Love on the Sound

by Matthews, Jamie

  Ben turned his attention back to the water. “No. Just…thinking how beautiful you are. Thinking about how damn lucky the man who marries you will be.”

  She was silent for a long moment, staring out at the sea. “Someday I’ll be reading about you and some gorgeous actress getting married.”

  Ben glanced over. She was looking out at the water. Were those tears in her eyes, or was it a trick of the light? He reached out a hand.

  “Amy—”

  “Whatever you two are discussing needs to stop,” said Paul, showing up at Ben’s side and clapping a hand on his back. “You both look seriously depressed. We’re at a party, man!”

  Just like that, the moment passed, and Amy turned a brilliant smile on Paul.

  “You’re right. I’ll go down and set up some appetizers in the kitchen.”

  Ben decided he’d imagined the tears.

  At Friday Harbor, he docked the boat. He, Amy and Hannah headed up the dock to the table where the kids had set up the bake sale. The kids cheered when they saw him coming and quickly surrounded him, chattering away about the parade, Santa and their various Christmas wish lists. People were already setting out their chairs to watch the parade, bundled up in blankets.

  Hannah and Amy set out to sell hot chocolate and cookies to those already settled in their spots. Ben stationed himself at the table, and announced he’d sell autographs for $5 each. The line quickly stretched up the dock and into the village as he signed some programs from the kid’s fall play, books, or whatever folks had handy. He cajoled and teased people into buying several cups of hot chocolate. Some walked away with bags of cookies.

  By the time Hannah and Amy came back from their rounds, flush with cash and donations, the kids were almost sold out of cookies and drinks. Ben helped the kids count up the money they’d collected and realized they’d raised $500 in just 45 minutes. He gave them high fives all around, then headed back to the boat with Hannah and Amy.

  They puttered out of the dock and looped around to the line of other boats, waiting for the official parade to start.

  “No one is touching this boat,” marveled Ben.

  Indeed, the other parade entrants waved as he slowly floated by, laughing and applauding. When darkness fell and the parade around the harbor began, Nell offered to drive the boat so he could take it all in. He watched, utterly charmed by the cheerful parade of twinkling boats, the Christmas carols playing out over the water from someone’s stereo on land, the cheers and applause. And, when “Santa” was escorted in on the bow of a bright red motorboat, and the children began screaming and chanting “Santa!” Ben grinned from ear to ear.

  He saw it all—the frantic chase by motorboat between his two characters…the chaos that would ensue…Santa toppling into the bay. He hugged Amy close.

  “You are amazing. This is perfect for my next scene.”

  “I know,” she said smugly. “I look forward to my royalty check when this becomes a mega-hit.”

  When the parade ended and Santa boarded and headed into the village to greet the children, Ben felt a pang of regret. It faded as he realized that most of the boats remained in the harbor, bobbing on the waves, laughter echoing across the water. The carols kept playing, and all around him he saw wine poured and beer cracked open.

  “So the kids are in the village, and the adult party is out here, is that it?”

  “Exactly.” Hannah hooked her arm in his and walked with him down to the kitchen. “Thanks again for letting us hijack your boat.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He smiled down at her and pulled the simple dinner fixings out of the cooler.

  Paul came down to help haul up the wine and beer, and they huddled up on the deck. No one seemed to mind the cold, although everyone was bundled from head to toe with their winter gear, and, he supposed, all the wine helped. Still, he was glad he’d thought to bribe the restaurant to package up some steaming hot stew in several huge thermoses.

  After dinner and more bottles of wine, only a few boats lingered on the bay. Paul and Amy pulled out their guitars and began singing Christmas songs. Stars twinkled above in the dark night sky, while the bright cheerful lights on the boats sparkled in the black water of the bay. The other boats paddled closer when Tom waved them over, and Ben nursed his beer, joining in on songs he hadn’t sung in years—White Christmas, O Christmas Tree, Joy to the World. The partiers on the other boats joined in, and their voices blended together in harmony, ringing out over the water.

