Gansett Island Boxed Set, Books 10-12

by Marie Force

  “I suppose it was. The first few weeks were a bit of a blur for me. I don’t remember much about it.” She forced a smile for his benefit. “So how about that movie you promised me?”

  “You got it. I’ll even let you pick.”

  “Ohhh, I see a chick flick in your future.”

  “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

  “Oh yes, I definitely would.” Their playful banter was a welcome relief after the conversation about the worst day of her life. She appreciated that he had questions and was happy to answer them, but she also appreciated that he knew when not to linger on that topic.

  They worked together to clean up from dinner, and Jenny teased Alex about his poor dishwasher-loading skills.

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those who sorts the silverware.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you that,” Jenny said as she arranged the forks, knives and spoons into separate compartments.

  “That’s just so wrong. Throw it all in there.” He reached for the knives, clearly intending to mess them up, and Jenny grabbed his arm to stop him.

  “Don’t even think about it. I won’t be able to sleep tonight if they aren’t sorted.”

  “I’m going to mess them up after you leave.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  The gleam in his eye was positively sinister as he came toward her. “Wouldn’t I?”

  Jenny dodged him and took off out of the kitchen, squealing with laughter.

  He was right behind her and grabbed her around the waist. Somehow they landed in a mess of arms and legs on the sofa, their lips perfectly aligned.

  “Wait,” Jenny said, turning her head before he could kiss her. “Your mother. What if she comes out?”

  “She won’t. She sleeps pretty soundly.”

  “Still…”

  Groaning, he dropped his head to her shoulder. “Come on. You don’t expect me to actually watch the movie, do you?”

  “Yes, I do,” Jenny said primly, pushing at his shoulders to dislodge him.

  Alex sat up, complaining all the way. “You’re absolutely no fun.”

  “I’ll remember you said that the next time we’re alone. Now what are my choices for movies?”

  He sighed—deeply—and then reached for the remote.

  Jenny hid a smile she knew he wouldn’t appreciate. How could any woman not be crazy about a man who wanted her the way Alex seemed to want her? And she was crazy about him. To deny that would be foolish. “This is one of my favorites,” she said when she found Notting Hill playing on one of the movie channels.

  “Shoot me now,” Alex grumbled.

  “‘I’m just a girl, standing before a boy, asking him to love her,’” Jenny said in breathy imitation of Julia Roberts’s famous line in the movie.

  “Are you now?” Alex said, staring intently at her.

  Undone by the way he looked at her, she said, “I was quoting the movie.”

  He didn’t look away when he smiled and said, “Uh-huh.”

  While they watched Hugh Grant bumble through the romancing of Julia’s international-movie-star character, Alex moved subtly closer to her until he was right next to her, his arm around her.

  “You didn’t say no snuggling.”

  “Mmm,” she said as she curled up to him.

  He reclined against some pillows, his arms around her as Jenny used his chest as a pillow.

  A wave of contentment flowed through her, and she realized, right in that moment, that she hadn’t felt this content since before her world imploded. “This is nice,” she said softly.

  “It could be nicer.”

  “This is as nice as it’s getting while your mother is here.”

  “If you say so.” He didn’t try to kiss her again, but his hands were busy, moving up and down her back in a soothing pattern that made her feel relaxed and sleepy even as a buzz of desire kept her very much awake.

  The movie was almost over when they heard a car door close outside.

  “That’ll be Paul.”

  Jenny reluctantly sat up and ran her fingers through her hair to bring order to it. “I should go.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I know I don’t, but you need to get some sleep.”

  “That’s not what I need.”

  “Alex…”

  “Jenny…”

  They were engaged in a visual standoff when Paul came in, stomping his feet on the mat inside the door. “It’s pouring out there,” Paul said. “Relief is in sight.”

  Jenny had been so wrapped up in Alex that she hadn’t noticed it was raining. A flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder made her startle. “I’m going to head out.”

  “Will you be okay to drive in the rain?” Alex asked.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “What about the gate?”

  “I’ll leave it open tonight. No one will be out there in this weather, and it’s not worth getting soaked to close it.”

  “I don’t like the thought of you out there alone in this weather.”

  “You’re very sweet to worry, but I’ll be fine.”

  “You could stay here if you wanted to.”

  Jenny leaned in to kiss his cheek, whispering, “Nice try.” She got up to collect her purse, keys and phone from the counter. “I’ll be at the store in the morning, Paul.”

  “Thanks, Jenny. See you then. Hopefully we can get this computer situation resolved.”

  “I hope so, too. If not, we’ll go the old-school pen-and-paper route until we work it out.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Alex walked with her to the porch.

  Jenny stopped him before he followed her down the stairs. “No sense both of us getting wet.”

  He hooked an arm around her waist. “There’s so much I could say to that.”

  “You’re such a brat.”

  “You love it.”

  “Yes, I do.” With her hands on his shoulders, she went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

  “Thank you. See you tomorrow?”

  “Hope so.”

  “Text me to let me know you got home okay.”

  “I will.”

  He kissed her again, lingering this time and groaning when he reluctantly released her.

