What she was trying very, very hard not to think about was the fact that the week was drawing to a close. She knew he wasn’t planning to leave tomorrow, but what about Monday? Wouldn’t he have to go back to Seattle at some point? He hadn’t said, and of course that was partly because of his mother.
It seemed that each day her coma became lighter. Ben Slater was coming by twice daily. Adrian was spending much of his time at her bedside, reading to her and talking. His voice had become gravelly from overuse.
Lucy would have loved to know what he was telling his mother. He had talked some to Lucy about the years after his mother disappeared, which sounded very sad to her. Despite his confusion and grief and buried anger, he had fallen in line with his father’s expectations rather than rebelling. Having been surrounded by nosy, affectionate relatives her entire life, she couldn’t imagine growing up in a household as silent as his had apparently been, and so lacking in love.
As far as she was concerned, if he retained any ability to feel love himself, it was thanks to his mom. His father must have been a very cold man.
“Oh, no! There’s Uncle Will and Aunt Lynn,” Lucy said now, out on the sidewalk. “You don’t want to meet them, do you?”
“God, no!” Adrian said fervently, drawing her with him into the dark alcove of the doorway two businesses down from the café. Yvonne’s Needle & Thread closed at five every day, which Lucy sometimes envied. Mouth close to her ear, he asked, “How many aunts and uncles do you have?”
“Oh…my mother has two sisters, both married. And Dad has a sister and a brother. That’s not too bad.”
He drew back to stare at her, although she doubted he could make out her face. “Not too bad? Are you kidding? That’s…four aunts and four uncles. I don’t even want to know how many cousins you have.”
“And lots of them have kids, so I have cousins once removed. You’re right,” Lucy said agreeably. “It’s horrible.” She rose on tiptoe and cast her arms around Adrian’s neck. “That’s why I have to lurk in dark corners to get kissed.”
“Hard to get by with anything in this town,” he muttered, before bending his head to kiss her as requested.
Her brain immediately became as mushy as her knees. Nobody had ever kissed her the way Adrian did. She wanted to believe it wasn’t just expertise, that there was some sort of magical connection between them, but the fact that he was really good at kissing sure didn’t hurt. And also, a hunger and urgency in the way he held her made her want very, very much to quit being cautious and ask him to spend the night.
But, of course, Samantha might know he hadn’t returned to the bed-and-breakfast, and Sam did have a big mouth. Plus, Lucy already ached at the thought of him driving away from Middleton, even if he did promise to call. Right now, she was rather desperately holding at least some small part of herself back. If she made love with him, she was pretty sure the inevitable goodbye would be nearly unendurable.
So she backed away when his hand slid up her side and covered her breast at the same moment as he nipped her lower lip with sharp need.
“I’d better go back to work,” Lucy whispered. She was trembling as the cool evening air came between them.
“I’m sorry.” He sounded shaken. “I forgot—”
“It’s okay.” As lightly as she could manage, she said, “It was exciting, sneaking kisses out here with you.”
“Can I come by tonight?” he asked with an urgency that stole what little breath she’d regained.
She didn’t think she could resist him tonight. Her awareness that this week was almost over made her vulnerable.
“I’m awfully tired tonight.” She sounded unconvincing to her own ears. “I really had better go back in.”
He let her past, but said, “Breakfast?”
“If I don’t sleep in.” As if she’d be able to sleep at all, thinking about him. Ready to walk away, she couldn’t. “Why don’t you come to my house instead? I’ll make brunch.”
“Do you want to cook on your day off?”
“I love to cook,” she said truthfully. “It’s fun just to please myself. Although I must warn you, my pastries probably aren’t as good as Sam’s.”
His voice had relaxed, as if he’d been afraid she was rejecting him. “Her scones are amazing.”
“I’ll make muffins,” she decided. “I froze some high bush huckleberries last year. And omelets. I can toss in anything.”
“All right.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning. Nine? Ten?”
“Make it ten. It’s not brunch if it’s too early.”
He let her go, then, but she knew he was still standing by his car watching until she went back into the café.
