Moonlight in the Morning (14 page)

Tristan’s smile was so big she could feel it in the dark. “Nell wants to visit Roan at his cabin. He’s a cousin of ours and—”

“There’s a surprise!”

“Don’t make fun of Edilean.” This time she knew he was teasing. “Roan is the last of the McTerns, who were the oldest family to settle in Edilean back in the 1760s.”

“What does he do in his cabin?”

“Eats squirrels and possums. The usual.” When Jecca was silent, Tris laughed. “Roan lives in California and teaches philosophy at Berkeley.”

“Oh my. An intellectual.”

“Sort of. You wouldn’t think so if you met him. Anyway, he has a cabin in the preserve and he visits whenever he can. He’s taking a sabbatical this year to do some writing, so he’s there by himself.”

“What’s he writing? The philosophy of what?”

“Actually, he’s working on a mystery novel.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He’s worn out from teaching and wants to do something else. Will you go with us? Roan has two bedrooms. You and Nell can have one, and we’ll all share cooking duties. You like to fish?”

“I’d like to paint wildflowers,” she said.

“That’s a good idea,” he said. “Kim’s ad campaign might just as well be based around daisies as Miltonias.” He paused to chew. “But I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What is it?”

“I know that if Nell sees your artwork she’ll want to try it. Could you give me a list of supplies she’ll need and I’ll get them while I’m in Miami?”

“That’s a favor? To make a list?”

“Yes,” he said. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Jecca was glad he couldn’t see her face. She knew she must be looking at him in adoration. In her experience, when a man asked for a “favor” it wasn’t so he could help out his niece. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I’ll take care of Nell. At the rate I’m going in producing work I may end up teaching elementary school art.”

Tristan wasn’t sure if he should reply to that. He feared revealing what Kim had told him about Jecca’s paintings not selling. “I own a couple of buildings downtown, and Roan owns half a dozen.”

“Good for you guys.” She was puzzled by his comment.

“I was just thinking that Edilean could use a place where people could study art.”

“Hmmm,” she said. “That’s an idea. I could teach senior citizens how to paint pictures of their dogs. Or maybe I should teach kids how to make pottery. Or—”

“I get it,” Tris said, laughing. “But you do set a man a challenge.”

“How so?”

“To get you to stay I have to find you a new career.”

It was her turn to laugh. “I somehow don’t think that’s going to happen. How often do you get to New York?”

“About every three years.”

Jecca knew it made no sense to feel that she was going to miss this man she’d never seen, but she did. When he started moving things about, she knew what he was doing. He was making a place so she could lean against him. She waited, sipping her champagne, until she felt him hold out his arm.

She didn’t hesitate as she turned and moved back toward him, between his outstretched legs, her back against his front. When he lifted his injured arm to slide down over her body, it felt familiar to her. She snuggled back against him, and for a while they sat there in silence and listened to the water and the night sounds.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said softly, his mouth very close to her ear. “Mind if I call you while I’m away?”

“I would love it if you did. Every day I’ll tell you all about whatever aerobic torture my two ladies put me through.”

“Did you guys do the belly dancing this afternoon?”

“Oh yes. Lucy’s rather good at it, but Mrs. Wingate and I will never be more than amateurs.”

“I think you should let me be the judge,” Tristan said. “As a doctor, I could watch and—”

“In your dreams.”

He chuckled. “Are you looking forward to seeing Reede again?”

“It’s all I can think about.” When Tristan said nothing, Jecca turned her face up toward his. “I know it’s impossible, but you sound jealous.”

“My km">aited, sipgirl fantasizes about the . . . what did you say? . . . ‘naked beauty’ of another man and I’m not supposed to be even a bit jealous?”

“When did I become ‘your girl’?”

“Today, when I thought about you all day long.”

“That’s only because you have no job right now. If you weren’t incapacitated and had something to occupy your time, you’d never give me a thought. I would be the girl you tripped over and that’s it. I doubt very much if there’d have been a second and third night together.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Tristan said. “You’re forgetting about the picture I have of you. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since Kim told the whole town you were coming.” He paused. “So how many paintings did you make today? Or did you take photos? Hey! I just realized that you might like to see the species orchids in my house.”

“Species orchids?”

