“I LOVE YOU, AND I am never going to go away again.”
This was everything Maddie wanted to hear, only the speaker who was hugging her was all wrong. It was Celeste, who had just returned from her niece’s house in Indiana. When she’d called to say she was home, Maddie had closed the shop, thrown on her jeans, and called to Beamer. Then the two of them had experienced a pleasant walk over here. And now, while Beamer cast a wary eye toward the second riser of the white-painted stairs that led up to the second floor, which was where the bright-eyed kitten Bluebell stood eyeing the golden retriever right back, Maddie followed Celeste into her cozy living room.
Once they were settled in, Maddie questioned Celeste about her opening remark. “Why aren’t you ever going away again? Didn’t you have a nice time?”
Celeste waved that away. “Too many kids running all around the house and making noise. No wonder I keep them half a continent away. But Celeste Junior is, of course, wonderful. She’s just like me. Never complains.”
Maddie pitched forward, coughing, nearly choking on her own saliva. Beamer padded over quickly and poked her dog nose into Maddie’s face. Fighting tears, Maddie sat up and gave the dog a reassuring pat to the head.
“You all right?” Celeste barked. “What’s wrong with you? Catching a cold? Before I left, I told you to wear your sweater of a night if you went out.”
“I don’t have a cold,” Maddie rasped out, watching the baby cat ambitiously clawing her way up the side of Celeste’s favorite reclining chair.
In the next instant, the literally blue kitty bounded over the arm and sailed into Celeste’s lap, eliciting a surprised whoop of joy from her owner. “I think I missed Bluebell as much as I did you.”
“I’m very flattered. So did you have a nice ride from the airport? I would have come to get you, you know.”
“Oh, I don’t like to be a bother. Besides, Teddy didn’t mind. He rearranged his after-school work schedule and got a baby-sitter for his little sister and borrowed his mother’s car after he took her to work, so it was no trouble. Mrs. Millicum walked home. It was a pretty day for it. Won’t hurt the lazy cow any to get some exercise.”
Maddie blinked. “Well, as long as it was no trouble for him.”
“He said it wasn’t. I heard from Lillian. She’ll be back here next week.”
“Yes. She called me, too.”
“You like her, don’t you?”
Maddie smiled. “Sure. But not as much as I like you.”
“Ha. Flattery will get you nowhere. So, did you get that autumn display in the shop’s front window yet?”
“I did. Last week, in fact, after I got back from New York City.”
Celeste lowered her gaze and concentrated on petting the cat in her lap. “So you went through with it.”
“It wasn’t a matter of going through with it, Celeste. It was just the next step. The final step.”
Maddie’s best friend now focused on her. “I guess you haven’t heard from Hank?”
“No, I haven’t. And I don’t expect to, either.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Celeste’s eyes widened innocently. “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it. You want some tea?”
“Sure.”
“Good. Will you fix me some, too, when you get up to make yours?”
Maddie knew she should have seen that one coming. Laughing, she got up and impetuously hugged Celeste, who protested as hard as she hugged Maddie back. “I love you, do you know that?”
Celeste preened and straightened her fluorescent green sweater about her. “Well, of course you do. What’s not to love? Now go see about the tea before I die of thirst.” Maddie started to move away from her chair. “Hot tea, mind you. Not too strong. Lots of sugar.”
“I know, Celeste,” Maddie sighed, already on her way to the kitchen. “Like you like your men. Hot and sweet.”
“That’s right. How do you like your men, dear?”
Maddie turned around and came back into the living room. “Around, Celeste. I like them to be around. I like them to want to be around me, mostly.”
“So you don’t want one who has to work and travel all the time. You want one to hang around the house all day in his underwear and watch TV and drink beer and belch?”
“Dear God, no. Surely there’s a compromise in there somewhere. I mean, he could at least be on the same continent, don’t you think?”
“I think all the time, honey. So where’s Hank right now?”
Maddie shrugged. “I don’t know. How would I know?”
Celeste grinned and looked guilty and conspiratorial.
Maddie’s heart thumped erratically, but a sinking feeling in her stomach also weakened her knees. “Celeste McNeer, what do you know?”
“I know plenty.”
“And you better spill it right now.” Maddie sat down heavily on the sofa. “What is going on here? If you don’t tell me, I’ll—”
“Now, calm down, Maddie.” In a huff, Celeste pursed her lips and stroked her kitty and wouldn’t look at Maddie. “You’re so suspicious of everyone lately, dear. I think you’re getting paranoid.”
“Ha. With good reason. Shall we talk about my last couple of months?”