  Ben found his gaze drawn again and again to Amy, her face lit by the glow of the lanterns he’d set up and the twinkling lights. She threw her head back in laughter when Paul sang I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, danced with Nell and Hannah. When the wine and beer finally ran low, and Hannah, Tom and Nell huddled together with Ben under a blanket, Paul strummed the opening chords of Silent Night.

  “Last song belongs to Amy, ladies and gents. You’re in for a treat.”

  She smiled at him affectionately and set aside her guitar. Her voice rang true and clear.

  “Silent night, holy night…all is calm, all is bright.”

  The world faded away, as her voice soared up into the night, and Ben’s eyes stung. His heart, his head, his whole body ached. How could he leave this woman? He pictured getting in his car, driving away. Never hearing her laugh again, feeling her lips brush his. Never breathing in the crisp, clean air of the Islands. What about Paul, Hannah, Nell, Tom and so many others he now considered his friends? The thought caused actual physical pain in his heart.

  While running from his life, had he actually found it? More, had he found his heart?

  When Amy finished the song, a moment of humming silence followed. Then, people clapped, and the folks on the few boats remaining called out their thanks. On autopilot, Ben steered the boat out of the harbor.

  “You’re very quiet,” Amy commented, joining him once again at the wheel.

  He wrapped his free arm around her and held her close, held her tight. “I’m taking it all in. You’re lucky you’ve found this place. Your place.”

  “I am.” She murmured, laying her head on his shoulder and yawning. “I’m glad I got to share it with you.”

  Ben frowned at her use of the past tense, but let it slide. When they arrived back at Lopez, the party dispersed in a flurry of hugs and kisses. As Amy and Hannah chatted about her next order for On the Sound, something caught his eye.

  In the shadows, up at the top of the dock—a glint of light. Just like the glint of light off the lens of a camera. Ben started to move towards it when Nell stopped him for a tipsy hug. By the time he’d untangled himself and scanned the dock, he saw nothing but shadows.

  He’d been gone for nearly four months. He had to be old news by now—hardly worth any paparazzi flying all the way up to the remote islands to track him down.

  Still, as he and Amy drove back to the inn, Amy dozing off in her seat, he checked the rearview mirror the entire time, making sure they weren’t followed. He didn’t relax until they were safely locked inside. Amy roused enough to make it up to her apartment, but crashed as soon as she got into bed. Ben lay next to her, his arm tucked around her.

  He listened to her breathe, hearing the winds whip through the trees outside the quiet room. He lay awake for a long time before finally falling asleep with his fingers twined through hers.

  Chapter 25

  Amy stood under the steaming hot shower and closed her eyes. Oh, the price to pay for a couple glasses of wine. Okay…more like three. She tallied up and realized, shit, she’d probably drank one whole bottle on her own. The thought made her head throb even more. Thank God, both sets of guests had opted out of breakfast. The two couples, both in their early 50s, had become fast friends and decided to go on an early morning sail to San Juan Island to have breakfast.

  Still, she had to face the day sometime, and the steam building up in the bathroom began making her slightly lightheaded. She groaned as she stepped out of the shower, b
linking her gritty eyes. She rarely overindulged for this very reason. Still, she mused as she toweled herself dry and slathered on lotion, it had been a damn good party.

  Amy smiled as she saw Ben still sprawled across her bed. She’d learned there was no point in tiptoeing around—the man could sleep through a hurricane. And, while he gave her room while they slept, the moment she left the bed he seemed to expand until he was filling every inch of it, arms flung wide, legs akimbo. He’d been so cute last night, as delighted and entranced as the kids when Santa sailed into the harbor. She stroked his hair off his forehead, studied his sleeping face, his lips relaxed in a faint smile as if pleased with his dreams.

  He hadn’t said if he was coming back after Christmas.

  She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and finished getting dressed. From past experience, she knew a big, bubbly glass of ice cold cola, greasy hash browns and some ham and eggs would ease her aching head, so she headed downstairs. The ache in her heart, she’d need to learn to live with.

