The River House

by Carla Neggers

  He turned to her in time to see red spread up her neck and into her face. It had nothing to do with the heat of the fire. He’d hit the wrong notes in his comments. She swooped to her feet, grabbed her wineglass and glared down at him. “Ruin the place for me, why don’t you? Damn, Gabe. Now I get to sit out on the deck and wonder if you figured out it would have a nice view of the river.”

  Hell.

  “This is my house now,” she said. “Mine. There are no Flanagan ghosts here.”

  He said nothing as she spun around and stormed across the yard to the house. He heard her pound up the steps to the deck, tear open the French door and bang it shut. Since the windows were open he heard her bedroom door slam shut.

  Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel the sweat. He’d screwed up. Being in front of young, eager would-be entrepreneurs had stirred up every hope, dream, insecurity, regret and frustration he’d had when he’d started out. Being around people he knew and respected, who were making a difference here in his hometown, living full lives, happy—he’d thought about his tarp-covered furniture at his sterile condo in Boston, a metaphor for his life.

  He’d assumed Felicity would get where he was coming from, but how could she? He hadn’t explained himself, had he?

  “Idiot.”

  He hadn’t tried to bring her into the conversation, or to take into account or ask what she might be thinking.

  He could do better.

  He walked barefoot across the cool grass and up to the deck, hesitating before he went inside. He continued down the hall to her room. Her door was shut. “Felicity...” He took a breath. “I made assumptions. It didn’t occur to me you have a genuine attachment to this place. I should have asked.”

  She ripped open the door. “For about thirty seconds I let myself believe—I don’t know what I let myself believe. You’re not here because of me, and that’s fine. It really is. You want or need or whatever to relive your past before you go back to Boston and your life.”

  “Now who’s making assumptions?” He’d tried to insert a bantering note to his voice, but from her combative stance, he knew he’d failed. He held up a hand. “Don’t slam the door in my face, okay? You’re not wrong, Felicity, but maybe this isn’t about right and wrong.” He searched for the right words but knew he’d never find them, not tonight. “Being here isn’t what I thought it’d be.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  He smiled. “Me, either.”

  Her squared, stiff shoulders relaxed visibly, if only slightly. “All right. Truce.”

  “Let’s put another log on the fire and talk,” he said. “We can pour wine.”

  “All right.” She sounded wary but not hostile or angry. “It’s been a while since I was into the pinot grigio. It’s not that good. I have a much better bottle of sauvignon blanc. It should be chilled by now.” She gave him the slightest of irreverent smiles. “My new best friend Nadia left it for me. I wasn’t going to tell you, but—well, what the hell. She’d appreciate the two of us splitting her wine while we talk about burning my house down.”

  “No one’s going to burn your house down, Felicity, and Russ is making sure Nadia’s boarding her flight.”

  “Shall I open the sauvignon blanc?”

  “I don’t want to drink Nadia’s wine.”

  “It wasn’t a test, but we can split the last of the pinot grigio.”

  “I don’t really need wine,” he said. “I just want to talk.”

  “Uh-oh. Then I might need wine.” Felicity paused, her smile fading, their eyes connected. She sucked in an audible breath. “Oh. You’re serious.” She motioned behind her. “I’ll grab the bug spray and be right out.”

  It wasn’t the most romantic of gestures, but Gabe merely nodded. “I’ll go put that log on the fire.”

  * * *

  They dabbed on insect repellant and sat on the quilt side by side, legs stretched out in front of the fire. They skipped opening Nadia’s bottle of wine. Wrong timing as far as Gabe was concerned, and Felicity agreed.

  “You first,” she said. “You gave me the three-second recap of your life since I vacated your couch. I’d like to know more.”

  He told her more but not everything—because everything would be tedious for both of them. She could fill in what he meant by working hard. “I had a good team,” he said. “I did my best to respect them and treat them well. Everyone benefited when I sold the company.”

