by Lucy Kevin
No, it was the noise and chaos inside her head—and her heart—in the wake of Michael’s declaration that had her feeling so off-kilter.
Day two after the wedding, however, was different. The silence was so absolute, in fact, that it had woken Emily up even though she’d been planning to stay in bed on the first official day of spring break. Then again, since she’d never been able to sleep in before, she supposed today wasn’t likely to be any different.
A few minutes later she was standing in the kitchen in her robe and old, but extremely comfortable, slippers, sipping coffee. And all she could think was that the quietness of the old house was almost deafening.
There was no one here, for once, which almost never happened. Or certainly not for more than an hour or two, anyway. Yes, there might be times when Grams and Paige were both at the dance studio, but nine times out of ten, one of her sisters or a friend would choose that moment to drop by. And that was if Emily was even at home. Sometimes, the line of students wanting to talk with her after hours seemed infinite.
Today, though, there was just silence. Morgan and Brian had left last night on their honeymoon to Rio de Janeiro. Their father was halfway to Italy for the school trip. Rachel, Nicholas, and Charlotte were off filming their adventure TV show in Las Vegas, Nevada. Grams, Hanna, and Joel had taken a ferry to Seattle for another round of press interviews about their documentary.
“Even Paige has gone,” Emily said to the empty house. “How did that happen?”
But Emily knew perfectly well how it had happened. Paige had fallen deliriously in love with a Hollywood star who loved her back just as much. They had left the island last night to get back to Los Angeles to attend a glitzy Hollywood event that Emily had once assumed Paige would always hate. But things like that didn’t bother her anymore, as long as Christian was by her side.
Emily didn’t begrudge Paige a moment of that happiness. She was glad her sister had found someone she loved that much and who obviously cared just as much about her. It was just…
Well, she thought with a sigh, it was just that she was so used to Paige always being around that she’d half-expected it would always be that way. The two of them rattling around the old Walker house under Grams’ watchful gaze. Paige coming in late from the dance studio, or trying to talk them into watching one of her favorite dance musicals.
Just like she did every morning, Emily started pulling out ingredients. Pancakes sounded good today. There was nothing like a nice, big pancake breakfast to—
Emily stopped herself short, her hand still gripping the bag of flour. She’d set out enough flour, milk, butter, and eggs to produce pancakes for at least four people. More, actually, because she was used to people dropping in for breakfast without warning, and Paige always needed plenty of fuel for her dancing. But all the ingredients served to do today was remind her of just how empty the house was.
The sound of the kitchen door opening was so loud that Emily practically jumped out of her skin. Who could it be? Who was actually left on the island?
But she knew, didn’t she? Knew that it had to be the one person she’d been waiting for all along.
Michael.
He looked good, just like he always did, even when he was simply wearing a casual shirt and jeans with his work boots. She, on the other hand, knew without a doubt that her robe and old slippers weren’t cutting it. Worse, though, was the fact that she couldn’t help wishing she’d actually brushed her hair and put on something nicer before coming downstairs, if only so that Michael would still think she was pretty.
Gorgeous was what he’d said, and thrill bumps ran over her skin every time she thought about the intense way he’d looked at her while saying it. As if he wanted to run kisses over every inch of her skin...
“Hi.”
He’d been with her in the kitchen a thousand times or more. And yet, for the first time, she felt a little shy. And she couldn’t figure out how to calm her racing heart, either.
“Hi.”
His smile was warm. And strangely normal given what had gone down between them at the wedding.
This was the first time she’d seen him since Saturday, and a part of her had expected him to immediately make good on his vow to prove his love—and hers. Especially given the determination she’d seen in his eyes right before he’d lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss behind the rose arbor.
But he didn’t have any flowers, and he clearly wasn’t trying to sweep her off her feet. On the contrary, he was simply standing there, saying, “Do you want to go get breakfast?”
“Breakfast?” Her brain couldn’t quite catch up, not when she was busy getting lost in his eyes. Eyes that she’d never let herself get lost in before.
But in the after...
He gestured to the big empty table. “I figured you wouldn’t want to bother cooking without everyone else here.”
Emily didn’t understand. Not just her own wildly careening feelings, but also what Michael was doing now…being so reasonable? Being so normal? What kind of guy declared his love for a woman one day and then carried on like nothing had happened the next?
Okay, so he was asking her out for breakfast versus eating here the way they normally did, but they’d had breakfast together in the Walker house so often that Emily often teased him that his own kitchen appliances must still be wrapped in plastic.
Maybe he’d rethought his declaration? Maybe he’d come over this morning not to prove to her that he loved her and she loved him, but to show her that she was right about the two of them just being good friends. Friends who went out to breakfast. Friends who didn’t make each other’s heart race. Friends who weren’t dying to kiss each oth—
She barely stopped herself in time, barely managed to remember that this was Michael. They’d been friends forever. And she couldn’t let anything change that. No matter how much a part of her might be dying to do just that.
