DRIVING UNDER the influence. Lisa hadn't had a drop of alcohol to drink, but that was exactly how she felt. She was driving under the influence of Matt Connell's kiss.
As she went back down the highway, her hands rested unsteadily on the wheel, and she found her foot pressing too hard on the gas. She told herself to get control, but her admonition didn't do any good. All she could do was think about being in Matt's arms. His appeal had only improved with age. That had been no boy who'd kissed her. Matt had been all man.
Someone behind her honked, and she realized that she'd allowed the car to weave. She tightened her hands on the steering wheel. Usually she was a perfectly respectable driver. Usually she remembered how to use turn signals and pay attention to road signs. But usually she hadn't just kissed Matt Connell.
It was with a great sense of relief that she pulled into the parking lot of the store where she'd left Patrick.
She sat where she was for several moments. The air grew hot and stifling, but she paid no attention. Somehow she had to get a grip on herself. It had only been a kiss! Why did her heart still race, why did her lips still seem imprinted with the taste of him? She gave a moan, and propped her head on the steering wheel. Since one kiss could affect her like this, what would happen if—
Sharply she curbed the direction of her thoughts. She'd made love to Matt Connell when she was sixteen—many times. It was not an experience she needed to repeat. Neither did she need to speculate about it. Except that she suspected making love to Matt would be very different now. He'd learned a lot about kissing in the years since that teenage summer. He'd probably also learned a lot about everything else, too.
Lisa pushed open the door of the car, slammed it shut behind her and strode across the parking lot. She could think of only one cure for this agitation. She needed to find Patrick as soon as possible.
He'd mentioned that he would probably be in the electronics department, and that was exactly where she found him. Trust Patrick to be dependable, someone she could count on. As she entered the store, she saw him at the far end, leaning over a counter and wearing a set of headphones. He appeared to be listening to music; he had a contented look on his face. Lisa felt a rush of guilt. Here Patrick had been, waiting for her, innocently hanging out with stereos. Meanwhile, she'd been in that barn with Matt Connell, doing the forbidden…
She went quickly up to Patrick and gave him a bright smile. “Hi,” she said.
He straightened, taking off the headphones. “Back so soon?”
“Yes, mission accomplished. And I just had a wonderful idea. I need to buy some souvenirs for my girls back home. Care to join me for some serious shopping?”
Patrick gave her a judicious glance. “Sure, I'm game.”
They went outside and walked along the storefronts. Patrick was strangely quiet. Even though he knew she had just now gone to see Matt, he didn't question her about it. He walked silently along beside her, giving the windows they passed a cursory perusal. The contented look on his face had vanished. Lisa felt more and more disconcerted. She led Patrick into a T-shirt shop, pretended to look over the merchandise, but then could no longer contain herself.
“You know,” she said, “I think in a way you did have a good idea. I think Matt and I…well, I guess we really did have something to resolve. So it's good that I've seen him again and—resolved it.”
Patrick gave her another considering glance, then picked up a T-shirt emblazoned Fantastic Florida. “This would be a good present for one of your kids,” he said. “It's extra-large. Means a girl could wear it while she's pregnant, but still be able to use it afterward.”
“Yes, well, a lot of the girls don't want reminders of when they were that big. It's sad, but that's the way it is.” Suddenly Lisa felt irritated. She tried to blame it on the T-shirts, and prodded Patrick on to the next place—a card shop. She knew at least a few of her girls would like stationery for writing to their friends. When scared and pregnant teenagers came to Lisa, often they were away from home for the very first time. She tried to encourage any connection to the familiar.
Patrick obligingly sorted through boxes of-stationery with her. “This one's good,” he said. “It's decorated with parrots.”
Lisa couldn't take it any longer. “I know you want to hear every last detail,” she muttered.
“Every last detail about what?”
“Patrick—”
“Okay, okay. I guess I've just decided it's your business, after all, this Matt Connell thing. I'm butting out.”
She stared at him. “It's not a Matt Connell ‘thing.’ And I don't believe for a minute that you're butting out. You've done nothing but plague me about Matt. You've deliberately tried to provoke some kind of confrontation. You can hardly back off now and say that it's none of your business.” With that, Lisa marched up to the cash register, paid for the parrot stationery and went outside again. She began walking aimlessly in front of the stores, and Patrick caught up to her. He put his hand on her arm, bringing her to a stop.
“Okay, Lisa, here's how it is. I've been trying to figure out what's keeping you back from me. If it was Matt Connell, I wanted to know about it. I wanted to see what I was up against. But today…I can tell something new happened. All I have to do is look at you, and it's there in your face. All of a sudden I'm not so sure I want to know what it is. I'm thinking I'll find out more than I want to know.” He looked at her somberly. She realized that she far preferred him when he poked and prodded at her and drove her crazy. When he was subdued like this, it made her unhappy that she couldn't return his affection wholeheartedly. He deserved more than she was giving him.
“Patrick,” she murmured, “you have to believe me. More than anything, I wish that I'd never seen Matt Connell again. But what happened today—it was only a kiss, nothing more. And it's done with. It's finished.”
He continued to regard her gravely. “Lisa, there's no such thing as ‘only a kiss.’ And something tells me this isn't finished yet…not by a long shot.”
LATER THAT DAY, Patrick, as usual, had made himself right at home. He was sprawled in the hammock on Amy's deck. One arm dangled out so that he could pet Sam. Lisa sat in one of the patio chairs, trying to ignore the fact that she'd situated herself as far as possible from Patrick without actually falling off the deck.
