A Different Light

by Mariah Stewart

  “You’re going to need them.” He nodded.

  “So what’s your definition of romantic?”

  He pondered the question for a moment. “Having a sense of the moment.”

  She sat back and thought about that. “Carpe diem, eh?”

  Quentin laughed. “More or less.”

  The conversation was light for the first forty minutes, until Athen announced, “I swore I wasn’t going to do this until we were on our way home, but I had a long talk with Diana last night. I told her everything about Paul Schraeder. She said she was going to talk to my dad about it first thing this morning.”

  “And …?”

  “And she called right before you came to pick me up. She said we were right about Schraeder offering my dad a bribe.”

  “How does she communicate with him if he doesn’t speak?”

  “She asks him questions and he responds by blinking. You know, one blink for yes, two for no. Once she knew about Schraeder, she knew what to ask. He confirmed that Schraeder approached him and offered him a very large amount of money to help him get his hands on the entire block of Fourth Street. Of course, my dad turned him down. When Dad saw the picture of Schraeder and Rossi in the paper, he figured out what had happened. He went to Dan’s office and told Rossi that he was blowing the whistle on him.”

  “And then your father had the stroke that silenced him.”

  “I’ll bet Dan couldn’t believe his luck when he heard that Dad was taken to the hospital.” She crossed her arms and stared out the window at the passing scenery without really seeing it. “I can’t believe how I let him play me. I really did believe that he and my dad had been close friends. When Dad was in the hospital, Dan came to the house several times, and he was so kind to me and to Callie. Then when John died, he made such a big deal out of John being this big hero …”

  “John was a hero, Athen,” Quentin reminded her. “Dan didn’t make that up.”

  “I know that. But looking back, I can see how Dan used John’s death to keep himself in the press, to appear to be the kindly uncle. Just as he used my father’s stroke to win votes from my dad’s district.” She shivered. “It makes me sick to my stomach to know that I fell for it. That I let him use first my father, then John, and later me, all for his own politic ends.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to use the p word.”

  “I know, I know.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m feeling guilty because now that I know what a crook Rossi is, I’m pissed at myself for letting him use me to make it possible for him to run again.”

  “Did you ever figure out why he didn’t ask Wolmar or Justis to run instead of you?”

  “Sure. He knew that if either of them got into office, they wouldn’t be so quick to leave. He knew he could manipulate me in ways he could never manipulate them.” She looked across the console. “They know him for the weaselly little rat that he is. I can’t believe how naïve I was.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it. At least not until after the New Year.”

  At some point he’d gotten off the parkway, and they were headed south on Route 9.

  “We’re going to the beach?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “To a private little place overlooking the ocean.”

  “I love the beach!” she exclaimed. Dark thoughts of Dan Rossi and her feelings of guilt at having let him use her faded away when she rolled down the window and breathed in the salt air. “I can smell the ocean.”

  “That would be the marsh there on your right,” he teased.

  “How close are we?”

  “A few more blocks.”

  “Did you rent a cottage or something?” she asked.

  “Or something.” Quentin smiled.

  The “or something” was a large, rambling weathered house that overlooked the Atlantic. A stream of smoke drifted from the chimney, and lights burned invitingly inside.

  “Quentin, it’s breathtaking,” she exclaimed as they climbed the steps to the deck overlooking the sea.

  “I knew you’d love it.” He dropped the overnight bags he’d carried from the car and draped an arm over her shoulder to share the view with her.

  The beach was deserted save for a foraging gull whose call was all but lost in the sound of the pounding surf. The air was crisp and cold and smelled of salt and the dunes below the deck.

  “It’s wonderful. Perfect,” she told him. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s been forever since I’ve been to the beach. I can’t think of a better place to ring in the New Year.”

  “Let’s go inside and see what Mrs. Emmons has cooked up for us.”

  “Mrs. Emmons?” Athen ducked inside the door he held open for her.

  “She’s the housekeeper,” Quentin explained. “I called her from St. Louis and asked her to freshen things up and prepare one of her wonderful dinners for us.”

  “Wait a minute. Whose place is this?”

  “My mom’s. Well, hers and Hughes’s.”

  “They have a housekeeper who lives here all year round?” Athen inquired. “By herself?”

  “She and her husband live a few blocks inland. She takes care of the house, and her husband takes care of the grounds and the boats, that sort of thing. Ah, there she is.” He smiled as a pudgy woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a pleasant round face toddled into the kitchen.

  “Hello, Quentin,” she greeted him.

  “This is my friend, Athena Moran.” He made the introduction. “She’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

  “Nice to meet you,” the woman told Athen. “I hope you like seafood.”

  “I do,” Athen assured her.

  “Good. Dinner will be in about an hour or so. Now, Quentin, if you wouldn’t mind.” She smiled good-naturedly. “Out of my kitchen so I can work.”

  “I’ll give you the downstairs tour.” He took Athen by the hand and led her from the kitchen through a butler’s pantry and into a wide front hall.

  “This is not exactly my idea of a cottage.” Athen looked up at the high ceiling.

  “You were the one who used that term, not me. Come this way. There should be a fire and … ah, yes. There it is.”