“No. It’s boring. It’s past. Over and done. I want to talk about today.”
“What about today?”
“About a phone call I had today when I got home.”
Maddie eyed her friend with deep suspicion—and a ton of hope. “From who?”
“Mr. Cotton Hardy.”
“Oh?” Synapses in Maddie’s brain began firing. Cotton Hardy. The cottage. Hank. “What did Mr. Hardy have to say?”
Celeste narrowed her eyes. “When’d your voice get that high and squeaky? You sure you’re not getting a cold?”
Maddie cleared her throat. “I’m not getting a cold. What did Mr. Hardy want?”
“Well, I can tell you one thing. It’s a good thing he didn’t want a cup of tea because around here he’d never get it.”
“And neither will you until you tell me why you’re being so secretive.”
Insulted, Celeste put a hand to her sweater-covered bosom. “Secretive? I am not. You been hanging out with that Lavinia Houghton while I was gone?”
“Lavinia Houghton doesn’t hang out. Or talk to me. But if you don’t spill what it is you’re trying so hard not to tell me, Celeste, I’m going to tell her who it was who sent her that anonymous package from Frederick’s of Hollywood. And had it delivered to her at the library during the children’s hour.”
Celeste’s sweet little birdlike face blanched. “How’d you know about that?” Then she pursed her lips in irritation. “I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been in Indiana for a week, only to come back and have you accuse me of such a thing. Why, I just can’t believe it—and me an old lady.” Maddie raised an eyebrow at Celeste. Celeste caved, sitting forward eagerly. “What’d the old girl do?”
Every bit as titillated as Celeste was, Maddie leaned forward. “Well, Mary Kitchener had her two kids there and told me all about it. She said Lavinia opened that package and held up those crotchless panties and very nearly had a heart attack. Screaming and cursing your name. Right there in the quiet library. She scared the little children into crying for their mamas. It was great, Celeste.”
Celeste whooped with glee, startling the kitten in her lap into jumping down and taking off for the hallway. Beamer barked and followed curiously. From around the corner came a sudden hiss, followed by a sharp canine yap, which immediately preceded Beamer’s hurried reappearance in the living room. The dog, a bit ruffled but not bloodied, obediently sat by Maddie, ears perked as she stayed alert for any sudden tiny cat sightings from the hallway.
Laughing, petting Beamer, Maddie sat back and crossed her legs. “So. What were we talking about? Let’s see … Cotton Hardy’s call to you, right? And now that you know that I know about Lavinia and Frederick’s, you can just start talking. Come on, speak to me, girlfriend. Cotton Hardy, yada-yada. Go from there.”
Celeste huffed up like her kitten. “Oh, all right. Cotton Hardy sad he couldn’t reach you at your place, so he called me looking for you. I told him you were on your way here, so he gave me a message for you.”
Suddenly afraid, and her heart thumping with hope—when would it ever learn?—Maddie put her hands over her ears. “On second thought, I don’t want to hear this. Whatever it is, it’s not going to be good. I can tell.”
“Suit yourself.” Celeste readied herself to stand up. “I think I’ll make me a cup of hot tea.”
“No. Tell me. I’ll listen, I swear I will. What did Mr. Hardy say?”
“Well,” Celeste began, settling back into her chair and drawing her sweater around her. “He said the strangest thing happened today. He said he went out to work on those old beach houses of his and right there in James’s old cabin was…” Grinning, she eyed Maddie. “Now what was it? I forget what he said.”
“Damn you, Celeste, don’t make me shake it out of you. What? What was out there?”
“Well, right there on the kitchen table was a big bouquet of flowers with a little card addressed to you.”
“To me?” Maddie parroted, not daring to hope.
“Yes. To you. Why else would he have called? There was something else, too. That damned stupid lobster clock thing was next to the flowers. He said he was through for the day out there but to tell you he’d leave the place unlocked for you, if you want to go get them—Maddie! Wait! Where’re you going? Wait for me. Come on, Beamer, I’m not about to miss this. Maddie, wait up! We’re going with you.”
* * *
Hank figured if he were a man to bite his fingernails when he was nervous, he’d have them bit off up to his elbows by now. As if to prevent that possibility, he stood with his arms firmly crossed. Standing outside the brass-plaqued Madison cabin but inside the screened and shaky front porch, he stared out at the ocean’s frolicking waves. At a time like this perhaps he was supposed to think of the timelessness of the vista. Blue sky meeting blue-green ocean. As he watched, the occasional gull dipped and wheeled, its trademark cry combining with the whoosh-whoosh of the waves and the briny sea air. Other than that and him, though, the place was deserted. Isolated. No beachcombers. No Hanscombers. Just him. And his hopes. And his fears.
