"Well, of course I was worried," she said testily. "I thought something might have happened to you."
"I can't recall the last time someone was worried about me," he said, sounding bemused. "Come and sit down, Lisa." He edged over on the log to make room for her, and hesitantly she joined him. He was idly toying with a piece of driftwood that he had picked up somewhere, and something was clearly wrong.
"Is it Hildy?" she asked gently. "Are you still thinking of her?"
"Yes, it's going to take me a while to get over her death. I tried working tonight, but I just couldn't pay attention. Not only because of Hildy, Lisa. Because—" He stopped. He couldn't finish what he was going to say. He couldn't tell her how worried he was that she wouldn't, couldn't love him if she knew the truth—that he had killed someone.
He tossed aside the driftwood twig and reached over to take her hand. Lisa was good, kind, beautiful and desirable. He loved her.
"You have a lot on your mind right now with deciding to get married, and Connie's problems, and losing Hildy," she said. He saw that she was determined to be understanding, even though he knew she couldn't understand at all. Someone like Lisa, so sweet, so loving, couldn't know what he'd been through.
Her eyes were brimming with trust, and he looked away, ashamed that she was making excuses for him.
"Yeah," he said, feeling like a heel. She thought he was wonderful, and he wasn't.
"I know one way to make the problems go away," she said, and when he looked back at her she was smiling up at him, and he was sickeningly aware that he should have told her the truth before she fell in love with him, and then she could have made up her mind about whether to move ahead in the relationship. But when had they not been in love with each other? It seemed to him that he had loved her from the moment he'd first seen her.
He pulled her close and drew her head onto his shoulder. She kissed his neck, and he sighed. She was so warm and alluring, so lovely. And she was so in love with him.
"I love you, Lisa," he said, striving to keep the panic out of his voice.
"Then why are we sitting out here on this damp beach?" she said.
It was a lighthearted remark, but he could not reply in kind. Instead he pulled her close so that she wouldn't see the anguish in his eyes.
* * *
One night about a week later Connie sat at Lisa's kitchen table and circled ads in For Sale—Dogs, Cats, Pets column of the daily newspaper.
"Here's one—'Free to a good home, female chow,'" Connie read out loud. "That sounds like the kind of dog that a dietitian might own, not a lawyer. What kind of dog is a chow, anyway?"
"Large," Lisa said. "But not as large as Hildy."
"Chows have black tongues," Adele added. "We had one when I was a girl."
"Black tongues—ugh," Connie said. "Here's another one. I wonder if Jay would like a dachshund."
"Too small," Lisa said, vetoing it.
"Maybe a golden retriever mix?"
"That sounds more like it. Let me see that, Connie."
"Can we go look at them, Lisa? Please?"
"I suppose you could call and make an appointment if you like," Lisa said.
"Oh, good. Jay's so lonely without Hildy. I hate to think of him living at his town house all by himself." Connie looked sad.
"We could give him some of the hangers in my closet," Adele said.
Lisa blinked. "What?" she said.
Connie took it upon herself to explain. "Oh, it's funny. Adele says that she has a coat-hanger farm in her closet. That the hangers in her closet multiply. That they breed in there. She says she's never lonely because she has all these hangers, and I think it's the funniest thing! I never heard of hangers keeping anyone from being lonely!" She dissolved into giggles.
"I recall that you were going to help me by adopting some of my hangers, Connie," Adele said, standing up. "I'll give you the pick of the litter if you'll come along right now and get them."
Connie's effect on Adele had been nothing short of miraculous. Ever since Adele had so skillfully comforted Connie after Hildy's death, they could often be found together. Adele was knitting Connie a sweater, and she had even driven Connie to her own hairdresser for a haircut yesterday. They were good for each other. Connie had brought out Adele's innate tenderness and had freed the joyful spirit that had been imprisoned inside Adele for so long.