“Emily?”
His voice snapped her out of her musings, and she made herself smile. Another one of those smiles that used to come so easily but were now among the hardest things for her to pull off.
“Breakfast sounds good. Just give me a minute to throw some clothes on,” she said, pleased that her voice sounded mostly normal.
“You mean the rest of Walker Island isn’t getting to see the fuzzy slippers?”
“Walker Island isn’t ready for the fuzzy slippers.”
Phew, there they were, back to their old banter, as if nothing had happened. Emily went upstairs, dressing in a blue cashmere hoodie that matched her eyes, new jeans that Morgan had said looked amazing on her, and her boots.
She breathed a sigh of relief—that had been a narrow escape.
And yet…
She couldn’t help but feel a small twist of disappointment that settled inside her as she checked herself in the mirror. The feeling that after everything that had been said yesterday, Michael shouldn’t have just shown up like nothing had happened.
But what did she want? What did she expect? For Michael to show up with a seven-piece band? To send a skywriting airplane out into the sky to make a heart of smoke with her name in the middle of it?
Stop. She needed to stop freaking out and just go to breakfast and pretend nothing had happened and forget all about hearing Michael say I love you. Just like he clearly had. Because whatever had him in its clutches on Saturday—whether it was wedding romance or too much champagne—the fever had clearly passed.
They headed out of the house, walking toward one of the cafés along the docks, and were barely on their way when Emily got her first compliment on the wedding.
“It was just lovely,” one of her neighbors said. “A really beautiful occasion.”
That was all it took for the floodgates to open, as it seemed that every local they passed wanted to talk about it.
“You must be so proud,” a painter said to Emily as she and Michael made their way past his studio near the docks. “Your daught—I mean, your sister looke
d lovely in her wedding dress.”
“Morgan always looks lovely,” Emily replied, ignoring the daughter slip as best she could.
“It’s always so hard when they grow up, isn’t it?” said one of the painter’s friends.
Did none of these people know that she was one of the Walker sisters? Surely she didn’t look old enough to be their mother. Then again, she had helped raise her younger sisters, so maybe it was no surprise that people thought of her that way. And she did feel incredibly proud of Morgan, the same way she felt proud of all the others.
“Your family is on a roll,” the woman continued. “Will there be any more Walker weddings this year?”
“You’ll have to check with my sisters on that.”
The painter nodded to Michael. “You’d better snap this one up quickly now that she’s the only available Walker sister left.”
Wow. What was it with everyone? First they thought she was her sisters’ mother and now they wanted to marry her off.
Thankfully, Michael simply said, “Have a nice day,” then hustled them toward the docks. By the time they got to the café, she was dying for the kind of fried, fatty breakfast she usually tried to avoid.
“Do you have any plans for the week?” Michael asked after they finished recounting the wedding with all of the locals in the café and their meals arrived.
“I told Morgan that I’d help with the tours at her garden while she’s gone.” The tourists loved seeing where and how all the ingredients for Morgan’s makeup line got developed.
“I promised Morgan that I’d help out, too.”
“You did?” Why hadn’t Morgan mentioned this to her?
Her family had never tried to matchmake before, but Emily suddenly wondered—had Walker wedding fever changed everything?
“I promised Brian I would help keep the plants thriving while they’re away on their honeymoon.” Michael smiled as he explained, “He was worried Morgan would spend all her time in Rio worrying about her herbs otherwise.”
Emily laughed at that. Partly because she was sure Brian was going to give Morgan plenty of other things to think about on their honeymoon, but mostly because she could easily imagine her sister demanding regular updates on the state of her herbs.
“It looks like we’re going to be seeing a lot of one another over spring break, won’t we?”
“Looks like it,” Emily said.
She studied his face for a long moment, trying to see if there was a hidden message, or any kind of clue that he was planning something. Was this the moment in which he’d surprise her again with a big romantic gesture to “prove his love”?
But he was tucking into his pancakes as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Certainly not looking love-struck or angst-filled about whether or not she was about to accept his confession of love.
Which was good. Great, actually. Because everything was back to normal. Just her and her friend having breakfast together, with no romantic entanglements on the horizon.
With another sigh, Emily tucked into her own pancakes, working all the while to stuff back down the longing that had so foolishly bubbled up at the wedding.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next day there were more people than Emily expected for the tour of Morgan’s extensive herb and flower gardens. Some of the visitors were there for the history, some for the opportunity to tour a space that managed to be beautifully wild in spite of its careful cultivation, and a few were there simply because it was where TV star Morgan Walker had just gotten married.
Emily did her best to cater to all of them. “When our great-grandfather started growing berries, this is where he first started. He lived here, too, right next to the site of those first fields. We’ll go see the place in a few minutes.”
“He didn’t live up at the Walker house in town?” one of the tourists asked.
Emily shook her head. “That came a little later, once his business took off and the town started to grow and more berry pickers and ferry workers settled on the island.”