A perfect time for pondering life’s mysteries and secrets and possible purpose. A perfect time to believe you were the last man on earth. Hank’s chuckle was more a grunt than a laugh. The last man on earth. Which made him perfect for Maddie, actually, since she’d said she wouldn’t have anything to do with him if he was the last man on earth. Be careful what you wish for, Maddie. You just might get it.
Hank sighed, coming back to reality. What would Maddie do? That was the big question. Or would she do anything? That was an even bigger question. Would she leave him standing out here, his heart pinned to his sleeve? It’s what he deserved but couldn’t stand to think might be his fate. Surely his grandfather couldn’t have been so wrong about the two of them. As if needing reassurance, Hank felt for the folded envelope, still sealed and safely tucked in his oxford shirt’s pocket. The two names, his and Maddie’s, were written in his grandfather’s own hand. One of the last things the old man had done before he’d died.
What could the letter contain? What words of wisdom would James Senior have to impart at this late date? And shouldn’t there have been two letters, one to cover each possible ending, a good one and a bad one? But no, there was only the one envelope. Wherever you are, Grandpa, I hope to hell—or heaven—you knew what you were doing. Because I sure don’t.
Hank turned his head, marking the lowering sun’s progress. With the uneven rows of cabins essentially acting as sundials, he checked the steadily elongating triangles of shadow left in the sand. The wedges of black were deeper now … longer … mocking. God, it’s true. Nature doesn’t give a damn what humans are going through. It marches on, relentless, oblivious. And yet, he’d been marking the passage of time by the lengthening shadows because that was easier than constantly staring at his watch and fretting every passing minute. He figured about an hour had passed since he’d had Mr. Hardy call Maddie, then Celeste, before leaving for home and his supper.
Hank finally looked at his watch. A demoralizing mistake. Yeah, an hour and about four lifetimes have passed. At this rate, he knew, he’d have himself worried into a bleeding ulcer if Maddie didn’t show up soon. What if she didn’t show up at all? Not having the first clue how long “at all” might be in real time or his heart’s time, Hank had to ask himself how long he was prepared to wait, how much time would have to pass before he called it, like a rained-out game.
He didn’t know but it wasn’t time yet to give up. He comforted himself by recalling that all Mr. Hardy had been able to do was leave a message for Maddie. What if Celeste had forgotten to give it to her? Unlikely. So what if Maddie decided to just blow him off? She could. But Hank didn’t think she would. If nothing else, she’d be curious about the flowers and the lobster-clock urn.
Okay, so where is she, then? In his mind, he tried to picture what she might be doing, what might be taking her so long. Had she driven to Celeste’s? Or had she and Beamer walked? Had she taken Beamer at all? Would Maddie take time to go home, change clothes, and do makeup and hair? Maybe she’d walked to Celeste’s and then had to go home and get her car. Maybe she’d needed to get gas in her car. And since Celeste had just gotten in from Indiana, maybe Maddie was helping her unpack first. Maybe Celeste was tired and Maddie had stayed with her and didn’t want to—
The sound of someone driving up the road that led out to the cabins caught Hank’s attention—and his heart’s. With his pulse accelerating, he didn’t move to go see who it might be, but he did attune his hearing. Up on the road behind the cabin, someone had just stopped on the proverbial dime—and gotten nine cents’ change, by the sound of the protesting tires. Hank’s heart beat even faster, his pulse pounded at his temples. Feeling damp with emotion and a bit weak-kneed, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and steeled himself for this to be anybody, not necessarily Maddie. And not necessarily Maddie with good news for him. She could, after all, have come out here to tell him to kiss her sweet behind … which he’d be more than happy to do, but in a good way.
A car door opened … then closed. Then silence. Hank strained his hearing to see if he could detect footsteps coming his way. Impossible to do in this sand. So, he waited, hoping, praying that he wasn’t too late, hadn’t been so stupid that he’d let this one chance at happiness slip through his fingers. If this didn’t work, then he didn’t know what else to do, how else to be.
Hank tried to calculate the distance from the road’s end to the cottage’s door. He’d walked it many times. It wasn’t that long a walk. Yet no one had appeared. She had to see his Navigator parked on the side of the cottage. She now knew he was here. Or maybe his hearing was playing wishful-thinking tricks on him and he hadn’t really heard someone drive up. No, he’d heard someone. But where was she?
