Nancy
Maternal: feelings or actions typical of those
of a kind mother towards her child
Earlier that day Nancy had loaded the last of the boxes into the trunk of her car and driven them to the Goodwill store.
She’d found Susan round the back, sorting through another load of donations.
“Here’s a few more for you.” Nancy dumped the boxes by the door and resisted the temptation to kick them.
“Good gravy, Nancy.” Susan counted the boxes. “Are you clearing out your whole life?”
“Something like that.”
Susan opened the first box. “Oh, Nancy—these are Tom’s things.”
“They are. Twenty-seven boxes of junk.”
Susan checked the box underneath and pressed her hand to her chest. “You’re giving away his precious golf clubs. Is that a mistake?”
As if all Tom’s possessions could have fallen neatly into the boxes by accident.
“No mistake,” Nancy said. The mistake had been hanging on to them for this long. Or maybe the mistake had been not swinging one of his precious clubs into his head after he’d confessed to his first affair.
“Are you sure? I know how particular he was about his trophies. He had a real talent for the sport.”
Yes, he was good at getting his balls into a hole.
Nancy gave an unladylike snort, which she turned into a cough.
Susan looked at her nervously. “You told me once that he didn’t even allow you to dust them.”
“And that was a relief because I never was much of a housekeeper.”
“It must break your heart to give them away.”
“It doesn’t. I should have done it a long time ago.” Tom had been taking up space in her life for far too long. She almost shared that thought aloud, but then decided there were some things better left unsaid. Not because it was a secret, but because if she started talking about it everyone would start sympathizing. They’d expect her to talk and the last thing she wanted to do was talk about Tom. He’d had enough of her time and energy.
Are you watching this, Tom?
I’m living my life without you, and it feels good.
Susan pulled out a starched linen tablecloth. “Did you know this was here? Didn’t this belong to your grandmother?”
“Yes, but she’s been dead more than forty years so I can’t imagine she’ll have a use for it.”
“You don’t want it for sentimental reasons?”
“I have all the memories I need stored safely inside me, thank you.”
And not all of them were good.
Nancy had been grateful to her grandmother. After all, she’d raised her when she’d lost her parents. Maybe she’d even loved her in a way. But had she been a kind woman? Loving? No, certainly not.
Did a hard life have to make you a hard woman?
Nancy wasn’t sure, but she hoped not.
Susan folded the linen tablecloth carefully. “I hear you and Lauren have redecorated The Captain’s House.”
“That’s right. It’s stunning. My daughter is incredibly talented. She’s going to set up her own design business. We’re doing it together.” Pride filled her, pushing out all thoughts of Tom. “She has a brilliant future ahead of her.”
“Still, it must seem strange, letting someone else stay in your home. Must feel as if it doesn’t belong to you anymore.”
“It still belongs to me and I have the ridiculous bills to prove it.” Nancy was beginning to wish she’d chosen somewhere else to disgorge the trappings of her life. She hadn’t realized each box would require a running commentary.
Mack had told her there was a way to call yourself on your phone.
She wished she’d paid more attention.
She was fingering the cellphone in her pocket, trying to remember how to make it ring, when it rang.
Nancy was so shocked she almost dropped it. Had she done that?
Maybe she had more technical expertise than she thought.
She pulled the phone out of her pocket and saw Jenna’s name.
Thank God! Maybe her daughter was telepathic.
“Excuse me, Susan—” she tried to sound regretful “—it’s my daughter. I need to take this. It might be an emergency.”
The last thing she’d expected was that it was in fact an emergency, so when she heard Jenna’s breathless, panicked voice her heart almost stopped. “What, honey? I can’t hear you—you’re not speaking clearly, or maybe it’s a terrible signal—” She was aware of Susan listening avidly, her hands still on the box. Wishing people were better at minding their own business, Nancy moved toward the door of the store. “Jenna?”
Finally she was able to understand and her body turned cold.
“I’m on my way.”
“You’re leaving?” Susan looked at her bemused. “But we have all these boxes to sort through. What if you decide there’s something here you don’t want to give away?”
“Take whatever you like and dispose of the rest. They’re just things, and who cares about things? It’s people that matter.” Nancy was already halfway out the door. “My daughter needs me.”
My daughter needs me.
When Lauren had passed out on the dock Nancy had been unable to move, frozen by what she believed to be her inadequacy as a mother. In the past her girls had never seemed to need her, but they needed her now.
