All I Want Is You (22 page)

“No, it doesn't. Though . . . if he wants to make amends, you're not open to that?” Polly leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially. “Because I'm just sayin', if I had a fine specimen like that warmin' my bed, I'd have a hard time kickin' him out of it. And there's a lot to be said for forgiveness. And for overlookin' somebody's flaws.” Then she laughed. “I mean, take Abner. There's a lot to look past there, believe me. Most folks around here think I'm married to a crazy man. But I chose to look past that a long time ago. Because he makes me happy. He won't quit paradin' around in those damn hats, but he makes me happy. And I decided that was more important than the rest of it.”

Christy appreciated Polly's point of view, but she didn't have the heart to suggest that Jack's offenses were possibly tougher to get past than Abner's. Not that Christy thought life married to Abner would be easy—­but it was comparing apples to oranges.

Polly gave Christy her pie on the house, and when Christy exited back out into the hot sun, she found Dinah still loitering near the door. Stooping down to pet the kitty, she said, “I wonder what will become of you. And of me, too, for that matter.”

J
ACK
sat on Fletcher's porch, drinking a beer and peering out over the ocean. He was going to miss it here. And yet, in a way, he
already
missed it here—­because part of what had been so great about being here was enjoying the place with Christy. Without her, everything felt a little empty.

“You can get her back if you want to,” Fletcher said matter-­of-­factly.

Jack glanced over at his ponytailed friend. “And how is it that I go about that?”

“Just have faith,” Fletcher told him.

And Jack couldn't help rolling his eyes. “Oh, you mean like how your wife is going to come back. All you have to do is wish for it and it happens?”

Fletcher gave his usual, easy shrug, clearly unoffended. “It's not so much about wishing as it is believing, expecting. Knowing that's how the story will end because nothing else makes any sense.”

Jack liked Fletcher—­in fact, he was a downright interesting dude—­but he felt the need to try to reason with him. “What about times in life when the story ends in a way that
doesn't
make sense?”

“Then whosever story it was didn't believe it would make sense in the end. Or the story wasn't really over and it only seemed like it was.”

When it came right down to it, Jack
liked
Fletcher's way of looking at life. And he wanted to believe it was all as simple as Fletcher claimed. But the trouble was that he just didn't. Because Christy had every right to have lost faith in him, to have stopped trusting him. And he couldn't think of a way in the world to change that.

When Jack stood up to depart a little while later, he said goodbye to Fletcher for the last time.

“I'll miss you, my friend,” Fletcher told him.

“Same here,” Jack replied. And as he neared the edge of the porch, ready to return to the beach, he looked over his shoulder to add a last thought. “I hope she comes back, man.”

And Fletcher smiled the same calm, sure smile as always to say, “She will.”

Jack considered suggesting they keep in touch, if only because he would always wonder—­and if she came back, he would want to know. But then he thought better of it—­because if she
didn't
ever come back, well, then maybe he'd rather just stay in the dark about it.

Heading toward the wooden steps that led through the shrubbery and down into the sand, he glanced across the way to see the woman he remembered meeting at the Sunset Celebration—­Tamra, he thought was her name—­sitting on another big, open porch, working on her stained glass. He hadn't realized she was Fletcher's neighbor.

And then he spotted a For Sale sign in the quaint little green cottage next door to her and directly across from Fletcher's, also facing the ocean. And he couldn't help thinking that it would be a nice place to live.

The fact was, he really had no ties—­he could live wherever he wanted. He could stop flipping houses, find some new hobby to take up his spare time. And maybe after Christy, a whole new place would feel good, fresh, like a new beginning.

But . . . that could never really be. Because, as he'd already realized, being here without her would be . . . empty. And maybe being
anywhere
without her would be empty now.

E
ARLY
the following morning, Reece and Fifi came out to the parking lot to say goodbye.

“How is it possible I might actually miss you?” Christy said, peering down at the giant iguana.

Reece winked. “See, I told you she was lovable in her own way.”