And if Adele was smiling more, why was Jay smiling less? These days, when they hadn't yet announced their engagement and should be wrapped in their own private bliss, why did Jay seem to want to put distance between them?
Last Sunday afternoon at the beach, for instance. She and Jay had taken Connie with them, and Connie had been sitting far away sketching when Lisa had brought up the subject of a guest list for the wedding. She told Jay that she was sure that her sister Heather would come, and she would invite her great-uncle Richard to walk her down the aisle. They deserved to be told the date of the wedding, since all of them lived far away and would need to make travel plans.
She had mentioned casually that surely Jay's mother and stepfather and their two children would want to travel from Albuquerque for the wedding, and she'd suggested that perhaps Jay should phone them that afternoon and tell them of their engagement.
"Now? Today?" he had said, alarm written all over his face.
"They're your family, Jay. Why shouldn't they be the first to know we're getting married?"
He looked off into the distance, squinting against the hot sun. "Naturally I thought you'd want to tell Adele and your sister before we told anyone else."
Lisa rolled over on her stomach and pillowed her cheek on her hands. "I can telephone Heather anytime, but I don't know when I'd tell Adele. It's 'Connie this' and 'Connie that,' almost as though she's infatuated with the kid. She hardly pays attention to me anymore."
"Is that a complaint I'm hearing?"
"No, only an observation. Connie needs Adele's nurturing, and Connie has restored Adele's sense of humor."
At that point a child had raced by in pursuit of a Frisbee, spraying them with sand, and their discussion never returned to the topic of telling his family about their engagement. She couldn't help puzzling over Jay's reticence, but she forgot about it after a while. She had other important things to think about, such as when to break her good news to Adele. Adele liked Jay; Lisa was sure of that. But how would she react when Lisa told her they were going to be married?
The opportunity to tell Adele of their plans luckily presented itself a few days later while Adele was conducting an elementary swimming lesson in the river. Adele told Lisa, much to Lisa's surprise, that she had worked as a water-safety instructor before her marriage. It was the first time Lisa had ever heard of it, but when she suggested that Adele begin to teach Connie the rudiments of staying afloat in the water, Adele had responded with enthusiasm. She had even bought herself a new swimsuit, a one-piece job with a pert little skirt.
Lisa had gone swimming herself early that morning, and she sat wrapped in a giant beach towel on the bench under the pines at the water's edge while Adele drilled Connie in the dead man's float.
Although Connie came up sputtering once or twice, she learned the float and was mastering the simple frog kick before Adele laughingly claimed that she was getting tired and needed a rest.
"Here, wrap yourself in this—it's chilly here in the shade," Lisa said, tossing a towel in Adele's direction as she waded out of the shallows.
Adele mopped her face and brushed a few locks of hair out of her eyes. "It's been so long since I've been in the water," she said, sitting beside Lisa on the bench and lifting her face to the sunlight that streamed through the web of blue-green pine needles overhead.
"I'd never know it," Lisa said with affection. "You and Connie looked like two tadpoles when you were teaching her the frog kick."
"One tadpole, one tired old frog," Adele said, but she was smiling when she said it.
"Speaking of frogs, I think I've finally kissed the pri
nce," Lisa said.
"Kissed the—Oh, you mean Jay! It's getting serious then?" Adele's eyes were lively with enthusiasm.
"I'm in love with him, Adele. And he loves me. I've never been so happy in my life."
"I knew it. I suspected it the first time I saw you together on the morning when he came over and I taught him to make crepes. The way the two of you were laughing when you were looking for the vase in the garage was a sure clue. I'd never heard you laughing with anyone like that before. Oh, Lisa, I'm so pleased. He's a wonderful man."
"I was worried about telling you. I didn't think you'd be happy," she said.
Adele turned sober eyes upon her. "At one time, maybe I wouldn't have been as glad for you. But now I see that you need someone else in your life. Not just me." Adele's eyes grew moist with tears.
"Shh," Lisa told her softly, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I'm glad things are better for you now."
