by Donna Fasano
Cathy flattened her lips for a moment. Not only had her correction in word pronunciation been completely lost on Mia, the child’s overly detailed description of what it meant to have allergies made Cathy want to howl with laughter.
“At dinner one night,” Mia explained, “we decided I couldn’t have a kitten. But then the next day Heather and Daddy changed their minds and we went to pick up Midnight at the animal place. I think it was called the Human Society.”
“The Humane Society,” Cathy corrected. After she wrangled her funny bone under control, she remarked, “Midnight is a nice name for a kitten.”
“Yeah. She’s black all over. She’s so soft. And pretty, too.” Mia shifted on the beach chair. “You should come see her. I’ll hold her while you pet her. She won’t scratch you. She’s really, really nice.”
“I’m sure she’s very nice.” Cathy’s voice went soft and hesitant as she pondered the child’s invitation.
Mia’s little chin tipped up. “Will you come see her?”
“Well, honey… you see…” Her voice trailed off.
“Are you lergic to cats?”
“No. Honey, that’s not it.”
A tiny wrinkle creased Mia’s forehead. “Cathy, are you and Heather lergic to each other?”
The unexpected question made Cathy’s mouth form a small “oh” and she blinked rapidly several times.
“Sara keeps telling me that you and Sara and Heather are friends,” Mia said. “Sara comes to visit us almost every day. She brings muffins and rolls and cakes and stuff for breakfast, and she always spends some time talking in the kitchen. But you never come. And when I asked Heather about it, her nose squinched up like she was about to sneeze.” The little girl pointed at Cathy’s face. “Just like yours just did when I asked you to come see Midnight.”
Cathy let her shoulders relax and she inhaled a slow, deep breath. My, oh, my, this child had beaucoup powers of perception. If she was this sharp at five years old, what would she be like as a teen? Daniel and Heather were in for some trouble.
“No, sweetheart, Heather and I aren’t allergic to each other.” Cathy smiled, deciding quickly to steer clear of any more mention of her and Heather’s problems. “But I do have an idea. Why don’t you bring your new kitten to the café tomorrow morning? I’ll cook you a big stack of blueberry pancakes, and while you eat them at my desk, I’ll visit with Midnight in my office.”
Mia’s whole body perked up. “Yeah, that sounds like fun. I guess you can’t have a kitten in the kitchen, huh.” Then her little mouth pursed. “I have to ask Daddy and Heather first.”
“Of course, you do.”
She pushed herself out of the chair and stepped out into the sunshine. “I’d better go. I need to check on Midnight.”
Cathy nodded. “Thanks for the visit. If you can’t come tomorrow, it’s okay.”
“I’m pretty sure Daddy will say yes.” Mia grinned, her voice lowering. “When I talk fast and say please lots of times, he usually says yes.”
“I’m sure he does,” Cathy murmured under her breath.
And with a wave, Mia kicked sand as she sprinted back toward the boardwalk and Heather, who continued to stand sentinel on the porch. During the half minute or so that it took Mia to make the short journey, Heather never acknowledged Cathy. Narrowing her eyes and screwing up her mouth, Cathy whipped out her phone and tapped a text message.
Cathy: You should forgive me.
Cathy: You know about global warming, right?
Cathy: The sun could scorch me to death.
She shot her gaze toward Heather, saw her friend pause and reach into her pocket for her cell phone. Mia was talking to Heather as she climbed the front steps of the B&B. Heather took the little girl’s hand and led her toward the front door. Once Mia disappeared inside, Heather paused at the threshold. Cathy felt a little giddy, knowing the texts she sent were being read. She watched closely for some reaction.
Heather held her phone in both hands. Cathy’s heart fluttered. Was Heather actually sending her a response?
Cathy’s phone trilled. Breathlessly, she looked at the screen.
Heather: You mean you might melt away?
Heather: Like the Wicked Witch of the West?
Heather: Sounds like a plan.
Cathy’s gaze flew toward the Lonely Loon, but the doorway was empty. Heather was nowhere in sight.
