Persuaded (17 page)

“Ah .
. . these two have the life, don’t they, Adam?” Charles gushed with a sigh of
contentment as he sat back and waited for a tug on his line. “No nagging, no
diapers, no juggling act to keep everyone happy . . .”

“It
only feels like that to you because your life is so drastically different,”
Benny contradicted as he cracked open a soda. “So full of noise. But the peace
and loneliness get old after a while.”

Charles
looked at Benny as if he was delusional, but said nothing. Benny had that
faraway look on his face that told Derick he was about to hike up his pants
legs and go wading in Phoebe Bay again.

Thankfully,
Adam jumped onboard the rescue boat. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”

“Too
much of anything gets old,” Derick added. “I’ve got to hand it to you, though,
Charles. You handle Mary pretty well most of the time. I couldn’t stand
tiptoeing around all the time the way you do.”

Charles
laughed with derision. “If you think it’s going to be any different for you,
you’re in for a rude awakening. Ella and Mary are polar opposites, but when a
woman becomes a bride it’s like she’s inducted into some secret wives’ society.
They have this unspoken code they live by. Say good-bye to your freedom, man.
Am I right, Adam?”

Derick
stilled, his insides turning to stone. In a vague sort of way he noticed Adam
grinning, nodding his agreement, and Benny’s eyes widening in horror at the
prospect. But it was Charles’ insinuation—that Derick would soon be in the same
situation with Ella—that froze him in place. And it wasn’t so much the
assumption itself as the implication that it was already a done deal, an
upcoming event that the whole family was counting on.

Though
he shied away from the potential unpleasantness, Derick had to be sure. Reeling
in his motionless fishing line to change out the bait, he said, “Ella’s a
little young to be thinking about anything serious, wouldn’t you say?”

When
Charles answered, there was a shrug in his voice. “Normally I’d agree with you,
but she’s been acting kind of weird lately . . .”

“What
do you mean, ‘weird’?”

“Asking
Mary how many karats her wedding ring is, flipping through bridal magazines at
the grocery store . . .” Charles’ grin slipped off his face when he realized
the effect of his words on Derick. Backpedaling, he said, “I wouldn’t take it
too seriously, though. All girls do it.”

Oh,
crap.
He sent a probing glance at Adam and Benny. Adam looked
like he was doing his best not to burst into fits of hysterical laughter, and
even Benny seemed to be suppressing a grin as he recast his line.

The
outing passed in a blur for Derick after that. Suddenly he viewed his actions
through untainted eyes, saw the reality of his behavior and what it meant to
everyone watching. He was in trouble. He cared about Ella, of that much he was
sure. But it wasn’t a long-term, committed, forever kind of feeling that he
expected to experience on tying himself to one woman for the rest of his life.
She was pretty, fun to be with, and always kept him on his toes. But confronted
with these allegations of impending commitment, Derick was forced to face his
own motivation, and he didn’t like what he found. He had absolutely no
intention of marrying Ella Musgrove. The thought hadn’t even entered his head
until today. If her own brother had such concrete expectations, what did
everyone else think? He needed an outside opinion.

After
delivering Charles safely—if hurriedly—home, Adam, Benny and Derick returned to
Kelynch where Derick rounded on them.

“Can
you believe him going on about me and Ella like that? I think he’s been reading
way too much into it.”

The
deadpan expressions of his listeners did little to encourage him. His
confidence wavered. “Hasn’t he?”

“Not
so much, dude,” said Adam in a tone that belied his empathetic expression.
I
told you so
was laced all throughout the words—or,
Sophie told you so
,
in this case. Then, as if Adam meant to soften the blow, he added, “The age
difference might have something to do with it. If you were closer to Ella’s
age, no one would really expect you to settle down. But given the fact that
you’re about eight years older . . .”