“Ones from the wild, not the hybrids I keep at Miss Livie’s. I got an importer’s license, and when I was in South America I bought some orchids and brought them back with me. They’ve done well but it wasn’t easy. I think they missed their freedom and those tropical rains. Orchids don’t like too much babying.”

“South America,” Jecca said. “Were you down there as a doctor?” She was toying with his injured hand, feeling his fingers, how long they were, how neat the nails were. His hands were strong, as though he did some sport that required strength.

“Yes,” Tristan said softly, his face near hears. “I try to go somewhere in the world at least once a year. I do what I can to help.”

She liked that he went places to save lives. She even liked that he didn’t brag about his good deeds. “Have you ever seen Reede on your travels?”

“He and I have worked together half a dozen or so times. Now, he’s a real hero. You ever hear about how he rode a cable down into the ocean to save a child?”

“Kim’s told me about it at least four times. She framed the news photo that reporter took that day. Where were you when that happened?”

“Around,” he said.

Something about his tone made her know he’d been there with Reede. “In the helicopter or on the shore?”

“In,” he said.

“Did you lean out of the ’copter, hanging over nothing, and grab the kid from Reede?”

“More or less,” he said, “but Reede went down the cable.”

“How did you two decide who’d go?”

“Rock, paper, scissors,” Tristan said. “I lost.”

She tightened her grip on his hand and smiled into the darkness. She liked a hero who kept his acts quiet.

“You still haven’t told me what you did today,” he said.

iv height="0em">

“Neither did you.”

Tristan chuckled. “Not much. Wandered around town. Took lunch to my dad, but he was too busy to eat, so I left and came home. I tried to do some repotting, but I’m not good with only one arm.”

“If I weren’t at Mrs. Wingate’s you’d be visiting her and Lucy now, wouldn’t you?” Jecca asked softly.

“Probably.” He kissed her neck, nuzzling his face against her warm skin.

“When you get back . . .” She couldn’t think clearly with his lips on her neck.

“Yes?”

She took a breath. “When you return from Miami I think we should be more normal.”

“Normal?” He pulled back from her. “You mean I can introduce you to people as my girlfriend?”

“Don’t you think we should wait until we
see
each other before we make such a strong commitment as boyfriend/girlfriend?”

Tristan slid his hand up her shoulder, his long fingers entwining in her hair, and turned her face to his. He kissed her slowly and softly.

Jecca felt her body giving way to his. The cool night air, the sound of water and the warmth of him, the sweet taste of him, all made her want to turn to him fully. She wanted them to remove each other’s clothes, to fully expose their bodies, and make love on the blanket.

“Jecca,” Tristan whispered against her lips.

“I have to go,” she said, and pulled away from him.

His answer was a groan.

She moved so she was no longer touching him. She needed to think of more ordinary things and to calm herself down. “You’ll be back on Sunday?”

He took a moment to answer. “Yes. The day after the party.”

“Party? Oh, you mean for Reede. I nearly forgot about that.”

He caught her hand in his. “Jecca, I have no claim over you. If you and Reede want to get together I won’t stand in your way.”

Jecca knew his statement was very PC and it’s what he should say, but part of her wanted him to declare that he’d slay a dragon for her—in this case the dragon being another man.

She shook her head to clear it. There were no dragons and there was nothing solid between her and this man. “That’s very kind of you,” she said as she stood up. “I think I should go back now. If Lucy sees that I’m gone, she’ll worry.”

“Lucy?” Tris said as he got up. “Not Miss Livie?”

“She’s . . .” Jecca hesitated. After all, he was friends with the woman.

“Distant? Like part of her lives in another world?”

“Exactly.” When his hand took hers, she smiled.

He kissed her palm, then started to lead her through the woods. “Miss Livie hasn’t had an easy life and she doesn’t share much with people.”

“Except you,” Jecca said.

“She and I have spent a lot of time together. But you and Lucy are hitting it off?”

“She’s an interesting woman,” Jecca said, and for the rest of the walk, she told of the hours she’d spent with Lucy and her sewing machines. “Seeing what she could do made me wish I had studied more about fiber arts.”

“It’s not too late,” Tristan said.

As he spoke there was the slightest tightening of his hand on hers, and she knew what was in his mind. “Maybe I should go back to school and learn how to make fabulously artistic quilts at home.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said, his fingers holding on to hers tightly.

“Good try,” she said, “but no thanks.”