  “Including Nadia?”

  “Yes, but I had no idea David would end their marriage. I don’t believe David’s buying the company had anything to do with the friction between him and Nadia, but it was bad timing for her. That’s been the only issue since the sale.”

  “You’re selling your condo,” Felicity said. “Do you think you’ll stay in Boston?”

  “I’ve flirted with the idea, but I don’t know where I’d go. I’m a die-hard Red Sox fan. Reason enough to stay right there. Then there’s Shannon. She’s irreplaceable, and she’s rock-solid Boston. I’d hate to start from scratch with a new assistant unless the move was worth that aggravation.”

  “Has Shannon ever been to Knights Bridge?”

  “Once, out of curiosity. She and her husband and kids stopped by on their way to the Berkshires one weekend. I think she was surprised to find flush toilets out here.”

  Felicity laughed, no hint of her earlier irritation. “What’s next for you then?”

  “I’m in the process of figuring that out. That’s part of why I’m here. Dylan and I are talking. He invited me to participate in the boot camp.” He shrugged. “It’ll all work out.”

  “Now that’s the Gabriel Flanagan I know. Don’t get bogged down in the details. Just set a goal and get rolling. I’m glad you’re doing well, Gabe. I have faith in you figuring out what’s next.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

  She rolled onto her knees and then stood up and grabbed a chunk of birch wood, its peeling bark lighting up the moment she placed it on the fire. “I should have saved that one for getting a fire started,” she said, returning to her spot on the quilt.

  He took the opportunity to switch the conversation back to her. “You seem to enjoy party planning, event management—whatever you want to call it.”

  “I do, very much. I only do the occasional wedding—it’s its own specialty, really—but I might yet. I never say never. I learned so much working for a small, high-end event manager in Boston. She focused on corporate events. I traveled a fair amount, but most of my job was details.” She smiled with a small shudder. “Lots and lots of details.”

  “What prompted you to go out on your own?”

  “Several factors were involved. I wanted to buy a house and couldn’t realistically afford Boston prices, and I wanted more control over my own schedule and what projects I worked on—and I knew I could do it. I could make enough money as a solo entrepreneur to have the life I want.”

  “Here in Knights Bridge,” Gabe said, as if he couldn’t imagine such a thing.

  “I love it here. I love the river, I love my gardens—I want to plant a vegetable garden. I want to put up a clothesline and hang my own laundry to dry. Boston’s my city and I love it there, but Knights Bridge is home.”

  “Do your parents approve?”

  “I haven’t asked them, but they seem to.”

  “What about growth? Do you want to hire staff, expand—”

  “Not right now. I hire contractors as needed.”

  “Today was a good day for you,” Gabe said. “You impressed everyone there.”

  “Well, thank you. I hope so. Wine by the fire was my way of celebrating a job well done. What about you? I get that you’re never satisfied, but do you take time to celebrate?”

  “Celebrate what?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever look back w
ith a sense of pride or do you always feel unfulfilled—that there’s one more hill to climb, hurdle to clear, million to make before you can celebrate?”

  “I can do both,” Gabe said, amused. “Celebrate and clear the next hurdle.”

  “Not at the same time. It’s a good way to fall on your face.”

  He laughed. “I guess you have a point. I’m not dissatisfied or unfulfilled, Felicity. I just have a lot of ideas and like to stay busy.”

  “Do you want to take time to have a relationship, start a family—make a home for yourself?”

  “Sure.”

  “When that becomes a goal, world, watch out.”

  “I do tend to laser-focus on any goal I set.”

  “Like telling me I don’t belong in finance.”

  “I was right.”

  She smacked him playfully on the knee. “It’s not about being right. It never was.” She sighed, leaning back on her elbows, watching him. “But you were right. Sometimes I wish I had stayed and had it out with you—that I’d fought harder to maintain our friendship.”

  “Fight harder? You didn’t fight at all, Felicity. Neither did I.”