She rushed to her car, brushing past two people who tried to talk to her.
“Can’t stop now. My daughter needs me.”
I’m coming, Jenna, I’m coming.
She drove as quickly as she could within the limits of safety, half hoping she’d be pulled over so she could ask for a police escort. No one stopped her and she parked and stormed through the doors of the hospital like a hurricane. “I’m looking for Jenna Stewart. I mean Sullivan.”
It was only when the woman at the desk gave her a startled look that she became conscious of her disheveled appearance.
Clearing cupboards and loading the last of the boxes had been dirty work. Her skirt was thick with dust and she knew she probably still had that smudge of dirt on her cheek.
She didn’t give a damn. All she cared about was her daughter.
“Jenna Sullivan. She was brought in a few minutes ago. Car wreck.” Saying the words made her mouth dry. She knew it would be a long time until she forgot the moment she’d picked up the phone and heard Jenna’s trembling voice.
Mom, help me.
When had Jenna ever asked her for help?
“The team are with her now. If you’d like to take a seat, we’ll—”
“I would not like to take a seat. I need to see my daughter.” She felt like a lioness and she was ready to use her claws if she had to. She knew enough about people to know that aggression wasn’t going to help her, so she kept her voice well modulated but firm. If the woman couldn’t see Nancy meant business, then she needed a sight test.
“As soon as she has been assessed you’ll be able to—”
“Now,” Nancy said. “I’d like to see her now. It’s important that she has family with her.”
Her daughter had called her for help, and no way was she letting her down. Not this time.
Not ever again.
The woman at the desk eyed her warily, clearly wondering if she should call security. Keeping her eyes on Nancy, she picked up the phone and moments later an ER nurse appeared.
“You’re Jenna’s mother? I’m glad you’re here. She’s asking for you. She’s very upset. You can have a few minutes with her before we take her to the OR.”
Nancy’s stomach flip-flopped. “She needs surgery?”
“Her blood pressure is low and the scan we did shows that she’s bleeding into her abdomen. We think she might have damaged her spleen. It’s not uncommon after blunt trauma like a motor vehicle accident.”
That wasn’t the news Nancy had been hoping for and her legs shook as she followed the nurse through into the department. Spleens were important, weren’t they? Something to do with protecting you from infection? Mack would have instantly found the answer on her phone, but Nancy was a dinosaur and restricted to the limitations of her memory.
Jenna was lying on a gurney, an IV in her arm and a dressing on her head. There was a livid bruise on her cheek and her eyes were red from crying. When she saw Nancy, more tears spilled down her cheeks. “Mom? I’m so glad you came. Don’t leave me, will you? Promise you won’t leave.”
Nancy stepped forward, hiding her shock.
“I’m right here, honey. I’m not leaving.” She wrapped her arms around her daughter as carefully as she could, hoping she wasn’t making anything worse. “There. Everything is going to be all right.”
“Everything is awful,” Jenna hiccupped and Nancy rocked and soothed her.
“I know you’re scared, but the doctors here are wonderful. They’re going to fix this.”
Please let them fix it, please let them fix it.
“It isn’t just the accident. That’s one more thing to pile on to all the other things. Things they can’t fix.” Jenna sobbed harder and the nurse monitoring her blood pressure glanced up and frowned.
Nancy ignored her. “What do you mean? What can’t they fix?”
“The baby.” Jenna’s words were disjointed and jerky. “They can’t...fix...the baby.”
Nancy smoothed away Jenna’s tears with her thumb. “You’re pregnant? Have you told the doctors?”
Jenna shook her head, her face swollen with crying. “I’m not pregnant. I’ve never been pregnant.” She choked out the words. “I’m never going to be pregnant.”
Nancy struggled to keep up. Her daughter was badly injured, bleeding and about to go for an operation, and all she could talk about was the fact that she wasn’t pregnant? Why would that be top of her mind? Unless—
“Have you been trying for long?”
Jenna clung to her. “Feels like forever.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Nancy stroked Jenna’s hair away from her face, trying to ignore the blood streaks that made her want to panic. Scalps bled a lot. It was one of the few things she remembered from when the girls were little. “These things can take a while.”
“We’ve been trying awhile, Mom.”
The Mom almost undid her, as did the knowledge that this was the first time Jenna had mentioned this to her.
Nancy stood feeling helpless, buffeted by the pain that flowed off Jenna in waves.