He could go see, of course. No he couldn’t … he couldn’t get his feet to move. And so he waited right where he was. God, how he’d missed Maddie, how he’d wanted her, how he’d longed for her touch, to hear the sound of her voice, to feel her smooth skin against his body. Her kiss. Just the sight of her delicate blond loveliness that framed a soul so sweet and pure would be enough to bring him to his knees. One glance and he would give her everything that had ever been his or would be his … starting with his heart, which beat only in her presence.
Suddenly Hank heard himself and had to laugh. When had he gotten so sappy and poetic? But what was so sappy, really? Too many men, himself included until recently, he admitted, equated love with weakness and committing to one woman with being tamed or caged, like some lion whose freedom had been denied him. Lion? More like a chest-beating gorilla. While that might sound big and brave and macho, what really brought a man to his knees was being without the woman he loved. And Hank had been without Maddie for a month now. By his own calculations, then, he should be facedown in the dirt.
“Hank?”
His heart damned near stopped, then all but lurched out of his chest. Hank turned to face her. Standing outside the porch and framed in the screen door, she stood in sunshine, so bright and radiant a picture that he feared his mind was playing tricks on him and she was only a vision, not flesh and blood. But a vision wouldn’t need to shade her eyes from the sun, would she?
“Maddie. You came. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I wasn’t, either.” She had on jeans and a pink vee-necked sweater. Her blond hair hung in loose waves about her shoulders
“Well, still, I’m glad you did.” It was all he could choke out before clearing his throat and trying to get a grip on his emotions.
As if suddenly uncertain, she lowered her gaze and fiddled with the screen door’s rusty latch. “I confess that I didn’t know you’d actually be here in person until I saw your Navigator.”
Hank’s chest hurt, felt tight. “Would you have come if you’d known I would be here?”
She raised her head and squinted against the sunlight that seemed determined to shine on her. “I don’t know.”
“An honest woman. I like that.” He was dying. He was standing here and dying right in front of her. “I got the message you left on my machine. About there not being a baby. I’m sorry, Maddie. For the way I acted about that. I was just … stupid, I guess. And happy. Which surprised me. But I didn’t want to say how much I wanted something like that to happen, I didn’t want to get attached to even the idea of a baby … not if you didn’t want that.”
“Oh, Hank. I gave you no credit, did I? I should have known that was how you’d feel.”
“No. I should have said.”
“So should I, about how I felt. I was upset because you weren’t happy. Then I felt the burden of the possibility, and how I would feel. And then it just got complicated, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. But there isn’t a baby. So would you like to come in out of the sunshine?” Then he heard himself. “That didn’t necessarily follow. And would probably be more compelling if it was raining, I suppose.”
“Maybe.” Still, she opened the screen door and stepped inside. It banged closed behind her, making her jump. “I forget that thing doesn’t work right.”
“I don’t think anything out here does. So … how’ve you been, Maddie?”
She shrugged. So slender, so delicate. Yet much stronger than he’d ever be. “Okay. You?”
Awful. Just plain awful. And worthless to anybody, including myself. Awful and worthless. “Oh, I’m okay. Everything treating you good?”
“Sure. Even your mother.”
“Scary. I told you it’s in the water.”
Then she looked inside the open door to the cabin. Her gaze lingered there. Still without looking at him, she said, “The flowers are beautiful.”
“Thanks. That lady who runs the flower shop here is a drill sergeant.”
With some visible effort, as if she were sad yet something was funny, Maddie grinned at him. “She’s Lavinia Houghton’s sister.”
“Yikes. So this will be all over town. Me. The flowers. You.”
“Exactly. I see you brought the stupid lobster clock, too. You know, I’ve actually missed it. Go figure. So, I guess it’s my turn for custody of it?”
Hank paused before answering. “If that’s how you want it.”
Maddie’s chin quivered, a sob escaped her. She struggled for control. “No, Hank, it’s not how I want it. Nothing is how I want it. Not one living thing is how I want it.”
“I’m sorry, Maddie. I really am.”
She slumped where she stood. “I know. I’m sorry, too, Hank. I don’t know what else to tell you.” Then, as if the dam of her emotions had broken, Maddie flooded him with words. “Will you listen to me? I don’t even know what I mean. Sorry for what? What are we sorry about? There were never any promises between us. No commitment. God, we were forced together by an absurd will pressed on us by a sweet, sweet man who loved us both and wanted us to be together. We can’t say we didn’t try. But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, does it?”
Just then a car’s horn blew several long blasts.
Maddie put a hand to her forehead. “And that would be Celeste. She and Beamer are in the car and are obviously impatient.”