Jack had already walked to the bakery to get some donuts for the road, and Christy was glad. She had a feeling it was going to be a long drive home—­for many reasons.

A quick last stop at Sunnymeade allowed her to give Grandpa Charlie one last hug goodbye, and she stepped out in the hall and worked to hide her tears as Jack and her grandpa said so long, as well.

They stayed quiet as they started on the journey. Jack was driving and it didn't surprise her when he pulled off the road to let them both look for a moment at the stretch of secluded beach in the distance that they'd noticed on their drive in. It had been merely a pretty view then. Now it was a place where so much had happened. Maybe
too
much. And her heart broke all over again just peering out over it.

Goodbye, Coral Cove.

 

“. . . but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”

Lewis Carroll,
Alice in Wonderland

Chapter 20

C
HRISTY SAT
on her sagging couch piecing together jewelry while Bethany got ready for a date in the next room. It was hot and the windows were open—­they couldn't afford A/C—­and the particularly odd scent of lime whiskey wafted through the room.

In some ways, the trip to Coral Cove felt like a dream. One which, like all dreams, had eventually ended. And brought her back to where she'd started. And it was hard not to feel sad. Not only about the end of the dream about Coral Cove, but also the end of the dream about Jack.

The drive home a few days ago had felt predictably long, fluctuating between lengthy, heavy stretches of silence and Jack occasionally taking another stab at “trying to make her see reason.” And by the time they'd arrived home, it was clear he thought she was just being stubborn.

Finally, as they'd crossed the bridge over the Ohio River back into Cincinnati, she'd said to him, “Do you remember what it felt like to have the rug yanked out from under your whole life when you found out about your wife cheating?”

“Of course,” he'd said. “It was horrible. But this and that are two very different things.”

“I'm not suggesting they're the same,” she told him. “But I've already had the rug yanked out from under my life when my parents died. And then . . . then . . .” Oh yuck, she'd started feeling more emotional than she'd wanted to. But she'd pulled herself together and kept going. “You came along and I started feeling happy again. And what happened in the end just reminded me . . . I don't ever want to feel that way again, that blindsided, that abandoned or that flipped-­completely-­upside-­down without warning. And to trust someone who's already shown me they can't be trusted would just be . . . setting myself up for another big fall. And I just can't risk another big fall, Jack.”

“Christy, I could give you everything!” he'd exclaimed from the opposite seat. “I
want
to give you everything. And yeah, I fucked up. Everybody does sometimes. But you know I'm a good guy, you know I never meant to hurt you. Why can't you just try to get past this?”

And her answer had come out simple and sure. “Because you showed me that even a good guy can hurt me. Without even meaning to. And that doesn't make me feel . . . safe. And what's the point of a relationship if it doesn't make you feel safe?”

Now she thought about what he'd said, that he could give her everything. Though he'd never gotten specific, she'd known what he meant. That he could take care of all her money woes, and Grandpa Charlie's, too. And maybe, even if only for her grandpa's sake, she should be jumping all over that—­doing what Jack said, getting past it, letting it go.

But everything had become so much more complicated now. Or maybe it had always been complicated and she just hadn't realized it. Or maybe it was the things she'd learned about herself in Coral Cove that had turned things more complex.

But what it boiled down to was this: Despite how Jack's lies had hurt her, she also really admired all he'd made of himself, the way he'd built his business from nothing, on his own terms, and she liked how humble and down to earth he remained in spite of his success. And now . . . well, maybe she wanted that, too. Maybe she wanted to prove to herself that she could do this on her own, make her own money, become a success at something she loved. Maybe she didn't
want
to take the easy way out anymore. And even if part of her loved Jack for wanting to give her everything she'd been looking for from the moment she'd met him, she also wished . . . that
he
wanted that for her, too.

Up until her parents' death, her life had been too easy—­she'd been spoiled and fawned over. And then it had instantly become too hard—­and nothing had worked since. And somehow, having her heart crushed just made her yearn, more than ever, to make her life
work
. To move on, move forward. To quit living in the remnants of something old and instead create a new sort of existence for herself.