  The stone fireplace dominated the enormous living room that was comfortably furnished with deep-cushioned sofas and chairs. In one corner stood an evergreen. Several cardboard boxes were piled off to the side.

  “So, what’s with the bare-naked tree?” she asked.

  “It’s waiting for us.” He sat on the edge of a large hassock and patted the space next to him. “Sit down, and let’s see what we have here.”

  He reached for one of the boxes and opened the lid as she sat. They both peered inside, and he smiled with genuine pleasure.

  “These will be just fine. Perfect. What do you think?”

  “They’re seashells,” she said, slightly puzzled.

  “Of every variety and size and color.” He grinned like a small child. “Just exactly what I wanted.”

  “Wanted for what?” She reached for another box and opened it. More shells.

  Mrs. Emmons came into the room carrying a tray with mugs of mulled wine, a huge bowl of popcorn, and an equally large bowl of cranberries. She set the tray on a table.

  “Oh, yum.” Athen smiled. “I love popcorn.”

  “That should keep you busy for a while,” the woman said cheerfully. She paused on her way out of the room to ask, “Would you like dinner in the dining room or would you prefer a table in here?”

  He nodded to the windowed alcove opposite the tree. “How about over there?”

  “Fine,” she replied and disappeared once again.

  “Now, as you can see, our tree has yet to be properly dressed for the season,” he told Athen. “And a tree by the ocean should be decorated with …”

  “… shells,” she said.

  “Exactly. The Emmonses’ son owns a concession on the boardwalk in Ocean City. Of course, this being the dead of winter, he doesn’t have too much busine
ss right now. I asked Mrs. E to get some of his shells, and Mr. E drilled holes in them. Where’s that little bag with the tree hooks? Ah, there, on the table …”

  He stood up and reached a hand to pull her along and carried a box of shells to the tree. He speared a shell with a hook from the bag and handed it to her. “As the guest of honor, you should hang the first one.”

  She studied the tree for a moment and placed the first shell, a pearly oyster that glistened with luminescence in the firelight, near the top.

  “Beautiful,” she sighed. “Now you.”

  They worked side by side, taking turns hanging shell after shell, until all the boxes were empty. Then they sat on the floor and strung popcorn and cranberries on long sturdy threads until Mrs. Emmons appeared to set up for dinner.

  They ate Caesar salad and grilled swordfish marinated in wine and vegetables sliced into slivers barely wider than the hooks they’d used to hang the shells upon the tree. They drank wine at the little table that overlooked the ocean. For dessert, there were bowls of raspberries and cream laced with Grand Marnier, petits fours, and a pot of freshly brewed coffee. Athen felt she’d been transported magically from the life she had known to some distant place that was strange and yet somehow comfortably familiar at the same time.

  Languid with food and wine, Athen tried to beg off when Quentin tossed her parka at her. “Let’s take a little walk on the beach while Mrs. E cleans up.”

  The night air was sharply cold and fragrant with the sea, the black sky ablaze with a thousand stars. The wind kicked up off the ocean as they walked hand in hand across the dark beach, from the dune down to the surf, where the breaking waves crashed and kicked up a salty mist. Athen tilted her head back and filled her lungs, taking in as much of the night and the sea as she could.

  “This is the most perfect night ever.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the tip of his chin. “Thank you for bringing me here. I can’t remember when I felt this much at peace.”

  “You’re most welcome.” He kissed her mouth, then stood back to look down into her eyes. “Do you want to go back?”

  “Not right now,” she replied. “Why? Do I look bored?”

  “No, but your lips are like ice.”

  “So are yours.” She laughed. “Cold lips, warm heart, right?”

  “Actually, I think it’s ‘cold hands, warm heart.’”

  “Well, whatever. My hands are cold, too. Pretty much everything is cold out here tonight.” She stopped just above the waterline and tilted her head, listening. “Did you hear that? What was that?”

  “Something out there, in the ocean. A fish jumping out of the water, maybe.”

  “Land sharks?”

  “Not in winter. The water’s too cold up this far north.”

  “Did you ever see one?”

  “Only on one of those Best of Saturday Night Live videos,” he said, and she laughed out loud.

  They strolled back to the house and Athen sat on the back steps. She unlaced her low rubber boots and shook out the sand, making a small pile on the concrete walk.

  The house was quiet, warm, and cozy when they went inside. Mrs. Emmons had laid several more logs on the fire, and left a carafe of wine and two crystal goblets before she went home for the evening.

  “I really like this room.” Athen sank to the floor in front of the fire and gazed around at the simple but comfortable furniture. Overstuffed chairs and sofas, all in peach and dark green on cream, florals and plaids and stripes, stacks of cushions and casual appointments were an invitation to sit and stay.

  “We don’t seem to use this room much in the summer.” Quentin tossed a pillow onto the floor next to her and sat, leaning back on one elbow. “Unfortunately, no one comes down much in the winter except for Timmy and me, which is a shame, since it’s so comfortable and warm. Hey, we forgot something.”

  “What?”

  “We forgot the star.” He pointed to the bare branch at the top of the tree. “Now, let’s see, where did I put that?”