“Will we get a chance to see that house?”
“I’m sorry, it’s a private home now.” But even as she said it, she couldn’t help but think that it was going to be a different kind of home now with just her and Grams living there.
“If you'll follow me to the far end of the field,” Emily said, “we can talk about some of the varieties of berries grown on the island and the role my grandfather played in hybridizing some of them.”
She caught sight of Michael as she led the group to the far end of the north field. He was trimming back plants as he worked to keep the berry brambles in check. He waved when he saw Emily, and she waved back. She noticed a couple of the female members of the group waved to him, as well. Quite hopefully, it seemed, given that they’d probably also noticed how good he looked in his plaid shirt, jeans, and work boots.
“Who’s that?” one of them asked.
“That’s Michael.” Emily smiled as she said his name. “He often helps our family out with things.”
“So he’s your handyman?”
“No. He’s…”
What was Michael, exactly? A close friend to her family? Their surrogate brother? Grams’ foster grandson? The Walkers’ regular gatecrasher at mealtimes? The man who kept their house from falling down around them?
Or was he more than that?
So much more...
“We shouldn’t distract him,” Emily said, pressing on. “He’s got a lot to get through here, and so do we.”
That was when she spotted the dog. It wasn’t a big dog, maybe the size of a small Spaniel, although its breed seemed a lot less clear. It was one of those dogs that seemed to have a bit of everything crammed into its small frame. It had shaggy hair that had probably been white once, but was currently various shades of beige and brown. The poor thing was scruffy and tangled from being outside.
The dog was standing in the middle of a row of roses, looking at Emily with obvious interest, as though wondering what she was going to do next. When she took a step toward it, it disappeared back into the bushes, only to reappear farther along, still looking at her.
The dog was clearly a stray. Just one look was enough to tell Emily that it had been out in the open awhile, without anyone to take care of it. Emily loved dogs, but she had never gotten to spend much time around them given Paige’s allergies.
She wanted to go over to make sure it was all right, but she couldn’t leave the visitors to Morgan’s farm hanging. Fortunately, Emily could see Michael was now watching the dog, too, and had moved to work fairly close to it.
“So over here, we have…”
The script she’d come up with for the tour came out automatically, which was just as well as she was busy trying to keep an eye on the dog. Emily watched as it made its way around the garden, sniffing at the growing herbs and flowers, occasionally glancing back in her direction as if to say, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to wait for you.
“And that concludes our tour for today,” Emily said at last, sighing inwardly with relief as the tourists made their way back to their cars.
Morgan’s idea of opening up the old family homestead as an attraction might have been a good one from the point of view of preserving their family’s history on the island, but today it had meant not being able to do the one thing Emily had wanted to do for the better part of an hour.
“Hello, boy. You must be lost.” Emily made her way toward the dog, holding out her hand. This time, it didn’t dart away, but moved forward cautiously instead.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to come over here once the tour was finished,” Michael said, stepping beside her. The dog looked at him, but kept closer to Emily.
“You could have gone over to him,” she pointed out.
“No,” he said with a shake of his head, “I could tell he liked you more than me. Are you thinking about adopting him?”
“Adopting him?” Emily honestly hadn’t gone there. Even as a little
girl she’d known they couldn’t have a dog without making Paige’s eyes and nose run. “No, I can’t. Paige is allergic to dogs, remember?”
Michael reached out, putting a hand on her arm. “Paige doesn’t live there anymore. And she can put up with a dog when she and Christian come back to the island to visit and drop by the house. Besides, everyone knows how much you’ve always wanted a dog.”
“Everyone?”
“Well,” he said, his dark eyes holding hers, “I’ve always known. Why don’t you just take him in? He’s obviously in need of a good home, and I couldn’t think of a better one than with you. I’m sure Ava will be fine with it. After everything else that has been in that house, do you think one little dog is going to make a difference?”
He had a point there. Her grandmother had put up with children, parties, and all kinds of chaos over the years. One small dog probably wasn’t going to make any difference to her.
Even so, Emily knew that things had to be done properly. “I can’t just take the dog and make him mine, Michael. He might have an owner somewhere looking for him. There might be people trying to find him.”
The dog whined, coming close enough now to brush up against her legs. Michael looked from him to Emily. “He doesn’t look much like he has just run off from someone, does he? He has obviously been out here awhile.”
Emily took another long look at the dog. He truly did look scrawny and ill-fed, as if he’d been living out in the open for a while. Fortunately, though, he was friendly enough to let Emily stroke his back.
“Come on, Emily,” Michael coaxed her. “You know you want to take him home.”
He was right, she did. Very much. But she couldn’t let herself get attached to the hope that this dog might become hers until she made sure it was actually possible. “We need to take him to the vet to check out his health and to see if he has a chip. If he does, the vet will probably be able to locate his owner.”
Each time she said the word vet, the dog growled softly.