by Blake, Toni
Zack didn’t return the smile, though—instead just sighed.
And she couldn’t help thinking, despite all the things he was saying—about commitment and being hers—that maybe he was only willing to make concessions to a certain point. And that maybe, even if not on purpose, he was doing only the bare minimum he thought it would take to keep her, for “her to be his and him to be hers.” She wanted to see this from his side—she truly did—and yet...
“It’s like a moat to you in a way, isn’t it?” she pondered aloud.
“What?”
“The water. The boat is like your castle and the lake is a moat, your place to be safe and keep everything else away.”
He let out a short laugh at the analogy. “Pretty sad excuse for a castle, but...sure, I guess you could look at it that way.”
Once upon a time, the water surrounding this island had been her moat, too, the inn her place of safety and escape, so it made perfect sense to her. But now she didn’t need the moat, she didn’t need the escape—and whether or not she stayed here had become about something else besides safety. And she wanted Zack to quit needing the moat, too. “There’s no one screaming here, Zack. There’s no one hitting. There’s nothing to run away from here.”
His answer came low, barely audible. “I know that.”
Her chest felt as if it were being stretched, as if she were somehow being ripped apart. She felt like a shrew in a way, and yet...commitment or not, would she ever really be happy with a man who spent more time gone than at her side? No matter how much she might love him? “Then why...?”
He blew out a heavy sigh. “It’s just my life, Meg, and how I live it, how I’ve always lived it.” He met her gaze again, even lifted his palms to her face. “I’m trying, Maggie May—I really am.”
“I know,” she whispered.
He dropped his hands and they stood there together, close but not touching. Familiar desire floated in the air. And so did a familiar hurt.
“Smells like lilacs,” he said a long moment later. Perhaps to fill the void, perhaps because he realized, even having been on the water awhile, that their season had passed. She wondered vaguely if he ever missed that, the blooming of the lilacs. He was never here for it and she wasn’t even sure they’d ever discussed it, which suddenly struck her as odd.
She pointed toward the small spray bottle she’d lowered to her bedside table when he’d come in. “Lilac water.”
He looked, perhaps noticed the hand-printed label. “Where’d it come from?”
She drew in her breath. Thought of lying, but what was the point? “Seth helped me make it when they were in bloom.”
She sensed Zack tensing slightly. “He still around?”
“Yes and no. Still on the island, but he hasn’t done any work for me in a while.” She looked at his chest as she spoke.
She could feel his eyes on her then. And hated that it was suddenly hard to look up into them. “Is there something between you and him, Meg?”
In that instant, it grew difficult to breathe. How had the conversation turned this way? Maybe she should have fibbed about the lilac water, but...if they were talking about commitment here, shouldn’t she be able to tell him the truth? “There wasn’t before, when you left,” she explained. “And then there was. But then I sent him away, because I was confused.”
“About?”
“Both of you.”
“And now?”
She drew in a deep breath, let it back out. “Still confused.”
This was more than she’d intended to say, of course. And despite everything, it surprised the hell out of her when Zack slipped one bent finger beneath her chin to lift it slightly, to bring their gazes together. “Meg, you know that guy isn’t right for you. It’s always been you and me, Maggie May, and that’s how things are supposed to be. I know you feel that, too. I know it.”
When his mouth came down on hers, this time it was a deeper, more possessive kiss that reached inside her and grabbed hold of her soul. It was the way every woman longed to be kissed whether she knew it or not, a kiss of intent and seduction.
Her palms rose to his chest. He was warm to touch. And she had missed that, touching him. She kissed him back, let his kisses own her. And when his hands gripped her bottom and he pulled her to him, the sensation spread all through her. “Let’s get in bed, Maggie May,” he said on a low rasp.
Yes. Yes, let’s get in bed.
She almost whispered that—but something stopped her.
The fact that she wasn’t sure it was enough, what he was giving her.
There had been moments today when she’d thought it was—and stretches of time in between when she’d been floating on a little cloud of happiness just to be with him, just to hear his professions of love—content to keep floating and see where the cloud landed since it had seemed to be traveling in the right direction.
But now, even as her body ached to connect with his, ached to just keep on floating, and hoping, she heard herself say, “I can’t.”
He stiffened in her embrace. “Why not?”
“I love you, Zack—you know that. You’ve always known it, I’m sure. But... I guess I need time to think.”
He slowly released her from his arms, stepped back, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh. He appeared crestfallen—he clearly hadn’t expected this. That anything had really happened with Seth. That he might not be able to win her back with promises of commitment.
“I do love you,” she heard herself whisper, unplanned, somehow trying to comfort him. Maybe she shouldn’t care after all the times he’d hurt her—but that was who she was.
“I know, Maggie May,” he said sadly. “And I love you, too.” He looked up then. “So you take your time and do your thinking. But I know I can make you happy.” He lifted one hand, pushed a wayward strand of hair from her face. “I know I can.”
