by Lexi Eddings
“I’m not sure he’s done anything he needs to apologize for.”
Seth might have meant Noah. Or he might be talking about himself.
Dang! I wish I didn’t know anything about subtext. It would be so much easier if words just meant what they mean.
“Noah left home,” Angie said. “He might start by apologizing for that.”
Kind of like the way Seth had stomped off before they’d had a chance to talk it all out.
Guess two can play this subtext game.
“Yeah, I think he regrets that,” Seth said. “When a couple has problems, there’s never a totally innocent party.”
“I wouldn’t say never,” Angie said, a little testiness creeping into her tone. Then, because she valued truthfulness, she had to admit to herself that she wasn’t as blameless as she tried to claim. If Seth had been out with an old girlfriend, she’d have been hurt by it. Still, she liked to think she’d have listened to his side of things before blowing it all out of proportion.
But feelings are funny things. Sometimes your mouth starts spewing the hurt in your heart before the words filter through your brain.
“You’re probably right,” she admitted. “Maybe . . . they both need to apologize.”
“Yeah. The trick is getting one of them to go first.”
“I’m not sure we can help Crystal and Noah with that,” Angie said, wishing he’d just say it. Maybe she was the bad guy here, but it was suddenly of great consequence to her that Seth be the first to apologize. If he did, it would mean she was more important to him than his masculine pride.
And that would mean she was really important.
“Guess they have to decide what their relationship is worth,” Seth said. “If they’d just . . . get to know each other’s hearts, everything would become easy.”
The notion sounded vaguely familiar. “How did you get so wise?”
A deep chuckle crackled over her phone. “From reading a Jane Austen novel.”
“What?” The image of big, tough Seth poring over a romance novel made her laugh. “Oh, of course. ‘If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.’ That’s from Sense and Sensibility, isn’t it? You’ve been reading that? Really?”
“Try not to sound so surprised. I’m not the knuckle-dragger you took me for,” he said. “I’m housetrained and everything.”
“I didn’t mean that. I just meant it’s not the sort of book I’d expect you to read.”
“It’s not,” he said. “But you left your copy in my truck the day we met.”
“So that’s where it was.” So much had happened since then, the book’s whereabouts had fallen off her radar.
“I been workin’ on it off and on since then.”
Literature was safe. Angie could talk about that all day. “What do you think of it?”
“I think Marianne was a fool not to see what a louse Willoughby was from the very beginning.”
“Even though you very nearly quoted Marianne?”
“She has her moments,” Seth said, “but you got to admit, of the two sisters, Elinor’s got more sense.”
“Agreed. But you can’t blame Marianne for being dazzled by Willoughby. He was . . . dashing and everything she’d ever imagined a man should be. It would have been considered a good match if Marianne had married Willoughby.”
Seth snorted. “He’s shiftless, irresponsible, and only looking out for himself. I wouldn’t wish him on anybody. Reminds me of someone else we both know.”
Peter. Angie saw the parallel right away. Peter had dazzled her at first,just as Willoughby had swept Marianne off her feet. And Seth embodied many of Colonel Brandon’s sterling qualities—steadfastness, dependability, and deep, if unspoken, affection.
Maybe Seth knows something about subtext, too.
“Marianne came to her senses in the end,” Angie said softly. “She realized Colonel Brandon was the much better man. In fact, I like to think she eventually apologized to him for not recognizing that right away.”
“Maybe she did.”
A pregnant silence hovered over them.
“Was there any other reason you called?” Angie asked. If he was going to apologize, now would be the perfect time.
“Yeah,” Seth said, suddenly all business. “Crystal told me you promised to turn up for Thanksgiving at my aunt Shirley and uncle George’s house. She says it’s the only way she’ll stay in the pageant. She also said I have to be there, too.”
“Crystal seemed to think having us there will deflect attention from her problems with Noah,” Angie said. “Though to hear her tell it, there will be a mob of people at the Evanses anyway.”
“There will. There always is. Our pastor used to say the best time to show up at my aunt and uncle’s house is mealtime. An extra mouth would hardly be noticed,” Seth agreed. “Are you still okay about going?”
He hadn’t apologized. But, then, neither had she.
“Yes, I’ll be there.” Angie had promised Crystal she would.
“Good,” he said. “You want a ride?”
Kind of an awkward way to ask if I’ll go with him, but when have we not been awkward? It’s sort of our wheelhouse.
“There’s only so much room to park in the drive and on the street by the Evanses’ house,” she said. “It would be silly for us to take two cars.”
Not a ringing endorsement of our going together, but at least I didn’t say no.
“Right. So I’ll pick you up, then.”
“Okay.”
Silence grew again, a dark looming presence she wasn’t sure how to escape. If one of them didn’t say something of substance soon, she didn’t see a future for them. But a hard part of her heart refused to let her be the first one to say it.
“Angie?”
“Yeah?” she whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
Then the line went dead.
“Me too, Seth,” she told the silence. “Me too.”
Chapter 29
Getting along with women ain’t no trouble. Just ask my wife, Darlene. All it takes is for the man to do all the gettin’.