She could tell by the grass under her feet that they were near Mrs. Wingate’s house. She knew it was late and that she should go inside, but she didn’t want to leave him. Her intuition told her that this would be their last secret night together. Tomorrow he’d board a plane and be gone for days. When he returned she knew that they’d see each other and they’d become like every other “couple”—except that she was leaving at the end of the summer.

She stopped walking and turned toward him. “I hope you have a good trip and—”

She broke off because Tristan pulled her to him and his mouth came down on hers with all the passion she was feeling. His tongue touched hers, her head tilted as she tried to get closer and closer to him.

She wanted to sink down into him, to lose herself in the moment. She never wanted to leave this man and this night. The air, the sounds, the smells, and being so close to this man, feeling the strength of him, the warmth, all of it worked together to make her want it to never end.

“What’s your cell number?” he asked as his lips nibbled at her ear.

“What?” She couldn’t understand his words. Her entire body seemed to be a mass of desire.

He moved his head away. “What’s your cell phone number so I can call you?”

Jecca couldn’t help laughing. “Here I am, thinking that this is the most romantic moment of my life, and the sweet words you’re whispering to me are ‘What’s your cell phone number?’”

Tris pulled her back to him. “You want sweet words?” He put his lips to her ear. “Jecca, I’ve never desired a woman as much as I do you. I like everything about you, from the feel of your body against mine, to the scent of your hair. But what I like most is
you
. I enjoy your humor, the ease of talking with you, your sense of adventure. I like your kindness to two ladies, and the way you so easily say you’ll help my niece. I even like that my cousin Kim turns into a warrior when she thinks you might be hurt. To engender such friendship says a lot about you.”

He kissed her neck. “Jecca,” he whispered, “I don’t want to scare you, but I think I’m—”

She kissed him quickly. “Don’t say it,” she said.

“All right,” he answered. “I’ll keep it light, and you can keep your belief that I’m just a small town guy who is enraptured with a big city girl.”

As he stepped back from her, he released her hand.

She called out her cell number to him. When she started to repeat it, he told her he’d remember it always. Laughing, she went back to the house.

Nine

Jecca tiptoed up the stairs to her bedroom. Lucy’s door was closed and there wasn’t a sound in the house. She hoped they hadn’t noticed she was out late yet again.

Any doubts she had were erased when she saw something propped on her pillow. It was the instruction booklet for Lucy’s embroidery software. Jecca quickly showered, put on the big T-shirt she liked to sleep in, and snuggled into bed.

After the romantic evening she’d just spent with Tristan, the last thing she wanted to do was read a software manual. She put her hands behind her head, looked up at the ceiling, and started reliving every second. His voice, his body, his lips on the back of her neck.

When her cell phone buzzed, she jumped. The lateness of the call made her think it was from home and that someone had been hurt. The ID gave an unfamiliar number with a local area code. Tentatively, she said hello.

“You aren’t asleep?” asked a voice that had become familiar to her.

Jecca smiled. “I’m getting there. What about you?”

“I’m so awake I might as well go to the airport now.”

She knew the feeling. The soft sheets against her bare legs made her wish he was with her.

Tristan’s voice lowered. “So what are you wearing?”

“The usual. Black silk.”

Tristan groaned.

“I have on one of my brother’s old football jerseys.”

“Short?”

“Not on my brother, but my legs are quite a bit longer than his, so it’s very short on me,” she said.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Tris didn’t speak for a moment. “Now I’ll never get to sleep! But that aside, I called for a purpose.”

“Which is?” She was smiling broadly. It felt good to be desired by this man.

“I want to ask you to do another favor for me.”

“More lists?”

“No. Would you check on my house while I’m away?”

“Of course,” she said. “I’d be glad to.” While he told her where he had a key hidden, she thought how she liked the idea of seeing inside his house. And she loved the thought of seeing the playhouse where they’d had one of their moonless nights together.

“Hey! You wouldn’t like to help Nell and me come up with colors to paint the playhouse, would you?”

“I can resist anything but colors. Any preferences?”

“None.”

“Won’t Nell have some if it’s her playhouse?”

“Good idea,” he said. “I’ll tell her about you, and you two can discuss it tomorrow.”

“You want
me
to talk to her?”

“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Jecca couldn’t think of a reason not to, but she was already wondering how to talk to a child she’d never met.