With that, he lowered a kiss to her cheek and left the room.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING led Meg to Petal Pushers to update Suzanne on the latest developments in her suddenly-turned-soap-opera life. Each move she made, though, felt a little surreal, like just going through the motions—because she wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing last night by sending Zack away.
But after a few minutes of free therapy from her friend, she went through some more motions—errands to the market, hardware store, and drugstore. As she walked up Harbor Street, she absently found herself wondering where the Five and Dime had been located and wishing Summer Island still had an old-fashioned soda fountain.
As bicycles whizzed past, along with foot traffic and a horse-drawn carriage, she felt content to lose herself in the busyness of high season on the island. Someone was playing a guitar in Lakeview Park along the waterfront near the marina, and colorful kites dipped and swirled above the treetops.
“Meg darlin’.”
She drew her gaze back to street level to find Seth standing in front of her. Despite the temperate seventy-two-degree day, a wave of heat ran the length of her body. “Seth.”
“I saw you from across the street,” he said. Now that it was warmer out, he’d changed his blue jeans for khaki cargo shorts. “Is it...okay if I say hello? I’ve missed you.”
“Yes,” she said. “Of course.” I’ve missed you, too. She didn’t say that part, but seeing him brought the unexpected sensation of...a similar comfort, familiarity, as when Zack had shown up in her kitchen yesterday morning. And if she hadn’t been toting plastic shopping bags in each hand, she might have given him a hug.
“How...have you been?” It came out awkwardly. How did you greet a man you’d banished from your life until you decided if you wanted him there or not?
“Good, good,” he said—but the answer didn’t quite make it to his eyes or his voice. He sounded more convincing, though, as he added, “I’ve been doing s
ome work for the Fishers—a little painting, a little gardening.”
Despite herself, her spine stiffened slightly. Did she actually feel possessive about his labor? “That’s...great.”
“Just to pass the time, make a little money,” he said, as if he owed her an apology.
“Of course.” She nodded.
“I heard Zack’s back.”
She blinked. Tried to mask any reaction, good or bad. “Yeah.”
He shifted his weight from one work boot to the other. “Sorry, darlin’—I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s a weird situation.” Then, partly to move past the awkwardness but also because it suddenly seemed convenient, she asked, “How do you feel about mowing?”
“Mowing?”
“The guy who usually does the inn’s grounds is vacationing this week. There’s a riding mower and a Weed Eater in the shed.”
Did his eyes actually light up at being invited to do some work for her? He was trying to play it cool, but she was pretty sure they had. “I’d be happy to, darlin’.”
“Though...this doesn’t mean anything.”
He nodded. “Okay. Only...”
“What?”
He gave his sexy head a tilt and looked more like his usual, easygoing self as he told her, “Well, my grandpa said my best hope with you was to just tell you everything, every truth I thought might scare you away. Knowing it might do just that. Because it was the only way to try to make things right. So that’s what I did, and no matter how things turn out, Meg, guess I have no regrets.” With that, he reached out to gently squeeze her hand and added, “I’ll be by tomorrow to mow if that’s good.”
She nodded. “Perfect.”
* * *
TOMORROW REALLY WAS PERFECT, because it would be the rarest of June days at the Summerbrook Inn—only two guestrooms were occupied at the moment, and both would be vacated by this evening with no one new checking in until late tomorrow. It would be a good day for linens and cleaning, and a good day for mowing. Mowing had to happen whether there were guests or not, but an empty house made it an ideal time.
That afternoon, she checked the gas in both the mower and the Weed Eater, and made sure the gas can was full. She started a load of sheets taken from recently vacated rooms, then carried Gran’s diary to her cozy chair in the nook, the window behind it raised to let in the fresh air. For some reason, she didn’t want to read outside—maybe she was worried Zack would see her and come by, or Dahlia or anyone else, and she didn’t want to squander her current solitude.
Though the thought made her wonder what Zack was doing today. And if he was sorry he’d come home only to have her send him away. Two men she’d sent away now. Two men she didn’t know what to do about.
As Miss Kitty sauntered into the nook and bounded silently up next to her in the chair, she reached out a hand to scratch behind the cat’s ears. “Let’s see what’s happening in 1957 today, shall we?” she said absently in the kitty’s direction. Then she opened the book to where she’d last placed the ribbon.
September 10, 1957
Dear Diary,
So much has happened.
Things I thought were going to change forever aren’t going to change at all.
And things I thought would stay the same forever have changed completely.
I’m so very tired, and I feel much older than I did only a couple of weeks ago. But wiser, too.
It all started when Mother got sick the week before the trip to take J.T. to Lansing. At first she only felt a little weak and wobbly, but then she started having chills, and in no time at all she was running a high fever. And then Father came down with it, too. That left me to care for them, and to hope I didn’t get sick as well.
Next thing you know, diary, a lot of other people on the island fell ill, too. And Dr. Zentmeyer says it’s the Asian Flu! It came from China and has been spreading all across the globe! I got vaccinated as soon as the doctor could get the medicine, and he gave Mother and Father antibiotics. Someone must have brought it over from the mainland—it could have been anyone who’s been there recently, as there are outbreaks in St. Simon and Mackinaw City, too.