Why was it that you felt your child’s pain more acutely than your own? She could bear anything that happened to her, but she couldn’t bear anything bad happening to her girls.
What could she say that might help?
She so badly didn’t want to get this wrong, but they had a matter of minutes before Jenna was taken into surgery. It was hardly the best time to be having this conversation.
“It took me two years to get pregnant with Lauren.”
Jenna sniffed. “Really?”
“Yes. Nature is a funny thing, that’s for sure. What does Greg say? Have the two of you talked to a doctor?”
“He doesn’t want to. He says I need to relax.”
Oh, you silly man. “Have you called him?”
Jenna burrowed her face into Nancy’s shoulder. “Not yet. Lately we haven’t been getting along so well.”
Nancy stroked her daughter’s back gently, hiding her shock. She decided this was one of those moments where it was probably better to listen than talk. And she was absolutely not going to deliver an opinion as her grandmother would have done.
Well, Nancy, of course it’s your own fault for—
It’s up to you of course, Nancy, but if I were you—
“Tell me what happened today.”
“I was five days late and I’ve never been five days late.” Jenna hiccupped, her words disjointed. “I was sure I was pregnant, so I did a test at work. I didn’t want to wait. And I thought it might fix things with Greg.”
“And the test was negative.” Nancy imagined Jenna in the cold, impersonal school bathroom. She wished she’d thought to pack tissues in her bag. “No wonder you were upset.”
“That’s not all.” Jenna’s breathing juddered as she told her mother everything.
Nancy held her close and listened, trying not to react as Jenna described the car accident.
She wasn’t going to think about what might have happened.
It was hard to hear, but hardest of all was Jenna’s anguish about her lack of pregnancy.
“I want to be a mom. It’s all I want. And it’s never going to h-happen—”
Nancy held on to Jenna’s trembling frame, terrified that so much distress might make the bleeding worse. “You don’t know that, honey. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out together. We should call Greg. He needs to know you’re here. He’d want to know.”
A woman appeared next to them. “Mrs. Stewart? I’m Gail Johnson, the surgeon. We need to get Jenna to the OR right away. We’re prepping for that now.”
Jenna’s eyes filled. “Could I have a minute more with my mom?”
The doctor smiled. “Sure. We’re not quite ready for you. But it will only be a couple of minutes.” She adjusted the flow of the infusion and walked out of the cubicle, giving them privacy.
Nancy tried to ignore the sterility of their surroundings. “Can I call Greg for you?” It didn’t seem possible that Jenna and Greg were having problems. They were inseparable and always had been.
“This whole baby thing—and what happened with Dad—” Jenna scrubbed at her face again. “Greg has been weird about it. I’m starting to think he doesn’t want kids as much as I do.”
“Maybe he is finding it hard to deal with, too.”
“Greg knows more about dealing with problems than anyone.”
“There’s a difference between dealing with other people’s problems and dealing with your own.” She stood back as the staff came to wheel Jenna to the OR. “Can I call him?”
Jenna hesitated and then nodded. “Will you be here when I wake up?”
“Yes.”
“Do you promise? You won’t go away?”
“I promise I’m not going anywhere.” Nancy reached out and squeezed Jenna’s hand. “It’s going to be fine. All of it.”
She hoped she was right, and she was sure of it when Greg arrived less than fifteen minutes later and she saw his face.
He was ashen, his concern for his wife visible from every angle.
“Where is she? How is she?” Normally calm and contained, Greg looked stressed out of his mind.
“She’s in surgery.”
He sank heavily onto the nearest chair. “They said she crashed the car on the beach road. What was she doing up there?”
Should she tell him? No. It wasn’t her place to do so. “You can ask her that as soon as she wakes up from the operation.”
“Why didn’t she call me?”
Because sometimes a girl wants her mother.
“You’ll be able to talk to her soon.”
“Is she—will she—” He ran his hand over his face and Nancy sat down next to him.
Whatever problems her daughter and her husband might have, they would eventually be solved.
“They think she’ll be fine. The doctors said they wouldn’t remove her spleen unless they had to because that would make her more vulnerable to infection. They’ll repair it.” Nancy hesitated. “She hit her head when she crashed. Her face is bruised. You should probably be prepared for that. It’s a little shocking to see.” Should she mention the baby conversation? No. The poor man had enough to deal with right now.
Greg sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands jammed into his hair. “She could have been killed. Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—” He glanced at her, contrite, and she knew he was thinking about another car accident. The one where the occupants didn’t get to walk away.
