Sweet Tomorrows (15 page)

“Chaste kisses?” he challenged. “I don't think I've ever had a woman get more involved in a kiss. I had my tongue so far down your throat I felt your tonsils. Admit it, Em, there was nothing chaste about it. In other circumstances, I would have dragged you straight to bed and had my way with you. Plan to, in fact.”

My cheeks must be flaming. I'd already mortified myself enough for one night. “It was the pain…I wasn't myself…I should never…” Straightening my spine, I snapped my mouth closed. Every time I spoke I dug myself in deeper. “Please, can we drop the whole thing?”

The amusement had drained from his eyes. He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Come here,” he whispered, and pulled me into his arms.

I tried to resist, but he wouldn't let me. Soon enough my head rested against his shoulder. After a few moments, he whispered, “Thank you for telling me.”

“It changes things.”

“Not for me it doesn't.”

He still didn't understand. From experience I knew it eventually would. Whatever happened from this moment forward was on him. I'd done due diligence; forewarned was forearmed. Wasn't that how the saying went? Something like that.

In other relationships I'd waited much longer before explaining my inability to have a child. I wouldn't, couldn't, do that again. If Nick wanted a relationship with me, then he needed to know up front and center exactly what he was getting into.

“You should know something else.”

“Oh?”

“I'm not going to fall in love with you.”

I felt his smile against the top of my head. “That so?”

“I can't let you break my heart, Nick. I can't risk that happening. Not again.”

He sighed, his chest expanding slightly. “Can't say I blame you.”

“Good, then we understand each other.”

“We do.”

He ran his hand down the back of my head as if he cherished me, cherished holding me in his arms.

“I apologize if I offended you by how I reacted.”

He had at first, but his gentleness now more than made up for it. “I understand. It was a shock.”

“You said you're not going to fall in love with me.”

I stiffened and so did his hold. “I can't involve my heart again…not after what happened with Jayson and James.” I couldn't help but wonder if being honest was always this painful.

“What about mine?” he asked. “What if I fall in love with you? Then what?”

I raised my head and my throat clogged. “Don't,” I whispered. “Please, please don't. You can't let that…”

Nick cut me off by cupping my head, hands over my ears, and bringing his mouth to mine, kissing me as thoroughly as he had the morning he'd found me in the orchard. His mouth was warm and open, drawing me in to him as if he'd wrapped me in a cozy blanket. The taste of him filled me, and before I could help myself I was a willing participant.

By all that was right I should have pulled away. It was too late. If I'd been standing, my legs would have gone out from under me, that's how potent his kiss was.

When he broke it off, I groaned and found it difficult to breathe. “Why'd you do that?” I managed between gasps, breathing heavily, my eyes still closed.

He kissed my forehead as if he found it necessary to maintain contact. “I figured that was the most effective way to end this argument.”

“We weren't arguing…I was doing my best to protect us both from unnecessary heartache…”

“Listen, Em, you've got baggage. For that matter, I've got plenty of my own. We can help each other. I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you running through the orchard.”

I didn't want to hear this. I needed to get away before it was too late. He wanted me, and heaven help me I wanted him, but that wasn't going to happen.

With him looking at me, his eyes full of warmth and passion, I hadn't the strength to resist him. “I'm going back inside now.”

“Not yet.”

“Please don't make this harder than it already is.”

I could see the internal debate going on inside his head. After several moments he stood. I stretched up my arms as he lifted me effortlessly from the chair. Once I was in his embrace, he kissed me with the same heated passion he had a few minutes earlier.

I managed to dredge up the strength to pull away. “Please, don't…you make me weak.”

“Good.” He responded with a cocky grin. “That's exactly what I want to hear.”

“Don't get used to it, because it isn't happening again.”

“We'll see.”

I didn't want to argue. I'd be stronger in the morning, I decided. I'd be able to resist Nick's addictive kisses when my head was clear.

Greg came to dinner at the inn on Wednesday night. I'd fussed over the meal, poring over my recipe books, wanting to impress him with my culinary skill. Several times I berated myself for suggesting a home-cooked meal. In the end I chose a stuffed chicken breast recipe instead of steak. I served it along with fresh vegetables from my garden, a green salad with homemade croutons, and a home-baked apple pie for dessert.

In retrospect, I could have dished up boxed macaroni and cheese for all the attention we paid to the meal. Although we'd talked every day, it was like we hadn't seen each other in months. Our meal grew cold as we concentrated on each other. Greg brought wine and we sat on the porch after dinner. It was the most relaxed I could remember being in a long time. Not until later did I realize our time reminded me of all the evenings Mark and I had enjoyed the sunset together.

