of the wide flower pots flanking the library’s entrance. Each pot held a large mountain laurel bush that flowered with the most gorgeous pink blooms. They were to leave their notes near the trunk on the right-most pot.
She had written one before she left that morning. It was stowed away inside an old glass jelly jar to protect it from the rain and nestled in her bike basket.
It read:
C—
Tonight at the cliffs? 9 p.m.? I miss you.
Love,
-C
But when she reached through the full branches to place the jar, she found there was already something there. It was a tin—a cookie tin that felt empty of cookies.
Waiting for her inside was a note of her own. It was on thick, creamy paper with the initials C.A.B. embossed at the top. C was for Clayton, and B was for Briggs. But what did the A stand for? Adam? Arthur? Adorable? Adonis? She made up her mind to wrestle it out of him the next time she saw him.
Cora read on.
Darling,
I’ve waited as long as I can to see you, but two days without looking into your eyes is a specific kind of torture.
Have mercy. Meet me at the cliffs as early as you can get away. I’ll be there by 6:30.
Your love,
-C.A.B.
P.S. I’ve had an inspiration about our dilemma.
Cora couldn’t have kept from grinning if she tried. She felt a little woozy inside that place in her heart with his name scrawled across it. She read the note again. And again. Then she realized people might notice her dawdling on the library steps and figure out what they were up to. For all she knew, Butch might be lurking around town—waiting to see her reading a secret note from Clayton.
She pulled a pencil out of her pocket and scrawled across the bottom of her note. There was no way she was leaving his behind. That she would keep forever.
C.A.B.-
I am a merciful soul by nature, but at a price. See you tonight by 7. Bring me a kiss for my trouble. (And an answer—I must know what the A stands for.)
-C.J.M.
P.S. Now you have a mystery of your own.
It would be a trick getting out of the house unnoticed by seven, but she would find a way to make it happen.
She rode away from the library wishing she had a bell on her handlebars to zing the entire way home.
Cora excused herself from the table almost as soon as she’d put out dinner.
“I’m going to lie down. I’m not feeling well.”
“You just gonna leave us to fend for ourselves?” her dad said. Sometimes she liked him better when he was drunk. He was always kinder drunk than he was sober. But he must not have had any money in his pocket tonight, or both he and Butch would have already been at the bar.
“It’s soup and bread. All you have to do is spoon it out and wash the dishes when you’re done.”
“My day, a woman knew her place.”
Bethany reached out and touched his arm, “Don’t worry. I’ll do the dishes, Daddy.”
Huck pulled his arm away almost as soon as she’d touched him. It was as if Bethany’s fingers were pure ice. “Do what you like,” he said gruffly.
Of all the things about their living situation, Cora hated this the most. Huck had never forgiven Bethany for being the cause of his wife’s death, and Cora guessed he never would. It had been a war of neglect ever since. But no matter how cruel he was to her, Bethany never stopped trying to please him. It was as if the child felt the weight of the debt on her young shoulders and tried with every gesture to repay it.
“Just put them in the sink and I’ll take care of them in the morning,” Cora said, squeezing Bethany’s shoulder. “You’re sleeping over at Ella’s tonight, right?”
“Yes, but I can do the dishes before I go.”
“That’s okay. You finish your dinner then run along.”
She felt bad about leaving Bethany behind, but guessed Huck would be off to some pal or another’s house soon to try and rustle up a free drink. It was rare for him to spend an evening at home. When he wasn’t at the bar, he was out with friends. And when he wasn’t out with friends, he was out with Butch. Cora guessed they’d both be gone within fifteen minutes.
As soon as Cora had closed the bedroom door, she was out the open window, climbing the tree down to the ground and racing away before anyone could see her from the kitchen window.