"It's Connie," Adele said. "You were right about her, and I'm going to miss her terribly when she goes to be with her father. I was thinking—Ginny at the gift shop works full-time and needs someone to pick up her daughter after school when it's in session. Next fall after Connie's gone, I could do it. The little girl is younger than Connie, but she's a darling child, and she could stay with me every afternoon until her mother picks her up after work. What do you think?"
"I think it's a wonderful idea. You're so good with children, Adele."
"Maybe so," Adele said, watching Connie as she practiced floating. "Maybe so."
Lisa glanced at Adele out of the corners of her eyes. "Are you ready for one more surprise?" she asked.
Adele caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stared for a moment, then broke into a smile.
"You and Jay—you're going to get married!"
Lisa laughed out loud. "You guessed! How did you know?"
"The look on your face gave it away," Adele said warmly. "I couldn't be happier for you, Lisa. When's the date?"
"We don't know yet. We've discussed living at Jay's town house, but even though you'll lose me as a housemate, you aren't going to lose the house. You can live here as long as you like, get another housemate or not, whichever you prefer, and you'll be a frequent guest in our home."
"I don't know what to say," Adele said helplessly. "I'd always thought that if you ever got married, I'd have to leave this house, and I do love it. This seems—this seems like more than I deserve, Lisa. You're so kind."
"I'll feel good about your living here. You'll take care of things the same as I would," Lisa said.
"Adele! Adele!" Connie called from beyond the reeds. "Am I doing this right?" She was demonstrating a jerky elementary backstroke.
"No, your rhythm is all wrong. Your legs and your arms are supposed to come up at the same time—wait a minute and I'll show you."
"By the way, we haven't told anyone else that we're getting married," Lisa told Adele hastily.
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," Adele called over her shoulder as she headed for the water.
Lisa smiled to herself. Well, she had done it. She had told Adele, and Adele was happy for them.
Tomorrow she'd call her parish priest. She'd reserve the church for a Saturday morning in the middle of June and then tell Jay the date.
She shrugged off the nagging feeling that Jay wasn't ready. They loved each other as they'd never loved anyone else, and they couldn't wait to get married.
So why did she feel so insecure? Why did she feel that they weren't really sharing their lives?
* * *
The least he could do was buy her an engagement ring. She'd already signed up for the church.
Jay idled outside a few jewelry-shop windows, studying the situation. He finally decided that Lisa would like a diamond solitaire, and he wanted to buy one as big as he could afford. The wedding ring would be a simple narrow gold band.
He chose a lovely oval-shaped diamond. He could imagine the ring on Lisa's small finger, sparkling in the sunlight and telling the world that she belonged to him.
He loved Lisa with all his heart and soul; he had trouble with all this marriage business, that was all. The emotions engendered by the idea of a big wedding were mind-boggling. For instance, he knew that his mother would find it difficult to return even for so short a time to the West Palm Beach area, a place that would always be filled with bad memories for her. His stepfather, who had given Jay his last name and loved him like a son, would probably feel the same way.
And then there was the matter of friends. Whenever Jay ran into his old buddies around town, the ones he'd partied with in high school, they acted embarrassed. Not that they didn't like him; they did. They just didn't know what to say. Their lives and his had diverged sharply after Jay's sentencing. They'd gone on drinking, and he had never taken a drink since the day of the accident. His old friends didn't even know what to call him these days, Jamie or Jay.
The fact was that his engagement announcement in the paper would stir up all the old trouble again. People would say, "James Quillian... James Quillian," and they'd scratch their heads for a few moments, until they remembered that he was Jamie Watkins, that he'd changed his name and made a new life for himself, but the life he'd begun since the accident wouldn't count with a lot of these people. What would count was that he had killed a girl once and that he'd gotten off almost scot-free.
