If she had retained even a lingering doubt about his sincerity, the sight of Pierce was enough to dispel it. Backlit by warm yellow light, he opened the door to the riverfront cottage before she knocked. As though he’d been waiting for her to pull up. The silver flecks in his hair caught the light, and his muscular arms, only slightly softened by the fine knit jersey he wore over blue jeans, wrapped her with an easy confidence.
His calm assurance was contagious, immediately settling and reassuring her. This was where she was meant to be. Not only in his arms, but setting out on this new adventure. By his side.
‘I forgot to ask whether you wanted to eat here, or on Pelicanet.’ Pierce’s feet were bare, and he gestured toward the cosy interior of the cottage.
Sam hesitated. ‘I know it’s crazy in this weather, particularly when it looks so inviting in there. But, Pelicanet …’ How could she explain to him that the vessel silently called to her?
‘Special events need a special place,’ Pierce said, understanding her unspoken thoughts. ‘I packed a picnic basket. And blankets and a torch.’
Any other guy would think she was crazy for wanting to tramp the muddy riverbank on a wintry evening, when the last of the light had already slipped beneath the dark surface of the river.
‘Come inside for two minutes, while I grab my shoes.’
‘Or I could come inside for two minutes and we could make out, and then you could grab your shoes?’ she suggested.
‘Or that,’ he said, drawing her in and pushing the door firmly closed.
It was longer than two minutes, and she wasn’t feeling the least chilly by the time, massive cane picnic hamper in hand, Pierce wrapped an arm around her and guided her toward the river path. ‘Fortunately for you, Samantha Schenscher—’
She liked that he’d gone to the trouble of discovering and using her maiden name.
‘—my mum’s minestrone travels well in a thermos. And pastizzi are probably better eaten at room temperature.’ He shivered as a squall danced across them to find the water. ‘Not that this is room temperature.’
Pierce dropped his arm from her shoulders so they could walk more quickly in the bouncing light from the torch she held. Catching her free hand, he guided it into the pocket of his jacket.
‘Are you keeping my hand warm for my sake, or your own?’ she laughed up at him, blinking the ice tears from her eyes.
He snorted with sudden amusement. ‘I love how you say whatever comes to mind.’
Sam threaded her fingers through his. She didn’t need to pretend it was too fast, too soon or any other damn thing. They were well and truly adults, they had no one to please but themselves and could make and remake their destiny as they chose.
The crisp air frosted their breath into tiny crystals in the torchlight and their conversation faltered as, unanimously intent on reaching Pelicanet, they covered the kilometre of night-shaded path in silence punctuated only by panting as the cold air hit their straining lungs.
As the dark shadow of Pelicanet loomed before them, Sam found her breath. ‘It seems a shame to start the generator and ruin the not-silence.’
‘Not-silence?’
She paused, hands on her waist as she tried to get oxygen back into her lungs. ‘Listen. It’s quiet but not. There are possums moving through the trees over there. Or, you know, possibly river rats. But possums sounds cuter. And something scared the pigeons out of their roost on the cliffs.’ She tilted her head toward the river. She loved closing her eyes, putting a picture to each individual sound: the splash as a fish leapt, chased by a nocturnal predator. The wind swaying branches with the soft music of a rain stick. Fluffing and stirring in bird nests, the occasional squawk of annoyance.
She felt Pierce nod alongside her. ‘I like your not-silence. It’s soothing. And fortunately,’ he drew her onto the dock, ‘yesterday we had large capacity batteries installed. So we have all the mod-cons, without the noise of the generator.’
She needed to correct his ‘we’ usage.
But not right now.
Because there was Pelicanet, welcoming them home.
Pierce unlocked and dropped the laden basket in the dining room, before flicking the brass switch near the door. He exhaled noisily as the room glowed golden. ‘There’s always that moment, with batteries, when you’re afraid it’s not going to work.’
‘There’s always that moment with everything,’ she corrected. ‘Pops says the best way to get something running right is to shut it all down, and then restart.’
Pierce nodded. ‘Pops is a wise man, I think.’
‘You’ll be so in with him if you go with that attitude.’
Somehow, she was in his arms again. He gazed down at her. ‘I’ll take all the coaching I can get.’
Sam felt safe in his embrace, yet a tiny part of her wanted to insist that she didn’t allow herself that luxury. She fought it down. She refused to drag the broken parts of herself into her future. She returned his kiss unstintingly, but when they separated, she surveyed him seriously. ‘You do understand that I’ve nothing to offer, don’t you? I mean, the business was in Grant’s name, as is our house and every other darn thing. I’m probably going to walk out of this marriage with less than I had going in.’
Pierce shrugged with a monumental lack of concern. ‘Then we build something new. Something better. Though—’ he gazed out of the darkened window for a moment, and all she could hear was the soft lapping of the river against the old timbers ‘—I know someone who might be able to help you with that. No promises, though.’
