Holiday In the Hamptons

by Sarah Morgan

  “I remember that, too, and it was one of the things that seemed so enviably normal to me. We never argued with each other at the table,” she said. “We never used to talk at all.”

  It was the first time he could remember her ever offering a glimpse into her family life.

  “Talking was considered rude?”

  “No.” She paused, her fork in her hand. “Talking was considered a risk. Whatever you said, there was a chance it would set my dad off. None of us wanted to do that, so we sat in silence. Apart from my mom. She kept up a stream of false happy chatter that drove Dad insane. I mean I could literally see him boiling. His face would go from pale to puce in less time than it took her to serve a slice of pie. I wanted to tell her to stop talking, to leave him to simmer in his bad mood, but I was almost always in the firing line so there was no way I was putting myself there on purpose. But I could never work out why she tried so hard. I mean, why didn’t she just stay silent like the rest of us?”

  “Maybe she wanted to keep trying.”

  “That’s the conclusion I reached. She loved him. And no matter how much he made it clear he didn’t feel the same way about her, she just wasn’t willing to give up on that. No matter what he did, she stuck with him. Soothed. Placated. I guess some people would think that was good. Not me. Watching it drove me insane. I couldn’t work out where her pride was. He clearly didn’t love her, so why didn’t she just accept that instead of working so hard to please him?”

  It was more than she’d ever told him before, and he wondered if it was because she was talking about her mother’s feelings rather than her own. Her mother’s marriage, rather than their short-lived car crash of a relationship.

  “She never thought of leaving him?”

  “In fact she did.” She hesitated, as if making up her mind whether to elaborate or not. “Daniel told me Dad threatened to take us. Which surprised me, frankly, because the way he acted made it pretty clear he didn’t want us around.

  “Our mealtimes were so tense it was easier to cut the atmosphere than the food.” She finished her drink. “We weren’t allowed to leave the table until everyone had finished eating. The three of us ate so fast we used to give ourselves indigestion. Didn’t make a difference, because if my father hadn’t finished none of us moved. Mom was so nervous she invariably dropped something. That would set him off. There—” She sent him a look. “You say I never talk about things, and now I bet you’re wishing you hadn’t said that.”

  That wasn’t what he was wishing.

  “You never talked about this before.”

  “I didn’t want people to know. I hated the thought of people talking about us, especially here, where we created our own little world every summer.”

  “Would it have mattered?”

  “Once people know where your weakness is, they can hurt you, so yes, it mattered.”

  He wanted to tell her that not everyone was like her father. That there were still plenty of people out there who would have sympathized and supported. Maybe even restored a little of her faith in human nature.

  She leaned back. “You’re a good cook. Your mom would be proud.”

  “Your mom must be, too. How is she doing? They’re not still together?”

  “No. They got divorced the year Harriet and I left home. Daniel helped her. She moved back here for a while to live with Grams. For a while I was worried about her. She seemed listless. I guess she’d been with my dad for so long it was hard for her to contemplate a life without him. But then suddenly she seemed to blossom. It was like watching a completely different person. She was full of the things she was going to do and the places she was going to see. She volunteered in Africa for a while. Earlier in the year she went to South America with friends she met at a support group she attended. Now she’s in Antarctica. It’s as if she’s trying to make up for lost time. How about your mom?”

  “She’s doing a little better, considering, but she’s lost a lot of weight—” he paused “—and most of all she has lost her smile. She used to smile a lot, and now you can tell she only does it to make an effort, to stop us worrying. It’s a huge adjustment. And it was a shock. Unexpected. It’s going to take a while for her to be comfortable in a life that doesn’t have my dad in it. It’s hard on her.”

  “And hard on you, too.” She reached across and took his hand. The gesture was spontaneous, and he knew that if she’d thought it through she probably wouldn’t have done it because it revealed quite clearly that she still felt something for him. The warmth in her eyes thawed the places inside him that had felt frozen for months.

  “It’s been very hard.”

  “You’re the man of the house.”

  “In a way.” He curled his fingers over hers, not wanting to lose the contact. “And talking of the house, we’re selling it.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes darkened with sympathy. “That’s tough. I know how you love that place.”

  “Yes. But it’s what my mother wants. There are too many memories there.”

  “And you find those comforting, while she finds them distressing?”

  He wondered how she could see that so clearly when people who were closer to him, his sister, for example, failed to understand.

  “She’s trying to start creating a few positive memories that don’t have him in it. That’s the only way not to constantly view the world as if something is missing. It’s the reason the family aren’t joining me here this summer. They’ve rented cabins by a lake in Vermont.”

  “Something different.” She nodded. “Have you spoken to a Realtor about selling the house?”

  “Not yet. I was going to do that this week, but Chase thinks he may know a private buyer who is interested. Cash.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Only Chase would have a friendship circle that includes someone who could buy that house for cash.”