Her mouth flattened into a tight line as she eased herself back down into the beach chair. She didn’t know whether to frown or grin. Clearly, Heather was still furious. But she’d responded.
Could forgiveness be far behind? Maybe. Maybe not. There wasn’t a human being on earth as stubborn as Heather.
Low tide forced the waves to roll overtop each other on their race to the shoreline, and Cathy’s mind rumbled back to the past.
She, Sara, and Heather were in elementary school, in Mr. Feldman’s fifth grade class. Two boys used to get their jollies teasing and taunting others. Ronny was the name of one of them. Cathy couldn’t remember the name of the other, but he’d had red-hair and—Andrew! That had been his name.
Ronny and Andrew steered clear of Cathy because she could give as good as she got. But Sara and Heather seemed easier prey for the boys.
One day, the boys were mercilessly harassing Heather about her weight. They called her “chunky,” and “thunder thighs,” and “wobble chin,” and a host of other hurtful monikers. It went on all day. Before school. At lunch. At recess. During classes, even. Heather had been determined to ignore their teasing. Cathy had urged Heather to stand up for herself, but Heather had refused.
“If I ignore them,” Heather had said, “they’ll stop. They’ll go away and leave me alone.”
But they hadn’t stopped. And they hadn’t left Heather alone. The name-calling continued into the weekend when the girls had happened upon Ronny and Andrew on the boardwalk. Away from the safety of the school, the taunting took on a harsher tone. When Cathy saw tears glistening in Heather’s eyes, she knew something had to be done. She guided Heather and Sara into an arcade, and they had weaved around to the back corner near the air hockey tables, suspecting the boys would follow. And they had, like starving hawks stalking rabbits.
The music and dinging and buzzing of the electronic machines, the murmuring, laughing crowd, the clacking of the skee ball lanes were enough to cover Cathy’s irate shouting. The boys just laughed, and when she’d continued to berate them, their belligerence had turned to anger. When Ronny dipped his chin and came toward her, Cathy hadn’t thought; she’d merely reacted. She’d clenched her fist and swung as hard as she could. She struck him square in the nose, knocking him off his feet. Blood had spurted like a geyser. In an instant, his mouth and chin became a slick, sickening red. Blood stained his t-shirt, smeared her hand, dotted her pretty blue top and arms.
Horror and pain widened the boy’s gaze, and his hands flew to his face. Shock made Andrew go silent. Cathy glanced back at Heather, whose face had been frozen in abject horror.
Cathy remembered standing there for what felt like several drawn-out seconds, confused about what she should be feeling. Should she be unnerved by her actions? Afraid of the consequences? In the end, all she felt was mad. After he’d scrambled to his feet, she’d stepped up to him, her nose so close to his chin she could smell the metallic scent of his blood, and she’d growled, “You tell anyone about this, and I’ll make sure everybody at school knows a girl made you bleed.” She’d barked at Heather and Sara to follow her, and she hadn’t looked back as she’d stormed out of the arcade and into the bright sunshine.
There had been several times Cathy had utilized violence as a kid to solve her problems. She shifted on the beach chair uneasily, wondering if her adolescent tendency toward physical force had anything to do with her nightmare of a marriage.
No. She wasn’t going to that dark place. Not today.
Cathy took a slow, deep breath and gazed out at the blue green ocean. The water undulated, gliste
ning in the sunshine. The iridescent sparkle calmed her.
Heather had been the impetus of this particular reminiscence. Heather and her mule-like stubbornness. After the bloody incident in the arcade, Heather hadn’t spoken to Ronny or Andrew again. Ever. All through their school years, it had been as though the boys were dead to her. Heather’s bullheadedness could be as rigid as a steel I-beam.
The fact that Heather had responded to the text was a good sign. A very good sign.
“What are you grinning about?” Sara dipped her head as she stepped under the umbrella.
“Heather,” Cathy admitted breezily. She automatically stood up and helped Sara ease her pregnant body down into the beach chair.
Once settled, Sara murmured her thanks. “What are you saying? Heather’s talked to you? She’s forgiven you?”
“No. Not yet. But she did call me the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“Ah. Now that’s something to get excited about.” Sarcasm bit deeply into Sara’s words.
