The Last Summer at Chelsea Beach (40 page)

There is a moment of painful silence between us. “I should wash the dishes.” He jumps up and the bucket between us on the deck tips and spills.

“Oh!” I scramble to right it and reach for a cloth. As we wipe the mess, I look down at his hands. “Dammit, Liam.” This was bigger than spilled paint. I am angry at him still for all that he had done years ago. I beat at his chest and he does not try to stop me, but absorbs the blows with sharp silent, breath. A moment later I stop and crash my head against his chest sobbing. “Why?” I ask, over and over, demanding answers he does not have. Then exhausted, I lean on him silently. Forgiveness, it seems, is harder than I might have thought—perhaps because it is not mine to give.

“After I was released from the hospital, I tried to turn myself in to be arrested.” His words spill out. “But the police wouldn’t take me because it was an accident. I’ll answer for my crimes in another way.” His voice is hollow. For all of his healing, there is a place inside him that would never be whole.

“I’ve tried a million times to figure out who I was and how I could have done those things. I was just so lost and I never quite fit in. I went lower afterward,” he confesses. “More drinking and drugs. I was on the street. Jack found me and got me into a program. He saved my life.”

Neither of us speaks for several minutes. “You tried to warn me, so many times—that day on the beach and in the city. But there was nothing you could have done to make me hear.”

“No.” It is true. Through all of the pain and shock and pondering what might have been, I had never once hated him. “I understand in a way. You see, when I was in England, I found out the truth about my parents.” I swallow. It is the first time I have told anyone. “They were arrested because I was missing. It was my fault.”

He puts his arm on mine. “Addie, that’s not at all the same. You didn’t do anything. You didn’t even have a say in leaving Italy.” He leans back and I take in the lean silhouette of his torso. A shiver runs through me. Is it nostalgia? No, there is something about him, subtle and more vulnerable than Charlie, that draws me to him.

Then he smiles, and the darkness blows away like dust. “I wanted to ask you to come, too. That’s why I sent the picture.”

“You?” I turn in disbelief to see him nod.

“I wanted to ask you to come back. But I didn’t have the nerve. So I mailed you the photo, long before I asked the others.” All that time I had thought it was Charlie or even Jack who had sent the picture. I had not imagined that it was Liam who had been searching for me and calling me home. “But when that didn’t work—”

“You got Aunt Bess to help.” I hadn’t thought to question why she needed the things she had left down here.

“Yes. I contacted her when I started this a few months ago, but she said that you were in London and there was nothing she could do. I guess when you came back for the funeral...”

“She had a change of heart,” I finished for him. How odd that after all of her years of keeping me from the Connallys, she had helped bring me back to them. But fortune had played a role, too—if I hadn’t come back because of my uncle, I might have missed them again.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes if the invitation came from me,” he says sheepishly.

I want to tell him that it isn’t true. What would I have said if Liam had asked me to come? I’m not entirely sure. I would have remembered the old, angry Liam who had caused so much pain, not the man who stands before me now. “Well, I’m here now.”

“Being away, was it easier or harder?”

I shrug. “Being away just makes it easier to forget.”

He nods in agreement. “When I was away I could pretend Robbie was still here, running down the street.”

“I couldn’t stand to be here but I couldn’t separate when I was away. I was always torn.”

“And now?” Liam is looking at me, green eyes expectant.

“I don’t know.” When I’d come home for my aunt, returning to London had seemed a foregone conclusion. But what did I have left there, really? I had turned Teddy away and could hardly go back and work closely with him at the bureau as I once had. I had helped the orphans. Charlie was gone. There was nothing left for me now.

He steps back and surveys the porch. “I think we’ve done all we can for tonight.” It is getting dark and hard to see. He takes the paintbrushes to wash and disappears inside the house. I look up at our rooms at the house next door. Earlier, I’d rung Aunt Bess to tell her I would be staying a few more days. She didn’t argue, but I worried about leaving her for so long after all she had been through.

