CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Drew
I woke up the next morning feeling amazing. The day was a little sunnier and the light washed through the linen curtains, falling onto my eyelids. I could hear the sweet sigh of the lake water and the softer sigh of Alexandra breathing.
I turned to look at her. She was fast asleep, her eyes closed, the long lashes resting on her cheeks. She looked like a sleeping angel.
I didn't want to wake her, so I slid carefully to the edge of the bed and stood up. I stood on one of my shoes, lost my balance and wind milled my arms, before grabbing onto the wall behind the bed to steady. I must have made a noise of some sort because she stirred and her eyes opened.
She smiled. “Hello, Drew,” she whispered.
As it always did, hearing my name on her lips – she usually called me “dearest” – was arousing.
“Hello, sweetie,” I whispered. She smiled more broadly and rolled over, shading her face with one arm.
“What's the time?”
“It's...um...nine o' clock.” I read the time off my watch, then set it back on the bedside table beside her.
“Oh.” She stretched and lay down again. “Nine on a Sunday morning. And we're here on holiday. Blissful.”
I chuckled. “I should make us some breakfast,” I said. The smile on her face was gratifying.
“Mm! I like the sound of that.”
“Good.”
I showered and when I came out she was standing by the window, staring out over the lake. I stayed where I was. With her body lit by the sun she looked so lovely.
“It's sunny out,” she murmured.
“Not for long, probably,” I said, indicating the dark clouds already gathering over the lake.
She grinned at me. “There's no harm in being hopeful, you.”
I laughed. “I am hopeful,” I said, my arms around her. I kissed her hair and let my hands touch her. “Just a different kind of hopeful. I'm hoping it rains and rains. Then I can spend the entire day in bed with you.”
She giggled, then turned and looked into my face.
“Drew. That's so sweet.”
I chuckled. “No, it's selfish.”
That really made her laugh. She was still chuckling as I dressed and headed through to the kitchen. I heard her turn on the shower as I started hauling out pots and pans and got ready to make some breakfast.
I was still busy with the eggs – I had decided to make fried eggs again since she seemed to like them – when I heard a soft foot fall and someone hugging me.
“Lovely smell,” she murmured, sniffing theatrically. “I'm so hungry I could eat five of those.”
I chuckled. “Well, we have six eggs in the house so far...I'm happy to have just one.”
She bit my shoulder and I shivered gently. “Well, I can be content with two, but only if you promise me some distraction.”
I chuckled, my poor body starting to throb.
We had breakfast shortly after that and I kept my promise of distraction, my knee between her thighs, toes stroking her foot. She chuckled and sipped coffee and I felt as if I was on another planet – one where nothing miserable or tedious existed and I could just feel peaceful.
“What will we do today?” Allie asked, stretching as she reached for a cup of coffee. She caught my look. “Not just that.”
I chuckled. “Yes, I have a one-track mind, sweetie. But I promise to show you a little more of the lake today.”
“Oh?” she smiled, setting the cup down, Those pink lips parted as she looked up with a sweet expression and I shivered, already distracted.
“Well, I thought we could wrap up warm and take a walk down the shore. I don't want to stay out too long though – the wind is chilly and I don't want us to freeze. Then we have to decide where to have lunch, and maybe walk around town a bit...” I trailed off and she made a soft contented sound.
“I like that.”
“Good,” I nodded.
“A lazy day.”
“Exactly.”
We cleaned away the breakfast-dishes and then headed back upstairs to dress. We wrapped up warmly, but when we stepped outside I was pleased to discover that the earlier sunshine had done a great job of warming the place up outside.
“It's not too bad, actually,” I murmured, unfastening my vest. I had on a thick shirt, an overcoat and a quilted vest. Allie had the same.
“It's not too bad,” she said. “Wind's cold, though.”
Her soft hair was drifting around her shoulders, where it escaped from the beanie, and I grinned, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “It is. I don't want you freezing.”
She giggled. “I don't want you freezing either. Who'd keep me company?”
We laughed and took a walk along the jetty, our feet crunching on sand. I stared out over the pewter-dark waters and knew that I couldn't be more happy.
We went back to the shore and walked along quite far, then turned and went back home. When we reached the cottage, it was ten-thirty.
“Want to go into town?” I asked.
“Why not?”
We chose a cafe to eat lunch and agreed we'd head there round one P.M. That gave us two hours to explore.
“Should we go to the Arts Academy?” I asked. Google told me about the Interlochen Arts Academy, not too far out of town.
“Maybe after lunch?” Allie said as she looked around the shopping street. “I'd like to search in the antique shops now.”
“Oh. Sounds like fun.”
She grinned. “Well, it's a bit difficult to argue with two-hundred-year-old stuff, right?”
I chuckled. “It kinda loses its appeal when you say it like that.”
Laughing we went into the first of many antique shops.