  Jenny dashed down the stairs into the pouring rain and was soaked through by the time she got into her car. The cool rain was a welcome relief from the staggering heat, but it left her shivering from the chill.

  All the way home to the lighthouse, thoughts of Alex and the evening they’d spent together kept her warm and smiling. It occurred to her as she navigated dark, wet roads that she was falling fast for him. While she ought to be afraid of how strong her feelings for him had become, she wasn’t scared at all. Rather, she was exhilarated and looking forward to the next time she’d get to see him.

  Chapter 17

  “It’s really coming down out there,” Alex said to Paul. He locked the door and shut off the outside lights.

  “Supposed to last into tomorrow night.”

  “Great,” Alex said. “Right when we’re starting to get caught up a bit, we could lose an entire day to weather.”

  “A day off won’t kill either of us, but the schedule we’ve been keeping just might.”

  “True. How was your meeting?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual bullshit. Mayor Upton has all kinds of grandiose ideas, and we spend most of our meetings keeping him in line.”

  “I don’t know how you can stand to sit through those meetings.” Alex had teased Paul endlessly about his decision to run for town council in the last election, but he was proud of his brother. Not that he’d ever tell Paul that.

  “How was Mom tonight?” Paul asked.

  “Fine. No problems.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Paul sat across from him in one of the chairs. “So you and Jenny, huh?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Do you know about her?”

  “W
hat does that mean? I know her quite well, in fact.”

  Paul rolled his eyes at the double meaning he detected in his brother’s comment. “You know about her fiancé and what happened to him?”

  Nodding, Alex said, “How do you know?”

  “The council hired her. Hang on a minute.” Paul went into the bedroom they used as an office and returned a couple of minutes later holding papers folded in thirds. He handed them to Alex. “We asked applicants to write us a letter telling us why they wanted to be the lighthouse keeper. This was her letter. It was one of the most powerful and haunting things I’ve ever read. I’ve never forgotten it.”

  With a sinking feeling in his belly, Alex took the letter from his brother. “Are you allowed to show it to me?”

  “She’s a town employee, so technically it’s public record.”

  “And it’s not wrong of me to read this when she didn’t show it to me herself?”

  “Did she tell you what happened?”

  “Earlier today. Not all the details, but the gist.”

  “Then she doesn’t mind if you know, right?”

  “I guess not.”

  “I’m going to hit the hay. I’m tapped out after this incredibly long and frustrating day.”

  “I’m sorry I caused you a ton of shit by firing Sharon.”

  “You didn’t. She did, and clearly you did the right thing if she’s capable of this kind of maliciousness. Don’t sweat it.”

  Though Paul gave him a pass, Alex still felt bad for his role in the entire mess. But he didn’t regret firing Sharon.

  “See you in the morning,” Paul said.

  “Night.”

  For a long time after his brother left the room, Alex stared at the folded pages Paul had given him, trying to decide if it was the right thing to read them. He’d understood after their discussion tonight that she was willing to talk about her loss—to a point. It had been clear to him that it was difficult for her, even after all this time, and that it had been a relief to her to change the subject.

  It would be better, he decided, to get the details this way than to force her to share things she’d rather forget. Since he found himself thinking about her pretty much all the time, he couldn’t help being curious to know more about her and what she’d been through. And, he reasoned, if she’d been willing to share such personal memories with people she didn’t know, surely she wouldn’t mind if he read the letter. At least he hoped she wouldn’t mind.

  Alex’s fingers trembled ever so slightly as he unfolded the pages and began to read.

  My name is Jenny Wilks, and I’m applying for the lighthouse keeper’s position on Gansett Island. I currently reside in Charlotte, North Carolina, and the reason for my interest in the position dates back almost eleven years.

  “The morning of September 11, 2001, began like any other Tuesday for my fiancé, Toby, and me. We woke up in our Greenwich Village apartment, had breakfast, got dressed and left for work—me at an ad agency in Midtown, and he as a financial services advisor at the World Trade Center’s South Tower. I don’t remember what we said to each other that morning. Probably the usual stuff about our plans for the day, what time we might be home, what we’d do for dinner. I so wish I could remember our exact words. I had no idea then how very precious they would be.

  “We met at Wharton, survived the MBA program together and were due to be married that October. Toby was quiet and studious and destined for big things in his career. I used to call him my sexy nerd. While he tended to be shy with other people, with me he was easygoing, fun to be around and always making plans for our future. As we grappled with the stress of managing new jobs in New York while planning a wedding in North Carolina (where I’m from), his easygoing nature kept me sane.

  “I was in a meeting when Toby called my cell phone that morning. We often sent texts back and forth but rarely called each other during the day. I was worried he might be sick or something, so I took the call despite the look of disapproval I received from my supervisor. I vividly recall getting up and starting to walk out of the room. I was about halfway to the door when the fear and panic in Toby’s voice registered. He was saying things I couldn’t comprehend. An airplane had hit the building, there was a fire, and they were trapped. He told me they were going up on the roof, hoping to be rescued, but if it all went bad, he wanted me to know how much he loved me.