Pushing down my guilt, I walk to the edge of the porch to peer at the house on the far side of the Connallys’.

“What are you thinking about?” Liam asks, returning with coffee.

I wrap my hands around the warmth of the mug he hands me. “Remember that time when I broke the window and you took the blame for me?” He nods. “You were trying to protect me. I only wish I had been able to do the same for you when things got tough.”

“I’m not sure you ever needed protection,” Liam observes. “Even as a girl you were so strong.” I look at him, surprised. I had not seen myself that way, and I hadn’t imagined anyone else had either. “You were tiny and quiet, and we all wanted to protect you. But for Christ’s sake, you had just come halfway around the world. By yourself. No, you weren’t the one who needed saving. We needed you.”

The music changes to Cole Porter, and for a second we might have been in the Connallys’ living room back in the city, their father dancing their mother around the frayed rug while the boys and I watched and grinned. Liam pulls back and cups my chin. For a moment, I think that he might kiss me, but he uses his thumbs to wipe away the wetness beneath my eyes. Then he holds out his arms to me expectantly. “Shall we?”

“Dance, here?”

“Why not?” We stand. As he spins me around, the record skips slightly as it rotates on the turntable, an imperfection that would never be quite right again.

He kisses me suddenly, brief but strong. So he felt it, too. I kiss him back, not hesitating, surprised at how right it feels. Then he pulls back and there is fear in his eyes. I lean forward and draw his lips to mine. A minute later we break apart, breathless. “I had no idea,” I murmur.

He smiles ruefully. “Because you never saw me. All you saw standing in front of you was Charlie.”

I open my mouth to tell him that it isn’t true, only then I see that it exactly is. I had always been so wrapped up in Charlie I hadn’t been able to see past him. “I’m sorry.” I touch his cheek, marveling at its softness beneath my fingertips.

But he stiffens and pulls away. “You love who you love. I don’t blame you for that. But I don’t want to be a poor substitute for my brother. I don’t want to be second choice. And I don’t want this to be about my family.” The old, angry Liam seems to surface for a moment.

“It isn’t,” I reply quickly, meaning it.

He takes another step back. “Good night, Addie.” He walks inside, leaving me alone and shaken, unsure what had just happened between us.

I hear his footsteps on the stairs and then the floor above. Should I go after him and try to make things better? I do not want to let him just walk away again. But it will do no good—he has walked in the shadow of his brother for so long, some part of him will never believe me.

I go upstairs to the room where I am staying, still confused. Liam had wanted the kiss, too; I could feel it. Why does this have to be so complicated?

There is a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Liam appears, a dark silhouette in the doorway. “Addie, I’m sorry. It’s just that for so long I wanted you to see me. I thought we were the same, a couple of outsiders, different than the rest. But you were always chasing Charlie.”

“It was over long ago,” I say, the realization crystalizing as I speak it. “You can’t let go of some parts of the past and not others. Don’t I deserve a fresh start, too?” He does not answer. “It’s not about Charlie. Not anymore.”

I stand and walk to him, pull him into the room.

My lips are upon his now and we are drinking each other in and it is still not enough. He pushes me back, opening me in a way I have never quite felt before, without boundaries or control, different than anything before.

I groan, a guttural, foreign sound from somewhere deep. My hands reach up to curl underneath the bottom of the headboard where it meets the mattress. My back arches. My head twists from side to side, as though knocked by violent waves. Sex with Liam is different from the measured tenderness I experienced with the only other lover I had known. In bed, Charlie had been like he was when running or playing football, measured and graceful. But Liam’s movements are a racehorse unharnessed, as powerful as they are urgent. His kisses are almost bites. He grabs me to keep me from falling off the bed as we roll frenetically from side to side. He lifts my skirt and enters me. I scream.

After, we lie in a breathless tangle. Our eyes meet. “Wow!”

“Yeah.” The lights are on, I realize. With Charlie it had been darkness, hands fumbling. But now we are before each other, exposed. I shiver. Mistaking my nervousness for cold, he reaches for the edge of the blanket and wraps it around me. I burrow in it, grateful for the shelter, and nestle closer in his arms.