Just then Bethany walked into the room. So Christy looked up and said, “I think I've just figured out the secret to a perfect relationship.”

Bethany's eyebrows shot up in anticipation. “Let's hear it.”

“It's feeling safe with someone . . . without wanting them to save you.”

“That's deep,” Bethany said.

And Christy laughed. Jack would probably say the same thing.

Then Bethany asked, “Does this skirt make me look slutty?” She did a turn in a pink leopard print mini she'd picked up for just a few dollars on a clearance rack.

“No,” Christy assured her. “More cute than slutty.”

“Crap,” Bethany replied. “I was going for slutty tonight. Back to the drawing board.” Then she retreated again into her bedroom.

And Christy thought about how much she loved Bethany and always would, but somehow she'd gotten to know herself a lot better on her trip to Coral Cove, and the result was that she'd felt a little less connected to her roommate since returning home. It was almost as if . . . she'd gone away and changed, grown, and coming back made everything different. Even things that were entirely the same felt completely different now.

And so it
hadn't
been a dream. Because even if she'd come home to the same life, the things that had happened to her there had changed her.
You just miss the things you felt there, that's all.
And maybe that meant . . . she should try to get them back, feel them again. Well, at least some of them, the things she could feel
safely
again.

A few minutes later, as Christy continued her work, her mind spinning with fresh ideas and possibilities, Bethany came back out, this time in a tight red micro-­mini and matching red heels. “Well?” She held her hands out.

“Nailed it,” Christy said. “Much, much sluttier.”

Bethany smiled. Then came to join Christy on the couch, her expression softening as she asked, “Should I be worried about you?”

Christy looked over at her, surprised by the concern. “Why?”

“Well, ever since you got home and told me about this whole Jack fiasco, you've just seemed . . . not depressed exactly, but . . . you've seemed more like
me
.”

Christy let her brow knit. “Like you how?”

Bethany tilted her head, clearly thinking it through. “Just . . . more practical, I guess. More matter-­of-­fact. And . . . less romantic.”

“What do I have to be romantic about?” Christy asked on a sigh.

“Maybe that's my point,” Bethany replied. “You've never had
much
to be romantic about, but you always were anyway. Just in general. You believed in true love, happily ever after and all that. And I'm worried you don't anymore.”

Christy took all that in, thinking it over. Maybe everything Bethany was saying was true. And maybe that was the saddest part of all. But if even a guy like Jack let you down in the end, what chance was there for true love? And at the moment, she couldn't imagine letting herself even
begin
to go there again, to believe in that, to put herself at risk again believing in it, yet secretly—­deep inside—­just waiting for the other shoe to drop. “If that's so,” she finally told Bethany, “maybe it's good. Wise.”

Bethany tilted her head, cast a sad smile. “But I love that about you,” she said. “Because . . . if
you
don't believe in happily ever after anymore, what chance do the rest of us have? What chance do
I
have? I guess I've come to count on your heart to be open enough for both of us.”

Unexpectedly moved, Christy said, “I didn't know that.”

“Well, it was kind of a secret,” Bethany admitted quietly. “Us jaded, slutty girls don't like to go that soft, you know?” She winked, trying for another grin that didn't quite make it to her eyes.

“To be honest,” Christy said, “I'm not sure
what
I believe right now—­except for one thing. That I need to show myself I can stand on my own two feet. So that's what I'm going to focus on doing. And I'm going to be fine.” She squeezed Bethany's hand, a silent promise. “Just fine.”

Of course, just then she thought of Jack. In better times. Times when she trusted in him completely and he'd touched her and kissed her and made her feel more whole than she'd known she could. And just when she was so committed to being strong and sturdy, the memory cut like a knife into her heart.

So she pushed the sweet memories away and kept on being who she needed to be right now. Strong Christy. Not romantic Christy. Or weak Christy. Or Alice in Wonderland wandering this way and that, helpless and lost. Those old versions of herself didn't exist anymore. She wouldn't let them.