‘I don’t like my chances,’ she said. ‘Grant knew what he was doing. And if I am entitled to anything, I know he’s going to fight me for every cent. The point is, I want you to know I’ve nothing I can offer you other than labour. And, you know, company.’ She had slid her hands beneath his jersey, his flesh firm and hot. But then she withdrew them in a rush, realising it could seem that she was trying to coerce him. The thought made her smile: it was a novelty to be in the position where any portion of the power in the relationship was hers.
‘Company. And clearly, honesty,’ Pierce said. ‘And friendship, and shared passion. And, maybe one day, something more.’
She was taken aback by his forthrightness.
‘Remember your safe word, Sam,’ he murmured, then paused, waiting for her nod of acknowledgement. Or perhaps to see if she would use the word.
She didn’t. There was no need, because she knew she could talk with him. ‘Is there any point hoping for more? I mean, it’s not practical.’ She took a steadying breath. They weren’t kids, didn’t need to hide behind euphemisms, testing each other to see who would dare use the word first. ‘And anyway, love disappears.’
Pierce shook his head. ‘We both know that love can disappear,’ he corrected. ‘That doesn’t mean it has to. And as for practicality—is there an iota of sense in rescuing a hundred-plus-year-old boat to run an occasional and limited dining service? Nope. Neither financial nor business. But we love her. So we’ll make it work.’
Never had Sam imagined someone would share her attachment to Pelicanet, to the sense of timelessness the riverboat evoked, the connection to stories of lives long gone that hid in her creaking timbers. She nodded slowly, breathing deep the smells of the history they had saved. The new history they would create. Together.
‘One thing, though …’ She hesitated. God, it wasn’t a conversation she ever wanted to have, but if she expected honesty, Pierce had a right to the same. ‘You mentioned that you’re not keen on kids. Does that mean you don’t want any more?’
Pierce winced. His jaw worked for a second. ‘Is this going to be a deal-breaker, Sam? Because, honestly, I don’t. I’m nearly fifty, I’ve done the kid thing once, and I wasn’t that great at it.’
His reply should have made it easy, but there was still a chance Pierce would consider her less once he understood the depths of her selfishness. But she wasn’t about to lie; not to him, and not to herself. ‘I often wonder whether we’re destined to repeat our parents’ mistakes. Mine, in case you’re wondering, were pretty ordinary. Both as human beings and as parents.’ She took a steadying breath. ‘So I’ve decided I will never have children.’
Pierce slid his hands up her arms. ‘If that’s something that would have been important to you, I’m really sorry you’ve been forced into that position.’
She needed a moment to process the emotions that swept through her. Relief that he didn’t try to persuade her that she’d be fine as a mother, and that she both should and could want children. Gratitude at his honesty and easy compassion. Perhaps a tiny touch of sorrow at the knowledge she would never carry his babies.
And yet there was something already growing inside her: joy. Excitement. Anticipation for what life might now hold.
‘Thanks. But I think … I think I may have found something else to attach my affection to.’ Her gaze travelled the room, lingering on the details. ‘You know, you still haven’t showed me what you’ve done with the wheelhouse. If you’re getting Hamish to do your captaining—is that the term? Ship driving? Boat handling?—are you turning the upper deck over to him?’
Pierce bent to kiss her. His lips were assured, the caress both tender and demanding. ‘Not a chance. He gets a tiny wheelhouse, now, but the rest of the renovations up there are only for us. I wanted to show them to you last time but thought perhaps it wasn’t the moment.’
She could barely breathe, yet she managed to force out, ‘I think now might be the right time.’
His hands were in the small of her back, and drifted deliciously up her spine to cup her shoulder blades. ‘I have to warn you, I’m nervous.’
‘Performance anxiety?’ she teased. If anyone should be nervous, it was her. Yet what she lacked in experience, she would make up for in eagerness. Her heart beat faster at the thought of being closer to Pierce, touching him, exploring him. He stirred feelings that she’d never suspected she could harbour. Yes, she wanted him to make love to her. She wasn’t a stranger to lust. But the difference was, if Pierce said that they were going to cook together instead of having sex, she’d be just as happy to focus on that shared passion.
Well, almost as happy.
‘More that I’m anxious about what you’ll think of my improvements.’ Pierce bent to pick up the basket. ‘I’ll duck down and put this in the fridge.’
‘I’ll come with. I need to have another good look at what you’ve done there, too—make sure I wasn’t imagining it. I couldn’t take it all in before.’
Pierce led the way down the narrow stairs to the small galley. ‘Proof of how easy it is to build on a good foundation, I reckon.’
She smiled, appreciating the way he made his point in a manner she could ignore if she chose. There was honesty in his pursuit. And she knew she owed him the same. She took a moment, searching for the right words. ‘I wasn’t enough for Grant,’ she said quietly, as they stood surrounded by the trappings of their joint passion. ‘And I’m worried I won’t be enough for you. You have this crazy idea about my ability and experience …’ She let the words drift off, but really she wanted to say, And me. You have this crazy idea that I’m good enough for you.
Pierce drew her into his arms. ‘You’ve got that totally the wrong way around. Grant wasn’t enough for you. Maybe, when you were kids, when you met, then he was enough. But you grew and he didn’t. At least, not in healthy ways. Samantha, you are enough. More than enough. For me, you are just perfect.’