Summer on Lovers' Island (26 page)

Someday she would have to, but he could tell that wasn't today. And he wasn't that man.

“Let's go,” he suggested, turning his back. She picked up the blanket and clutched it to her chest and then started toward the path as if nothing had ever happened.

Frustrated, Josh kicked out at a rock, sending it tumbling. But when he did, his eyes lit on something odd.

“Lizzie, wait!” he called out.

She paused at the top of the path, but he turned away and knelt down to examine what he'd uncovered. The rock rolled down the slope, bouncing on a ridge and tumbling over the edge to the gully below.

“What is it?” she asked.

He reached down and rubbed at the dirt. There was a string there, old and dirty, and he dug around it, uncovering a lump of brown hide. He carefully pulled it out of the ground, weighted it in his palm.

“A drawstring pouch,” he said, their argument forgotten. “A leather one, though the material's in pretty bad shape.”

She dropped the blanket and came over. “Really? What's in it?”

Gingerly he undid the string and poured the contents of the bag into his palm.

 

C
HAPTER
17

Temporarily forgetting the tension between her and Josh, Lizzie stared at the items as they tumbled into his hand. Coins, more than a dozen of them, and an ornate locket. All hidden under a silly rock. Or lost there.

“Those look old,” she said, leaning over to peer into his hand.

“They
are
old,” he confirmed. “Holy shit. Do you know what these are?” He touched the coins with his finger. “I think these are real gold, Lizzie. And silver. They're probably worth a fortune. I think this is part of the treasure.”

She squatted down beside him. “Do you really think a treasure exists, Josh? Really? I mean, these could be worthless.” His eyes were huge and she felt an unwanted tenderness wash over her. She could well imagine him as a blond, curly-haired boy searching for this very thing, with this exact rapt expression on his face.

“They're old. Even if they're not gold or anything, the age alone means they'd be worth something to a collector.” He picked up the locket, the chain dangling over the edge of his hand. “Look at this. What do you suppose it's made of?”

The front of the locket was made from material different from anything she'd ever seen. Behind a glass crystal was a wispy pattern of delicate leaves like a fern or flower and tiny seed pearls adorning the bottom. “I have no idea. But it's beautiful.”

He turned it over. “There are pictures inside.” He moved it closer to his face as he opened it. “Interesting. Look at that and tell me what you see.”

She took the pendant and examined the photo. “A big man, with black hair, and the moustache gives him quite a roguish look.” She gave a laugh. “You know, he kind of reminds me of Tom a little bit.”

“I think so, too. I think this might be Charles Arseneault.”

“And the woman?”

Josh met Lizzie's gaze. “It has to be Constance Arnold. The woman he gave everything up for, the woman he married.”

“Is Summer related to her? Do you think the pouch was hers? Why would she have such a thing here, in the middle of nowhere?”

“The stories have always said that she was instrumental in transporting slaves to Canada. If they used this island as a rendezvous, she could have been here, easily.”

“I don't know about the coins, but this is definitely gold,” Lizzie said, reaching out and touching the locket as it lay in his palm.

“We searched this island for years and found nothing,” Josh said, standing. “To find it today…”

He didn't have to finish the sentence. Charles and Constance had loved each other. A love big enough that they'd made sacrifices and taken risks, if the stories were indeed true. It certainly made what was between Josh and Lizzie look like a farce.

“What are you going to do with it?” Lizzie asked, dropping her hand. She took a step back. While their argument seemed forgotten, she couldn't gracefully exit. There was still the walk back to the dock and the boat ride back to Jewell Cove to endure.

“I'm going to take it back, have someone who's actually qualified look at it and appraise it.” He poured the contents back into the pouch and pulled the string tight. “Then I'll see. I'm not even sure what ownership rules apply here.”

“Right,” she said weakly.

“We should probably head back anyway.”