“So what are you
really
wearing?” he asked.

“A surgical gown.”

“I love those things! No backs to them.”

She laughed. “You’re horrible, you know that?”

“Sometimes I am. I better go to bed. My plane leaves very early. Will you miss me?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I will.”

“Anything I can bring you back from Miami?”

“How about one of those muscle guys from the beach?”

“How about if I buy you a new bikini and you model it for me?”

“That’s possible. Can I swim in your pond?”

“You can swim in my bathtub. With me.”

Jecca laughed. “Good night, Cupid.”

“Good night, Psyche.”

Smiling, she clicked off her phone and snuggled down under the covers. Yes, she was going to miss him.

Jecca awoke early the next morning and she felt full of energy. She told herself it was because she was at last going to get to work on her watercolors, but what was in her mind was seeing Tristan’s house, and the playhouse.

She didn’t want Mrs. Wingate and Lucy to be suspicious, so she kept herself calm during breakfast. She scrambled eggs with green peppers while Lucy cooked sausages. Mrs. Wingate made toast and set the table.

Jecca didn’t want to appear to be in a hurry, but the meal seemed to go on forever. When she got out the door, her portable art kit under her arm, she practically ran to the path to Tristan’s house.

It wasn’t difficult to find the playhouse. The path to it had been wo st hdiv heighrn down by generations of Aldredges, and Jecca hurried down it.

Her first sight of the playhouse was a mixture of delight and horror. The delight was from the beautiful design of the building. It was like a miniature Victorian house, with carved posts on the tiny porch, cutout trim along the steep roof. There was no mistaking that the little house came from a different era.

Her horror came because she was Joe Layton’s daughter. When she was little, she would go with her father to construction sites to deliver loads of lumber and supplies. She’d followed her dad, her hands full of crayons and an old toy bunny rabbit, and listen to the men go over whatever was wrong with a building. By the time Jecca was nine, she could look at a house and tell what needed to be repaired.

Right now she saw that the pretty little playhouse was in desperate need of renovation. A gutter was loose, roof tiles were cracked, windows needed caulking, the door hinges were about to come out. And unless she missed her guess, there was dry rot in a couple of places.

Besides the work that needed to be done, the paint was cracked and peeling. It was down to the bare wood in places.

“Not good,” she said as she turned the knob of the front door and ducked to go in.

She was glad to see that the inside was much better than the outside, but it still needed work. Long ago, the interior walls had been painted a lovely cream color, but they now showed the marks of years of use. There were a few pieces of child-size furniture, all of it homemade, with faded, worn slipcovers that someone inexperienced had run up on a sewing machine. “Lucy could do better,” she said.

For a moment, Jecca stood just inside the door, looking at the place and remembering how Tristan had led her through it in the darkness.

When she glanced around, she saw a couple of lamps. Turning, she saw a light switch beside the door, and she laughed. If he’d wanted to, Tris could have lit up the place for their meeting.

Jecca was glad he hadn’t.

To the right was a doorway. Again she ducked before entering a small room that had a child-size bed built into an offset in the wall. It was like a large window seat and covered with a spread that was threadbare from years of use and washing.

For a moment all Jecca could think about were the hours she’d spent snuggled up with Tristan on that bed. Such sweet memories!

She went back outside to walk around the playhouse. It really did need quite a bit of work before it could be painted. Even then, the old layers would have to be removed, scraped, and sanded, before new paint could be applied.

Jecca opened her art box, removed her camera, and began to take photos. She took some long shots of the building, but she also made many close-ups of places that needed work done.

“Dad would have a fit,” she said aloud. To him, this would be an historical building and he’d feel that to let it rot like this was an injustice. She could imagine his saying the owner should be put in jail. Her dad was serious about historic preservation!

She put the camera away and got out her sketch pad. She needed to make drawings of the building from different angles so she could try a variety sry thatof colorways. When she met Nell, Jecca planned to show her several possibilities for painting the little house. She could see using colors of the forest, greens and rust browns. Or she could use earth colors of sand and cream. Children’s primary colors could also work.

It took Jecca a couple of hours to make the sketches. They were simple but they showed the house from different angles. She needed to photocopy her drawings so she could color them in different ways. Lucy had a copier in her apartment, but to use it would give away what she was doing.

