by White, Karen
Pausing for a moment to catch her breath and slow her heartbeat, she chanced a look behind her. He stood outlined in the doorway, silently watching her. She could almost believe he was making sure she made it home safely.
With renewed strength, she cautiously moved between the houses, relief flooding her as she made it to her back porch. She leaned against one of the columns and stared out over the ocean that she couldn’t see but knew was out there, crashing against the shore in an age-old rhythm of approach and retreat. It had always reminded her of human nature’s acts of hurt and forgiveness, and she wondered again why so many drowned in the surf, unable to reach the hard-packed sands of redemption.
With her last reserve of energy, she entered the house and snapped the door shut behind her.
Linc stared at the closed door, feeling ashamed at the way he’d spoken to her. He wasn’t sure what made him angrier: that he had spoken so harshly to her or that he felt ashamed for doing so. Despite what he thought of her role in his past, he still couldn’t reconcile it with the look of hurt on her face as she had left.
He climbed the rest of the way up the stairs and entered Lauren’s room, wondering if Jillian had been in there and if she had found anything that he had not. He sat down on the window seat and looked across to the house next door.
The light went on in the corner bedroom, and he saw Jillian walk across the room to the bed, where the little girl lay. He watched Jillian place a hand on the child’s forehead but not bend down to kiss her. Her dark hair, still worn straight and shoulder-length, fell forward as she bowed her head for a moment, as if in prayer.
Damn, she was beautiful. And her pregnancy only added to it. It gave her a vulnerability that had caught him by surprise. It made it difficult for him to hate her, as he had been telling himself to do for the last sixteen years.
When he had first seen the child and Jillian’s obvious pregnancy, it had startled him. Just as fervently as he had sworn he would one day become an architect, she had just as adamantly sworn she’d never become a mother. He wondered what part of her soul she had bargained to get herself to change her mind.
He watched as Jillian smoothed the covers under the child’s chin and then moved toward the window to close the curtains. In the seconds before she spotted him, he saw her face as she would never let the world see it. Instead of the composure of the eternal optimist, he saw the face of a woman who wore her griefs and disappointments right below the surface of her skin, keeping them hidden even from herself. It unsettled him to see it, and he wished that he hadn’t.
With one hand clutched on the pink frills of the curtain, she looked toward the other house, and they stared at each other for a long moment. It wasn’t a look of forgiveness or reconciliation, but merely acknowledgment, and it left Linc with a feeling of unfinished business.
Another white palm showed in the window as Jillian reached up for the second panel and closed the curtains, blocking his view. A few minutes later, the lamp went out in the room and the dunes were once again left to the feeble light of the moon and stars.
CHAPTER 4
JILLIAN FELT THE WARMTH OF THE SUN ON HER FACE, AND FOR A moment she thought she was a young girl again, safe in her grandmother’s house, and Lauren in the house next door. And then she opened her eyes and the baby kicked, and she knew she’d never be that girl again.
Sitting up, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, judging the slant of the sun. With alarm, she glanced at her bedside clock and saw it was nearly nine in the morning. She made her way to the door and threw it open, and saw Gracie’s door standing wide open across the hallway.
“Gracie!” she shouted, but heard only the distant crash of the ocean’s waves in answer. She searched Gracie’s room and then the rest of the house, her voice escalating with panic.
Still wearing just her nightgown, she stumbled out of the house and onto the back porch, then over the rise of the dunes and onto the narrow boardwalk, until she could see the long stretch of beach. She stopped suddenly, hearing her own pulse beat in her ears as she spied the small figure of her daughter. Still in her nightgown, Grace nestled in the sand with her full Easter basket next to her. On her other side, sitting with his knees up, heedless of the sandy wind that was being tossed back and forth between the ocean and the dunes, was Linc.
Jillian rushed forward off the boardwalk and tripped over a low-lying scrubby sandwort, and found herself on her knees in the soft, warm dune. “Crap,” she muttered under her breath as she struggled to stand again, the shifting sand making it more difficult to find her balance.
