THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Amy delivered Meg and Lisa to the Tallahassee airport. Lisa's flight to Connecticut would be leaving first; an hour or so later, Meg would board a plane for Nebraska. Amy looked forlorn as she helped her sisters bring their luggage inside the airport.
“When it comes right down to it, Mom meant well,” she said. “Okay, so it's reckless to pretend you have marital problems when you don't, but her plan did work. The two of you started coming back to Hurricane Beach more and more.”
“You keep forgetting something,” Meg told her. “Mom and Dad really are having problems. It didn't stay a pretense for very long.”
“I know,” Amy said. “It's rotten, but at least the three of us—we're closer, aren't we?” She looked hopefully from Meg to Lisa. Then her expression clouded again. “Oh, Lissie, when I think what you've been through. Because of Matt Connell…”
Lisa gave Meg a stern glance. “You told her, didn't you? Every detail, I'm sure. Oh, Lord, who else did you tell? Mom and Dad—”
“Calm down,” Meg said in her big-sister voice. “Of course I didn't tell anyone else. Amy's the only one, and she had to know. For once, the three of us are going to stick together on something. Besides, I had to tell her. I slapped the man at her wedding reception, didn't I? The least I could do was give an explanation.”
“It was certainly a memorable moment,” Amy conceded. “Too bad the photographer wasn't able to catch it on film.”
“Maybe I went too far,” Meg said. “But all I could think about was Lisa…hardly more than a kid, and having to go through all that on her own, and now he's still making her unhappy.”
“That's it,” Lisa said. “End of discussion.” She felt vulnerable. Now both her sisters knew all her secrets. But already Amy was enveloping her in a hug.
“I just wish you could be with someone like Patrick,” Amy said. “Someone who wouldn't hurt you.”
“I agree,” said Meg, stepping up and making herself part of the hug. The three sisters stood in a little cluster, and Lisa remembered what she'd felt like as a kid, adoring Meg and Amy, wanting to be exactly like them, thrilled at all the fuss and attention they paid to her. Yet now she was the first to pull away.
“You guys, you've been great,” she said awkwardly.
“You're the one who's been great,” Amy said. “The way you went and talked to Jon's parents, well, all I can say is they seem convinced about Jon and me. They've invited us for dinner tomorrow night—they're treating me just like family again.”
“That's wonderful,” Lisa said, and she meant it. But right now she had to pull away from family closeness. It reminded her too much of what Matt couldn't give her.
“I just have to get out of Hurricane Beach. I don't think…I won't be coming back for a while. Maybe not for a long time.”
Amy looked mournful. “Lissie…”
“I have to go. Just—thanks for everything.” She knew she was doing exactly what their mother too often did, concealing her emotions, hiding behind polite words. But one last, tiny hope flickered inside her. She turned and glanced all around the crowded airport, as if seeking out his face. It still wasn't too late, he could come to her.
But, of course, he wasn't here. It wasn't like in the movies, where the hero comes dashing in and sweeps the heroine into his arms just as the plane is about to leave. No…Lisa knew full well that she would be climbing onto that plane and flying to Connecticut—no Matt Connell to stop her.
She gave each of her sisters another quick hug, and then she turned before they could see the tears blurring her eyes.
THE READING of Bea's will didn't take long. It seemed the old gal had known exactly what she wanted to say, and had said it in as few words as possible. Bea always had been one to get right to the point.
Afterward, Matt stepped outside the lawyer's office. It was late afternoon, and the gulf breeze had cooled, drifting over him with its soothing touch. But Matt had long forgotten what it felt like to be soothed. He didn't see that changing anytime soon.
Joanne came out of the lawyer's office next. “She surprised you, didn't she, Matt? Well, she surprised me, too. What could our dear, departed grandmother have been thinking?”
Joanne seemed to be making a special effort to sound callous about Bea. She'd given no excuses for her absence from town—her neglect to show up even at Bea's funeral. But, sure enough, she'd surfaced once it was time to read the will.
