Straight on Toward Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  Apparently done with the lecture, Noah flicked his brush across her nose and then went back to staining the mantle. Emma stared at him for a moment, wondering what had just happened.

  Chapter 20

  Having one’s figure measured and recorded was never fun. When one was fifty-something and certain parts of that figure had expanded or shifted downward, the experience was a double shot of humiliation.

  Mary Bertram watched as Grace-Anne Carter wrapped a tape measure around her waist and peered at the number through thick spectacles. “Waist—”

  “Do we have to announce it out loud?” Mary asked in alarm.

  Grace-Anne looked up, a conspiratorial smile curving the older woman’s lips. “No.”

  She wrote down a number and then continued without another word. Hips – Mary didn’t even want to look at that number – inseam, arms, shoulders, and bosom. Oh, her bosom had fallen. Thank goodness for support bras.

  “Those used to be quite a bit higher,” Mary said, with a sigh as Grace recorded the number.

  Grace chuckled. “You don’t even want to know where mine are at this point.”

  A reluctant grin flared. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

  She patted Mary’s arm. “Nothing wrong with wanting to turn a few heads, dear. And trust me, you still do.”

  “Now you’re being silly,” Mary said. “Who would look at me when I’m surrounded by beautiful, younger women like Annaliese Matheson? Not to mention my Emma and your niece?”

  “Would you want to be their age again?” Grace asked.

  Mary thought back to when she was thirty. She’d still been married to Thomas. Still the happy homemaker, baking cookies and singing in the choir on Sundays. The happiest time of her life.

  Supposedly.

  “I don’t think I could go back,” Mary said.

  “Neither would I,” Grace said. “I like where I am. I’ve earned every one of my years.” She started to rise to her feet and couldn’t hide a wince.

  Mary reached out to help. “You all right, Grace?”

  “Just the arthritis,” she said, with a shake of her head. “Flares up sometimes.”

  Another reminder that Mary had only one way to go. “Is that what I have to look forward to? More aches and pain?”

  Compassion filled the older woman’s eyes. “Ah Mary, I know you’ve been disappointed and hurt. We’ve all faced those times, but I’ve found that there are always wonderful gifts in our lives. My first love Derek died so young, and I thought I would die with him, but then I met my husband. He loved me, and we were happy, but we were never able to have children. I lost three babies before we stopped trying. Then my husband was taken from me, too. He was only fifty-four.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Mary said.

  Grace had been only a few years older than Mary when she’d become a widow. But at least her husband hadn’t chosen to leave. He hadn’t fallen in love with another woman, half her age.

  Grace’s smile didn’t dim. “I missed him, of course, but I found a new sort of happiness. I moved in with my sister, and she became my best friend. I was also there to help take care of Layla, so I suddenly had a daughter, in a way. It may not have been the plan I’d had in mind for myself, but it’s the one that was planned for me, and I love it.”

  “I don’t know how to get to that place.”

  “Of course you do,” Grace said with a smile. “Have you forgotten the words to all those anthems you used to sing in choir? You have to remember that we’re only here for a moment. Someday…” She paused and chuckled. “Probably not too long from now, I’ll be with my husband again. I’ll have an eternity with him, and with my Lord. You’ll have that blessing, too. In the meantime, you have many more gifts to experience here. Look at you, on stage again and singing with such joy.”

  “I do love it. I’d forgotten.”

  Grace patted Mary’s cheek. “You see? So much more for you to experience.” She pointed past Mary’s shoulder. “Like that handsome man over there. His head has been turned.”

  Grace spun around to see Brent Atwood lounging in the doorway of the dressing room.

  He straightened and walked over. “I’m next, I think.”

  Grace picked up a notepad and looked at it. “Yes, you are. I was just finishing up with Mary.”

  Grace measured Mary’s head.

  “You’ll look wonderful in a wide-brimmed hat,” Brent said.

  Mary made a rude noise and rolled her eyes.