And she would only cry over Jack late at night, in the dark of her bedroom, so that it would be like a tree falling in the forest—­if no one saw it, maybe it never really happened.

T
HE
following day Christy didn't go in to work until the afternoon, so she used her morning aggressively. She called the nice lady, Adrianne, at Sunnymeade and asked more pointed questions this time. Would they be willing to defer some of the payments if Christy could give them a chunk of money up front? Could they work with her if she made regular payments to them, even if small? The answers she got gave her more hope about the situation than she'd had up to now.

Then she got online and started looking at apartment rentals in Coral Cove. Because wouldn't moving there really make sense? She could be with Grandpa Charlie. The ­people were nice there. She'd fallen in love with the quirky little seaside town and if she really wanted a new start, wouldn't Coral Cove be a great place for that?

And maybe she could even adopt the cat at the Hungry Fisherman. For some reason, the friendly stray had stayed on her mind and she almost even wished she'd brought Dinah home with her.

But then it suddenly hit her why she'd felt an attachment to the white kitty. Dinah was an orphan, just like her—­doing her best, scraping to get by. And she probably needed somebody to love her. But maybe a new start for Christy in Coral Cove would make it so neither one of them felt like an orphan anymore.

And the idea of moving, which had once seemed so monumental as to be overwhelming, now felt . . . less so. More doable. A lot of things felt more doable.

If she really did it, though, the hard part would be leaving Jack. Even the last few days, just knowing he was across the street had made her feel a lingering connection with him.

But on the other hand, if she knew she couldn't forgive him, what did it matter if he was close or far away? And he'd left her alone ever since they'd arrived home, so maybe he was getting over her more easily than she was getting over him. Maybe he didn't miss her. And maybe he was realizing she hadn't been all that special to him anyway.

Next, she'd left early for work. And she'd taken a huge step. She'd stopped at her bank to apply for a loan large enough to keep Grandpa Charlie at Sunnymeade for now and also help her establish her jewelry business and move. She knew it was a huge risk, but she was willing to take it. Her recent success with her jewelry had given her a belief in herself she'd never had before. And
that
was what had changed in her at Coral Cove.

And as she'd exited the bank out into a hot summer Cincinnati day, something hit her. Something big.

If Jack had told her the truth all along, if she'd gone to Coral Cove thinking:
Hooray, I've found a guy I'm crazy about who can also bail me out financially . . .
she wouldn't have learned
any
of this about herself. She wouldn't have worried about selling her jewelry and then been bold enough to pursue it. She wouldn't have figured out that having a guy she loved made money seem so much less important. She wouldn't feel so good about her talents right now, or her courage, or about taking care of herself. She wouldn't have figured out that she didn't want to be saved. And though she'd never thank Jack for lying to her, she supposed everything happened for a reason, even the really bad, hurtful stuff—­even if you couldn't see why right away.

She went through her work day with a new sense of confidence. She felt older, wiser—­though it had nothing to do with age—­and she felt more in control of her existence and her future.

And as she returned home that evening, she glanced at Jack's house—­quiet in the June heat—­and she suffered a familiar pang of loss, but also a thankfulness for the happiness he had brought her, however brief. For the first time since their breakup, she was able to look at it with a bit of distance and be glad she'd experienced such closeness and bliss with a man. And she decided not to worry about if she ever felt that way again but to instead just have faith—­like Grandpa Charlie had taught her—­that everything would work out in her life for the best. Even if her heart hurt like hell right now.

And then, getting out of the car, she glanced up the street to the Harrington house, where a For Sale sign had been posted in the front yard. Another happily ever after that hadn't turned out to be happily ever after.
But maybe they'll both find happiness elsewhere. I hope she finds someone who sees how her plants are her soul and would never, ever break them.

C
HARLIE
couldn't sleep. And he wanted to blame it on a pain in his knee or worry over his living arrangements . . . but he knew it was about Christy and Jack. His granddaughter's love life was surely none of his business and he should stay out of it. But ever since they'd left, it had been eating at him.