Chapter 29
Daniel looked at Hannah’s bare left hand and felt a dizzy dropping sensation that went from his head right down through the pit of his stomach. It was gone again, the ring he had spent every last penny of his savings on. The ring whose selection he had agonized over for weeks. The ring he had placed on her finger one perfect June evening and felt everything in his life slip into place.
He had made peace with what had happened that horrible night at her house when everything that was right went wrong and he had his first doubts about their future, the ring sitting in her palm. But he had renewed faith in her, no matter how frustrating these weeks apart had been. Part of his faith was the true love he felt for this fascinating spectacular woman, something so powerful he knew he’d never felt it before, didn’t even know he was capable of it. Part of it was the reinforcement his friend Brian had unknowingly given him.
Brian, seeing his best bud begging off and staying home almost every night, started forcefully enlisting Daniel for wing-man duties whenever he was home, no matter how tired he was from his last scheduled run. They went out to all of their usual haunts as well as some of the new hot clubs, went to every party Brian had heard of, prowling the city like the old days. Except it wasn’t; everything was different. No matter how many beautiful women Brian threw at him, Daniel couldn’t muster the interest. He wanted Hannah. And, by juxtaposing the vapid socialites and idiotic teenage models against his brilliant bride-to-be, Brian had managed to make Daniel even more lovesick and desperate to see Hannah.
It had been on one of their nights out on the town, having a quick late dinner at Rosa Mexicana before heading over to a nearby party, when Daniel had picked up his margarita and a light bulb had flickered on in his head. He’d been trying to figure out how to see her; how he could distract her from the fact that he was crashing her retreat if he showed up at Captain’s. The ideas he’d had were good, but not good enough. Holding up his salt-rimmed glass he saw Hannah’s mother and aunts laughing and holding glasses filled with their own special margarita-like concoction up for a toast. The mighty Mean-Green, which he had tasted and loved, was legend on that island where they spent every summer, the closely-kept secret recipe unknown to anyone but the four women.
He slowly put down his drink on the table. What if he could get the recipe? If he was able to whip up a Mean Green and have a cocktail hour on the island with her, Hannah would love it. She would be amazed, too. He wanted to amaze her. But how would he get the recipe? He spent the rest of the night distracted, going through the motions of socializing as he tried to work out a solution. Brian noticed but, tired of trying to jolly Daniel along, ignored his friend’s mental absence.
The next morning, Daniel made the call after looking up Pam’s PR firm online. Pam had practically squealed with delight when she heard his voice. She told him all about the big news regarding Hannah’s book, something that had happened only recently. His confidence bolstered by her ebullient mood, he dived in and made his request. There was silence on the other end of the line. He waited, seconds ticking by. Oh, no. Maybe not.
“Pam?”
“Sorry, ah, I’m not supposed to give it out, but…, God. I want you two to get together. Really? She won’t let you visit? That was one of our rules: you had to be there, at least some of the time!”
“No, she won’t. She won’t even really talk to me on the phone. I mean a minute here and there, but not like we usually talk.”
Another silence on the line. This time Daniel resisted the urge to say anything. Let her think, let the balance tip.
He heard Pam take a loud breath. He crossed his fingers.
“That’s it. There have to be exceptions to every rule,” Pam said. “Now, promise you’ll never tell anyone. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t tell the other Barefooters. And you’ll have to burn the recipe afterward and forget everything. Brain dead, or I’ll kill you - I swear.”
Once Daniel was off the phone, promises made and abject appreciation offered up, he was on the run. It had been exciting, running from place to place, having new ideas while so much adrenalin pumped through his body. It reminded him of his first flight, the incredible rush and the ecstasy that followed. The idea for the framed cover and portion of the bestseller list had hit him right before he left to drive to Greenwich to get the cheese straws. He’d grabbed his own copy of the book and got online and printed out the list before heading out the door. They framed it while he waited, paying more than he should have in an expensive shop in Greenwich just to save time and be on the road to Hannah sooner.
Everything had gone smoothly and he practically sang while driving out to the island with the salt-scented wind blowing through the windows of his rental car. He’d been so pumped up, he didn’t let her first hesitant reaction to his arrival bother him, focusing on her second enthusiastic and sexy reaction when they’d finally embraced. He’d relished her girlish joy over his gifts, looking shy with her hands behind her back.
Her hands behind her back. She had known all along, been aware of her bare finger. How could she? How was it so easy for her to take off his ring again?
He looked at her, hurt and anger bubbling up in his throat, burning into his head. “I can’t believe it.” He was shocked at how rough and low his voice sounded.
Her face twisted in apology, lips turning down. “Oh, honey, I-“
“No,” he said, shaking his head hard once. “I don’t want to hear it. I really don’t. You’ve gotten everything that you wanted. You wanted to be alone. I left you alone. You said this was about you and your mother, and I believed you. What an idiot.”
“No! You’re not-“
“No, it’s my turn. I’ve been there for you. I’m here now, just asking for a little bit of you. Just a little bit. A drink, a laugh, a hug. Not much. And you can’t even wear my ring.” His breath caught and he forced down the threatening wobble in his voice. “You don’t want to marry me, do you? Just say it.”
“I do! Daniel, please-“
“Then where’s the ring? Where is it?”
“It’s…, I just…please understand…”
Daniel turned away, unable to look at her pleading face another minute. He looked at the tall tasseled grasses that flanked either side of entrance to the dock and felt another pang. How he’d loved this place when they’d come this summer. How he’d felt like he was coming home. It wasn’t just that the island was beautiful in a natural rough way that was just his style; it was the warmth of everyone, the humor, the blatant athleticism and partial nudity of its inhabitants in their swim trunks and bathing suits. He loved the moist salt air that clung to everything, the silvery minnows darting through the murky shallows, the briny-sweet taste of clams on the half shell eaten sitting on the steps of Pam’s house.
“I can’t do this anymore, begging you, waiting and being ignored,” he said, turning back to her, and then pointing at the box in the boat. “Keep it. I’ve got the recipe in my pocket, so I’ll just burn it and forget it when I get home. Can you hand up my bag?”
“You - you’re not going to stay?”
Her mournful voice was a lasso, pulling him. He shook it off. “No. I’m done. I’m not forcing myself on you another day. You want to be alone, fair enough. All I can say is-“
He forced himself to look deeply in her eyes even though it hurt to look at her at all. “You need to decide if you want me in your life, Hannah. I won’t wait around forever.”
“But I do!”
He flicked a look down at her left hand. “Do you? You have a funny way of showing it. Can I have my bag?”
She made a little whimpering sound as she went to pick up his little duffel bag. He tried to harden his heart, but just that sound alone killed him. He had to get away, or the tears would come, whether he wanted her to see them or not. The barriers were breaking down. He rarely cried and never in public, and of all people Hannah was the last person he could stand witnessing his weakness, the very source of his misery.
He took the bag from her and straightened up. “Can I get out?”
“Oh! I forgot to lock the gate!”
“Good. Lock it when I’m gone. Goodbye Hannah. I’m not going to call you. You call me. When you’re ready, if you ever are. But don’t call me unless you’re sure. Don’t call unless you’re ready to wear my ring and be a part of my life forever, not just when it’s convenient.”
Her lips opened and shut, but she didn’t say anything. He watched a tear roll down her cheek. He tore his eyes away, turned on his heel and walked up the dock, the hollow thumping of his feet on the boards making his throat ache even more, remembering the free feeling of his bare feet on the boardwalk only two months earlier, Mean Green in hand, laughing uncontrollably at Hannah’s mother’s lewd jokes, decorum thrown to the wind.