—Junior Bugtussle, whose wisdom smacks of hard-won experience
The phone call was a start, but in no way did Seth feel as if the rift between him and Angie had been patched. His relationship with her wasn’t the sturdy structure he thought he’d been building at all. It stood in shambles, more like the manger scene after Junior Bugtussle’s truck had its way with it. Seth had some serious rehab work to do on both fronts.
After his quick apology, he had called her again early the next morning. Angie had agreed to meet for a quick breakfast that day and a couple of other times that week, but the Green Apple didn’t really lend itself to private conversation. Especially since Seth now knew how very keen Lester’s ears were, even when he didn’t seem to listening.
They talked about the pageant, and about Angie’s student Emma and her troubles, the poor kid. They even revisited his cousin Crystal’s situation. It all came down to whether Crystal and Noah could forgive, make changes, and learn to trust each other again.
It seemed Seth and Angie could solve everyone else’s problems but their own. They never quite got around to talking about the seed of distrust that had taken root in their relationship.
In some respects, it was a good thing that he and Angie were still a little bit on the outs with each other. For one thing, it meant his evenings were free. Which meant the high school addition was back on track because he could burn plenty of midnight oil on it. Now the project would be finished on schedule. And Angela was able to devote more time to writing a much-needed new script for the pageant.
They’d both agreed Coldwater Cove wasn’t ready for Christmas with sock puppets, so Dr. Barclay’s wildly weird version was scrapped.
But not spending much time with Angie meant that when Seth went to pick her up at around ten thirty on Thanksgiving morning, he felt as if he was just going through the motions. It was as awkward as
their first date. Seth had originally hoped to take her to meet his folks later that day, but he doubted she’d be up for it now. Even though he’d apologized and she seemed to accept it, he was still walking on eggshells around her.
“Your student not coming with us?” he asked as he walked her from her back door down to his waiting truck below. He rested his fingertips on the small of her back as they descended the iron staircase. It was a little touch, just a slight brush of his fingertips, but he liked doing it. She didn’t shrink away from him, which he took as a good sign.
Of course, it was just a matter of good manners. His hand at the ready meant he’d be able to catch her if she stumbled. But he was also touching her in a way not every other guy could. It felt chivalrous and sexy at the same time.
Just my hand on her lower back is all it takes to get me going. God help me if she lets me touch her anyplace else.
“No, Emma’s not able to come. She’s having morning sickness in spades today,” Angie said. “When I suggested she eat turkey with us, she turned green as a gourd.”
The fact that the kid was ill was no surprise. According to Angie, the circle of people who knew the Christmas pageant’s Mary was unexpectedly expecting had grown to five—him, Angie, Heather, Emma’s mom, and the FOB, Tad Van Hook.
But since Seth and Angie had talked about Emma’s pregnancy, be it ever so quietly, over breakfast at the Green Apple, he had no doubt Lester knew about it, too.
Which means if the news isn’t fodder for the Methodist prayer chain by the first Sunday in Advent, I’ll be mightily surprised.
“Emma is a total mess right now,” Angie said as she hauled herself up into his truck. Seth wished she’d let him help her with that, but she always scrambled up before he could even put a hand to her elbow. “Remind me never to get pregnant.”
“You don’t want kids?” He loved Angie. Why else would he put up with her skittishness and unpredictability? And Seth wanted her to love him back, but “no kids” might be a deal breaker. Never mind that his parents expected him to present them with grandchildren someday, Seth had always seen himself as a dad sooner or later.
“No. It’s not that. Kids are fine. Someday. Maybe. I’m just not a fan of pregnancy at the moment,” she said. “A baby kind of takes over even before he or she’s born. Talk about Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”
“I think that’s the movie playing at the Regal next week,” Seth said with a laugh. “Wanna go?”
“Not really.” She softened the refusal with a grin. “It’s been playing in my apartment for a while now.”
Instead of taking Emma in, Angie could have taken her down to social services, but Seth had a pretty good idea why she hadn’t. Given her past, the thought of surrendering anyone to the system would be as repugnant to Angie as a spider in a bouquet.
But it might be the best thing for all concerned. Emma could get some professional help, and involving a government agency might jar her family into action on her behalf. Right now, the girl seemed stuck in neutral, unable to decide what to do.
But Seth didn’t think he should suggest the idea. He wasn’t sure how Angie would react. He wasn’t willing to risk another argument so soon after their blowup over Angie having drinks with Peter Manning.
Seth was no expert, but he was pretty sure that not being able to talk about certain things wasn’t the sign of a healthy relationship.
That scumbag Manning was still in town, too. Seth had seen him hanging around the college and the courthouse, but at least he hadn’t caught him on Angie’s deck. Still, Manning’s mere presence in Coldwater Cove irritated Seth. It was like a pebble in his boot that had become wedged under the insert. There wasn’t anything he could do about it without tearing everything to pieces. The only bright spot was that as far as he knew, Angie hadn’t seen the guy again.
But Seth didn’t know everything.