Greg left at around eleven and would have stayed longer if he didn't need to be at work in the morning. He had close to a ninety-minute commute back to Kirkland on the east side of Seattle and because ferries ran only intermittently this late at night, he had to drive around over the Narrows and through Tacoma.

I walked him to the front of the porch and we stood together there in the moonlight, delaying his departure because neither of us was ready for him to leave.

I knew he wanted to kiss me, and the truth was I hoped he would. We faced each other, and Greg slipped his fingers into my hair and gently angled my head as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. It was a sweet kiss, devoid of urgency. A kiss of discovery and awe as if he'd stumbled upon the richest of treasures and didn't want to do or say anything to dispel what he'd found.

When the kissing ended, he leaned his forehead against mine. “I've been wanting to do that all evening.”

“I've been hoping you would,” I admitted, surprising myself with how soft and low my voice was.

“I don't know if I should tell you this.”

“What?” I asked, sensing his hesitation.

“You're the first woman I've kissed since Julie.”

He'd mentioned he'd hardly dated in the years since his wife had died. Me, too, but only since Mark had left me, well, other than that one disastrous outing with the future brother-in-law of a friend. The only real kiss I'd experienced since losing Paul had come from Mark, and that had been one of desperation and longing just before he flew off to Iraq.

“I'm glad it was me,” I whispered.

“I am, too.” He reluctantly released me and I watched him drive away. It came to me that in all our conversations never once had I mentioned Mark. I couldn't, for fear I would dissolve into tears. Letting go of him was as difficult in some ways as it had been to release Paul.

As I headed into the house and my room, I thought I heard Emily. I paused, certain then that I also heard Nick's voice, but I didn't bother to investigate. It sounded as if he was in her bedroom, and if that was the case, I really didn't want to interrupt.

Emily was subdued for the rest of the week. She hated dealing with the crutches, and by the weekend she had rested her ankle enough that she was able to manage to take a few steps on her own without causing herself pain. I didn't see Nick, and the one time I asked about him she abruptly changed the subject, effectively communicating that she didn't want to talk about him.

Greg and I took his brother's boat over to Blake Island for the salmon feast and the experience was as wonderful as I hoped. More so because I shared it with him.

Sunday, after I served breakfast to my guests, Greg attended church services with me. Bob and Peggy Beldon attended the same church and I felt Bob's gaze studying me throughout the service. I'm sure he was curious about Greg, who had his arm over my shoulders.

We met the Beldons outside the sanctuary following the service. Bob looked what I can only think to describe as disappointed. I chose to ignore his censure. If he knew something about Mark that I didn't, he hadn't told me.

“Hello, Bob,” I said, holding on to Greg's hand, making sure Bob and Peggy knew the two of us were together. “I'd like you to meet my friend, Greg Endsley.” I looked at Greg and said, “Bob and Peggy are good friends of mine. They own a bed-and-breakfast in town and have been mentors to me at the inn.”

Greg stepped forward and the two men exchanged handshakes. He acknowledged Peggy with a smile. “It's a pleasure to meet friends of Jo Marie's.”

“I didn't know you were seeing anyone,” Bob said, glaring at Greg.

“Bob,” Peggy said under her breath and elbowed her husband in the ribs.

“We've only been dating a couple weeks,” I explained.

Bob studied Greg intently, as if gauging his worth. “So how'd you two meet?”

“I'm a family friend,” Greg explained, rather than go into details of our meeting at my family's Fourth of July barbecue.

“So you've known each other for quite some time, then?”

“Not really.”

“Bob,” Peggy said again, more pointedly this time. “There's no need to give Greg the third degree.” She tugged on Bob's arm. “I hate to end this inquisition, but Bob and I have an appointment.”

Bob frowned. “We do?”

“Yes, we do,” Peggy insisted with clenched teeth.

Greg and I watched them go and I geared up for the inevitable questions.

To his credit, Greg waited until we were in the car. With his hands braced against the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead and asked, “What was that about?”

I wasn't sure where to begin, so I started with the basic information. “Bob was friends with a man who worked as my handyman. His name was Mark Taylor.”

“Was?”

“He's gone.”

Greg glanced toward me, frowning. “Gone as in moved away? Gone as in dead?”

“Yes,” I said, the word barely making it past the hard lump in my throat.

“Which is it?”

“Both,” I choked out. “Mark left me…and returned to the Middle East to rescue an Iraqi national, a friend. That was a year ago and we've…I haven't heard from him in months…I can only assume he didn't make it out.”

The air inside the car felt stifling. “You loved him?”

“Yes.”

Greg didn't say anything for a long time. “Do you still care for him?” he asked.