* * *

When I awaken, I’m assaulted by feelings of confusion and guilt. Is this wrong? With Charlie, we had been planning to get married. But to let so much happen with Liam so soon... I am not that kind of a girl. I came here to pack away boxes and move on. This is not the time for getting involved with anyone, especially Liam. Nothing between us could ever work or be simple.

I sit up to go. Feeling me pull away, his eyes snap open. Suddenly awake, he grabs me and draws me close.

“Liam...” I try to say between his kisses. I pull back, averting my eyes from the low bit of his stomach.

“What is it?”

“I think we made a mistake.”

“Okay, so we won’t do it again.” But his hands travel down my body.

I pull away. “Dammit, Liam, is it always that simple for you?”

“I just don’t understand why it has to be complicated. You want out, fine with me.” A note of defensiveness crept into his voice.

“I’m sorry. But this is hard.”

“No, losing Robbie was hard,” he says stiffly. “This is just life.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s exactly that simple. You’ve constructed this wall around yourself, Addie. It reminds me of someone I once knew,” he adds, smiling ruefully. I see him as a boy, so defensive and pushing everyone away, too afraid to get close. “But I won’t let you shut me out.” My eyes wander toward the door. “Don’t, Addie. Leaving now will just make things more awkward the next time. It’s been a beautiful night.” I feel my cheeks warm. “In a few hours the sun will be up and I’ll make you breakfast. What do you say?”

I lean back beside him and rest my head easily against his chest. “It’s just weird, you know? Like I had to go all the way around the world to find this.” Suddenly it seems like one big circle.

“Maybe going away brought you home again.”

“Maybe.” I had always felt some sort of connection to Liam, both of us outsiders. But I had never understood it until now. I settle back in his arms. There is a kind of clarity about him now, a strength forged in the fire through which he had walked. He might have continued his downward spiral, spurred on by his grief. But he had chosen to climb back up and live.

“You believe me now, that this is just about us?”

“I do.” His voice is sincere, a man calm and confident in his place. “I mean, you chose to leave Charlie, right?”

“Right.” Grace had been there, but if I fought I knew that Charlie would have been mine. I had left, though, because I could no longer live under the weight of all that had happened between us.

“You could stay,” Liam says, a mumble in half sleep. My breath catches. “This will never be whole without you.”

“I’ll stay for now,” I reply. “To help you with the house.” More I cannot promise. I gaze into the darkness of the rafters. Outside, rain beats steadily against the rooftops. “We won’t be able to paint tomorrow.”

“We’ll work on the inside.” His voice is untroubled.

I nod. I never did mind the rain. “But, Liam...” I hesitate.

My mind reels back to hours earlier when we were working on the house. “Look.” He showed me a part of the yard, set off with wooden beams, where his mother could have a garden. I saw how much he had wrapped up in his plan. Liam had tried to create everything exactly. It would take more than some paint, though. No matter how carefully he restored the house, Robbie would never come running around the corner. Memories were one thing, the future quite another. Could it ever be home again?

I want to tell him that it might not work, that even if they do come he might not be able to set things right. He seems open now and so vulnerable and I want to save him the disappointment of having his hopes crashed. But hope is all he has right now and I cannot take that away from him.

I wrap my arms more tightly around him and will his plan to work.

I struggle against the tide, fighting to stay close to the shoreline. I try to grasp a large weathered log, but the piece of wood breaks free with the next wave and I am reduced to clutching at the ocean floor, the liquid sand running futilely through my fingers. With every ounce of energy, I fight to stand and bury one foot deep in the wet earth. But even when I have anchored myself, I continue to be dragged by the tide until it seems that I might be torn in two. I am beaten insistently by the wind from the waist up, while the undertow wraps around my calves like a whip. When I can withstand the pain no more, I throw my arms up with abandon and fall backward, allowing the waters to engulf me and sweep me away.