“Here we are,” Amy said, coming from the kitchen to set a tray of cookies and orange juice on the patio table. “Something to tide us over until supper.”
“Hand me a few of those cookies, will you, sweetheart?” Patrick asked Lisa.
She grimaced, then made an effort to relax her facial muscles. She took two oatmeal-raisin cookies and a napkin over to Patrick. Before she knew what was happening, he had grabbed hold of her and brought her tumbling onto the hammock with him. One of the cookies went flying, and Sam happily appropriated it. Lisa wasn't in nearly as good a mood. She felt ridiculous tangled in the hammock with Patrick, and she tried to right herself.
“Nothing doing,” he said. He seemed to have regained some of his customary good spirits, and now he tickled Lisa's ribs. Amy gazed on indulgently. That did it. Lisa scrambled away from Patrick, almost landing on her tailbone in the process. She plunked herself down in another of the deck chairs, far enough away so that Patrick couldn't grab her again. He observed her over the edge of the hammock.
“You're grumpy,” he said.
Lisa realized she was still holding on to an oatmeal-raisin cookie. She resisted the urge to hurl it at Patrick, and started eating it instead.
“I'm just a little…bored. All we do is sit around discussing this anniversary celebration that doesn't have a chance in—”
“You could make yourself useful,” Amy said. “Megan went over to Mom's for a talk. You could do the same thing with Dad—try to find out exactly what's going on.”
Lisa stayed where she was. She gazed out at the shimmering blue-green waters of the gulf, and wondered why she had such a discontented ache inside.
“You are grumpy,” Patrick repeated. “I'll bet anything your mood has to do with M.C.”
Lisa lowered her cookie. “Patrick—”
“M.C. What does that mean?” Amy asked as she sipped a glass of orange juice.
“Nothing,” Lisa said firmly. “Patrick just thinks he's being amusing.”
The hammock swayed back and. forth. “M.C. Now, what could that mean? Could be initials. Yeah…that's a possibility. The initials of some guy who won't leave somebody else's thoughts.”
Lisa couldn't believe he was doing this. “Patrick, for crying out loud—”
“Whose initials?” Amy asked, looking alert.
Patrick poked his head out of the hammock. “Let's just put it this way. An old boyfriend of Lisa's in town, and she kissed him.”
Lisa made a sound that came out like an undignified squawk. Now she almost did throw her cookie at Patrick. Amy was looking more interested all the time.
Suddenly Lisa decided it would be a good idea to escape over to Sea Haven. Talking to her father about his problems would surely be more congenial than this conversation. She slipped away from her chair.
As if sensing her intent to leave, Patrick went on, “Matt Connell, that's his name. My rival.. .M.C.”
Amy set down her glass, a perturbed expression on her face. “Matt Connell? That's his name?”
“The one and only,” Patrick said.
“Matt Connell…of Connell Brassworks?” Amy asked, her voice sounding peculiar.
“Yes,” Lisa muttered. “And now can we just talk about something else.”
“Lisa, come with me for a minute,” Amy said, heading back into the house.
“What—”
“I forgot something. Come help me find it.” Amy was sounding more peculiar all the time. What was she up to? Lisa wasn't so sure she wanted to find out. But then, reluctantly, she followed her sister.
Amy prodded Lisa into the master bedroom, then shut the door. “I don't think Patrick will be able to hear us,” she said. She sank into an antique rocker, and now she seemed flustered.
“Amy, what's going on?” Lisa demanded. “Why all the mystery?”
“It's just that, when Patrick said his name—Matt Connell—I remembered something…”
Lisa sat on the edge of Amy's bed. “You know Matt?”
“No, not to speak to. I gather he hasn't been in town much these past years. How well do you know him? Is he really an old boyfriend of yours?”
“I knew Matt a long time ago. When I was a teenager.”
“You never told me about him,” Amy said.
“It doesn't matter. Look, I know Patrick says I—I kissed Matt, but it's not something that should be blown out of proportion.”
Oddly enough, Amy didn't seem concerned about the fact that Lisa had kissed a man other than Patrick. She leaned forward in the rocker, hands clasped in her lap. “Mom knows Beatrice Connell. That would be Matt's grandmother, I suppose. I remember when her husband was sick all those years ago, Mom went over to help out. And then the poor man died, and Beatrice took it pretty hard.”
Lisa thought over this small bit of information about Matt's life. She'd had to learn about it from her sister, not Matt himself. How little she knew of him…how little he had shared with her.
“Lisa,” Amy went on, “the truth is, I didn't bring you in here just to tell you about Matt Connell's grandparents. There's something else. Maybe you already know about the plane crash, but—”
“Plane crash?” Lisa echoed with a sense of foreboding. “What are you talking about?”
“So you don't know. I can understand that… you've distanced yourself so much from Hurricane Beach.” Amy shook her head. “Maybe it's not any of my business to tell you this…but…”
“Just tell me,” Lisa said.
Amy stared down at her clasped hands. “It was pretty awful. It happened about four or five years ago. Apparently, several people in the Connell family were taking a trip together. Beatrice's two children, and their children… any way, they were flying in a plane and it crashed, somewhere in New Mexico. There were only two survivors. Matt, and a little girl who was his cousin, I think. Except that the little girl died in the hospital a few weeks after it happened. The accident made our newspaper because of Beatrice Connell…and of course Mom tried to help her out again. But how do you help, when something like that's happened?”
Lisa didn't know the answer. She only knew that the nameless yearning inside her had turned to something deeper, and something far more wrenching.