Benny
expelled a frustrated breath. He’d never been one for beating around the bush,
and for once Derick was grateful. “She’s obviously crazy about you, and your
behavior toward her has been pretty unguarded. If you’re that taken back by
this revelation, you’d better do something about it, and fast. Before someone
gets hurt.”

“Who’s
getting hurt?” Sophie asked, coming into the kitchen with a yawn. Her hair was
rumpled as if she’d just woken up.

“Apparently
Ella’s been planning a wedding,” Adam answered, in a tone that said he found
the whole thing hilarious.

“That
is
not
what Charles said,” Derick corrected through his teeth.

“My
mistake—she’s been thinking about diamonds and looking through brides
magazines,” Adam clarified.

Derick
was panicking now. “Yeah, but that’s something girls do. Charles said it
himself.”

“Because
Charles is an expert on women?” Benny said.

Derick
turned to Sophie. “Help?”

Sophie
grimaced, indicating that anything she added would only win points for Team
Adam/Benny.

“Dude,
you’re screwed.” Adam chuckled.

Sophie
gave her husband a disparaging look, and he promptly declared his intention of
showering. Benny followed, leaving Derick and Sophie alone.

Derick
sat on one of the barstools and put his head in his hands. He felt Sophie sit
next to him.

“What
exactly did Charles say?”

“I
don’t remember his
exact
words . . . He said she’d been acting weird,
asking Mary about her wedding ring and looking through bridal magazines.”

Sophie
sighed. “I know you want me to tell you not to worry about it, and I’d like to.
It’s true that some women are just girlier than others . . . but given Ella’s
lack of seriousness in all other areas, it’s kind of out of character for her
to go there.”

It was
the last thing Derick wanted to hear, but he knew his sister was right. He put
his head down on the counter, and Sophie patted his back in empathy before
going back in her room—most likely to scold Adam for being so insensitive.

Derick
went to his own room to clean up. He was supposed to be at Uppercross for a
movie with Ella tonight, and he needed to think. He needed a plan.

TWENTY-ONE

THE
BEST DATE

His little
sturdy hands were unfastened from around her neck, and he was resolutely borne
away, before she knew that Captain Wentworth had done it.

—Jane Austen,
Persuasion

Derick
shifted uneasily on the front porch of Uppercross. Normally he would have gone
to the back door, but it seemed suddenly important to downplay his intimacy
with the Musgroves. He detected not a small amount of chaos on the other side
of the door. The knob was turning and clicking ineffectually, telling him that
a small hand was hard at work trying to open it. Finally the door opened wide,
and a mischievous, smiling CJ greeted Derick. He had something that looked like
chocolate smeared around his mouth (Derick didn’t want to explore other
possibilities of what it might be), giving him the appearance of a macabre
circus clown.

“Hi,
Derick!” he shouted with the volume that only a child would use indoors.

“Hey,
little man,” he responded, ruffling CJ’s hair.

Derick
felt a little funny going in when there was no adult in sight, so he continued
to wait outside. Just then, a harassed-looking Hanna made her way slowly to the
door. Derick couldn’t help noting that her cheeks were bright pink and her eyes
were washed almost colorless with fatigue. She stifled a cough with her arm
before giving Derick an apologetic grimace and waving him inside.

Kneeling
before her nephew, she said, “CJ, what have I told you? You let a grown-up
answer the door, okay?”

CJ’s
forehead creased. “But it’s only Derick!” he shouted.

“I
know,” she rasped, and Derick could tell she was losing her voice. She
straightened and gave Derick a halfhearted smile.

“Still
feeling crappy, I take it?” he inquired, but didn’t wait for her to answer. He
could tell she would rather be sleeping. “Charles and Mary already gone?”

Hanna
nodded. “Come on in—Ella’s out back.”