  Brent put a hand to his heart. “She doesn’t believe me.” He looked to Grace for assistance.

  Like he needed any help being charming. The problem was, Mary could never be sure if he was sincere or putting on an act. Although Mary couldn’t begin to imagine why he bothered. There were a dozen beautiful women in the cast, most younger and prettier than her. She’d seen the way they looked at him. He could have his pick of any of them, and Mary was under no delusion that he would ever pick a middle-aged divorcée and former music teacher.

  “I believe you’re a world-class flatterer who’s used to women falling at your feet,” Mary said, ruthlessly suppressing the fizzy sensation he stirred up.

  “Not true.”

  “Oh, please. Look at you.”

  He grinned at Grace and waggled his eyebrows. “She’s attracted to me, at least. That’s a start.”

  Heat fanned Mary’s cheeks. “Stop. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it’s not funny.”

  His smile disappeared, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “Actually, I’m not playing games. I hope you can at least let me prove it.”

  She stared back at him, unable to look away. “How would you do that?”

  “By taking you to dinner,” he said

  She about fell over from shock. Surely she hadn’t heard right. “You’re asking me out?”

  He paused as if in thought and then nodded. “Yes, that is what I said. I’d like to take you out.”

  “Why?”

  He laughed, making his eyes crinkle in a way that made her almost giddy. “Why? What kind of question is that?”

  “It’s the kind of question a woman my age asks when a man your age asks her out,” Mary said in exasperation. “Why would you date me when you could have any woman you want? A younger, more beautiful woman?”

  He gazed at her with tenderness and something else that terrified her. Something close to passion. “I don’t want all those other women, Mary Bertram. I want you. You fascinate me, and I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”

  Mary’s heart stuttered and then started racing. She hadn’t been the object of anyone’s fascination in a long time, and Brent seemed absolutely sincere. He wasn’t that good of an actor. So why was she so scared?

  Oh, right, the little matter of him being a decade younger and more handsome than any man had a right to be.

  She glanced over at Grace, who smiled and waved her hands as if to say, ‘go for it’.

  Mary looked at Brent again. “All right.”

  “I thought we were going out to dinner,” Mary said as she stepped into the small bungalow Brent was renting while he was in Shellwater Key.

  “I thought you might be more comfortable on our own.”

  She turned to stare at him. “Why would being completely alone with you make me more comfortable?”

  More eye crinkling, as if she amused him. “You seemed concerned about our age difference, and I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed,” he said, ushering her further into his realm. “No prying eyes around here. No nosy neighbors trying to see what we’re doing.”

  Instead of comforting her, his words set off a new wave of panic. “What are we going to be doing?” Had he planned a full-scale seduction? Was he that hard up that he had to ensnare lonely divorcees?

  The door swung shut with a soft click, and then he held both hands in the air, ‘I surrender’ style. “Dinner and hopefully getting to know each other better. I have no devious plans to seduce you…unless you’re open
to that, of course.”

  He twirled an imaginary mustache with the last part, making Mary laugh. Knowing she was being ridiculous, she forced herself to take a deep breath and relax.

  Brent dropped the melodramatic villain routine. “I may be younger, but I’m old enough to control myself around a woman, Mary. Besides, I respect you too much to push you into anything.”

  That didn’t sound much better than thinking he wanted to seduce her. “You respect your maiden aunt or your mother.”

  His grin widened. “You are definitely not my mother.”

  “Just how old is your mother?”

  “Seventy-one. I’m forty-four, by the way, so this age gap you’re worried about isn’t quite the Grand Canyon you imagine.”

  “Really? How old do you think I am?”

  He coughed several times and backed up a few steps. “Oh no. I’m not stepping into that trap.”

  “It’s not a trap.”

