Patricia Potter (60 page)

“Are you all right?”

“Now that you’re here,” Meara said, holding her daughter tightly. Andy, who had been lying beside the bed, thumped his tail, reminding them of his presence.

“You should be proud of Andy,” Meara said with a smile. “He tried so hard to be brave.”

Tears glistened in Lisa’s eyes. “Kelly said
you
were so brave, and Mr. Chandler—he was a hero. Why didn’t you tell me what was happening?”

“Because I didn’t know for sure…there were just some…strange phone calls.”

Lisa stared at her mother as if she had never seen her before. Kelly had told her how her mother had kept her nerve, had jerked away from Kurt just at the right moment, how she had fired a gunshot with her hands tied. Admiration and love flooded her. She clutched Meara’s hand tightly. “Don’t ever do that again,” she said. “Don’t ever shut me out. We have to look out for each other now, you know.”

“I know,” Meara whispered, her voice choked. “I know.”

Lisa wouldn’t let her out of her sight until Meara asked to see Kelly. When he arrived, Meara turned to Lisa. “Can you get me something to drink,” and Lisa agreed readily.

As soon as Lisa left, she turned to Kelly, who had known she needed to talk to him. “Chris?”

“He spent the morning at police headquarters. They allowed him to leave at noon. Justifiable homicide.”

“Where is he now?”

Kelly looked uncomfortable. “I went over there a few minutes ago. He was packing.” Kelly put a hand in his pocket and brought out an envelope. “He left this for you.”

Kelly handed it to her and turned toward the door. “I’ll be outside if you need anything. I’ll keep Lisa distracted.”

Meara slowly opened the envelope. The handwriting was in a large bold scrawl.

Meara:

It seems I never bring you anything but unhappiness. I promised I would leave when this was over, and I’m keeping that promise.

But I want you to know the words I could never say. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Ever since that day in spring when the ribbon from your hair blew away, and I heard your laughter.

It will always be my greatest regret that I stilled that laughter.

If you or Lisa ever need anything, I will always be there for you.

Chris

If you ever need anything…

“Kelly,” she shouted as she got out of bed. She was wearing one of Evelyn’s nightgowns.

He was back, and Lisa with him.

“I need something to wear.”

Lisa stared at her, but Kelly grinned. “I’ll get something of Mother’s.”

As he left, Lisa turned toward her mother, a question in her eyes.

Meara held out her hand to Lisa. “There’s something I have to do, someone I have to thank.”

“Mr. Chandler?”

“Yes. He’s leaving.”

“I’ll go with you. I want to thank him too.”

Meara hesitated. “Perhaps later. This is something I have to do alone.”

Lisa nodded. At the moment, she would have agreed to anything her mother wanted. Every time she thought how close her mother had come to death…

“Please tell him how grateful I am too,” she said quietly.

Meara nodded as Kelly returned quickly with a pair of slacks and a blouse. He then disappeared again quickly toward the phone.

Meara took all of ten seconds to dress. She was buttoning the blouse when she came out, and Kelly was hanging up the phone. “No one answers, but he couldn’t have been gone long. I know he has a plane at the Brunswick airport. I’ll take you.”

It was a wild ride, Kelly sensing her urgency. He’d liked Chris Chandler. He didn’t know exactly what had happened between Chandler and Meara, but he was good at judging people and he sensed that these two were meant to be together. Like he and Lisa. He had been overjoyed the way Lisa had run into his arms this morning, the way she had held onto his hand, the way she had depended on him. And especially the way she had looked at him. As if she were seeing for the first time.

They pulled up to the section of the airport where private planes were located. It would have taken Chandler a while to file his flight plan, Kelly had explained comfortingly several times.

Meara was out the door and running. She knew exactly where to go. Sanders had arrived here several times in private government planes. Her gaze darted around the field where planes were tied to the ground. She turned and saw a tall man stride toward one of the planes, a slight limp in his walk, his blond hair shining in the sun. He was carrying a suitcase.

She ran. For her life, she ran, and he turned, sensing more than hearing since her sandals made no sound on the grass that ran along the runway.

He stopped, and turned toward her, his eyebrows furrowed quizzically, his eyes wary and his mouth tight.

“Is this good-bye?” he said in low, tight voice. “You didn’t have to.”

“You made me a promise,” she said solemnly, watching his shoulders tense as if he were to take some kind of punishment.

“I know,” he said. “I’m keeping it. Didn’t you get my note?”

“You made a later promise,” she continued, trying to keep her hands to herself when she needed to touch him so badly.

He cocked his head in question.

“You said if I ever needed anything…”

He swallowed. “What…”

“You, Christopher Chandler. I need you.”

Hope flared briefly in his eyes, but it died quickly. “I’ve never brought you anything but grief.”

“No,” she said gently. “That’s why I kept coming back here. I finally discovered why these past few days. Because I first found love here…I had you for a while. Such a little while, but it was such a fine piece of time. Even when I tried to hate you, it never quite worked. You gave me a part of yourself then, and I think we both always knew it. Now I want more.”

Chris straightened, his eyes searching for doubts, for reservations. “Are you sure, Meara?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “No more dreams. No more waiting. I want all the days of forever with you.”

He went totally still, his breath caught deep in his throat as he looked at her earnest upturned face, full of faith. In him. His words, when they came, were slow and measured. “Don’t ever lose your dreams, love. You’re making me believe in them too.” He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her how much he needed her, how tired he was of being an island himself, but not one of dreams, one of isolation and loneliness.

But he didn’t have to. Looking at her face, he knew he didn’t have to. He dropped the suitcase and opened his arms.

Author’s Note

Jekyll Island exists off the coast of Georgia. So did the Jekyll Island Club and its membership, which allegedly represented one-sixth of the world’s wealth.

The club did close in 1942. Rumors circulated for years that the U.S. President ordered its closing because of the submarine threat and sent General George S. Patton to evacuate the island. Patton’s name even appears under the date of April 3, 1942, as the next to the last entry in the club register, but questions have been raised as to whether it really is his signature.

Island historians say the rumored evacuation is only a myth, that the club closed because of fuel and labor shortages.

Jekyll Island today is owned by the state of Georgia. The old ruins of the Jekyll Island Club have been restored, and the old Clubhouse is now a public hotel. Its beauty is intact.

Patricia Potter attended the University of Alabama and received a degree in journalism and American history. She is a former
Atlanta Journal
reporter and previously edited a major suburban weekly. She now resides in Atlanta, Georgia, as a full-time writer.