She nodded, turned away, and picked up the blanket again. For some strange reason there was a stinging behind her eyes. This was not how she'd imagined today ending. When she'd seen Josh on the waterfront, a little escape had seemed like the perfect outlet. But instead of it relieving her tension, now it just made her feel empty.

They picked their way down to the shore again, back to the dock where the boat was tied. Before they got on, though, Lizzie stopped Josh with a hand on his arm.

“Josh, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for us to fight. I didn't mean to make things more difficult. I thought we needed to be honest is all.” She swallowed thickly, more upset than she expected to be. “I'm sorry, too, that we're not on the same page. But it's better to know now than later, when we could both get hurt.”

Her attempt to ease the situation didn't work, though. Josh moved his arm from beneath her touch and lifted his hand, cupping her jaw in the curve of his palm. “Lizzie,” he said softly, “who said I'm not hurt?”

“Josh,” she choked out. God, the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

“It's okay,” he answered, sliding his fingers off her skin. “I'll get over it. I was just kidding myself anyway. You've never made any secret of the fact that you aren't a small-town girl. You're a city girl who likes a city pace and you're going back to where you belong. I've learned my lesson.”

He got into the boat, solicitously held out a hand to help her in, and then, once she was seated, started it up, backed away from the dock. It was only seconds until they were headed back to Jewell Cove, skimming over the chop as evening clouds began to move in, a precursor to the rain forecast for the next day. The sound of the motor filled the air, eliminating the need to talk. A good thing, too. She knew what he meant. He'd been comparing her to Erin and determining that he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. She didn't want to be hurt, but she was.

Twenty minutes later the wharf was in sight and Lizzie reached down and retrieved her bag, clutching the handle in her hands until her knuckles went white. Once they docked she'd be walking away from Josh. She should have known it was a mistake to start anything with him.
Hell, should have?
She had known. And ignored it. At least Josh wouldn't fire her. He needed her to cover in Charlie's absence, and Lizzie knew him well enough now to know he'd maintain a professional veneer for the next few months until Charlie returned to work.

He didn't even tie the boat, just pulled up slowly, eased it next to the dock, and held it steady while Lizzie got out.

She looked down at him once her feet were on the solid surface. “Josh, are we okay? I don't want things to be awkward at work, you know?”

He looked up at her. “We're fine. No hard feelings, Lizzie. We want different things. Like you said, better to figure it out now.”

His eyes were utterly sincere, but there was a tightness in his jaw. She
had
hurt him, hadn't she? Without meaning to. And all he'd been was supportive since she moved here.

Once again, she felt as though she'd screwed up everything.

“I'll see you at the clinic then,” she answered, mustering up a smile.

“Sure will,” he replied, and sent her a smile. But not the intimate one she'd gotten used to, or the one with the edge that said he was dying to touch her again. This was unfailingly polite and made her feel like crap.

He pulled away, leaving her standing there on the dock feeling like an idiot.

Finally she turned her back and walked up the pier, to the lot where her car was parked. And as she drove back to the cottage at Fiddler's Rock, she figured she would have been better off going zip lining after all.

*   *   *

Over the following days Lizzie formed a pattern of existence.

She worked her shifts according to the schedule posted, saw patients, wrote prescriptions, smiled when it was required, spoke to Josh when necessary, and was the model of professionalism at the clinic. She checked in with Charlie every other day, often taking a treat or something she'd picked up for the baby: brownies, a stuffed toy, a rattle, fresh lemonade. On the opposite days she called to check up on her mom, sometimes talking to her and other times talking with the staff.

Lizzie and Charlie made the drive the following Sunday. Charlie was feeling better, still tired, and Lizzie had checked her blood pressure and found it higher than she would have liked, so she was keeping a close eye.

But a day out would be good, particularly one where they could drive with the top down and relax with each other.

Right now they were past Portland and almost to the state line when Charlie rolled her head against the seat back, looking at Lizzie from behind oversized sunglasses. “Okay, chick. I've been waiting for days for you to say something about Josh and you're closed up tighter than a clam. Either you two are being incredibly discreet or that whole situation blew up. Which is it?”