After all, Angie had kept Emma’s secret from him for nearly a week. If he hadn’t caught her red-handed hanging out with Manning, he might never have known about their meeting. Angela Holloway had reservoirs of secrets he had yet to plumb.
That wasn’t to say he didn’t trust her. He thought he could. But because she kept things from him, it was obvious she didn’t seem able to trust him. That stung. Seth had a lot of rebuilding to do if he and Angie were going to amount to anything.
One brick, one two-by-four, one nail at a time.
“Seth, I need to tell you something,” Angie said as they pulled down the tree-lined street his aunt and uncle lived on.
Because her tone was so serious, he pulled to the curb and turned off the truck.
“Shoot.”
She drew a deep breath. “I . . . I finished writing the script last night.”
For that I turned my truck off? As personal revelations went, it didn’t even crack the top one hundred. “Yeah?”
“I think the script is okay. Maybe good, even,” she said hurriedly. “Would you give it a read before I hand it out to the cast?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Good.” She nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer. “Because I . . . I wouldn’t want to make any decision without talking to you about it first.”
What is she saying? “About the pageant, you mean.”
“Yeah, about that . . . and about other things, too.”
May as well get down to brass tacks. “Does this have something to do with Peter Manning?”
“What? No. Why?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you hear something?”
Should I have? “Like what?”
“Like why he wanted to meet with me that night.”
“Oh, I’ve got a pretty good bead on why he wanted to see you.” No mystery there. Manning still wanted her.
She shook her head. “It’s not what you think. Peter isn’t interested in me like that. At least, he shouldn’t be because that’s not going to happen.”
“Good.” He wished he was a man of more words. Good didn’t begin to describe how it felt to hear that she was done with Manning.
“Anyway, when we met for drinks, he said his firm was going to endow an English chair at the college and the job was mine if I wanted it.”
She might not be interested in picking up where she and Manning had left off, but that jerk wasn’t the sort to make an offer like that unless there was something in it for him. “What did you tell him?”
“That I couldn’t take it.”
Relief settled in his chest. “You don’t want to teach at Bates?”
“No, I don’t want to owe Peter.”
That’s my girl. “Oh. Good.” Dang, do I even know any other words?
“But, I just wanted you to know that . . . if I make any big decisions about . . . well, about anything important, I want to talk to you about it first.”
Did she just lay a brick of her own? Maybe he didn’t have to be the only one who was working on shoring up their foundation.
“That’s good, Angie. I mean, I appreciate it,” he said. This was better than an apology. This was a promise of good things to come. “Because if something important happens in your life, I want to be part of it.”
“Count on it.” She smiled then and it was that smile. The one that said she trusted him, that she needed him.
He did what any red-blooded guy would do. He leaned in to kiss her.
There was no hesitation, no second-guessing himself this time. This kiss was meant.
He knew it was so, because while his lips covered hers, the world sort of went away for a bit. Not that he wasn’t still vaguely aware of the clicks of the engine as it cooled or the moan of the November wind outside his truck. Or that his extended family was expecting them to arrive momentarily. Or that he and Angie still had miles to go before they knew each other as deeply as he meant for them to.
It was just that those things were nothing at the moment. Even the right words, if he could find them, were nothing.
This kiss was everything.
&nbs
p; He cupped her head. She was so delicate and small. It took every ounce of his strength to be gentle. His thumb caressed her cheek. It was all comforting and slow, like a tiny blaze that heats the whole room. That’s how he’d been romancing this woman.
Time to turn up the heat.
He slanted his mouth on hers, and demanded a response. When her lips parted, he didn’t need to be invited twice.
Sweet, warm, wet.
Seth was drowning in her and didn’t care a bit. If Angie was the one who pulled him down, he was willing to go to the bottom with her. As long as she was there, he didn’t care where he ended up. She might be a bundle of needs, and a bit scary in her neediness, but she was his little bundle of needs.
He’d love this woman till he was dust. Whatever she wanted from him, he was willing to give.
It was as if someone had suddenly turned up the volume on life. The rosy glow of her cheeks was brighter, her lashes curled on them more velvet-like. The nerve endings under his skin sent pulses of urgency through his whole body. The scent of her perfume wrapped itself around his brain and sang a song of wanting and tenderness and a thirst that could never be slaked.
Everything up to this moment had been a pale reflection of living.
This kiss was the real deal. He wanted Angela Holloway, all of her—her quirky humor, her deep silences, her hurts, her kind heart—he’d take it all.
So he poured his soul into the kiss. If this moment passed without convincing her of what she meant to him, he feared his chance would never come again.
That’s why when she pressed her fingertips against his chest, he hated to let her go. It took everything in him not to pull her tighter to him. His heart pounded unevenly, a wild and desperate and primitive drumbeat resounding in his ears.
Could she hear it? Was the same rhythm beating in hers?
When she opened her eyes, her pupils were so wide, the whole iris seemed black. He could almost fall into them.
“Seth,” she said softly, her voice a little choked. “I . . . words mean everything to me, but I suddenly don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.” Seth pulled her close and she melted into him, resting her head on his chest with a contented sigh. She grasped the lapel of his jacket and held on tight.