It had been a surprise, the way Bea had left things. She'd stipulated that ownership of the brassworks be divided evenly between her two surviving grandchildren, Matt and Joanne. As to why, Matt didn't have a clue. Bea had rightfully feared that Joanne was ruining the company. And hadn't Bea realized that joint ownership would only create more havoc? Listen to Jo now.
“Why didn't our wonderful grandmother just leave the whole thing to you?” she muttered. “This way, it's only a humiliation. Fifty percent— that doesn't give me any real power.”
“It gives you as much power as I have,” Matt said. “And Jo, Bea wanted to talk to you before she died. She did care about you—”
“Save it, Matt. She had it in for me until the very end. And the way she left her will is a joke. Too bad I can't figure out the punch line.” With that, Joanne walked away.
Matt felt a weariness seep through him. It was more than the perpetual soreness in his knees, more than the way his body still seemed to fight him every time he moved. It was a weariness of spirit.
Joanne had seemed determined to destroy the brassworks, and now she was complaining because she only owned half of it. That made about as much sense as Bea's will. Right now, Matt didn't want to think about Joanne, or the brassworks. Most of all, he didn't want to think about Lisa Hardaway. Beautiful, alluring Lisa, with her cool gaze and her hidden passion.
Matt got his sore knees moving. He crossed Gulfview Lane and headed onto the beach. The white sands glittered underneath the sun, and the waves surged against the shore in their timeless rhythm. He saw a sand crab skitter away, while the seagulls swooped high above. He kept walking, but nothing could stop the thoughts of Lisa, surging over, him as relentlessly as the tide. The need for her wouldn't leave him. But it was a need he had no right to fulfill.
And that was what kept him from Lisa. The conviction that he no longer had the right to take what he wanted.
THE LATE-AFTERNOON SUN shone like bronze upon the sailboat. Merrick stood at the helm, baseball cap pulled low to shade his eyes, his strong frame outlined in old khaki trousers and a navy T-shirt. In Helene's experience, men always had some favorite item of clothing they refused to discard, no matter how disreputable it might become. Merrick's khaki trousers belonged in this category. Helene couldn't even begin to say what vintage they were, but he insisted on dragging them out every time they went sailing. Of course, he and Helene hadn't sailed together in quite some time. Merrick had obviously been upset when he'd learned that Palmer Boyce had invited Helene to sail with him. He'd called Helene on the phone two days later and gruffly invited her on this outing.
She'd almost refused him, unable to forget the terrible things they'd said to each other at Amy's so-called family intervention. But then, at last, she'd been unable to resist the pull of what they'd once shared. She'd agreed to come with Merrick today, not heeding her own misgivings.
Now she sat on a bench near Merrick, listening to the snap of the wind in the canvas, watching the shimmering blue-green waters of the gulf as they lapped against the hull.
“You were the one who said we should take up sailing together,” Merrick said. “Do you remember?”
“How can I forget? It always makes me feel so…free. As if I can take off for anywhere. Enchanted ports, tropical islands…”
“Sounds like you want to find some paradise that doesn't exist,” he said grudgingly.
“That's me,” she answered in a low voice. “Wanting too much.”
“I suppose you're thinking about your acting career,” he said heavily. “Wishing you'd done more.”
She turned away. Of course she wished she'd done more, wished she'd been brave enough to find out if she'd had what it took to be a real actress. But she was realistic enough to know that she couldn't turn back the clock. “It's more complicated than that, Merrick. Taking responsibility for my own life…yes, that's complicated. But if you're going to tell me I'm just making some foolish bid for independence, I won't listen—”
“I didn't bring you here to argue.”
“Why, then?”
He didn't answer at first. But then he murmured, “Do you remember the year we won the regatta?”
How well she remembered. What an adventure they'd had, the whole family celebrating the victory. She and Merrick always had sailed well together—he as captain, of course, she as obliging crew. “My memory isn't gone, Merrick. What's this all about?”
“I thought we could talk about it,” he said. “The good times we had.”
She could feel herself tensing. “I've never denied that we had good times. What are you trying to do—”
“Humor me. Pick a time…any time. Tell me about it.”