Jecca glanced to the left and thought how close Tristan’s house was. In her fascination with the playhouse she’d nearly forgotten her promise to look after his home. She found the key he’d spoken of in the pretty little corner cabinet in the living room of the playhouse.

She packed up her art kit and started down the path that she’d traveled only at night. A few branches had fallen, and she moved them. Tris had said that with his arm in a cast he couldn’t keep the area clean.

When she reached the house, she paused to look at it. To her left was a truly splendid lake: the water a dark blue-green, very calm, with ducks floating on the surface.

She took a couple of steps and saw that farther down was a little island that came close to the mainland. Connecting them was one of those bowed bridges that curved upward and was reflected in the water below.

The artist in Jecca was so transfixed by the beauty of it that for a moment she couldn’t move. If she lived here, she’d have a small gazebo built on the island, a place where she could go to paint or to just be quiet. She could see all of it in her mind.

It was a while before she could look away, and she saw two big stone pots where she and Tristan had picnicked. Contrary to what he’d said, there were two of them, which meant that it hadn’t been necessary for her to lean against him. But she was glad she had.

She couldn’t refrain from her habit of looking at the house as a builder would. There were some places that sagged, but all that she could see was in much better shape than the playhouse was.

If she hadn’t seen so many old houses in her life she would have had difficulty finding the door. The front, looking out onto the lake, had huge expanses of glass, and none of them opened from the outside.

The house was L-shaped and in the crook of the L was the door. She used the key to unlock it to enter a hallway. Since it was fully enclosed, the hallway was dark, and she switched on the lights—which didn’t help much. It looked like it had been a while since the electrical system had been updated.

Before her was a staircase and to the left was a door. It opened to reveal a little medical exam room that was furnished in 1950s white enameled furniture. There were a couple of old matchbooks stuck under the foot of one of the tall cabinets.

Shaking her head, Jecca shut the door and went through to the living room. The kitchen, dining, and living areas were all one long room—and they all needed to be brought into the twenty-first century.

She walked to one end of the room and thought that if it were her house—which of course it would never be—the only thing she wouldn’t touch was the fireplace. On one side was a little wo ss a="1em">oden plaque on which had been carved a picture of Tristan. Or his ancestor, she thought, since the carving looked quite old. She spent several minutes admiring the talent of whoever had sculpted it.

There was another room on the other side of the hall, a sort of family room. It too was in need of updating, as the only thing new in it was the big TV.

She went upstairs and peeked into two bedrooms that looked as though they’d been decorated many years before and not touched since. One of the bedspreads was half faded, half bright. It looked like the sun had been shining on that cover in the same way for a long time.

Jecca went down a short hallway and opened a door to what she was sure was Tristan’s bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, his room looked as though it hadn’t been renovated in a generation or two. But still, there was a feeling about it that it was a room that was loved.

A king-size bed with a plain brown spread was facing her. To her left was a closet and to her right were big glass doors leading onto a balcony. She flipped the lock and went out. The view across the lake was breathtaking. She could see it all with its little island and the pretty bridge across to it. The lake was teardrop shaped, with the narrow end leading into what looked to be a stream. She longed to walk along it and follow the water wherever it led.

She looked back at the room. It was very clean and tidy, and she wondered if that was his nature or if he’d straightened up for her.

A small bookcase was filled with medical texts and the bedside table held technical journals. “No
Playboys
?” she said aloud, smiling.

She sat down on the edge of his bed, then couldn’t resist the urge to lie down on it. She spread out her arms, closed her eyes, and wondered what it would be like to be here with Tristan. They could sit out on the balcony and eat croissants and raspberries. They could make love on the big bed and fall off of it onto the carpeted floor.

As she lay there, her creative mind thinking of all they could do, she noticed a little spot on the ceiling. Was it a crack? Maybe it had been caused by a leaking roof. When had the roof last been replaced?

The more she thought, the more she wanted to know what had caused that spot. She stood up on the bed but couldn’t reach it. It took some acrobatics, but when she stood on the stacked pillows, put one foot on the top of the headboard, and stretched as far as she could, her fingertips barely reached it. It wasn’t a spot but a tiny piece of paper, and at her touch it fluttered down to the bed.

Jecca’s mind filled with ways a piece of paper had come to be stuck to the ceiling. The most prominent one was of Tris having sex with someone and . . . What? she wondered. Paper went flying?