“Gracie!” she shouted again as she neared, perturbed at the two calm faces that turned in her direction. Spot lifted his head from Gracie’s lap, sending Jillian a disdainful look. She stood before them, trying to catch her breath, her white nightgown billowing out around her.
Gracie held up her Easter basket. “Look, Jilly-bean—the Easter Bunny found us!” Placing the basket back into the sand, she squinted up at her mother. “And you shouldn’t curse.”
Jillian looked down at her daughter, wondering how she had heard, and just as quickly decided she didn’t want to know.
The little girl smiled. “This is Linc.”
Jillian pressed her hand against her heart, willing it to slow down. “I know. But what I don’t know is what you’re doing out here in your nightgown.”
She pressed her hand over her mouth and giggled. “You’re wearing yours, too!” Gracie looked at Linc. “My daddy said that only trailer trash run around outside in their pajamas.”
Defeated, Jillian sank down on the dune next to Gracie. “And he would know.”
Linc sent her a questioning glance but didn’t say anything.
“Gracie, you know better than to leave the house without telling me—especially so near the water. And you definitely know better than to talk with strangers.”
“I didn’t want to wake you up, Jilly-bean. And I saw some Easter eggs on the porch, so I figured it was okay if I got them. And Linc’s not a stranger. I saw him out the window, looking up at the house, and Lauren told me to go talk to him.”
Grace put her hand over her mouth as soon as she’d uttered the forbidden name. Linc stood abruptly and stared hard at the little girl before sending an accusing glance at Jillian.
Jillian picked up her daughter’s Easter basket and handed it to Grace. “I want you to go in now and get dressed. Wear one of your Sunday dresses, because we’re going to church and then we’re going to Mrs. Weber’s for supper.”
Gracie ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Jilly-bean. I know I wasn’t supposed to say that name.”
Jillian tugged on Grace’s fingers. “That’s okay. Just remember that she’s only in your imagination, all right?”
Grace hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say otherwise. Instead, she turned to Linc and offered him a small smile. “Good-bye, Linc.”
The tight lines around his mouth seemed to soften. “Good-bye, kid. Thanks for keeping me company.” Then Grace turned and left, clutching her Easter basket and running up the dunes toward the house, Spot following faithfully behind her.
Jillian floundered in the sand for a minute, trying to find purchase so she could stand. Tanned, long fingers stretched out in front of her and she startled, realizing Linc was offering to help her up. Taking both hands, she allowed Linc to hoist her, admiring his lack of a grimace from the effort.
Before she let go, she noticed the short, darkened scar on his right hand in the space between his thumb and index finger. She touched it gently and looked up at him. “I remember when you got this. You were making that box for Lauren and your knife slipped. You bled for hours, but you kept working. Like you knew time was running out.”
He pulled his hand away, as if it had been too close to a fire, and she saw a flash of pain in his eyes before he shuttered them again and perused her coolly. “What did you tell Gracie about Lauren?”
She stared out toward the horizon, at the blurr
ed line where the sky and sea met. “Nothing. I’ve never mentioned that name to her before.” Her eyes settled on his. “Or yours. She just has imaginary friends, and she picked the name Lauren for her latest one.”
“Why are you limping?”
Smoothing the white cotton nightgown down over the mound of her belly, she said, “My sciatic nerve. The baby’s pressing on it and it makes it painful to walk. Or sit. Or stand.” His expression remained bland, and she had the tugging desire to get a reaction from him. “My ex-husband suggested I get a cane, but I wasn’t in the mood to listen to him. He made the suggestion right after the one about him keeping my grandmother’s bedroom furniture after the divorce, because his new girlfriend thought it was cute.”
He didn’t even blink. “When’s the baby due?” His words were reluctant, each one doled out like a precious commodity. Each one vainly hiding a slow-burning resentment indicating he didn’t want to be there. Still, he stayed and faced her.