This wasn't as easy a question to answer. Of course I continued to love Mark; I always would. But, as with Paul, he was part of my past and I had to leave them there.

“Jo Marie?” Greg pressed.

“Yes,” I said. “I love Mark. But like I said, he's not coming back.”

Again, Greg was silent and when he spoke his voice was strained. “I'm not sure where that leaves us.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You love someone else.”

“Yes, but he left. There's no way to know what happened to him, and I have to accept he's not going to return. Paul didn't come back, either…I can't live the rest of my life with pain and regrets…I loved them both but they're gone.” My voice cracked, and struggling not to give way to emotion, I covered my face with both hands. Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead against my knees.

Greg wrapped his arm around me and I felt his face press against my spine. “I'm sorry, Jo Marie.”

I straightened and dragged in a deep, calming breath, not sure I understood his apology. “Sorry for what? Sorry that you ever met me…”

“Never that.” He pressed his lips to my temple. “I sat in church this morning and thanked God for sending you into my life.”

The things this man said to me. They seemed to be aimed straight at my heart. I attempted a smile. “Sorry that I loved another man?”

His lips remained close. “Your heart has a huge capacity to love, that's part of what I find so attractive about you.”

Again I attempted a smile.

“I'm sorry you've lost two men that you've loved. It about killed me when Julie died; I couldn't imagine going through that grief twice.”

Reaching for his hand, I gave it a hard squeeze. “The difficult part is not knowing…it took over a year for Paul's remains to be recovered. I'll never know how or when Mark died. My only consolation is from one cryptic postcard I received that he seems to have located his friend, and for that I'm grateful.”

Greg didn't have much to say on the drive back to the inn. I knew what I'd told him was a lot to process. I wished I had the words to ease his worries.

He parked in my driveway and didn't get out of the car. I'd planned to serve us lunch. The silence between us felt oppressive and weighed heavily on me. In an effort to cover the awkwardness, I started talking like I couldn't get the words out fast enough.

“I made tomato soup from the tomatoes in the garden. You sauté the stewed tomatoes with finely chopped onion and celery and add fresh herbs. I did mention I started an herb garden this year, didn't I? Anyway, once the tomatoes and other vegetables cooked down I strained them and…”

“I'm not feeling very hungry, Jo Marie.”

My shoulders stiffened. What he was really saying was that he had some serious questions about our relationship. “Oh. Okay.”

His gaze drifted toward the garden. “Awhile back you mentioned your handyman tilled your garden, or used to. Was that Mark?”

I nodded.

Clearly, learning about Mark had given him pause. I put my hand on the door handle. “I'm not going to apologize for having loved him, Greg. I'm sorry if that upsets you…I think it might be best if you took some time to think this relationship over and decide what you want to do. When you're ready to move forward, if that's something that interests you, then give me a call.”

With my heart in my throat, I climbed out of the car and headed toward the inn. Greg stayed in the driveway for several minutes and then backed out and drove away.

I didn't know if I'd hear from him again and suspected I wouldn't. That was a bitter disappointment.

Both Rover and Emily met me once I was inside the inn. Emily took one look at me and asked, “You okay?”

“Not especially.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

I shook my head and then jerked my shoulders with some form of amusement that was more sad than funny. “Greg's taking some time to assess if he wants to continue our relationship.”

“What? I thought you two had really hit it off.”

“He learned about Mark.”

“And that upset him?” Emily asked.

“Yes. I understand where he's coming from. I really do.” In like circumstances I would feel the same. “Greg's not sure I'm emotionally available to him and he needs time to weigh the risk.” Getting involved with me would be taking a chance, and like me, he'd already suffered one loss; another could be emotionally devastating. I was speaking from experience.

I didn't bother to eat lunch and decided the best thing for me to do was to find a project and keep busy. I'd been wanting to paint the kitchen and decided there was no better time than the present. Before I could talk myself out of it, I made a run to the local hardware store, purchased a soft lemon-yellow-colored paint and returned with everything I needed.

“Can I help?” Emily asked when I started clearing everything off the kitchen counters.

I wouldn't mind the company. That would help me keep my mind off Greg. My one concern was her injury. “What about your ankle?”

“I might not be able to stand for long, but I could get down low without a problem as long as you can help me up again.”

“I can do that.”

“Good, then you've got yourself a partner in crime.”

I smiled for the first time since Greg had dropped me off and refused my invitation to lunch.

“It seems we both have man issues.” I carefully broached the subject of Nick. Emily hadn't said much, but I could see that she was troubled over a lot more than the pain in her ankle. Late afternoon on Saturday, Nick had stopped by and Emily had asked me to tell him she was resting. He'd looked disappointed but hadn't returned since then.