She breathed in the salty air of the gulf, and she did remember. “The day I found out I was pregnant with Meg, after all our years of wishes and hopes and disappointments. The cake you brought home from the bakery, to celebrate—”
“And all the balloons,” he said.
“All the balloons you blew up, and set free in the house. I kept coming across them in odd corners.”
“I ran out of breath,” he said. “Ever try to blow up a hundred balloons?”
“We were so happy that day.” How naturally they'd passed the story back and forth between them, like a family treasure they'd brought out to admire.
“Pick another time,” Merrick said, the wind stirring his fringe of hair until Helene wanted to touch it herself. She curled her fingers in her lap.
“I don't think this is such a good idea. What's the use?”
“Maybe there isn't any. But pick one.”
“The day you came home and I was almost hysterical from taking care of three little girls…I thought I must be a terrible mother not to adore every single minute with them. And you told me I'd be crazy if I did adore every single minute. And you were the one who found a baby-sitter. You took me out to dinner, and then we went dancing, just the two of us.”
Merrick gazed at her. “Let's not throw it all away, Helene. All the memories. Maybe Amy has the right idea. We should move back in together, just as a trial run. Just to see if we can work it out.”
“No,” she said. “Not all the memories are good. Too much has always been on your terms. I let you make all the decisions. You wanted us both to give up our acting careers, and I agreed—”
“It always comes back to that,” he said grimly. “After all these years, you still blame me.”
“No, I blame myself. I hid behind you, Merrick. That was a lot easier than putting myself on the line, a lot easier than finding out whether or not I really could be a good actress. That way, I didn't have to take responsibility, not even for my own happiness.”
A gull wheeled overhead, its cry a mournful lament that made Helene shiver in spite of the hot summer day. Then Merrick spoke again.
“I'm just asking you to give it one more try. After fifty years of marriage, don't you think that's fair?”
She lifted her head. “I can't go back to the way things were. I can't hide behind you anymore. I've changed, Merrick. Can you change?”
He gave her a long, hard look, his expression stubborn. “I've been a good husband to you, Helene. And now I'm not going to make any pat promises just to get you back home. But I will try…try to listen, try to understand. I want to be part of your new life, as well as the old.”
Merrick never had been one to make promises he couldn't keep. He seemed reluctant to make promises now. If she moved back home, maybe she'd only find out just how deeply her marriage was in trouble. But for the first time, Merrick had said he was at least willing to try. Was that enough to give them one last chance?
Helene felt bruised deep inside, as if every part of her life had been shaken up and would never fit together again. Yet she managed to speak with surprising steadiness. “I'll come home, Merrick, for a while, at least. Only it has to be under certain conditions…separate bedrooms, for one thing. I still need some distance from you.”
The look on Merrick's face said he didn't like this idea at all. But then he surprised Helene. “Fine,” he said. “Separate bedrooms.” And, far overhead, a gull sent out another mournful lament.
JULIE DOUGLAS STOOD at the very top of the staircase in Brennan House. She wore her bridal gown: a rather awful confection of pink rayon that billowed over her stomach. Julie's mother had insisted that the dress couldn't be white—a color reserved for real brides. When Mrs. Douglas had made that remark, Lisa had lost her temper. She'd wanted to slap the woman. What would Meg have had to say about that? The Hardaway sisters were starting to show a real talent for getting their aggressions out in the open.
Nonetheless, Lisa had managed to control herself. And now Julie began descending the staircase, one step at a time, gripping the railing as she came. She did not look anything like the nervous but happy bride of tradition.
Lisa could not escape the contrast to her sister's wedding. Amy had been nervous, all right, but she'd also been deeply and wonderfully in love. She'd gone willingly, joyously to her groom. Lisa had no doubt that Jon and Amy were meant for each other. Yet she doubted very much if that was true of Julie Douglas and the boy who had impregnated her with twins.
Lisa stood at the bottom of the stairway, wishing she could do anything—anything at all—to stop Julie. But Mrs. Douglas also stood beside Lisa, waiting to take Julie off. The wedding was scheduled to take place in a small town in the middle of nowhere, as anonymously as possible. No guests, no celebration, just a minister, two frightened teenagers and a mother dead set on making her daughter pay for her mistakes.