The moment she did, her aunt called to her. “Lucy, dear! Did I miss you outside? My goodness, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you for ages.”
Lucy forced a smile and went to kiss the proffered cheeks. “Uncle Will. Aunt Lynn. How are you?”
They told her, of course. Aunt Lynn was Lucy’s least favorite aunt. She had a delicate stomach, she always told everyone, and invariably complained after eating Lucy’s cooking that, my, she did use spices, didn’t she? “I do so much better when food is milder,” she would declare, as if everyone didn’t know that already and avoid her offerings at family potlucks.
Lucy did like Uncle Will, however, who was a genial man who enjoyed working with his hands and who let his wife do the talking. A plumber, he had refused payment every time Lucy had had to call him. Once, he’d told her the payment in lunch that day was ample. She’d already had a particularly spicy chili simmering when her kitchen sink backed up.
“I miss food with some taste,” he’d told Lucy rather wistfully, after his third bowl of chili.
She would feel sorry for Uncle Will, except that she’d seen the way he looked at his wife sometimes, as if he was still madly in love with her. Obviously, he saw a different woman than the rest of the family did.
When Lucy told them she had to get back to the kitchen, Aunt Lynn said, “You’ll be at Marian’s tomorrow, won’t you? We missed you last Sunday. Your sister promised to bring pecan pie, and I’m bringing apple.”
With only the tiniest smidgen of cinnamon, she would be sure to mention proudly.
Lucy forced a smile. “Yes, of course I’ll be there. Mom put me down for potato salad.”
Uncle Will’s face brightened. Lucy’s potato salad did not taste like his wife’s.
Why, Lucy wondered as she returned to the kitchen, did she have this instinctive desire to steer Adrian away from her family? Was she afraid they’d scare him away? Or was it simply that her parents would assume it meant something if she invited a man home to meet them? She didn’t know. All she was sure of was that she wanted to keep Adrian to herself. She was ashamed to realize she even hated having to share him with Sam.
If they had brunch together in the morning, would he wonder why she didn’t invite him to her aunt and uncle’s for Sunday dinner later? They definitely were…well, not dating, but seeing each other. Which would make it natural for her to ask him. If their positions were reversed, she was afraid her feelings would be hurt.
Of course, if she made an excuse and let him go to the hospital without her, maybe he’d never have to know…. Lucy grimaced. Uh-huh. Sure. Sam and her big mouth. It was a surprise she hadn’t already asked him. But then, not even Sam had any idea how much time Lucy was spending with him.
But everyone in the family did know something was going on. Probably she’d make matters worse if she didn’t bring him, especially after she skipped last week’s Sunday dinner to spend the day with Adrian. Given that his mother had always been Lucy’s “project,” as the family liked to put it, they’d expect her to try to make him feel at home while he was in Middleton.
In other words…she really didn’t have any choice. Not unless she wanted her nosier relatives to start speculating.
So. She’d invite him, and if he didn’t make an excuse and not come, she�
��d be casual and friendly while they were there. Just like she always was. He wouldn’t kiss her in front of her parents and other assorted family members, and once they’d had the chance to really talk to him—read, grill him—they’d lose interest. He’d merely be part of Lucy’s peculiar little project.
It wouldn’t occur to a one of them that her heart was going to break when Adrian left Middleton for good.
And she definitely wanted to keep it that way.
CHAPTER TEN
SUNDAY DINNER for this family was apparently a command performance. Pretty much everyone showed up, which made Lucy’s decision last week to skip it so that she could have him to lunch even more noteworthy. Adrian couldn’t imagine being closely related to so many people.
Fortunately, the afternoon was sunny and Lucy’s aunt had set long tables out on the lawn. He didn’t like to think about being crammed into the downstairs of the modest two-story house with this crowd.
Food hadn’t been served yet. Since they’d arrived, Lucy had been leading Adrian from group to group, introducing him to people whose names he wouldn’t remember the next time he came face-to-face with them.
The latest cluster included Lucy’s mother and the same aunt who had descended on Lucy’s house that time he was over. Another woman of their generation was with them.