  “Maybe our parting of ways was meant to be. I don’t know that I’d have taken that first event management job with you breathing down my neck. I might have tried again as a financial analyst just to prove to you I could do it.”

  “Not a good motivation,” Gabe said.

  She shook her head. “No, definitely not. I also didn’t want to admit failure to you. I didn’t want you to criticize my new career as a backward step. I thought you’d want it both ways. I face my failure as a financial analyst and come out on the other end in a stable, high-paying job.”

  “You thought I’d look down on you for taking a job in event management?” He could hear the surprise in his voice. “Felicity, that’s not who I am.”

  “I know that. I projected a lot onto you then. Turns out I like the work, and I’m good at it. I paid down my debt, reined in my spending and bought a house. Not bad, huh?”

  He smiled. “Not bad at all.”

  She looked up at the starlit night sky. “I’ve never seen stars as bright as out here.”

  “It’s a great night for stargazing.”

  An owl hooted in the woods. Gabe could hear the flow of the river. He noticed shadows in the darkness and the bright flames, slowly dying down. He shifted away from the fire’s heat. It was by no means a cool night, but he liked having a fire, its atmosphere—its connection with his past. He absorbed the moment, being out here, now, with Felicity, talking with her about their lives—work, family, friends, plans. This was the Felicity MacGregor he’d known forever but also a new Felicity, more at ease in her own skin, less impulsive, not as hard on herself. He’d told her about his life, but there didn’t seem much to tell. He worked. He traveled. He had friends all over the world. He had family in his small hometown that he didn’t see often enough. He didn’t have a community, not like Felicity did, now that she’d moved back to Knights Bridge.

  She couldn’t stop yawning next to him on the blanket. The mosquitoes weren’t bad tonight, if only because of the bug repellant. The last flame flickered and started to go out, as if cueing them to head inside, call it a night. “I’m no good at sleeping in even after a late night,” Felicity said, stirring next to him. “Do you want to stay out here for a while longer?”

  Gabe considered how to respond. They were friends again. If she had any desire for something more, she had it tamped down deep. More likely it was nonexistent, despite their kiss yesterday. Nerves, probably. The moment. The past catching up with them. He could think of a dozen ways she’d dismiss what had happened, but he’d be lying to himself if he tried to pretend he didn’t want something more. It wasn’t nonexistent for him, and it wasn’t even tamped down that deep. He just wasn’t going to act on it. Not tonight, anyway.

  Finally he nodded. “I’ll wait for the fire to die down.” He leaned toward her, kissed her on the forehead. “It’s been good talking to you, Felicity. Really good.”

  “What time do you leave tomorrow?”

  “Sometime in the morning. I don’t have to rush back.”

  “Will you go straight to Boston?”

  “For now. I’m having some work done on my place.”

  “It’s never felt like home, has it?”

  “I’ve never felt the need to have a real home before. I’m feeling it now.” He smiled at her. “It’s probably the Knights Bridge effect.” He glanced around at this favorite spot, appreciated Mark’s skill as an architect, his own input with the house. He shifted back to Felicity. “I’m glad you’re happy here.”

  “I didn’t buy this place to get under your skin. I had no idea you’d owned it with Mark and had input into the design. I knew you’d loved it here growing up, but more as a place to be while you plotted your exit from Knights Bridge.”

  “That’s not inaccurate.” Gabe patted her thigh. “Go on. Get some sleep. You’ve had a long day, but it’s been good talking. I have no regrets about keeping you up.”

  She hesitated, as if she couldn’t decide what to do. “See you in the morning,” she said finally, jumping lightly to her feet with more energy than Gabe would have expected.

  He didn’t let her energy put ideas in his head...for about two seconds.

  She hadn’t reached the deck before he envisioned taking her to bed with him. But they’d just become friends again, and he didn’t want to do anything to risk or complicate that—at least not yet. He could exercise control tonight. As he stared at the dying flames, he knew somehow, someway, he’d have another opportunity.