  “Right around then, people in the office heard what was going on, and everyone ran to the windows, where we could see plumes of smoke coming from Lower Manhattan. I started to scream. It couldn’t be happening. I heard the words terrorists and Pentagon and hijacking and all sorts of things that didn’t seem real. Toby was yelling at me over the phone. ‘Jenny,’ he said, ‘are you there?’ I snapped out of it and realized my entire body was cold. I was shivering uncontrollably. Toby needed me, and I had to pull it together for him.

  “Somehow I managed to form words. I managed to tell him how very much I loved him, how certain I was that everything would be fine and we’d have a long and happy life together the way we’d always planned. Even though I was utterly terrified, I held it together until he started to cry. He told me he didn’t want to leave me and that he was so sorry to do this to me. He said he wanted me to be happy no matter what, that my happiness was the most important thing to him.”

  Alex swiped at tears that rolled unchecked down his cheeks. His entire body ached as he read about the utter agony she’d endured.

  “You all know what happened, so I won’t belabor the point. His body was never recovered. It was like he went to work one morning and disappeared off the face of the earth, which is essentially what happened. For days, weeks, months afterward, I was a total zombie. My parents came to get me, and I went home with them to North Carolina. Toby’s parents had a funeral in Pennsylvania that my parents took me to. I barely remember being there. My sisters quietly canceled the wedding I’d planned down to the last detail. Everyone was so very nice. Our money was refunded. People wanted to help in any way they could, but all the kind gestures in the world couldn’t replace what I’d lost. The oddest part was I never cried. I didn’t shed a single tear, even though every part of me hurt.

  “I had nightmares for months over how Toby’s life might’ve ended. It’s a terrible thing to hope the person you loved most in the world had suffocated from the smoke before other more horrific things could happen to him. I went to therapy and grief groups and all the things my family thought might help. A year went by without my knowledge, and it suddenly became critically important that I attend the anniversary ceremonies. My parents were adamantly opposed, but I needed to see it. I needed to see where he had died.

  “Minutes after I arrived at the place they call Ground Zero, a name I’ve always hated, I broke down into the kind of heartbroken tears you see in the movies. Apparently, I made quite a scene. It’s another thing I barely remember. My parents carted me out of there, and I’m told I cried for days. Once the tears stopped, I was finally, somehow, a little better. I didn’t feel quite so numb, which was a good and bad thing because that’s when the pain set in. I won’t bore you with the details of that stage. Suffice to say it was ugly.”

  “God,” Alex whispered, barely able to see through his own tears.

  “After two years of barely functioning, I wanted my old life back—or as much of it as still remained. For all that time, my company held my job for me. Can you believe that? I still can’t. That was a bright spot in a sea of gray. They welcomed me back with open arms. I found out my parents had paid the rent on our place in Greenwich Village, which was another bright spot. I went back to our home and wallowed in the comfort of being surrounded by Toby’s things. After four years, I asked his parents to come take what they wanted and packed up the rest because it was no longer a comfort to be surrounded by his belongings.

  “In the fifth year, I started dating again. That was a comedy of errors with one disaster following another. I felt sorry for the very nice guys my well-meaning f
riends fixed me up with. They didn’t stand a chance against the fiancé I’d lost so tragically. Still, I went through the motions, mostly because it made the people around me more comfortable with my unending grief. I did what I could to make it better for them, because nothing could make it better for me.

  “I became involved in the planning for the memorial, which was somehow cathartic when my rational self knew it probably shouldn’t be. New York slowly recovered, the debris was cleared away, and new construction began. Against all odds, life went on. I still had nightmares about how Toby died. I dreamed about the wedding we’d so looked forward to that hadn’t happened. I went to work, I came home, I went to bed, I got up and did it all again the next day.

  “As the tenth anniversary approached, I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t stay in that city, in our apartment, in the job I’d had that day, with the well-meaning people who went out of their way to try to fix the unfixable. I started looking around for something to do that would get me out of the city, something that would get me off the treadmill my life had become. Two weeks before the tenth anniversary, I moved out of our apartment and went home to North Carolina. I couldn’t stay for the dedication of the memorial or all the hoopla that would surround the anniversary. Leaving our apartment and our city for the last time was one of the most difficult moments in a decade of difficult moments.

  “I’ve worked for the last year at a small PR firm in Charlotte. I saw your advertisement for the lighthouse keeper’s position in The New York Times last weekend, and everything about it appealed to me. I have absolutely no experience running a lighthouse, although where one would get such experience, I couldn’t begin to imagine! I’m thirty-six years old, well educated in both the classroom and the school of hard knocks. I’m a reliable person looking for the opportunity to start over in a new place. I’d be honored to be considered for this position. Thank you for ‘listening’ to my story. I look forward to hearing from you. Sincerely, Jenny Wilks.”

  Alex held the pages in both hands, his head bowed as he absorbed her incredibly moving words. He already admired her more than he’d admired anyone in a long time. But after reading her heartfelt words, he suspected he might also be on his way to falling in love with her. That she’d suffered such an unimaginable loss and could still be so positive and upbeat and fun was a testament to who she was underneath it all.