Needless to say, I asked J.T. to postpone going. For at least a week, in hopes Mother and Father would improve and that maybe some of this horrible epidemic would begin to blow over. He’d planned to arrive well before his classes started, so postponing made all the sense in the world. If he had any sense. But he refused, diary! And not only that, he got angry with me for not going with him and his parents as scheduled and even broke up with me!
It was hard to believe he expected me to leave Mother and Father like that! Their fevers were both so high, and at times Father had trouble breathing. Dr. Zentmeyer said it was very serious and that people sometimes died. I’ve never been so afraid, and I did my best to take care of them, but sometimes it was hard to know if I was doing the right thing. Every time the doctor left, he gave me so many instructions that it was hard to keep track, especially as exhausted and worried as I was.
I couldn’t believe J.T. jilted me that way, diary. And at first, I thought it was God’s way of punishing me for what happened with Ace, that maybe I deserved it. But Mother and Father certainly didn’t, so I decided that was a silly way to think.
Then things got even worse, though. Father’s flu progressed into pneumonia. By that time, I was at the end of my rope. And that was when I ran into Ace one day at the Five and Dime when I was walking home from the drugstore. I told him everything. And later that day a knock came on our door—and there was Ace standing on the other side.
He said, “I’m here to lend a hand, Peggy Sue.” And in one way it was strange, because he’s only met my parents when they’ve been in the Five and Dime, and they had no idea Ace and I knew each other at all. But at the same time, I was so over the moon to see him that I just threw my arms around his neck.
I found out his uncle had wanted him to go home rather than risk catching the flu here, but instead he got the vaccine. And he said he’d stayed because of me, that this had made him realize how much he didn’t want to say goodbye at the end of summer. He said, “Afraid I’ve fallen for you, Peggy Sue. I’ll stay as long as you want me to. If you wanted me to stay here forever, I would.”
Things got even stranger then, diary, when...slowly, everything began to make an odd sort of sense and all the crazy pieces of the whole summer began falling into place. Ace was so kind to my parents, and they were so grateful for his help that he was in like Flynn. Mother’s condition improved rapidly after that, and though it was touch and go for a few more days with Father, he soon turned a corner and started getting better, too. And through all of it, Ace stayed by my side. Sometimes he slept in one of the spare rooms—but at other times, he would sleep in my bed, just holding me and trying to make sure I got enough rest.
We talked a lot while my parents were getting well. He told me he was serious about staying here. I asked him what about his hot rod. He said no hot rod could compare to me.
And maybe it sounds odd from a girl who’s spent her whole life wanting to get as far away from this little island as possible, but it would be hard to leave after this. Because who will take care of my parents when they’re sick? When they’re old? What if another epidemic comes? What if the commies drop the big one? I can’t leave them here alone, diary—I realize that now.
Ace is different than he first seemed. Oh sure, he still wears that jacket and ducktail, and he still talks in his hip, cool ways—but he stayed with me when I needed him, and he’s willing to stay with me forever. What more could I ask for?
It’s funny how your whole life can change in a heartbeat. How even all your dreams can change, too. All I ever wanted was to leave. But I’m suddenly seeing the island in a new way. Everyone and everything I love is here. The skies are blue. The nights are peaceful.
And even if the winters are long, maybe they won’t seem that way with the right person to keep me warm.
It all seemed so complicated for a while. But then it became easy. You pick the one who stays when you need them. It’s that simple. You pick the one who stays. You love the one who stays.
Yours, seeing clearly now,
Peggy
P.S. Ace’s real name is John. That’s how he introduced himself to my parents, so they wouldn’t think he was bad news. After all this time, it’s hard to get used to calling him that, but I’m trying.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WHOA. MEG STARED at the page in disbelief. So many questions answered, so many mysteries solved. J.T. wasn’t her grandpa at all! Instead, the sweet, quiet man she remembered planting lilac bushes and bouncing her on his knee had once been a James Dean wannabe named Ace who stole kisses from another guy’s girl.
Now her grandmother’s fascination with Ace made perfect sense. And now Meg understood with clarity what had kept Gran on this island and why she’d always been happy here. She understood how the sometimes frivolous-seeming teenage Peggy had transformed into the wise, happy woman Meg had always revered.
She knew well how tragedy could transform your heart and your life with no warning. And so it turned out she hadn’t been the first woman in her family to find the solace of Summer Island too sweet to give up after something difficult reminded her what a tough place the world can be.
Looking again at the girlish flourish of Peggy’s signature, she realized it was the last. When she turned the page, she discovered the rest of them lay empty. A short gasp left her.
This was goodbye. There was no more of her grandmother to find. And only now did she realize just how deeply reconnected this diary had made her feel with her grandma these last weeks. Maybe that’s why you stretched it out, made it last. You wanted to keep that connection, keep consuming her words and her thoughts and her life. Yet this was the end.