“Have you met my aunt Lynn?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t think so,” he said, holding out a hand. He’d seen her, though, he realized; she was the one he and Lucy had dodged on the dark sidewalk last night.
“Lynn Rodgers,” she told him. “Lucy’s father is my big brother.”
Aunt Marian, he seemed to recall, was Lucy’s mother’s sister instead.
A gaggle of screeching children raced toward them, parting at the last second to pour around them. He winced and stepped closer to Lucy.
“Are those all cousins?”
A particularly shrill giggle rent the afternoon as the kids sprang up the porch steps and vanished inside the house.
Lucy’s gaze had followed them. A frown puckered her forehead. “Mostly. I don’t know the redhead. Do I?”
Aunt Lynn’s mouth pinched. “I believe Polly let her two both bring friends. I don’t know what she was thinking. And then allowing them to behave that way.”
“They’re just burning off energy, Lynn,” Lucy’s mother said tolerantly. “They’ll all be good as gold by the time we sit down to eat.”
“I trust Polly will insist on that.”
Sourpuss, Adrian thought, even though he rather hoped he wouldn’t be seated anywhere near anyone younger than eighteen. If he was lucky, family tradition might put the kids at their own table.
“Goodness, Helen,” Aunt Lynn continued, her gaze zeroing in on Lucy’s mother. “You must be wondering why you don’t have any grandchildren yet.”
Her tone was a little smug, leading Adrian to realize that the unfortunate Polly was probably Lynn’s daughter. Which meant some of the ill-behaved hellions were her grandchildren.
Lucy’s mother laughed. “I’d just as soon my girls got married before they considered becoming parents. And, of course, my children are considerably younger than yours, Lynn.”
That stung. Spots of color appeared on the sourpuss’s cheeks. “Well, mine weren’t so eager to wander all over tarnation before settling down. Assuming yours ever do.”
With a quick glance at the fire in her mother’s eyes, Lucy intervened. “Not fair, Aunt Lynn. Melissa’s still in college, and Sam and I are stodgy members of the Middleton Chamber of Commerce. That’s pretty settled.”
She sniffed. “Until you start families, I don’t consider you established. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d best find Polly. Heaven knows what those children are up to inside. Let me apologize in advance if they damage anything, Marian.”
To no one’s regret, she hustled away.
“Honestly,” Aunt Marian said. “How a man as nice as your Owen could have a prune-faced sister like Lynn!”
“Now, Marian,” Lucy’s mother said without much force.
“She’s just awful,” Lucy declared, earning two disapproving looks from her mother and aunt. Her chin rose. “I don’t care whether you think I should say it. She’s just…just…”
As she struggled to find the right word, her mother said, “What will Adrian think, Lucy? Lynn’s just…” She cleared her throat. “Just…”
Marian gave a hearty bray of a laugh. “We all know what she is, and so does Adrian. Young man, you probably have a few choice relatives of your own, now don’t you?”
Lucy made a quick gesture that came too late. Adrian said evenly, “Actually, my family tree is pretty sparse. Both of my parents were only children, like I am.”
“What a shame,” Aunt Marian exclaimed. “Not even any cousins?”
The children, he saw out of the corner of his eye, were streaming out of the house now, reinforced by half a dozen who were slightly older. He flashed on a scene from the movie version of Lord of the Flies, with the grimy child actors, half-naked and carrying burning torches. Was it really a shame he hadn’t grown up with a passel of shrieking girl cousins, or a bullying boy cousin like the one he saw deliberately trip a smaller boy, who immediately broke into angry tears?
Lucy seemed to be watching his face somewhat anxiously. “They’re really perfectly nice kids. They just get a little wild sometimes.”
Marian started. “Gracious, what am I thinking? Those scalloped potatoes are going to be creamed potatoes if I don’t get them out of the oven.”
“Do you need help?” Lucy called to their backs as the two women hurried toward the house.
“No, no.” Her mother flapped a hand as she went. “You brought your potato salad. You’ve done your part.”