“It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right. It was the wrong thing to say.”
“You don’t always have to say the right thing, Greg.” She hadn’t thought about it before, but now she realized what a burden that must be, believing that everyone expected you to have the perfect words to heal all emotional hurts.
It must be exhausting. An extra pressure in a life that was already full of pressure.
She put her hand on his shoulder. “You spend your days dealing with other people’s feelings. Make sure you don’t neglect your own.”
Lauren arrived then, breathless and disheveled. Nancy noticed that Scott was with her.
She stood up. “Jenna will be glad you’re here.”
“I came as soon as I got your message.” Lauren’s jeans were spattered with paint. “How is she?”
Nancy wondered why her daughter would be wearing designer jeans to paint a house and then saw the way Scott hovered protectively.
Interesting.
“She’s in surgery.” She saw Scott place his hand on Lauren’s back in a gesture of support and was engulfed by a wave of maternal anxiety. She loved Scott and she admired what he’d done with his life, but was he about to hurt her daughter a second time? What exactly was their relationship? Lauren was vulnerable. Too vulnerable to withstand another blow.
Nancy sat back down on one of the hard plastic chairs and reminded herself that her role wasn’t to make decisions for her daughters, but to support their decisions.
Whatever happened, she’d be there for them. That was a mother’s role, wasn’t it? And if it gave her heartburn then that was her problem.
They sat together, side by side, drinking vile-tasting coffee from disposable cups.
There was something about the sterile atmosphere of hospitals that could make a bad situation feel a hundred times worse, Nancy decided.
Greg looked haggard and could barely hold the coffee cup Lauren pressed into his hand. Every time someone wearing scrubs walked past he sprang to his feet, his face bone white.
By the time the doctor arrived with news, Nancy was as jumpy as Greg.
“Mr. Sullivan?” Gail Johnson, the surgeon, walked toward them and Greg was on his feet again.
“Is there news? Is she—” His throat worked and Nancy put her hand on his arm.
“Jenna is doing well,” the doctor said. “As you know she had a small tear to her spleen—”
“Did you have to remove it?”
“We try very hard not to do that now. In Jenna’s case we were able to suture it. We’re going to need to observe her for a few days and we’ll be doing a follow-up CT scan, but we’re optimistic that there won’t be long-term problems.”
Greg sat down hard on the nearest chair as if someone had cut him off at the knees. His elbows rested on his thighs and he covered his face with his hands.
Nancy put her hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to be all right, Greg.” He was a good man, she thought. Such a good man.
Greg took an unsteady breath. “I want to see her.”
The surgeon frowned. “She’s only just woken up from the anesthetic. You should wait until—”
“Now,” Greg said hoarsely. “Please.”
The doctor hesitated but then saw something in Greg’s face and nodded. “You can see her briefly. But just you. Come with me.”
As Greg followed the doctor, Nancy remembered she’d had an arrangement to meet Ben to talk about the garden.
He’d be wondering where she was.
Should she call? No, she was already so late it was hardly going to make a difference. And Ben would understand. He was patient and unselfish. So unlike Tom in every way.
They all stayed until the medical staff relented and allowed them to see Jenna. She’d been transferred to the ward, a bright sunny room with windows overlooking fields and trees.
Greg was sitting by her side, holding her hand.
Nancy thought that the chances of the medical staff persuading him to leave at any point in the near future were zero.
Jenna’s eyes were closed but she opened them when she heard footsteps and her eyes brightened when she saw her sister and her mother.
“Hi.” Her voice was a croak, and Greg tightened his grip on her hand protectively.
“Don’t talk. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“We wanted to see you for a moment.” Nancy leaned down to kiss her. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” Jenna croaked. “Never better.”
Lauren stepped forward and kissed her, too. “Next time you want to get into trouble,” she said, “call me. I’m the ringleader, not you.”
Jenna gave a weak smile. “It wasn’t exactly planned.”
Nancy saw the look they exchanged.
Thank goodness they’d always had each other.
She gestured to Lauren, who nodded agreement.
“You’re going?” Jenna held out her hand. Her face was pale and the livid bruise had spread across her cheekbone.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” A good mother, Nancy thought, should know when to stay and when to leave. “I’ll bring food, because what they feed you in here will poison you.”
Greg stood up, too. “Thank you, Nancy.” He hugged her, something Nancy couldn’t ever remember him doing before.
He and Jenna had things to talk about. They didn’t need her.