“Either that, or they can’t stand the suspense.” She hadn’t come alone, was all he could think. So she could make a quick getaway if she wanted? Great. Hank’s pride got out the bricks and the mortar and threatened to build a wall, but he resisted. “Maybe they’re wondering ‘will they or won’t they?’”
Maddie cocked her head at a questioning angle. “Will we or won’t we what?”
She was so close Hank could smell her perfume. He knew in his soul how her skin smelled, how her body’s chemistry worked with this particular floral scent. He swallowed, wanting so very much to take her in his arms. If he could only hold her, maybe he could breathe. “Are you serious? You don’t know?”
“Oh, Hank, I do and I don’t. I don’t know why this has to be so hard. People get together and stay together all the time. Every day. All around the world.”
“I know. So why can’t we, Maddie?”
Her features crumpled as if she were about to cry.
Hank took a step forward, his hand held out to her. “Maddie?”
She held up a hand to stop his advance. “No, Hank. Don’t. If you touch me I’ll fall apart, I swear I will.”
“Maddie, if I don’t touch you, I’ll fall apart.”
Her chuckle was a bit watery. “Well, we have a real problem then, don’t we?”
Hank shrugged and spoke with soft sincerity. “Nothing we can’t work out. I swear to you, Maddie, things are different now. I’m different.”
She cocked her head at a questioning angle. “Really? Just all of a sudden? How?”
Hank exhaled. “In a lot of ways. And not all of a sudden. Over the course of the past several weeks. Being here. Being with you. It’s changed me.”
“Damned water.”
“Then we should bottle it and sell it.” Hank took a leap of faith. “Maddie, I want us to have a happy ending.”
She held up a hand. “Oh, wrong phrase. I never have happy endings, Hank. But as silly as it might sound, as fairy tale–like as some would say it is, I want one, too. Just one. But you’ve got the wrong girl here. I don’t have them.”
“Never?”
She shook her head. “Never. You know my background. In fact, last week, in New York, I dubbed myself the ‘Not the Happy Ending Princess.’”
“Sounds grim.”
“I know. It seems, Hank, that if I achieve anything with people, I’d have to call them workable solutions. They seem to be all that I can manage.”
“Sounds to me like settling. Very depressing.”
She crossed her arms, managing to look conversational. “Isn’t it, though?”
“Maddie, things have changed. I’ve changed. I wish you’d trust me.”
She dropped her pose. “I kept trying to, Hank. I did. I thought when we were together that just maybe this time…” She stopped, lowering her gaze. Waiting, slowly dying, Hank could only stare at the uneven part in her hair, which made her seem achingly vulnerable. Like a little girl that life and love had batted around freely.
Maddie drew in a breath, again met his gaze, and continued. “Well, I thought just maybe. I thought if I really tried hard, you know. If I gave it everything I had, gave you everything I had, just quit thinking and worrying so much and gathered my courage and made the leap—”
Interrupting Maddie was the smoothly metallic sound of a heavy vehicle being started up. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened. Hank tensed right along with her. He stared at her, and together, they said, “Celeste!”
The one word was enough to propel them into motion. Maddie whipped around, Hank right on her heels, and pushed open the old screen door. Together they tore around the cabin’s corner, ran by Hank’s Navigator, and then … stopped dead and stared in shocked surprise. Celeste had turned Maddie’s Wagoneer around and was already tearing up the highway on her way back to town. Celeste waved a hand out the lowered window on the driver’s side. And Beamer’s big dog head was stuck out the passenger’s side. Her long ears ruffled by the breeze, she barked her goodbye.
Hank couldn’t stop the grin that quirked the corners of his mouth. God love you, Celeste. He looked down at Maddie.
She wasn’t amused. She’d planted her hands at her waist, her eyebrows were lowered in an angry frown, and she looked ready to stamp her foot. Her hair ruffled, and pink-faced with temper, Maddie turned her gaze up to Hank. “She stole my car. And my dog. I cannot believe she did that. Now how am I supposed to get back to town?”
Totally in love with her, and about one second away from dropping to one knee and asking her to marry him, Hank grinned down at Maddie. “You don’t know? Isn’t it obvious?”
Maddie stared blankly at him … then slowly got it. Her color heightened even more. “Oh.” Then she chuckled and stared at her rapidly disappearing vehicle. “Well, that little stinker.”
“Yeah,” Hank said, feeling butterflies in his stomach and tremendous gratitude in his heart for the car-and-dog thief that was Celeste. “That little stinker.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Come back to the cabin with me, Maddie. I want to talk to you.”