  “I get the sense he’s a business associate rather than a friend.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Seth. And I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch when it happened. If I’d known—”

  “What? You would have pretended to be Harriet and called me?”

  “Maybe I would have. I don’t know. I don’t know what I would have done, and whatever it was I probably would have messed that up, too. But for what it’s worth, I really am sorry. Your dad was a good man.” She pulled her hand away from his, and he resisted the temptation to snatch it back.

  “And I’m lucky to have had him. Given what you’ve been through with yours, I shouldn’t be complaining.”

  “Of course you should. You’ve lost something irreplaceable. Something truly special and valuable.”

  “Are you in touch with your father?”

  She dropped her gaze, her expression unreadable. “No.”

  “Then you’ve lost something, too.”

  “You can’t lose something you never had.” She stood up quickly. “I’ll clean up, and then I should go.”

  “Wait—” He reached out and caught her wrist before she could pick up a plate. “Leave that. It’s a beautiful evening. Let’s walk.”

  “Now? It’s dark.”

  “That never used to stop you. In fact it used to be our preferred time for going to the beach.”

  The look she gave him was loaded with memories. “That was then. This is now. We’re both a little old to be creeping around in the dark, climbing out of windows and meeting up in the sand dunes.”

  “I had in mind walking out of the door and heading for the beach. There’s a full moon and we can take a flashlight. And since when has the dark ever bothered you?”

  She laughed. “It doesn’t.”

  “So if it’s not the dark that bothers you, then what does?”

  “You. You bother me, Seth.”

  “I’d rather you were bothered than indifferent. It means you still feel something.”

  “Maybe it means you’re annoying. Were you always this stubborn?”

  “Always. I used to hide it better
.” He held out his hand. “So that you don’t trip in the dark.”

  “I’m not Matilda.” She hesitated and took it.

  They strolled on the sand, the dog at their heels.

  At the edge of the dunes she bent to slip off her shoes. It was something about her that hadn’t changed at all. She did it without thinking, but this time he stopped her.

  “Don’t. There might be glass or rubbish on the sand.”

  “Older and wiser.” But for once she left her shoes on and carried on walking. She stopped at the water’s edge and tipped her head back. “I’d forgotten how much I love the place at night. Look at the stars.”

  He looked at the twinkle of lights against velvet black. And then he looked at her.

  He was tempted to throw control into the ocean and kiss her, but that was what he’d done last time, and unraveling the consequences hadn’t been easy.

  This time he was determined to take a different path to the same destination.

  This time they were taking it slowly.

  “I’m going to ask you a question. And you’re going to answer me.”

  “Am I? What if I don’t like the question?”

  “You’re going to answer anyway.”

  She made a murmur of irritation. “You come across as all calm and civilized, Carlyle, but it’s all a ploy. Stealth interrogation.”

  “Some call it conversation.”

  “When you prefix it with a warning, it becomes interrogation. I thought we were done. I thought the hard bit was over.” She sighed. “Go on then, ask.”

  “What do you think would have happened if we hadn’t lost that baby?”

  She stood there, strands of her hair blowing in the wind. “I don’t know.”

  “I do. We’d still be together.”

  She stilled. “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. Because I wouldn’t have given up on us.”

  “So why did you?” She anchored the strands of hair with her fingers. “If you really cared that much, why didn’t you come after me?”

  “I called your number. Left about a thousand messages. You chose not to return a single one of them.” And that, for him, had been almost the worst part. Not just that she wouldn’t talk to him, but that she hadn’t thought, or cared, that he was hurting, too.

  “That’s not true.” She shook her head, puzzled. “I didn’t get any calls.”

  “Well, I know for sure I didn’t dial a wrong number.”

  She was silent for a moment, thinking. “For the first few weeks after I left the hospital, I wasn’t very well.”

  That thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Physically? There were complications?”

  “Yes. I had an infection. My temperature was sky-high. I was out of it for a while.”

  “You had to tell your family you’d lost the baby?”

  “I didn’t tell them. The doctor who treated me kept it confidential. But it was the lowest point of my life. I’d lost you. The baby. And on top of that Dad used the fact that we’d broken up to remind me that I was useless and no sane person would want me. He said you’d obviously finally come to your senses.”

  Seth felt the anger rip through him. “But when you recovered, didn’t you check your phone?”

  “Yes, but there were no messages.”

  Seth cursed under his breath. “He must have deleted them.” Why hadn’t that possibility occurred to him? The answer, quite simply, was that his own experience was so different he’d always been one step behind.

  “He never told me you called, and I took the fact that you didn’t as confirmation of everything I already believed. That the marriage was a mistake.”

  And behind the scenes she’d had her father endorsing that. There was a horrible logic to it all.

  “And I was hurt that you wouldn’t turn to me. That you were keeping me at a distance. Trust, closeness—those things are fundamental in a marriage. The fact that you didn’t turn to me told me you didn’t trust me. That you didn’t feel close enough to be able to share your low moments with me.” And he’d let his own stubborn pride and grief stop him thinking clearly. He’d allowed people to persuade him that the best thing was to move on. He’d allowed other people to influence his decisions.