  “My mother taught me a few rules. Say please and thank you, always open a door and hold out a chair for a lady…and never ask a woman’s age.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  He shook his head and stepped closer again. “Mary, I’m interested in your life, not the number of years you’ve lived it. I want to know what kind of woman could step in and help raise her ex-husband’s kids. I want to know why you stopped singing, and why you stopped believing in yourself.”

  Tears stung her eyes at his words. How long had it been since anyone cared what she thought or felt? “Why?” she asked once more.

  He lowered his head till his mouth was next to her ear. “I don’t know. I’ve never wondered these things about anyone before. So, will you let me find out?”

  She couldn’t speak, so she nodded instead.

  He took her hand and led her through the house. Mary couldn’t hold back a gasp as they reached the living room. The open floor plan allowed her to see through the French doors to the patio, and beyond that were the beach and a perfect, unobstructed view of the Gulf of Mexico.

  “That’s why I chose this house,” Brent said, gesturing to the water.

  Brent led her out the doors to the patio. An overhang extended about six feet from the house, and there were several lounge chairs with soft cushions set out, as well as a large, round table. An outdoor bar with a gas grill was to the right. Beyond the overhang was a small, kidney-shaped pool with an attached whirlpool. Off to the left there was a brick path leading to the beach.

  “It’s beautiful,” Mary said, staring out at the waves as they crashed gently, relentlessly against the shore. “Almost like a slice of heaven.”

  “My sanctuary.”

  She turned to him. “Did you need one?”

  He opened his mouth, but then shook his head. “Why don’t we save the heavy subjects for after dinner?”

  “Oh…” His expression had gone remote, and she couldn’t help wondering again what had happened to him. Annaliese Matheson had mentioned that Brent was once a success on Broadway. He’d even been in a few television series, although none had lasted more than a few episodes. Brent had confirmed he hadn’t performed in a couple of years. So why had he left his career behind? “That bad?” she guessed.

  He paused, and the anguish filling his eyes almost broke her heart. “I may not have lived as many years as you, but I’m willing to bet I’ve packed a lot more bad choices into them than you ever thought of doing.”

  She stepped closer, reaching for him. “Brent…what…”

  He jerked his hand back. “Eat…then talk.”

  He was gone before she could ask anything more. Heading back to the house just when things were getting interesting. Mary felt the rebuff like a blow and wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming. Maybe there was a good reason Brent Atwood was single.

  Brent served dinner, which had been delivered by a local restaurant since, in his own words, letting him anywhere near a kitchen was never a good idea. No matter where the food had come from, it was delicious. He’d ordered savory chicken marsala with risotto and steamed vegetables, and dessert was a delectable tiramisu drizzled with melted chocolate.

  When they’d eaten every bite and groaned about their filled stomachs, Mary insisted on helping him clean up.

  “But you’re a guest,” he protested.

  “You cooked,” Mary said. “Well, served technically, but still you put the food on the plates and carried them out from the kitchen. Besides, I can’t very well stand around while you clean up.”

  The one thing the house lacked was a dishwasher. So, Mary became one while he dried. Brent waited till she had her hands covered in suds before launching his first volley.

  “So tell me why a woman with a voice like yours stopped performing?” he asked.

  She flicked a glance at him, not surprised he’d chosen to delve into her past rather than his. “It’s not such a big mystery,” she said dryly. “It’s not even that interesting. I fell in love.”

  “That’s it?”

  She laughed at his surprised expression. “I told you it was boring. Oh, I had dreams of becoming a Broadway star. I went to college at Florida State, majored in musical theatre, and then I was headed for the Great White Way. I would have gone straight out of high school, but my father insisted I needed a college degree to fall back on. Even if it was just a theatre degree.” She rolled her eyes, and Brent chuckled knowingly.

  “I was three months away from graduation when I met Thomas.”

  “Your ex-husband?”

  She nodded, scrubbing a plate without really paying attention to what she was doing. “He wasn’t like anyone I’d known. He was serious, studious, contemplative, and handsome. He took my breath away, but mostly he made me feel safe.”