Derick
frowned as he followed Hanna into the living room, where Walter was also
covered in the brown mystery goo. Scattered toys carpeted the floor along with
cheerios, mini marshmallows, and empty sippy cups. Derick felt a bubble of
irrational anger rise in his gut. Couldn’t they ever give her a break?
Especially when she clearly wasn’t feeling well? More often than not, Mary
treated Hanna like a hired hand rather than family. But Charles was usually a
little more discerning when it came to these situations.

“Sorry
for the mess,” Hanna apologized. “Our living standard is survive today.”

Hearing
his aunt having a somewhat adult conversation, Walter looked up, and seeing
Derick, screeched, “Dick!”

Hanna
rolled her eyes in a helpless sort of way. “I’m
so
sorry. I really have
been working on that with him.”

Derick
shrugged. “It’s all right. Believe me, I’ve been called that plenty of times
before.”

Hanna’s
answering chuckle turned into a coughing fit. Ella loped into the room,
throwing her arms around Derick’s neck and planting a sound kiss on his lips.
He barely noticed. Hanna was wrestling with CJ, who stood up on the sofa and
launched himself onto her back. Now he was chanting, “Banana Boat! Banana
Boat!”

Her
face flushed. “No, CJ. No Banana Boat,” she said in a firm tone, somewhat
dampened by the frog in her throat.

In
some far corner of his mind, Derick registered that Ella had pulled back and was
talking to him, her hands still clasped about his neck. Meanwhile CJ was now
screaming “Banana Boat! Banana Boat!” and Hanna was all but hollering herself
as she tried to undo his Kung Fu grip around her neck. Walter, upset by the
din, had fastened himself to her leg and was pulling at her shirt and wailing.

Without
really thinking about what he was doing, Derick effortlessly broke Ella’s hold
and stepped around her to intervene. First he lifted CJ off Hanna’s back, then
bent and picked up the sobbing Walter with the other arm. As he did so, he
brushed Hanna’s skin with his own and noted how warm she felt. She looked up at
him with a mystified expression.

“CJ,”
Derick began, “if you like Banana Boat, you’re going to love the Derick Ship!”
CJ’s round face broke into a hopeful grin, and Walter had now stopped crying
and was instead trying to poke his slime-coated fingers in Derick’s mouth.

“Dick
ship!” he slurred.

“But
only if you’re good boys. Banana needs some rest, so she’s going to bed and
we’re going to clean you two up, and then we’ll play.” Derick cast a
questioning glance at Ella, only a formality, really—he wasn’t asking
permission. Everyone else had gone off to have fun and left Hanna to deal with
everything else, and he was not about to join that party. Besides, the boys
would provide some much-appreciated distance and distraction he needed to gear
up for the “talk” he and Ella would be having at some point.

As he
had known she would, Hanna began to protest, but another coughing fit made
Derick’s point for him. “To bed with Banana and to the tub with you two,” he
said, heading for the stairs and rocking the boys back and forth as if they
were at sea on a swaying ship. Their squeals of delight almost made up for
their awful behavior to their aunt. Almost.

Several
moments later, as the boys splashed in the tub, Derick left the washing to Ella
and veered down the hall in search of towels. To his surprise and annoyance,
Hanna emerged from the double doors at the end of the hall, a new diaper in one
hand and her arms full of pajamas, lotion, and baby powder. Derick sighed,
glaring down at her. Firmly but gently, he took everything from her and tucked
it under his arm.

Placing
his free hand at the back of her neck, Derick guided her down the hall. He didn’t
actually know which room was hers, as Ella’s room was on the main floor and he
never had a reason to go upstairs.

Hanna’s
skin was burning. Aside from that, memories of other times he had touched her
in the same place—but in an entirely different way—fought their way to the
surface.

“I’ll
lock you in your room if that’s what it takes to keep you down,” he threatened.
“Which room is yours?”

Hanna
gestured tiredly, then turned to face him. “This really isn’t—” she began, but
Derick cut her off.

“—Necessary,
I know.”

Hanna
gave him a self-deprecating smile, and he leaned against the doorframe. “Can I
ask you something?”