  “You brought a star for the tree?” She lay back and rolled over on her stomach to watch him.

  “Here it is.” He opened a small bag and held it out to her. “Would you like to put it on the tree?”

  “You do it.” She leaned up on her elbows to watch as he placed the object on the tree’s uppermost branch.

  “Why, it’s a starfish.”

  “Sure.” He joined her on the floor and lay next to her in front of the fire. “What else would we put up there?”

  “Quentin, it’s perfect.” She sighed happily.

  “I’m glad you like it. I wanted to do something that was just for us, something that just you and I could share. You know, we both bring a lot from the past with us. I wanted us to make memories that were only ours.”

  He leaned down to kiss her and she pulled him to her with a fervor that surprised them both.

  Quentin raised his mouth from her neck, and picked little bits of fuzz from her sweater off his lips.

  “You told me to dress warmly.” She laughed, then sat up and grasped the bottom of her sweater, as if to pull it over her head. A soft blush rose to tint her cheeks as she looked into his eyes.

  “That first big step always seems to be the hardest, doesn’t it?” He smiled gently, sensing her hesitancy, stroking the side of her face with his fingertips. “I guess only you can decide if you want to take that step, and see where it leads us.”

  His quiet assurance gave her confidence, and she pulled the sweater over her head and lay back against his arm.

  “Agape mou,” he whispered. “Did I say that right?”

  She nodded that he had.

  “I’ve been rolling that word around in my head since the night you showed me the statue of your mother, waiting for the right time. I would have waited forever if I’d had to, just to be with you now.”

  He caressed her gently, whispering her name over and over, leading her slowly and patiently onward toward a place where they could make memories that only they would share. His hands were warm on her skin, his mouth hungry, and heat spread through her like wildfire. The pounding of her heart was so loud she was certain he could hear it when he pressed his mouth to her breast. She arched her back and closed her eyes and let herself drift on the moment. Everything faded away except Quentin. Under his hands, her control began to slip away, and she let it go without a second thought. Her need for him consumed her, and she gave in to it, urging him inside her, falling into the rhythm and letting it guide her along to completion. Later, half asleep, she stirred in his arms, and knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

  “COME ON, SLEEPYHEAD.” HE NUDGED her from a most peaceful sleep. “Wake up.”

  “Why?” She tried to turn over but he refused to let her bury herself in the pillow.

  “Because you have the opportunity to watch the sun rise over the ocean on not only a new day, but a new year.” He kissed her ear. “So get up and come outside.”

  “Outside?” she grumbled. “It’s eighteen degrees and I’m wrapped in a blanket and you want to go outside?”

  “Here.” He handed her a pair of flannel pajamas and a heavy woolen robe. “These are Cait’s. I’m sure she won’t mind if you borrow them.”

  She grumbled even as she pulled the flannel over her legs and arms and wrapped herself in the robe. She followed him through the French doors opening onto the front deck. He flung a heavy blanket over the cushions of a settee and pulled her down to sit next to him.

  “Better?” He pulled the ends of the blanket around her shivering form.

  “A little.” She snuggled next to him and fixed her eyes on the horizon as the first stray shards of light broke through the morning sky. As the minutes passed, the light spread slowly over the dark ocean, turning the brackish water into glowing greenish gray and gold beneath the mist.

  “Oh, that’s beautiful. Thank you for making me get up to see this.”

  The sky continued to unfold and the first mo
rning of the new year spread out around them. All too soon the show ended as daylight reached the shore.

  “What a lovely thing to share with me.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He pulled her closer to snuggle. “So, did you make any New Year’s resolutions?”

  “A few.”

  “Care to share?” His fingers toyed with a strand of her hair.

  “Not to make the same dumb mistakes I made last year and the year before.” She shivered. “If I’d known then what I know now …”

  “Do you regret it?” he asked. “Running for mayor?”

  She paused, thinking back over the past year, all she’d done and all she’d learned. Down below, on the beach, the waves rolled onto the shore leaving a line of foam, and for a moment, she seemed mesmerized by the ocean’s easy rhythm.

  “I’m sorry I let Dan use me,” she said finally. “I’m sorry that I will have to give the office back to him. But the truth is, I’m not the same person I was before I saw him for what he really is, before I saw the faces of the people he was hurting, and before Ms. Evelyn showed me what people could do when they work together. And besides, the woman I was before I took this job would never …” She paused and bit her lip.

  “Would never what?” he asked quietly.

  “… would never be here with you,” she said simply.

  “If I have Rossi to thank for bringing you into my life, I’ll give the devil his due,” he whispered and drew her closer. “I’ve spent so many nights wondering what it would be like to wake up with you. What it would be like to share my days with you and to fall asleep next to you so that I could wake up again the next morning and find you there again. You’ve been in my head since the first time I saw you at the footraces in the park on the Fourth of July. Remember?”

  She nodded. “You were standing so close to me, it took my breath away.”

  He stood and lifted her in one movement. “Next summer, I promise you, we will make love in the moonlight at least once every weekend.”

  “Well, since I can’t wait that long, we’re just going to have to make do with what we have, moonlight or no …”