  As she came downstairs, she caught a glimpse through the arched window above the front door of several cars in the driveway. Frowning, she hurried the rest of the way down, the noise outside beginning to register. Was there a tour that had stopped by unexpectedly, needing rooms?

  When she opened the door, a herd of people rushed over from where they had gathered in the circular drive, flashes popping, microphones at the ready. Amy winced at the glare, shielded her eyes.

  “Is Ben Morrison staying here?”

  “How’s the rehab going?”

  “How long have you been lovers?’

  “Has he left Hollywood forever?”

  The crowd flung questions at her like bullets, and she dimly registered Ben thundering down the stairs behind her. Clad only in his boxers, he pulled her back and slammed the door, locked it.

  Dazed, she leaned back against the door, as the clamor outside increased.

  “Shit, fuck, damn!” Ben made as if to slam his fist into the wall but at the last second seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled on his hair instead. “Are you all right?”

  Amy nodded, but the ache around her heart intensified. No more pretending he wasn’t a famous movie star. No more pretending that maybe, just maybe, he’d give it all up and be with her. It was, she realized, the beginning of the end.

  He came to her and pulled her into his arms, then leaned back to cup her face in his hands.

  “I’m so sorry.” His blue eyes darkened to navy, and a muscle worked in his jaw.

  “Hey.” Amy laid her hands on his. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah. It is,” he said flatly, pulling away. “Listen, call the police. It’s against the law to be on your property. They can escort them off. I’ll call Artie and fix this.”

  Before she could call him back, he had bounded up the stairs. Amy sighed, and rubbed her still-throbbing head. The message light flashed on the reception phone, and when she picked it up, the voicemail lady cheerfully informed her she had 40 messages.

  Sincerely doubting it was 40 new reservations, Amy dialed the police. Officer Thomas answered and assured her he’d be right over. She turned the ringer on the phone back on, and it immediately began ringing. The caller ID showed a number with an L.A. area code. She turned it back on silent.

  Squaring her shoulders, she decided there was nothing she could do, except try to get rid of her hangover, so she headed into the kitchen. She set a pot of coffee brewing for Ben and gulped down half a can of cola, instantly feeling a bit better. When Ben came into the kitchen, the hash browns sizzled in their pan while she diced the ham.

  “Coffee. Thank God,” Ben said, rubbing his temples.

  “So regretting that wine right now,” Amy admitted. “I realized I drank the whole bottle.”

  “A bottle?” He turned and arched his eyebrow at her. “Honey, try at least a bottle and a half.”

  “No. Really?” She moaned. “No wonder I feel like ass.”

  Still, she was glad to see his face relax in a smile as he eyed her over his coffee. At home, he got the bread and slid a few slices into the toaster, then nudged her aside.

  “Go. Sit. I’ll take care of this.”

  When she started to protest, he shoved her onto the stool. “Your picture is going to be plastered all over the tabloids. The least I can do is finish making you breakfast.”

  Deciding he had a point, Amy relaxed on the stool and watched him work.

  “I called Artie, told him he was rehired as of now, and his first job is to fix this mess,” Ben said, cracking eggs into the bowl. “The Ericksons and the Neals aren’t here, right?”

  “They won’t be back until mid-morning.”

  “It shouldn’t take the police long to get those assholes off your property. They’re like vultures, though. They’ll hang around for at least the rest of the day, but they’ll be out on the road, or if the officer decides to be a hard ass, he can make them move to the main road since there’s not a big shoulder here where they can safely park their vehicles.”

  “He’ll be a hard ass,” Amy confirmed. “His ‘beat’ is Lopez, and he takes it very seriously.”

  She cocked her head. “Yep. Pretty sure that’s him now.”

  Ben stopped scrambling the eggs and listened. “Is that a megaphone?”

  They both ran to the front window and peeked out from behind the curtain. Sure enough, there was Officer Thomas, looking not a day over his 22 years. But, at a very muscular 6’5”, he towered over most of the paparazzi, and his voice dripped disdain as he bellowed at them to get the hell off the On the Sound property, or he’d throw them all in jail.