She shrugged. “One more month until I can see my feet again. But it feels like I’ve been pregnant forever.”
His gray eyes settled on her, an empty beach full of unasked questions between them. “Forever’s a long time.”
Maybe forever’s not long enough to let go. “Maybe.” His expression closed itself to her and he remained silent as a gusty wind buffeted her from behind, as if propelling her toward him. “Why did you come back, Linc?”
Facing the two old houses, their turrets frozen in time in their perpetual shrug, Linc shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Home is where the ghosts are.”
The wind billowed out her nightgown again, blowing in her mouth hair that tasted of salt and sand. “That sounds cold. And lonely.”
He continued to stare at the houses as if she hadn’t said anything. Turning to leave, she felt a strong grip on her arm. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
With reluctance, she allowed Linc to guide her through the thick sand toward the boardwalk. His hand was warm against her skin, and it occurred to her for the first time that she wasn’t wearing anything under her gown. She felt the blood rush to her face.
“Are you all right?” Linc’s voice was solicitous but impatient.
Flustered, she said, “I’m fine. Just get me to the boardwalk and I’ll be fine.”
Slowly, they made their way to the firm footing of the boardwalk, where Linc quickly dropped her arm.
“Thank you. And thanks for taking care of Gracie.”
“She’s a neat little girl.” He looked away for a moment. “I have to admit, I was surprised to find out you were a mother. I expected a lot of things from you, but never that.”
Quickly, she turned toward the house, unwilling and unable to voice her reasons to anyone, much less this man. “Thanks again,” she said, walking as quickly as she could to her back door.
Inside, she shut the door and leaned against it, knowing that Linc still stood on the boardwalk, the ocean-borne wind tousling his hair, staring after her with cool gray eyes.
At nearly two o’clock, Linc stood on Jillian’s front porch and rapped loudly on the door. He hated the idea of being a subject in Mrs. Weber’s machinations, but realized that in the end it simply made it easier to get the information he needed from Jillian. And the sooner, the better. Her vulnerability tugged at him, making him care more than he wanted to.
He smelled something wonderful coming from the open front windows, and then heard small, quick footsteps before the door was thrown open by Gracie. “Hello, Linc,” she said somberly, her pastel green dress neatly starched and devoid of wrinkles. A small smile lit her face as she lowered her voice. “I knew you’d come. Jilly-bean’s in the kitchen.” She stepped back for Linc to enter, and then led him quietly to the back of the house.
Jillian was leaning over the oven, two huge oven mitts on her hands, pulling out a baking pan. As she turned toward the kitchen island, she startled at seeing him, almost dropping the pan. Lowering her eyes, she put the pan down and slid off the mitts. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the oven, and it was then he realized that she wore only a slip under her apron. It was an oddly appealing sight, and it made him want to kick off his shoes and sit at her kitchen table. The thought bothered him, and he quickly buttoned his jacket.
“Hello, Linc. Sorry about the outfit, but I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“Sorry. I guess I should have mentioned earlier that Mrs. Weber wanted me to drive you and Grace to her house. I’m invited, too, and seeing as how your car isn’t back yet . . .”
His words trailed off as Jillian’s eyes widened.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head and began stabbing a knife around the edges of another pan that had been set atop the stove to cool. “Nothing. Just that . . . nothing. But thanks. I’ll just get these onto a plate and throw my dress back on, and I’ll be ready to go.”
He waited for her to say more, and watched her as she set about preparing a plate, her movements full of purpose and graceful, despite her pregnancy. Somehow, her condition seemed to make her more beautiful, filling out her cheeks and giving her a glow that encompassed more than just her skin. So different from how he remembered her: a reed-thin girl who tiptoed around life as if afraid to draw attention to herself. The sharp bones of her face and body had jutted out like those of a starved child, but he had known even then that she was only starved of all those things that were freely given to other children.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and began to look around the kitchen, noting the personal touches Jillian had added in the short time she’d been there. Lace curtains framed the large kitchen window, and bright copper molds, all used but polished to a high sheen, hung on the walls. A child’s artwork, probably Gracie’s, was placed in light wood frames and displayed in prominent spots on all the walls, along with a huge star chart of the night sky.