A strange emotion clutched at Lizzie's heart for just a second. “It blew up. Actually, I blew it up. But it's okay, Charlie. Really.”

“Uh-huh.” Charlie still stared at her. “You trying to convince me or you?”

Lizzie concentrated on the road. “I didn't bring you along for the third degree.”

“Fair enough.”

And in typical Charlie fashion, she shut up.

It drove Lizzie crazy. It was just like the first day she'd been in Jewell Cove, sitting on Charlie's deck, such a mess about her dad and her leave of absence and everything else that she wanted to talk and was scared to. And Charlie had simply waited. Just like she was doing now, her face turned up toward the sun, her hand resting on her swollen belly.

“I hate it when you do that.”

Charlie never cracked a smile. “Do what?”

“That whole silent treatment thing.”

Still, Charlie kept her head against the back of the seat and let the light bathe her face. “Liz, you said you don't want to talk about it. So I'm not. You're a big girl. It's none of my business.”

“Argh!” Lizzie's fingers tightened on the wheel. “You know I can see through everything you're saying or doing, right?”

Finally Charlie smiled. “Of course. Just like I know it's driving you insane.”

To demonstrate the point, she went quiet once more.

“Fine,” Lizzie finally said, setting the cruise control. “I put it out there. The ground rules, like we talked about that weekend we packed up the house.”

“What happened?” Charlie looked over at her again. Lizzie couldn't see her eyes, but she could tell Charlie was intrigued.

“He turned me down flat.”

Lizzie didn't feel the need to mention that they'd had mind-blowing sex at the summit of Lovers' Island first. It turned out there were a few things she didn't share with her best friend.

“Turned you down? Are you serious?” Finally Charlie's head came away from the back of the seat.

The rejection still stung, and at first Lizzie had thought it was just her pride talking. But it wasn't all that. And it wasn't just the knowledge that she'd hurt Josh, either, though she felt terrible about that. She was hurting, too. She missed him. Missed joking with him, talking to him, knowing he was there if she needed to vent. She kept going back to that night on the beach when he'd held her in his arms. That scene stayed in the forefront of her memory far more than their sexual encounters.

It hadn't been just sex for her, either. She'd merely told herself that.

So she looked over at Charlie for a moment, then fixed her eyes back on the road again. “It's better now, anyway,” she replied. “It wasn't just fun. We were starting to get emotionally involved. Josh is a keeper, Charlie. I'd only be wasting his time. He wants the white picket fence and wife and kids and that's just not what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“What?”

Traffic was light and Lizzie put on her signal and pulled out to pass a car, then smoothly pulled back into her lane again.

“Liz, up until this week, you've been happier in Jewell Cove than I've seen you in a long time. But I think you're scared. I think you want to be your father and you're afraid you might be. It's hard to be married to two loves. One of them inevitably becomes a mistress—the one you see when you can make time. I loved your parents, Lizzie, and I loved being in your home. But your mom was a mistress a lot of the time.”

“I know,” Lizzie whispered.

“And if you were honest with Josh, and with yourself, then maybe you did the right thing. But I'm not convinced you've been honest with yourself. Because that would mean turning things on their head and you've had a lot of that already this year.”

“You really should have specialized in psych, you know that?” But Lizzie's tone was teasing. Charlie had a way about her, a way of getting to the heart of things without making Lizzie completely defensive.

“I see a lot of patients come through my door. I get to study people a lot, see what makes them tick. What stresses them out and makes them happy.”

“Sometimes I think I do a lot of stuff to prove that I'm happy whether I am or not,” Lizzie admitted.

“Well, at any rate, I'm sorry about you and Josh, though I understand it. Is everything okay at the office?”

“Perfect,” Lizzie responded, and Charlie laughed. “I sounded a little snippy there, didn't I?” Lizzie asked.