  Paparazzi scattered like rats, and Officer Thomas kept yelling at them to move it. He strode up to On the Sound, bellowed over the megaphone, “Everything okay in there, Miss Amy?”

  Struggling not to smile, Amy slid the curtain an inch over so he could see her and gave him a thumbs up, mouthing, “Thank you.”

  “Oh, I’m not done yet,” he yelled, still employing the megaphone so his voice carried across the road. “Y’all are a threat to public safety clogging up this road. Move on down to the dock. I’m going to follow you, and if any of you go so much as one mile over the speed limit I’m writing tickets.”

  Like magic, the cars and vans drove away one by one, Officer Thomas following them, leaning out his window and continuing to yell through the megaphone.

  Amy turned to face Ben, her shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles. He smiled, slowly at first, then began to chuckle. Soon they were both howling with laughter.

  “You made his day—no,” Amy corrected, “his year. Did you see how excited he was to use that megaphone? I bet you anything he’ll stick around the dock and keep yelling at them through it.”

  Ben draped an arm around her shoulders and led her back to the kitchen. “I love this town.”

  Then stay. The words hung on the tip of her tongue, but she held them back.

  “I’m surprised the phone isn’t ringing off the hook,” he commented, sliding the eggs into the hot pan.

  “I turned the ringer off,” she said, checking her cell and wondering how long it would take before word spread to her friends. “Didn’t bother listening to the 40 messages.”

  Face set in grim lines, Ben plated the eggs and hash browns. “I’ll make it up to you for whatever business you’ve lost.”

  Amy cocked her head. “That would be zero, but thanks for the offer.” She cut him off when he started to protest. “Ben, it’s the middle of December. Just how many calls do you think I get? This is the slow season.”

  He sat down across from her, and she laid her hand on his. “Ben.” She waited until he met her eyes. “This is not your fault. It’s the price you pay for being you. I wouldn’t trade this time we’ve had for anything. Anything in the world.”

  Those killer blue eyes warmed, and he brought their joined hands up to his cheek. “Amy…”

  The front door opened, and Amy tensed,
but Pete Erickson’s voice boomed down the hallway.

  “It’s just us, Amy.”

  “In the kitchen,” she called.

  Pete and Barb Erickson came in, followed by Fred and Shelly Neal. Barb huffed out a breath, planted her hands on her hips.

  “We saw that mob of paparazzi down by the docks. The nerve!”

  “They trampled your sweet flowers, Amy. You poor thing.” Shelly laid a consoling hand on her shoulder, rubbed.

  Fred, always a man of few words, simply nodded at Ben and added, “Bastards.”

  “No privacy anymore,” agreed Pete. “None at all. Rest assured none of us said a word.”

  “Oh!” Barb turned her distressed blue eyes on Amy. “I hope you don’t think that. We would never!”

  “Never!” Shelly shook her head.

  Amy took in the foursome, all riled up and indignant on Ben’s behalf as if they were his old friends, and couldn’t help but smile. She glanced over and saw Ben smiling too.

  “Of course it wasn’t you,” he soothed. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. But, I appreciate your support.”

  Amy’s phone let out twin beeps, and she glanced down to see texts from Nell and Hannah, both assuring her they were on their way over.

  “What can we do to help?” Pete asked, squaring his shoulders.

  “Keep on enjoying your vacation,” Amy said, steering them out of the kitchen. “The police took care of it, and there shouldn’t be any more disruption. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “Girl, please.” Barb wagged her finger. “We weren’t even here! I don’t want to hear another word about that. We’re having a wonderful time.”

  “Let the girl eat,” Fred stepped in unexpectedly, shooting Amy a wink. “We can help by getting out of her way.”

  Amy shot him a grateful look as he shepherded the group out the back doors and down to the bay. She was able to shovel in most of her breakfast before Nell and Hannah arrived.

  “Here.” Hannah reached into her bag and pulled out a container of what looked like green sludge. “If you’re as hungover as I was this morning, you need this. Then we’ll tackle that mess outside.”