  “Even if we had talked, the truth is I didn’t know how to open up. Even if I’d known, I probably wouldn’t have dared do it.”

  “If you didn’t trust me, then that was on me.”

  “No, it was on me.” She sounded tired. “I don’t know how to have the sort of relationship you just described. I don’t recognize it. You learned about trust and love by watching your parents. Want to know what I learned from watching mine? How to protect yourself. How to make sure I was never exposed. I learned that if I kept my feelings to myself, no one could use them against me. I learned that emotions make you vulnerable, and that expressing them makes you even more so. I didn’t learn how not to be hurt, but I learned how to hide the fact that I was hurt.” She paused. “You were right about that night at the beach, when we had sex. I was upset.”

  “Because your father had shown up unexpectedly.”

  “He said some pretty awful things, and I ran out of the house.”

  “You’re implying I was a bandage? That we never would have had sex if you hadn’t been upset?”

  “No, but you’re an honorable man, Seth. You always were. And then when I told you about the baby and you told me that getting married was the only solution, I took advantage of the fact that you were honorable. I should have said no.”

  “You assume I was being honorable. Maybe I was being selfish. Maybe,” he said slowly, “I didn’t want to let you go and the baby provided a convenient excuse.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, as if that possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “Whatever it was, it’s all history now.”

  Not to him. “Did you miss me? This last ten years, did you think about me?” He’d put her on the spot. Cornered her, and he saw the brief flash of panic in her eyes and heard the uneven snatch of her breath.

  “Ten years is a long time. I barely thought about you.”

  “You think you’re an expert at hiding your feelings, but you’re not as good as you think, Felicity Knight.” Or maybe he knew her better than either of them thought. He had a feeling she might find that knowledge scarier than his question.

  “I don’t see the point on dwelling on the past.”

  “Agreed. Which is why we’re going to focus on the present.”

  She relaxed a little. “Good plan.”

  Deciding he’d spent too much of his life giving her space, he pulled her against him and took her face in his hands so that he could look into her eyes.

  Her eyes, he’d discovered, were the only way he stood a chance of understanding what she was thinking, and right now they were wide and shocked.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m focusing on the present.” Step by step, he told himself. Slow and easy. “Come sailing with me tomorrow, Fliss. Just the two of us. The way we used to.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because—” she gave a helpless shrug “—first you say you want to focus on the present, and now you want to wind back the clock?”

  “No. I don’t want to re-create what we had back then. I want to discover what we have now.” He saw the anxiety in her eyes turn to panic.

  “We don’t have anything now. Whatever we had is in the past!”

  “Is it? Have you been serious about anyone since me?”

  “What?” Her lips parted. “Well, I—I don’t—”

  “I haven’t either. There’s been no one.”

  “Are you telling me you haven’t dated for ten years? Because I’m not going to believe you.”

  “I’ve dated.”

  “Me, too. I’ve been on plenty of dates since you and I broke up. I live in Manhattan! Part of the most exciting city in the world. New York has more hot guys than you can throw a stick
at.” The sass was back, and he held back the smile.

  Because it was getting harder and harder not to kiss her, he let his hands drop. He lowered them to her shoulders, but that didn’t help ease the ache, so he released her.

  “I think you might be getting the guys mixed up with the dogs. Are you telling me you’ve dated every man in New York?”

  “Not every guy. There might be a couple of guys in Brooklyn who haven’t had that good fortune.”

  “And yet here you are—single.”

  She scowled at him. “What are you suggesting? You think the fact I’m single has anything to do with you?”

  “Does it?” He had the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.

  Her mouth—that mouth that he couldn’t stop thinking about—opened and closed. “Definitely not. Marriage just isn’t on my bucket list, and you’re letting the whole ‘I’m a veterinarian’ thing go to your head.”

  “Who said anything about marriage? I’m single, too.”

  “Are you blaming me for that? Are you saying I damaged you for life?”

  “Not damaged, no. But when you’ve had something really good, it can be hard to settle for less.”

  The sound of her breathing mingled with the soft sound of the ocean.

  “What we had was pain.”

  “What we had was good. And we let circumstances, and other people, damage what we had. You talk about blame, but I blame myself for that.”

  “You’re starting to freak me out. Stop looking at me like that.” She stepped back, hands raised. “I’m bad news, Seth.” With that, she turned and strode back along the beach toward the house.

  I’m bad news.

  He wondered who had told her that. Her father or his sister? Had Vanessa in her tactless, interfering way somehow scraped against feelings that were already raw?

  He caught up with her by the car.

  “If you’re bad news, then you’re my type of bad news.” He braced his arm against the door so that she couldn’t escape until he moved. “I have the afternoon off tomorrow. I’ll pick you up. We’ll take a picnic.”