She made it to the cliffs in record time, just as the sun was starting to kiss Jubilation’s purple peak. Clayton’s car was parked exactly where he said it would be. And he was there, too—leaning up against the silver convertible like he was in an advertisement for Aston Martin itself. The sight of him took her breath away. What right did one man have to be so handsome?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Clayton
He saw her the moment she crested the hill. The sun had turned everything golden and made her look completely angelic. He jogged over and swept her into a kiss. God, the taste of her. He plunged his tongue deeper and lifted her off the ground. She was practically weightless in his arms and he felt like he could hold her like that all day.
“Is that adequate payment?” he growled against her ear, finally setting her back down.
“Not by half,” she said through a playful smile, those big blue eyes sinking an anchor in his chest. “I believe you owe me a name.”
“I’ll give you a clue,” he said.
“Welch!” she said, bouncing out of his arms with a grin. “That wasn’t the deal,”
He opened her door for her and she hopped in the passenger side.
“I decided to pay that part of my debt in a different way.” He started the car then gestured to the picnic basket in his back seat. He’d had fun picking out what to serve her—choosing all the fanciest cheeses and freshest fruits and finest deli meats and an expensive bottle of wine from the family cellar. The picnic felt like a small gesture compared to everything he wanted to do, but it was as extravagant as he could get when he was forbidden from giving gifts. He wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t raise some sort of fuss now.
“I thought we could go for a swim then have a picnic.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
His heart leapt in his chest. For once, she was going to accept something he’d given her without a fight.
“Excellent,” he said, and parked at a place just a few minutes further up the road. It was a spot near Fort Austen where people rarely went. There was a longer hike to the beach below them, so it wasn’t very popular. Which was why he had chosen it. It had been worrisome the other night, how close they had come to those people on the beach. He wanted to be with her more than anything, but he wouldn’t subject her to town gossip.
He got out of the car and stripped down to his swim trunks.
“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. I still want to know what your middle initial stands for,” she said, opening the door to swing her legs out as she unbuttoned her dress.
A flash of red mesmerized Clayton as she stood and stepped out of it.
He could barely breathe. She was wearing the one-piece he’d picked out. He’d bought it to help shield her from prying eyes, but he could see immediately his plan was ill-conceived. The red fabric matched her red lips like it had been dyed for that very purpose, and the cut fit her figure perfectly. She looked like a damned pinup in the thing. People wouldn’t just stare, they’d take pictures.
“Clayton?”
“Yes?”
“I said you still haven’t given me a name.”
“What?” He’d forgotten what they were talking about. All he could concentrate on was the fact that she was doing a very, very bad job of convincing him not to buy her more presents.
“Your middle name. You signed your letter C.A.B. What does the A stand for?”
“Oh! Right.” He grabbed the picnic basket and led her toward the trail.
“I’ll give you a clue. It’s for a man who had a famous lover.”
“Well, that narrows it down.”
“One of the most famous lovers of all time.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She wasn’t half as beautiful as you,” he said.
“Adam?” she asked. “Antony?”
“No. Now give me a clue. I’ve given you three.”
“You’ve given me one,” she said, taking careful steps as she navigated a particularly steep section of the trail.
Clayton glanced over the edge. It had been years since he’d come here. He hadn’t remembered how steep the drop was, how narrow the path. It was at least fifty feet down, and unlike the diving cliffs, the water below was littered with sharp boulders. No wonder people didn’t come to this spot often. He felt a pang of fear watching Cora step over the loose pebbles beneath her feet, and he thought he could see the fear in her eyes too. But she was agile as she walked.
“I’ve said that it’s for a man with a famous lover,” he continued. “That the lover in question is one of the most famous of all time, and that she wasn’t half as beautiful as you. That’s three.”
“The first two are the same and the last one doesn’t count,” she said. “You’re biased.”
“I have no intention of giving you another clue until you give me one in return,” Clayton said.
Cora took a moment to think about it as she continued down. Clayton watched her every move. How long was this trail? It seemed longer than he remembered.
“Arthur?” she asked. “For King Arthur and Queen Guinevere?”