“Don’t you see?” Cathy’s grin widened. “I’m wearing her down.”
“Um-hm. I can see that.” Sara moistened her lips and added, “Like water on rock.”
A hot summer breeze stirred the salty air. Several gulls hovered on the wind, and then dive-bombed to the sand to squabble over a few potato chips that had been dropped by some children. One toddler pointed at the birds, calling to his mother to look, and as his head was turned, one wily seagull swooped in and snatched the chip right out of his fingers. The child started in fear, and for a moment it looked as though he might cry. But he laughed and raced to the blanket where his mother lay, sunning herself.
“So what’s going on?” Cathy asked Sara. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m just disgusted with myself. I can’t figure out if I’m annoyed with Landon, or if I just want to get this pregnancy over with.” She sighed. “I’m tired of looking like a whale. I’m hot and sweaty all the time. And it was stupid to plan a baby’s arrival right in the middle of tourist season.”
The sand felt warm against the back of Cathy’s heel as she dug a furrow. “You planned the baby’s arrival?”
Sara narrowed her eyes. “Shut up.”
Cathy laughed. “Okay, back up a second. Why are you upset with Landon? What could that man possibly have done to—”
“Look, just because he fixed the plumbing,” Sara said, “doesn’t make him some kind of hero. He can be annoying.”
Since Landon’s arrival last year, there had been far fewer drips and leaks and outright floods caused by the ancient plumbing system in the building that housed their businesses. In Cathy’s opinion, that made the man a superstar.
“You are really cranky,” Cathy said. “What is up with you?”
Sara heaved a sigh, swiping her palm across her big, baby-filled belly. “It’s that stupid wedding.”
“Stupid?” When her friend’s eyes welled with tears, Cathy sat up a little straighter. “Honey, what is it? Talk to me.”
“I don’t think Landon wants the wedding.”
Bending forward, Cathy reached out and slid her hand over Sara’s forearm. “Sara, Landon loves you. He’s ecstatic about the baby. Of course, he wants to get married.”
Sara sniffed and swiped at an errant tear. “No, that’s not what I mean. He wants to get married. But—” she paused long enough to swallow back her emotion “—he mentioned this morning that we should just go to the courthouse and get it over with. Those are his exact words, Cathy. Get it over with.”
Not being a huge champion of the institution of marriage, herself, Cathy didn’t view Landon’s suggestion as all that outlandish. But seeing how the idea distressed Sara, Cathy kept her thoughts to herself.
“It’s his sister,” Sara said. “I know it is.”
“He still hasn’t talked to her?”
Cathy knew Landon and his sister, who lived in Kansas with her husband and two children, had been on the outs since before Landon had arrived in Ocean City.
“They’ve exchanged a couple of phone calls.” Sara rummaged in her tote bag and then she put on a pair of sunglasses. “But their conversations have been too short for them to say anything meaningful, or to work out anything. And then he spends two or three days acting like he’s in a huff.” Sara flicked another tear from her cheek. “How hard can it be? She’s his sister, for cryin’ out loud. He ought to be able to tell her how he feels.”
All Cathy could think about was her trouble with Heather. Sure, they weren’t blood relatives, but they were closer than sisters. It would seem that talking out your differences should be easy.
But it wasn’t, now, was it?
“For about fifteen minutes today,” Sara said, “I considered taking him up on it. Just grabbing him by the shirt collar and getting in his truck and driving to the county courthouse. I thought, let’s just get it over with.” The breeze fluttered her bangs. “But then I thought about Mom. She’d be heartbroken, Cathy. She’s spent so much time and effort making plans for the ceremony.”
Cathy tilted her head to the side. Sara must feel hemmed in… caught between two people she loves.
“Mom hasn’t been feeling well,” Sara admitted. “Her pain is getting steadily worse. And focusing on the wedding plans has been a good diversion for her. She’s gone into meticulous detail.”
Geneva had been battling spinal stenosis since she took a fall. That must have been twenty five years ago. That’s a long time to be living with pain. Some days were so bad the poor woman couldn’t get out of bed.