He felt her presence at his side and turned to see her thrusting a piece of pound cake on a china plate and a coffee mug at him. “This will keep you busy while I get changed.”
She left before he had a chance to thank her, and he sat down at the table, wondering how he had found himself to be there. Gracie joined him, sitting across the table and regarding him with serious eyes.
Resting her chin on her hands, she said, “I knew you’d be here.”
Linc paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “You did, did you? And how would you have known that?”
“Try the cake. Jilly-bean used to bake things for other people and get paid. She’s really good.”
Obliging her, he took a bite, immediately wishing he’d been given a bigger piece. It was still slightly warm from the oven, the cake moist and sweet, the drizzled sugar and fruit bits on top the proverbial icing on perfection.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
Linc nodded, then finished chewing before taking a sip of coffee. “You didn’t answer me. How did you know I’d be here?”
She leaned forward on her elbows and whispered, “Lauren told me. She said you would know her.”
His next bite stuck in his throat and he quickly took another sip of coffee. Before he could ask another question, Jillian reappeared.
“The clouds have come out and the wind’s a bit chilly, Gracie. Go get your sweater.”
As the little girl ran upstairs, Linc stood and put his plate and mug in the sink. Slowly, he turned to face Jillian. “Gracie said she knew I’d be here. How does she know these things?”
Jillian’s mouth tightened and a wary look passed through her eyes. “She just . . . knows. She says her imaginary friends tell her things.”
Linc shook his head. “I can’t believe that. Maybe she heard you on the phone to Mrs. Weber or something. . . .”
Jillian interrupted him and took a deep breath. “Tell me, Linc, are you by any chance wearing one dark brown sock and one black sock?”
Silenced for a moment, he regarded her warily. “Of course not. And what’s that got to do with anything?”
> “Humor me, then.”
“Okay, fine. Look.” He pulled up his pants legs, and the light from the large kitchen window illuminated the gleaming wood floor and his feet. And the two socks, each a different color.
Gracie bounded down the stairs, her sweater in her hand, and Linc dropped his hands from his pants and met Jillian’s gaze. Her face had paled as a look of resignation settled there.
“Come on, Gracie.” She stuck out her hand and the child clasped it as they left the house for the waiting car. Linc followed, wanting to ask a hundred questions, but kept silent. He wasn’t going to get involved with Jillian or her daughter. He had things he needed to know, questions he needed to ask about what had happened sixteen years ago. But that was all. Because in the end, nothing else mattered.
CHAPTER 5
SPRING IN THE LOW COUNTRY WAS AN ETHEREAL THING TO JILLIAN. Although most of her time spent on Pawleys had been during the summers, she had also spent two Easter vacations with her grandmother, times when the air was cooler and the summer crowds had yet to descend on the island.
As she stepped out of her house, she could smell the spring air, a green scent ripe with hope and new beginnings. It made her think of her grandmother and all the things she’d taught Jillian about Pawleys. She noted the blooming dogwoods and azaleas, and knew they signaled the time the ospreys would be building their nests and the red-beaked oystercatchers would be arriving to claim their spots in the life cycle of the island.
She glanced over at Grace as they piled into Linc’s car. Soon she’d take her out to the marsh to see the osprey nests and the beautiful egrets. The marsh was full of things to capture the imagination of a child: fiddler crabs, periwinkle snails, snapping shrimp and all the animals that lived in the tall grass world of the marsh. And ghosts.
As she walked toward the car, she pictured her, Linc and Lauren in the thick marsh mud, capturing fiddler crabs in clear jars. She hesitated for a moment before opening the car door. She’d take Grace soon. She couldn’t avoid it forever.