  Brent nodded. “That’s important sometimes. Why did you need to feel safe?”

  He asked good questions. Questions that forced Mary to look closer at her own choices. Why had she been drawn to Thomas? They’d had very little in common certainly. He’d never understood what performing had meant to her. Never asked about her hopes and dreams. Thomas had always assumed that his dreams were also hers. Still, something about his steadiness and quiet resolve had answered another need within her.

  “My mother died of cancer when I was eight,” Mary said, the ache of loss returning once more. “After she was gone, my dad tried, but he just didn’t know what to do with a little girl. Thomas filled something that had been missing inside me for so long I didn’t even know the need was there.”

  Thomas had given her a foundation, which at the time may have been more important than a Broadway career.

  “Anyway, he was graduating from law school and already had a job lined up in Tampa. So that was it. Instead of Broadway, I went south and became a housewife.”

  Brent stopped drying the dishes and turned to her, his eyes hardening a little. “He could have followed you. I hear they have law firms in New York. Big, important ones.”

  He sounded so outraged on her behalf that Mary allowed a smile. “Thomas hated big cities. After a while, even Tampa was too much, especially after we had Emma. He’d grown up in a small town and wanted her to have that experience. So, we moved to Shellwater Key when Emma was still a baby.”

  “Did he ever ask what you wanted? Did he know how hard it was for you to give up your dreams?”

  “No, he never did,” she said, as the bubbles in the sink blurred through her tears. “I don’t think it ever occurred to him that I had given up anything. I had a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter. What else could I possibly want? I told myself they were all I needed.”

  “But you must have needed more,” Brent said. “Something for you?”

  She scrubbed harder at the plate. “If I did want more, I must have buried it so deep I didn’t realize it. Sometimes I think I threw myself into a new role…Perfect Wife & Mother played by Mary Bertram. I was the PTA Mom, the Bake Sale Mom, the Sewing Halloween Costumes Mom, Science Project Mom, the Choir On Sundays Mom. It was a
big role to fill.”

  Brent finally took the plate from her hands. “You’ll put a hole in that.” He dried the dish and then pulled her away from the sink. “In the end, all those roles weren’t enough, were they?” he asked, though of course he already knew the answer. “He still left you for another woman.”

  Wow, she thought she’d gotten past the jabbing pain of losing her husband. The breath she drew in lodged somewhere in her throat. “No. It wasn’t enough. Or maybe it was. I think I filled my role so well that Thomas didn’t feel I needed him anymore. At least that was one of the reasons he gave when he asked for a divorce.”

  “That’s what he said?”

  She nodded. “Pretty much. Mona needed him, though. He said I mostly looked right through him, but she acted like he hung the moon and stars.”

  Brent made a sound of disgust. “Some men are like that. They need to be needed, so they get to play hero.”

  “And I no longer needed a hero,” Mary said, with a new realization. “Or at least I didn’t act like I did. I suppose the same qualities that attracted me to Thomas appealed to Mona, too. Her father had just died, and Thomas was handling the legal matters for the estate. She was one of those late babies, and I think her parents doted on her completely. The loss of her father was particularly devastating, I think. So, she was a pretty, grieving young woman, and had those ‘oh-poor-me’ doe eyes staring at him with such devotion as he took care of everything. What man wouldn’t fall for that, right?” she asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

  Brent placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him. “He was a fool to want a little girl he could protect instead of a capable woman who was his equal.”

  She looked up at him. “No. I can’t put our divorce squarely on him. There are always two people in a marriage. Maybe he was right. I think a part of me did resent everything I’d given up, and so I shut him out. I didn’t need him, and I didn’t love him in the same way Mona did.”

  “I can’t believe that’s true,” Brent said.

  “No, I think it was,” she said. “I saw them out at dinner once, right before the divorce became final. I saw the way she looked at him, and I couldn’t remember ever looking at Thomas like that.”