“Sara, I want you to listen to me.” Cathy sat up straight. “You shouldn’t be feeling this kind of stress. You need to think about the baby. You need to relax. Take it easy. I mean it.”
The sigh Sara heaved seemed soul deep.
“I feel caught between doing what Landon wants to do,” she told Cathy, “and doing what Mom wants to do.”
Cathy’s tone softened as she asked, “What do you want to do?”
Emotion glistened in Sara’s suddenly moist gaze. “I don’t know. I’m just so tired.”
Going still, Cathy battled her knee-jerk reaction. She wanted to hug her friend tightly. She also wanted to call both Landon and Geneva and give them hell for what they were doing to Sara. But knowing her friend, Cathy figured Sara probably hadn’t even told Landon or Geneva about the pressure she was experiencing. And if Cathy were to reach out to Sara right now, they’d both end up in tears.
“Well, you don’t have to do anything until after the baby is born.” Cathy combed her hair out of her face with her fingers. “Hell, you don’t have to do anything, for that matter. Who says you have to get married, anyway?”
The sound of Sara’s chuckle lifted Cathy’s worry a bit.
“Figures you’d say that.”
Now Cathy laughed. “Does figure, doesn’t it? But it’s true.”
Sara changed the subject altogether. “Hey, what’s Brad up to now?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s meeting with Landon today,” Sara said. “I think he’s going to offer Landon some work.”
“Oh?” Cathy shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe he needs stages made for the lunch auction. It’s coming up soon.”
Sara shook her head, shoving her sunglass up onto her nose. “No, Landon finished that job last week. This is something else. Something personal. A new business, maybe? I went to help Mom get dressed this morning, so I wasn’t able to ask before Landon left the house.”
Again, Cathy shrugged. “You got me.”
The little boy with the potato chips squealed as he chased a seagull, and both women cast a quick glance his way.
“Brad lives on a lifeguard salary,” Cathy murmured. “The man barely has two nickels to rub together. I can’t see him starting a business.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Sara said. “And I’ll give you a call.”
“Nah.” Cathy waved her hand in the air. “Don’t bother. If Brad wants me to know what he’s
doing, he’ll tell me.”
But curiosity had her inside tingling. Maybe Brad hadn’t been avoiding her because he’d found a tempting tourist to spend time with this week. Maybe his absence was due to something else entirely.
Chapter Four
His fingertips blazed a slow, erotic trail over her shoulder and down her arm. He slid the palm of his other hand up the flat of her stomach. Cathy’s breath caught and her blood seemed to chug through her body.
The cologne he wore set off a chain of olfactory sensations that triggered an intense desire in her. A hint of leather mingled with the rich scent of cedar, and there was a distinctive top note of some exotic oriental flower. Bergamot, maybe? Whatever it was, the alluring smell had her pressing her nose to his chest.
She kissed his heated skin and then tipped up her chin and laved his dark nipple with a gentle lick of her tongue. Brad’s breathy groan made Cathy smile lazily. She loved that she could provoke such a sexy reaction from him.
He pushed her onto her back and rolled on top of her, lacing his fingers with hers, and sliding their hands up, up, up toward the bed’s headboard. He kissed her then, slowly, deeply, and her pulse thudded between her legs like a fiery drum beat. His lips roved over her jaw, her neck, her breasts, and she heard a tiny, desperate mewing sound and knew it came from her own throat. She needed him so badly she thought she would lose her mind from the wanting.
He nudged her legs further apart with his knees, and she gladly opened herself to him. As he slid into her, he covered her mouth with his. Every sense burst to life, and release came after just a few full, deep thrusts.
Cathy was still panting out contented sighs when he slid off her and rolled out of bed. She dragged her eyes open, shoving her sweat-damped hair from her face. The corded muscles of his back played beneath his golden skin. His luscious glutes tightened as he bent at the waist and shoved one foot into a heavy rubber boot.
Her gaze narrowed and confusion buzzed in her head like a swarm of paper wasps.
Why was he wearing fireman’s boots?
Brad snatched up a towel and tucked it around his waist.