She walked back to the car with Scott and Lauren. Now that the worst of the panic was over, she felt drained and exhausted. “How is the Sail Loft coming along?” She made an attempt at normal conversation. “When can I see it?”
“Not until it’s finished.” Lauren was flustered. “Scott’s done a great job.”
“I’m sure.” Nancy studied her daughter’s flushed cheeks and almost smiled.
Whatever the future held, she liked the idea of someone else having a romantic relationship in the Sail Loft. It might stop her thinking about Tom whenever she walked in there.
Lauren put her hand on Nancy’s arm. “It’s going to feel different, Mom, I promise.”
Nancy was touched by her daughter’s sensitivity. “I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
Hear that, Tom? We’ve painted you out of the place. I’m building a new life and your humping, faithless ways aren’t going to stop me.
“All your art equipment is safely stored, but I boxed up everything else that was in the cupboards, so you’ll need to sort through it at some point and decide what you want to keep.”
“I don’t want to keep any of it.”
Lauren looked doubtful. “Don’t you at least want to look?”
They’d reached the parking lot and Nancy saw Scott’s pickup parked on the far side.
“I want to start fresh.” She reached for her keys. “Now that I’ve discovered the cleansing properties of clearing out, I’m finding it surprisingly therapeutic.”
Lauren grinned. “Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?”
“Your old mother is buried under all the rubbish she held on to for decades. Your new mother is about to go back to The Captain’s House and work on the garden until it’s dark. I have some planting to do. Ben promised to work on the place this evening, and I plan on helping him. We’re giving the place a final makeover. Drive carefully.”
* * *
A few hours later, Nancy eased upright and her back screamed a protest. She’d worked hard, but work was the only way she knew to handle stress and anxiety, and she was stressed and anxious about Jenna. Had she talked to Greg?
Wincing, she rubbed her hand over her spine.
Ben was next to her, jamming the spade into the ground as he planted out the last of the shrubs they’d bought.
He glanced at her. “You should take a break.”
“We still have a lot to do.” It was surprisingly companionable, working on the garden as the late evening sun spread across the garden.
Ben pushed the brim of his hat back. “She’s going to be all right, Nancy.”
“I hope so.” She’d never be able to describe how it had felt to get that call from her daughter, knowing she was trapped in the car. At that moment in her life nothing else had mattered. Not the house, not the state of her finances. Not even Tom. “How did you know I was thinking of her?”
“You’ve called the hospital twice in the last hour.” His eyes were gentle and Nancy thought how calming it was to be with him.
“I guess I’m feeling a little overprotective.” She pulled off her gardening gloves. “I wasn’t a good mother, Ben. I don’t need to talk about it and I don’t need you to tell me all the reasons I’m wrong. I know it’s true. I’m trying to make up for it now.”
Ben put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you have your girls.”
She was glad, too. She was lucky.
The girls were the one thing she and Tom had done well together. Possibly the only thing.
She turned back to the garden. “We’ve given this place quite a makeover. The house and the garden. It’s looking good.”
“Good? It’s spectacular. Your garden is beautiful.” Ben removed his cap and wiped his brow. “A work of art.”
A work of art.
And Nancy realized that was exactly what it was. She’d stopped painting, but instead of using oil and canvas, she’d used flowers and plants to create great swathes of color that drew admiring glances from everyone who passed.
Her garden was a living, breathing work of art.
“You’re right,” she said. “It is.” There was more than one way of creating something that was visually pleasing. “I’d like to do the same with the garden at the Sail Loft. Will you help me?”
“You know I will.”
“We need to start by digging out that damn honeysuckle.”
“Is it going to upset you moving out for the summer?”
“No. The Sail Loft is closer to Jenna. I’ll be able to drop in and visit without getting stuck in hideous tourist traffic.”
His gaze was steady. “You haven’t been there in so long, I thought you hated it.”
“Lauren has redecorated. I’m quite sure I won’t recognize the place.”
“I’ll miss you.”
His comment confused her. “I’m only moving a few miles away.”
“I’ll miss working on this garden with you.” They’d agreed that he would continue to maintain the garden throughout the summer. Because the coastal garden was an important part of the house, Nancy had deemed it a necessary expense.
“Will it be too much for you to handle by yourself?”
Despite being the wrong side of sixty, Ben was lean and fit. It hadn’t occurred to her for a moment that he wouldn’t be able to cope. If he couldn’t then it gave her a problem, because her finances wouldn’t stretch to another gardener. “Do what you can, Ben.”