“Wrong again. My turn for a clue.”
“Fine,” she said. “There was a song written just to invite someone of this name on a very particular sort of outing.”
“That’s one. You owe me two more.”
“And … my mother was named for the woman in that song.”
“You may have just given it all away, Cora.” If it was what he was thinking of, and his math was right, the song would have been very popular right around the time her mother was born.
“Then guess if you’re so sure of yourself.”
“I’m owed another clue, aren’t I?”
They reached the final switchback. It was so slim and so steep Cora didn’t even answer him. She looked too focused on not falling. Clayton stayed silent. He wasn’t about to distract her. But finally, they had passed it.
“Last clue,” she said, and cocked her head with a sly smile. “The songwriter wasn’t half so handsome as you.”
“Using my own sword against me. That’s cruel.”
“Oh, please,” she said.
“At least I know what your middle name is.”
His grandmother had been fond of that song. It had actually been one of his first guesses because it was so familiar. The tinny music played in his mind.
Balance yourself like a bird on a beam.
In the air she goes! There she goes!
Up, up, a little bit higher.
Oh, my, the moon is on fire.
Come Josephine in my flying machine,
Going up, all on, Goodbye!
“So, what is it?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m not going to tell you. I just know.” The look on her face was so piqued that he almost kissed her right there. But he thought it was probably a better idea to wait until they reached a spot where they wouldn’t fall to their deaths.
“Clayton Briggs, you are one of the most infuriating men I’ve ever met.”
“Why, thank you,” he said, delighted at how he’d made her smile.
Finally, the trail opened onto the small beach. It was just as secluded as he’d remembered, and Clayton was glad. That swimsuit looked incredible on her, but it would look even better off.
He set the picnic basket on a boulder as Cora dove into the water. She popped up a few yards from shore, all glistening and perfect and everything summer should be.
“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked.
He wasn’t about to make her ask twice.
But the moment his toes touched the water, an impish grin spread over her features. She giggled and flicked her fingers and sent a massive wave to topple him over. When he finally stood up again, her laughter sang like church bells across the water.
“You little minx,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll get you for that one.”
But the sly girl just wiggled her fingers again and knocked him right off his feet with another blast of water.
When he got up this time he lunged for her immediately, but she was ready for him. A spout of water jetted her away, beyond his reach. She sat atop it, legs crossed like a queen. He wanted to lick the droplets sparkling like diamonds right off of her long, smooth legs. He wanted to lick farther than that.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she warned, holding up
a finger. “New game. Not one step closer until you tell me your middle name.”
Clayton smirked. It was a small price to pay.
“Anthony,” he said with a shrug.
“I said Anthony!” Distracted, her aqueous throne melted back into the surface of the lake and she slipped into the water right along with it.
“You said Antony,” Clayton said, taking a slow step toward her.
“So the famous lover wasn’t Cleopatra?”
“It was. I said I was named for him, not given his actual name.”
“Well that’s not fair at all.”
But he had already crossed the distance between them. In the next instant, he had her in his arms, holding her so tight her own arms were pinned at her sides. He bent his lips to her collarbone and she tilted her chin to the golden evening sunshine with a soft, satisfied moan.
“Cora Josephine Hollis,” he said. “You’ve been very, very naughty.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Clayton
After they had sated themselves, they dressed and laid a blanket out over the sand. Clayton made plates for them then sat down with his back against a boulder. She settled in between his knees, the back of her head against his chest as they ate. He loved her there, sun-tired and love-worn and lazy. He crossed his left arm over her chest to bring her closer and rested his chin on her crown as they watched the sun set in a sweet, comfortable silence.
He didn’t want to ruin this moment, but there were things they needed to discuss and he didn’t know how long she could afford to stay away without arousing suspicion. He leaned his head back against the still-warm rock, growing cooler by the second as the sky dipped toward blue.
“Cora, I’ve had something of an inspiration about our situation.”