We settled down at the cafe two hours later, Allie laden with antique goods. She'd found a pair of beautiful early twentieth-century pearl drops that I had insisted on buying for her.
“They look amazing,” I said as she laced one through her ear. “Perfect for you.” They did. She looked exotic and exciting, but also elegant. I told her that. She laughed.
“You and your flattery.”
“Not at all.”
We chose our lunch and it was as delicious as the advertisement on the website claimed: the fish was cooked perfectly, seasoned to bring out the flavor.
When our dessert – ice-cream – arrived, I took out my phone, deciding to take a picture and give the place a review. I noticed a missed call.
“Oh, hell,” I said. The number was Brent Bronson. Why is he calling me here and now, of all people and places?
Alexandra raised a brow. “Something urgent?”
She was already eating her dessert, a smudge of vanilla on her upper lip. I resisted the urge to kiss it away.
“I hope not,” I said in answer to her question. “I should maybe call back, though?”
She shrugged. “If you have to. But you might want to finish dessert before it melts...”
I chuckled. “I guess I do.”
We ate in contented silence. My mind kept on worrying at the question of what Brent Bronson could possibly want now. Was there something I forgot to do? Some meeting I forgot to cancel? Some data or some form I was supposed to send to him?
When we'd finished, I shifted in my seat, sighing. “You know, sweetie? I'm going to take that call.”
“Sure,” she said. She looked perfectly content and I stood, shrugging into my big outside coat.
“I won't be a minute,” I said hopefully. “If the bill comes, tell them I'll pay it when I get back in again.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Drew.”
“I should do much more,” I said warmly. Then, her sweet chuckle echoing firmly through my thoughts, I went onto the terrace and called the number.
I was surprised when he answered immediately. It must be an emergency after all – it was lunchtime on a Sunday.
“Mr. Bronson?” I said softly.
“Oh! Drew! Thank goodness. I was trying everything...it's Carrie.”
“What?” I frowned. “Why? What is it?”
“She's...” he sounded like he wanted to cry. “She's very sick.”
“Sick?” I frowned again. “Sick how?”
“She's...she's in the hospital. We're so worried. I'm sorry,” he added as his voice cracked. I stared.
The view beyond the terrace and the whitewashed buildings, the street with its many shops...all of them faded into the background of complete numbness. Carrie was dying?
“Mr. Bronson,” I said, feeling pity for the man wash through my body. “What can I do?”
“She...” he cleared his throat as his voice broke down. “I think she would like to see you again.”
I felt my heart go through the floor. What could I say? Carrie was very ill, maybe close to death. How could I refuse a father's wish?
“I'll fly back tomorrow morning,” I said. “Will that be okay?” What more could I do? Failing him flying out to get me, there was very little that could make this happen quicker.
“I hope so,” he said. His voice was tight and I felt a growing sense of urgency.
“Okay,” I said soothingly. “I'll be there. If there's anything else I can do...”
“No,” he said bleakly. “No. I don't think anyone can do more now...”
“Okay,” I said again, feeling my heart clench as he started to cry again. Poor guy. I couldn't imagine how he felt right now. My heart wept with him. “If you think it'll help, tell her I'm coming.”
He sniffed. “Okay. And... thanks, Drew. Thanks a lot.”
“It's nothing.”
I stood there for a long while, leaning on the handrail around the terrace, staring at the lake. I felt numb. Carrie was my age, perhaps a little younger. How could she be dying? What had happened to her?
I felt guilty. The guilt that I had let her down. That I hadn't been able to love her the way that she deserved. Stupid, I know. It wasn't either of our faults we were unsuited to each other. But I carried the guilt nonetheless. I shook my head, wishing I could let go of the despair that had just settled on my heart.
I went back to the restaurant. I had no idea what to say to Allie. She knew nothing about Carrie and I wasn't sure how she would receive it if I explained further: I'd broken up with her to follow my uncle's command, because that's what it was, a command, to date another girl.
She'll think I'm a jerk.
And she wouldn't be wrong, I thought dully. I had been a jerk. And now being a jerk was rising up and biting me.
I went inside.
The instant I walked through the door, Allie must have read something from my posture and my expression. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Drew! What's up?”
I shook my head. Sank wearily into the seat. “I... don't worry about it,” I said. I had my eyes closed, my head resting on my braced arms. I felt drained. Something about the desperation in Mr. Bronson's voice, the way he was reaching out to me as if I was the last hope for his beloved daughter, had sucked me dry.
“I'm not worried about it,” Allie said gently. “I'm worried about you. What happened? Can you tell me?”
I shook my head, looking up at her. I tried to smile but my cheeks were stiff and I was sure it came off more like a grimace. She frowned and looked at her hands.
“You don't have to tell me,” she said softly. “But I am worried about you.”
I sighed. “It's...just some stuff that came up. Stuff I have to deal with tomorrow. That I should have dealt with six years ago.”
I said it softly, and I hadn't meant her to hear it. She did, though, because I saw her tense, suddenly, as if I'd slapped her.