  Fourteen

  Even with his late night, Felicity heard Gabe’s bedroom door open and shut early in the morning. Back to life in the country, she thought, amused. She gave up on sleep herself, pulled on shorts, a T-shirt and sandals and headed to the kitchen.

  No sign of Gabe.

  She noticed the door to the deck was cracked, but he wasn’t there, either. She figured he must have slipped outside and gone for a walk. She could see why. It was a beautiful morning, probably the best part of what would be a hot summer day.

  She went outside and listened to the birds and looked down through the trees to the river. The Jane Austen tea party was that afternoon, but she didn’t have to rush around now. She took the stairs to the grass and made her way to the path that led to the swimming hole. She could see herself at seventeen, taking this same route. She’d ridden her bike to the campsite and left it by the fireplace before she set off down to the river.

  Gabe had found her sitting on a boulder with her feet in the water as she read a book. It’d been mid-June, just a few days left in the school year. He’d finished the bulk of his homework, but she had one more paper to write.

  She could see him now, jumping down from the path. “What’re you reading?” he’d asked her.

  She’d held up her book. “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.”

  “James Joyce. Irish author. I think I faked reading that one.”

  “And here I was hoping you could help me with my paper.”

  She hadn’t been hoping anything of the sort. Gabe had kept his nose above water in his classes, doing the minimal amount of work to pass. She didn’t try to guess what he’d absorbed despite his middling grades. She, on the other hand, had been conscientious with her studies.

  He’d stepped onto her boulder. “Did you know I’d be coming out here this afternoon?”

  “No idea.”

  “Not sitting on a rock pretending to read while you wait for me?”

  “No, Gabe, I’m actually reading. It’s a beautiful day. I wanted to sit by the river in the shade. Somehow it makes James Joyce easier to understand.” She’d shut the book and set it on her lap. “You’re going for a swim?”

  “Yep. Want to join me
?”

  “I’m not wearing a swimsuit under my clothes.”

  “Skinny-dipping could get you in trouble out here if someone drives by.”

  “I didn’t mean I plan to skinny-dip, Gabe. I’d have to swim in my clothes. Then I’d have to bike home in wet clothes. I’ll just watch you swim.”

  He’d shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “I will,” she’d said. “I promise I’ll dive in clothes and all to save you if you start to drown or hit your head on a rock.”

  “Now there’s a temptation,” he’d said with a grin. “It’s hot out, Felicity. Your clothes will dry in no time.”

  “If I go swimming, then how would I finish my book?”

  “It’s called a break.”

  “Hmm.” She’d glanced at her book and then back at him, and smiled. “Maybe a break is a good idea.”

  Before she could change her mind, she’d handed him the book, and he set it on the boulder. In a flash, he’d scooped her up and tossed her into the river. She’d tucked her legs into a cannonball and landed, squealing, in the water.

  She’d always told herself she was like a sister to him. That was the first time she’d felt it might be otherwise. Popping up, laughing, yelling at him for not giving her any warning, she’d noticed the way he’d looked at her.

  Not so brotherly, that look, she thought now, years later, on another warm, sunny day. She knew she needed to put Gabe out of her mind and let him get back to his life without any further complications from her. She had her own life here in Knights Bridge. That was why they hadn’t let things get too far between them last night. Sleeping with each other might be a natural temptation, but it was one they needed to resist.

  She didn’t think it was that big a leap to assume he’d been tempted. Being out here with her was a throwback to their past, if not to a simpler time, at least to one that had led to one wild night together.

  Best to leave that thought there, she told herself as she reached the swimming hole. She didn’t see Gabe. Just as that day back in high school, she didn’t have a swimsuit under her shorts and T-shirt, but this time she didn’t care or hesitate. She got a running start, grabbed the rope and flung herself as far out into the river as she could. She let go and went into the water feetfirst.