His eyes gleamed. “You think I’m breaking up under the pressure? I still have some good years left in me. That isn’t why I’m going to miss you, Nancy.”
“Oh! Well then, what—” She broke off, stumbling over the words, remembering how she’d felt that day when she’d glanced through the window. “But—Ben Winter, are you hitting on me?”
“I’m not sure if that’s what it’s called when you pass sixty, but yes, I’m hitting on you. Why so surprised?”
Nancy almost dropped the plant she was holding.
Her mouth moved but no words came out. Ben had been married to the same woman for forty years. Lucille had died five years earlier, and now he lived alone in one of the smaller houses on Main Street. She knew there were plenty of women on the island who were interested in him. She’d never seen him interested in any of them. Nancy suspected he’d buried his pain under work, as she had.
Never in a million years had she suspected his feelings might go beyond friendship.
He was waiting for her to say something, and she had no idea what to say. She clutched the tomato plant like a lifeline.
“I’m not exactly relationship material.”
“You only think that because he crushed your confidence.” Ben picked up the spade and rammed it into the ground so hard Nancy expected the earth to shake.
“It isn’t about confidence. I’m too old and cynical to even think about love, Ben.”
“So let’s not fall in love.” He winked at her. “We can have sex until our bones crack.”
Suddenly she was laughing uproariously. She couldn’t remember when she’d last laughed so hard.
“Oh, Ben—”
“I’m not joking, Nancy.”
“Well you should be.” She felt flustered. Flustered and flattered. Sex? It was ridiculous to even think about it. But his eyes were so blue. And the way he was looking at her made her feel like dragging him inside the house and locking the door. “Imagine what people would say.”
“I don’t give a damn what anyone says. And you shouldn’t care either. This is your life, Nancy, not theirs. You should be living it.”
She felt as if she was teetering on the edge of something desperately exciting. “I value our friendship. I wouldn’t ever want to lose that.”
“Who said anything about losing it? Not all relationships go wrong, Nancy. Not all men are like Tom.”
Somehow he knew, and she was surprised to discover she wasn’t embarrassed. If anything she was relieved they had no secrets. Secrets, she’d discovered, were clutter. They filled a space inside you and gathered dust. They stopped you connecting fully with people.
She should say something. But what? Her feelings were unfamiliar and she wasn’t sure she could put a name to them.
Ben waited a moment and then turned away. “It’s getting dark. We should finish up here.”
She felt a flash of panic.
He thought she was rejecting him.
“Ben! Would you—” She stopped. How should she put this? “Would you like a drink? The house is empty.” Obviously. He already knew that. Oh, Nancy, you’re a fool. A fool!
“Are you really offering me a drink?”
“No.”
He smiled and cupped her face in his hands. “You can say what you mean, Nancy. You don’t have to choose your words with me, second-guess what I’m thinking or keep secrets.”
Secrets. Oh, how she hated secrets.
“Are we being hasty, Ben? Maybe we should—”
He kissed her.
She’d thought that part of her life was over and yet here she was being kissed in a way she wasn’t sure she’d ever been kissed before. His hands held her face while his mouth slowly seduced hers and it felt incredible. It felt right.
A thick, syrupy pleasure heated low in her pelvis and spread through her limbs.
Ben Winter. Kissing her. She felt strangely vulnerable and yet at the same time she knew Ben would never hurt her.
Hot tears scalded her eyes. Who would have thought it?
At her age, when she’d thought this aspect of her life was over and done.
She swayed against him but he held her firmly, a rock on which she could safely lean.
When he finally released her, she felt dizzy and heavy with longing. “You don’t want to wait?”
“The good thing about maturity is that you’ve learned there is no point in waiting around for something you already know you want.” He took her hand and led her toward the house.
“My daughter is in hospital—”
“And she’s safe. But if you’d rather wait—” He paused, ever thoughtful. Ever caring.
Ben.
“No.” Life was short, and she’d already waited long enough.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, she gazed at the house.
A light glowed in the kitchen and she could hear the call of seagulls.
“It’s looking good, isn’t it?” As far as she was concerned, The Captain’s House had never looked better. Who would have thought that a big clear out and some love and attention would make such a difference? It was as if it had shaken off the tiredness. “It’s been given a new lease on life.”
Tightening her grip on Ben’s hand, she walked into the house, hoping the same thing was about to happen to her.