“Six years?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. Why was I so tired? “Listen, Allie...I think maybe we should go? I'm sorry. This has just hit me really hard.”
“Of course,” she said. She was sympathetic again, all the worry set aside. I rolled my shoulders to try and wake myself up. Dammit, I was being silly! I should keep a better face on than this. It was my holiday. I didn't want to worry Allie.
“Has the bill arrived?” I asked distantly.
“Uh, yeah,” Allie nodded. I took it and paid it wordlessly, leaving a large tip. Then we left.
I sat next to Allie in the car. Her face was relaxed, but her posture was tense. I could see she was worried about me, and possibly she was trying to guess what was happening, too. I would have been, had it been me.
“I'm sorry,” I said softly. I felt so bad.
“Don't be,” she said, equally softly. “I'm fine.”
We drove back to the cottage and when we got out I was turning over different explanations in my mind. I still had no idea what to say to her. The silence between us was awkward and I had no idea how to shift it. She knew I was hiding something and I knew I should probably tell her what it was. But I felt so ashamed.
What would she think of a thirty-five-year-old guy who lets his uncle push him around? Okay, I was twenty-eight when it all happened, but still.
I didn't want her to know why I'd betrayed her. It was such a stupid, petty reason! I couldn't admit to it.
“Here we are,” I said. “Should we go to the Arts Center?”
“Okay,” Allie said. “Why not? I just want to fix my hair quickly...this is all tangled up.”
I nodded. “Shall I wait?”
“Okay,” she said, sliding out of the seat-belt. “I won't be five minutes.”
When she was gone I leaned on the steering-wheel and looked out at the view over the lake. It was rippled with the wind, clouds scudding across and the wavelets choppy and shadowed. I knew how it felt. I felt ruffled and restless too.
My phone rang.
“Oh for...Yes?”
“Hi.”
It was Mr. Bronson again. I let out a long sigh. “What is it, sir?”
“I... I just needed to call. She's coming around now.”
“She is?” I asked. “That's great. How is she?” My heart was beating faster.
At that minute, Allie arrived. I reached over to open the door, shifting the phone to my left ear as I did so.
“She's conscious,” Mr. Bronson said. “Still in pain. She's asking for you.”
“She is?” I felt my heart sink. “I should be there. Listen. Is she...”
“She's stable, Drew,” Mr. Bronson said. “At least, that's what the clinicians say.”
“Great.” I felt my heart soften with relief. “So I can see her tomorrow?”
“I think so, yes. It would be great. Soon as you're here.”
“I will. I promise. Stay safe.”
“We'll all try, Drew...and, thank you.”
“It's nothing.”
“I appreciate it. I really do.”
When he hung up I looked at Allie. She was looking at me with an odd expression.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I had another phone call. Should we go now?”
“Okay,” she said. “Let's go.”
Her voice sounded strained and hollow. I winced.
“Listen, Allie,” I said. “I'm sorry. I know these calls are getting to be a nuisance, but...”
“It's fine,” she said softly. “It's all fine.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good,” I said. I was just so grateful I didn't have the need to go into it. Allie was so understanding. “Thanks,” I added. I reached over and put my hand on her leg. She shifted uncomfortably and I took it off.
We drove on through the countryside.
When we reached the center, it was raining. I held an umbrella for Allie and we walked in side-by-side together. I noticed she was being a bit strange while we went through to the visitor's center and I wondered why.
I guess I'm in a bad mood after those calls. She's probably upset I've spoiled the weekend.
I felt my heart sink. We spent an hour looking around and then I turned to Allie.
“Should we leave?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.”
We went out in silence. As we walked back to the car I struggled to think of something to break the frost that had somehow, suddenly, settled between us.
“Should we go for an ice-cream?” I asked.
She smiled at me, though her eyes were grave. “In this weather?”
I chuckled. “Why not? Let's have a truly Michigan early-spring experience yeah?”
We drove to town and had ice cream and went home again. It was six pm when we arrived at the cottage. I sighed. I was still aware that there was some distance, some coldness, between us.
“Should we stay in for dinner?” I asked.
“I don't know,” she shrugged. “Probably.”
I looked at her where she scraped a strand of hair back from her eye, a taut, closed expression covering her face like a mask. I could feel there was something sad in her and I wished I could do something to change it. I knew what I should do – I should just tell her about that occurrence six years ago, about the reason I walked away from her. But I couldn't make myself. It was cowardice, I knew. I hated myself for it. I just wasn't brave enough to go there. Not yet.
We decided to go out for supper and spent the next hour or two upstairs, making love.
I still felt, even as she rested in my arms, that there was a distance between us. I sighed and kissed her hair and wished I could do something to make things different. I just didn't know what.
I wish I could be brave enough to tell you. But then, if I was brave enough, I wouldn't have done that to you in the first place, would I?
I just didn't know what to say.