Julie took one step, then another. She glanced down toward the bottom of the staircase. Her gaze caught Lisa's. Lisa tried to smile, tried to send this young girl a silent message of support. She'd already spent a lot of time talking to Julie, comforting her, encouraging her to examine her feelings and decide at least a few things on her own. But, no matter what Lisa said, it didn't seem to make any difference.
“Can't you hurry up?” asked Mrs. Douglas. “I don't want to be late. You're not going to mess this up.”
Julie stopped halfway to the bottom. She looked at her mother. The glassy expression in her eyes seemed to clear. “No,” she said very firmly and very clearly.
“What do you mean, no?” demanded Mrs. Douglas. “We don't have all day for this, Julie.”
“No,” Julie repeated. She held on to the stair railing with one hand, and placed her other hand on her stomach. “I'm not getting married.”
“Julie—” Mrs. Douglas started to go up the steps toward her daughter.
“Stop.” There was something so cold and decisive about Julie's voice that Mrs. Douglas actually did just that. She stopped.
“I won't do it,” Julie said. “I won't get married.” She stood very tall and straight, in spite of her ungainly stomach. “I'm going to give up my babies for adoption. I'm going to find parents who will take care of them, and who'll love them.” Julie's face twisted a little then, but she kept right on talking. “After that, I'm going to college, Mom. If you won't help me, I'll do it on my own. But I'm going to college, and law school.”
At last Mrs. Douglas spoke. “You don't know what you're saying, Julie. Now, come on down here, and—”
“I know exactly what I'm saying.”
“What about your responsibility—”
“I am taking responsibility,” Julie said in that cold, hard voice that seemed grown-up far beyond her years. “I'm doing what's best for the babies. And I'm doing what's best for me.”
“Julie, you come right here—”
Julie paid no attention to her mother. Instead, very carefully, she turned around and began climbing upward again. She moved slowly, and despite the ridiculous gown, she achieved an odd sort of dignity.
Lisa blinked against the tears that were always too ready to leak out these days. She was proud of Julie—very proud. She knew what an incredibly difficult decision this young girl had just made.
Mrs. Douglas, suddenly powerless to control her own daughter, turned on Lisa. “This is your fault,” she accused. “You've put these foolish ideas in her head.”
“I only advised her to follow her own heart,” Lisa said calmly.
Once again, Mrs. Douglas seemed to have reached a stop. She didn't seem capable of saying another word. She had lost the upper hand, and she appeared to realize it. Today her teenage daughter had all too quickly become an adult.
The heaviness inside Lisa lifted just a little. Julie did not have an easy time ahead, but she had taken charge of her life. That was something important, something significant. Today was one of those times when Lisa's work actually seemed to make sense. Oh, Matt, if only you were here, and I could share this moment with you.
But then the heaviness settled back inside Lisa, and she felt the ache that never seemed to leave.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Lisa pulled into her driveway, dismayed to see Patrick sitting on her front stoop. He held a bouquet of red roses in his hand, and he wore a hopeful expression on his face as Lisa climbed out of her car and approached him.
“I hope roses aren't too obvious a choice,” he said. “I spent a long time in the flower shop, considering my options.”
Carrying her briefcase, which suddenly seemed a heavy weight all in itself, she came up the walk and then sank onto the steps beside Patrick.
“You look tired, Lisa,” he said. “I have an idea, let me take you out to dinner. How about the Sundowner? That's where we had our first date, remember?”
Lisa only gazed at him. And, at last, his overly cheerful expression began to fade.
“You really have it bad for the guy, don't you?”
She wanted to lie, wanted to say that she'd be over Matt in no time. But she didn't have any energy for self-deception.
“Yes,” she said. “It's pretty bad.”
Patrick didn't try to probe her emotions any more than that. He set the roses down, very carefully, as if he did not want to bruise them. “You know, Lisa,” he said in a quiet voice, “when we were down there visiting your family, and you ran into your old boyfriend, I didn't want to be the usual jealous type. I figured you just had to be around Matt Connell a few times and you'd see your feelings for what they were—some fantasy left over from the past. I kept telling myself that sooner or later you'd see that. I just had to help you along…” He gave an ironic laugh. “But the joke's on me, isn't it? Because I helped you right into the guy's arms.”