“Well,” Lucy said into the little silence left in their wake, “I think you’ve met everyone.”
God, he hoped so, Adrian thought fervently. Juries didn’t intimidate him; extended families did. He’d sometimes wished he had a sibling, but one would have been ample.
He looked at Lucy, whose gaze moved from group to group as if she were doing a mental inventory. Making sure she hadn’t skipped Great Aunt Bertha or second-cousin-once-removed Algernon, Adrian suspected. Despite what he feared was going through her head, he enjoyed watching her, with the sunlight picking up shimmers of gold and bronze in her hair and highlighting the freckles on her nose. He didn’t recall ever considering anyone’s ears pretty before, but hers seemed perfect to him, delicate whorls with lobes that each held a single, tiny diamond.
He loved her neck, too, long and slender, with baby-fine hairs at her nape. He wouldn’t mind nuzzling it right now.
“Maybe we could sneak around the corner of the house for a few minutes,” Adrian suggested.
Alarm flashed in her eyes. “Are you kidding? There’s no privacy around here. Oh. There’s Samantha.” She sounded relieved as she raised her voice and waved, too. “Sam!”
Sam came, a man in tow. Evidently, he was a cousin of some sort, too, rather than an actual date. He and Adrian exchanged desultory conversation for a minute, then he wandered away.
Letting the sisters’ conversation wash over him, Adrian thought longingly of that morning, when he’d actually had Lucy to himself. He’d gotten to watch her cook, which meant he’d had plenty of time to appreciate her back—her tiny waist, encircled with the apron ties, gently rounded butt encased in snug jeans and the flirtatious bob of her ponytail as she moved between mixing bowls and stove.
They had talked, too, arguing politics, sharing musical tastes, trading snippets here and there of their daily lives. An hour had passed, two hours, immensely satisfying in a way in which Adrian wasn’t much accustomed. It was something like a gift exchange: here’s a bit of me, to which she offered a bit of herself, upon which he gained courage and gave more. Casual, but feeling important. He wanted her, yes, with an urgency he was keeping banked to the best of his ability. But he also didn’t want to ruin whatever was happening bet
ween them by pressing her too soon.
He’d never had that worry before, or this sense that they were creating something delicate and easily damaged. Adrian hoped like hell that whatever it was gained some solidity soon, both because he’d like to get her in bed and because he simply had to go back to Seattle. Carol, he knew, was increasingly perplexed by his lack of interest in ongoing cases. That morning, he’d dodged a phone call from one of the firm’s partners. He wouldn’t get away with hanging around Middleton for another week.
After brunch, Adrian had left Lucy with a promise to come back for her at four and gone to the hospital. It had gotten so that he had a favorite parking spot, and he knew most of the women who staffed the information desk as well as the nurses on his mother’s floor. Initial suspicion had melted away in the face of his seeming devotion.
Maybe real devotion, he’d thought, sitting at his mother’s bedside and watching her face twitch as some kind of impulses fired in her brain. He didn’t know anymore. Did he love her? The idea of her? Would he feel an instant, heartfelt connection when/if her eyes opened? Or realize anew that this woman was a stranger?
Right now, he was in the eye of the hurricane, so to speak, over the first turbulent emotions, bemused by this odd, quiet town, separated from everything familiar in a disconcertingly thorough way given how near he was geographically to Seattle. Sooner or later, he was going to be flung back into the necessity of making decisions. The fact that his mother was so clearly battling her way free of the coma was all that kept him in this peculiar state of suspension.
The weird thing was, he would have expected to be bored and impatient, disdainful of this backward little town and the inhabitants who seemed placidly unaware that the world was passing them by. Ten days ago, he wouldn’t have been able to conceive of himself enduring Sunday dinner with fifty or so relatives of a woman he’d barely met himself.
Much less, after watching their bickering, laughter and tolerance for each other’s foibles, having the passing thought that it might not be so bad to have a whole bunch of people who actually cared about you even when you screwed up, who embraced even a member nobody actually liked, because she was nonetheless one of them.
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