Damn! How long was it going to follow him around? Just when he'd allowed himself to think that he was free of it, the shame of his past slapped him in the face. His relationship with Lisa was the first happiness that he had dared to allow himself in a long, long time. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was wrong to feel so much pleasure, that he didn't have the right to be happy. He had denied himself this kind of fulfillment all his adult life.
He had mostly kept his own counsel since returning to Florida after law school. Most of the important people in his life today didn't know about his past, and that was the way he wanted it. Except for Sister Maria, the nuns at Faith Mission didn't know; the children he taught didn't know; Lisa didn't know.
And that was the problem.
Lisa knew that he liked granola brownies, making love on lazy Sunday afternoons, canoeing with her on the Loxahatchee, and her, not necessarily in that order. Lisa, to whom honesty was key, knew every important thing there was to know about him except his terrible secret.
And he couldn't bring himself to tell her.
* * *
On Saturday Lisa and Connie went to Yahola so that Lisa could teach a nutrition class and Connie could work in the art room. That afternoon on the way home they stopped briefly behind a converted school bus letting off passengers on the outskirts of the settlement.
"We have an appointment to go look at those puppies next week," Lisa told Connie as they waited for the bus to move.
"We do?" Connie said, clearly delighted. "What day?"
"Friday," Lisa said. The bus increased its speed and lumbered onto a shell rock road bisecting the highway; Lisa was finally able to push on the accelerator and make tracks for home.
"I wish we could go see the puppies tonight," Connie said.
"Well, we can't. They won't be ready to leave their mother for another week, and besides, Jay and I are going out to dinner," Lisa told her.
"Tonight I'm going to show Adele how to make tortillas for supper. She buys them straight out of the frozen-foods case. Yuck," Connie said.
Lisa cast a sidelong glance at Connie. She wondered if Connie had any inkling of the seriousness of her relationship with Jay; she wondered if they gave themselves away when they were around her. He was always trying to steal a kiss when Connie's back was turned.
"You want to know a secret?" Lisa asked Connie.
"I love secrets," Connie said. "Tell, tell!"
"You have to promise not to tell the Sisters at the mission or your cousins until I say you can," Lisa told her.
"I promise," Connie said solemnly.
"Jay and I
are engaged to be married," Lisa told her.
Connie's eyes grew wide, and a smile spread across her face. "You're going to get married? Really and truly married?" she squealed.
Lisa laughed at her expression of delight.
"As really and truly as two people can be," she affirmed. "We're going to be married on the third Saturday in June."
"Does Adele know?"
Lisa nodded, and Connie jiggled up and clown on the seat. "She knew and she didn't tell me! Oh, am I going to get her when we get home!"
"Don't be too hard on her, Connie. I asked her to keep it a secret."
"But how could she not tell? I deserve to know. I was there on your first date—wasn't the day we went canoeing on the river your first date? Wasn't it?"
"Almost. I guess we could count it as the first," Lisa said, smiling again.
"What about a ring? Aren't you supposed to get an engagement diamond?"
Lisa lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He told me to wear something special when we go out to dinner. I think he might give it to me tonight."
Connie clapped her hands at this. "No matter how late you get in tonight, Lisa, come into my room and show me. I hope it's a be-yootiful diamond."
"I'm sure it will be lovely," Lisa said. She could picture it in her imagination: a flawless, pristine diamond, not too big, not too little. She could hardly wait to begin wearing it.
She could hardly wait to become Mrs. Jay Quillian.
* * *
That night Lisa looked especially beautiful, her hair knotted on top of her head but trailing in careless wispy tendrils all around. The glow of the candle on their table polished her skin to mellow perfection. Her filmy white dress made her look like a bride, and a surge of emotion flowed through Jay when he thought that soon she would be his wife. It was hard to shake the feeling that he of all people did not deserve such complete happiness.
The restaurant was special, a place where they could watch the moon rise over the marina. They ate smoked oysters for an appetizer and a main course of fresh red snapper; the vegetables were crisply steamed. They ate slowly, enjoying the ambience, the charm, and the intimacy.
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