“I'm sorry, Patrick. I really am. If only you knew…I wish we could have worked it out.” No doubt her sisters were right—Patrick wasn't the kind of man who'd wind up hurting a woman.
“The woman who ends up with you will be a lucky person,” she said. “Oh, you'll drive her a little crazy, the way you'll always tell her what she's feeling before she knows it…but, still, she'll be very lucky.”
Patrick stood, regarding her without a hint of a smile. “It's not that easy, Lisa. Hasn't it ever occurred to you? The way you feel about Matt Connell, maybe that's exactly the way I feel about you.”
She wouldn't wish that on anyone. “Please, don't—”
“Hey, don't worry. I finally got the message. I won't be back. I'm Dead-bolt Dannon, remember? I know when I don't have a lock on things anymore.” There it was, a flash of the old humor— Patrick, his self-deprecation endearing, but never letting you forget that underneath was a man who took himself and his feelings very seriously indeed. If he said that he cared for you, then he genuinely did.
Lisa watched him walk away, and wished with all her heart that it could have been different. She wished that she could have loved a man willing to accept her. Instead, as Patrick vanished from view, she sat on her front steps, alone except for the bouquet of red roses beside her. Alone…and hurting.
THE ENGINE REVVED, vibrating through the small plane. During the past few weeks since Bea's death, Matt had spent almost all his time finishing the restoration job on the old Stinson. Both wings finally intact, it had been something of an exercise in trigonometry to get the plane out of the barn. Now it taxied down the abandoned road next to the barn, a road used by the plane's former owner as a runway. Matt was inaugurating it as a runway all over again, about to embark on his first test flight of the Stinson.
He wasn't in the air yet, though. He could still cut the engine, still call this off. He felt the sweat begin to trickle down his forehead. Today was an unusually cool day for a Florida summer, but still a film of perspiration dampened his face, his back. The images flashed before him, like a movie reel going too fast: the faces of his mother, his sister, his aunt and cousin, as his father crashed the plane into the ground.
Now, as if observing someone else, Matt watched himself open the throttle. The plane gained speed as the engine revved higher. But it still wasn't too late. He didn't have to do this, didn't have to confront the images that surely belonged only in his nightmares. He could stay on the ground, just as he had during the past five years. Why change now?
He felt a tightening in his gut, a sick sensation, and now the sweat seemed to drench him. He pushed the throttle full open, and the plane lifted, heading into the wind. Matt was too anxious, forcing the climb. Easy. There's no way to get this over quickly—
And then, suddenly, Matt didn't want it over quickly. He felt the air take the plane, felt it buoy him. A remembered sensation from long ago came over him, a feeling of rightness that swept away everything else. It was as if a fever had just broken, leaving him damp and tired but healthy. Suspended in the sky, he felt at home.
“Did it,” he uttered under his breath. He eased back in his seat, only now realizing how knotted his muscles had been. He took a deep, relaxing breath, and it seemed to him that it had been years since he'd breathed this way—taking the air full into his lungs, savoring it, actually permitting himself to enjoy a moment without questions or selfrecriminations.
Was it really this simple? All he'd needed was to be up in the sky again, riding the air like a kite? But he knew, of course, it wasn't that simple. It was only that he got a little better perspective up here. Coming back to Hurricane Beach at Bea's request, seeing Lisa again…these events had started him on a voyage he hadn't been able to discern until now. Where the voyage would end— that was something else entirely. Recognizing that he was actually on his way somewhere, not just marking time one day to the next…that was enough for now.
Matt knew he would return from this flight safe and sound today. Just as he knew, if he'd been flying that plane five years ago, he would have returned his own family safe and sound. For the first time, this knowledge didn't tear a hole in him. He felt a great sadness, and yes, great regret. But he also looked out the windshield of his old Stinson bush plane, and he saw how clear the sky was, seeming to stretch all the way into the future.