The Reunion (8 page)

“Good,” Ethan said in a measured tone. “I’ll buy a dory, and we’ll practice every chance we get. I see no reason why we can’t put our names on that trophy.”

Ebony rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Excuse me, Ms. Evans,” Ethan said, turning to her, “is there something you’d like to share?”

Ebony turned away. She didn’t want to talk to Ethan.

“Yes?” Ethan persisted, challenging her and trying to make eye contact. “What’s on your mind?”

She refused to look directly at him. “Nothing.”

“Something struck you funny,” he said. “What was it?”

She suddenly turned to him and pointed at his face. “You.”

“Me?” He took another piece of pepperoni. “What about me?”

“I found what you said funny, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Well,” she qualified, eager to end the conversation, “not so much funny as arrogant. Your confidence is greatly misplaced.”

“You don’t think we can win?”

“I have every confidence in Ron.”

“But none in me?” Ethan questioned, sitting in a chair in a sprawling kind of way and gazing at her.

She leveled a cold stare at him. “That’s precisely what I’m saying. I have no confidence in you.” She paused and glared at him. “I have no confidence in you whatsoever.”

His eyes flashed. “Maybe we should have a little bet then.”

“Excuse me?”

Ethan leaned back in the chair. “You don’t have the courage to bet against me, do you? All talk, no action.”

“Really?” she snapped, glaring at him.

Ethan ignored her as if she wasn’t even in the room.

Ebony’s eyes narrowed. “All right, Mr. Know-It-All, name it!” she exclaimed.

Jenny, Ron, and Rebecca watched quietly, glancing at each other as the man and woman squared off in the emotional equivalent of a tavern brawl.

“Okay, if you insist.” Ethan paused. “If Ron and I lose, I’ll drive you to the airport in July.”

Ebony was taken aback, but didn’t miss a beat. “Agreed,” she said, feeling a sensation of pleasure at the idea. “At least I’ll have dignity enough to say good-bye to you face-to-face.”

He nodded sheepishly.

“And if you win?” Ebony challenged Ethan, her passions flowing.

Ethan tapped his fingers on the table. Rebecca and Ron glanced surreptitiously at the others, but didn’t dare utter a word or interfere with the struggle.

“This is going to take a lot of work,” Ethan reasoned, “so I’ll want something special.”

Ebony’s eyes flared as if they were on fire. “Any team with you on it hasn’t got a hope in hell, buddy.”

Again he tapped his fingers. “Hmm, something special. Let me see.”

“How about the waltz?” Jenny suggested.

Ebony quickly turned to her best friend with a malicious expression.

“What’s that?” Ethan asked.

“After the dory races, there is a trophy presentation and dance at the White’s Lake Legion. The first waltz is reserved for the rowing champions and their wives”—she glanced at Ebony—“or their girlfriends.”

“Yes,” Ethan said, nodding. “If we win, Ebony dances the winners’ waltz with me.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, firmly shaking her head and pursing her lips.

Ethan laughed at her. “Just like I said, all talk, no action.”

“You really think you’re something, don’t you?” Ebony exclaimed. “I’m sure if it wasn’t for Ron, you’d finish last.”

“We’ll win,” Ethan declared confidently.

“Yeah, right. Like I said, any team with you on it hasn’t got a chance.”

He suddenly stood up, stared her right in the eye, and thrust out his right hand. “I’m willing to honor a bet. Have you got the same integrity?”

Ebony squinted, boiling with rage. “I’ve got more integrity in my little finger than you have in your whole body.”

“Well, where I come from, you measure someone’s integrity by how they live up to a bet. If you want to back out, so be it.”

She grabbed his hand and gave it a quick shake. “You’re on, buddy.”

“We’d better get going,” Rebecca mumbled to Ron, her eyes downcast in embarrassment.

Ethan looked at Ron. “You really want to do this?”

“I do.”

“Good enough. I’ll call Jim Coolen. He’s been the boatbuilder in Shad Bay for as long as I can remember. I’m sure that he’ll be able to sell me a dory or tell me where I can find one.”

“Okay,” Ron said.

“We’ll give it everything we’ve got,” Ethan declared, glancing at Ebony.

“Won’t be enough,” she assured him.

“Everything we’ve got,” he insisted, “and yes, it will be enough.”

They looked at each other a moment longer, and then Ethan turned, kissed Jenny on the cheek, and left with Ron and Rebecca. Ebony sighed and went downstairs. She sat on the couch and leaned her head back, trying to find equilibrium. Instead, more memories of lovemaking flooded her mind. She remembered the nights they sat on that very couch when Jenny was upstairs asleep. They would stare straight ahead, but Ethan would have his hand under her skirt, rubbing her pussy, and she would be pulling his cock. They would be whispering to each other, describing erotic scenes of lovemaking during a midnight skinny-dip or while lying in front of a fireplace at a mountain chalet. They would have the most amazing orgasms that way, always finishing by kissing for twenty minutes or more as their blood pressure returned to normal.

Jenny came down and sat across from her. “You two have an intense relationship,” she said.

“I wish we had no relationship at all.”

They heard steps on the veranda, and Ethan came into the house. Ebony walked upstairs with Jenny and met him in the living room.

“I want to cancel our bet,” Ebony whispered when Ethan came close.

“Sorry, a bet’s a bet,” he whispered back.

Ebony glanced to make sure Jenny couldn’t hear, then squinted her eyes. “I’d rather die than dance with an insufferable egotist like you.”

He sat down on the couch, picked up a deck of cards off the coffee table, and started shuffling them. “You said yourself the Morton brothers are unbeatable.”

“And your point is?”

He picked the nine of hearts out of the deck and flipped it onto the table. “So, realistically, we have no chance, and you have no worries.”

She rubbed her hands and mulled over what he said.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

His gentle manner caught her off guard. “It’s been an eventful day, but about our bet,” she said sweetly, “I hope you didn’t take it seriously. You know I hate loose ends. You see, with this hanging over my head, it will bother me every day.”

“A bet’s a bet,” he responded immediately.

“I was joking when I accepted your terms,” she said assertively.

“A bet’s a bet.”

Her face hardened. “Surely you’re not going to hold me to this.”

“A bet’s a bet.”

“I demand that you call this bet off right now,” she said so loudly that Jenny glanced into the living room from the kitchen.

“Why should I call it off?”

“You haven’t got a prayer,” she assured him. “You have nothing to lose by calling it off.”

“If that was true, you wouldn’t be so insistent on me letting you back out. But the truth of the matter is that you know I’m a very determined and resourceful individual. I say we will win the race, and we will win the race. You know it.”

“Call it off,” she said.

“A bet’s a bet.”

Ebony rose abruptly and hurried into the kitchen. Ethan followed her. She put on her coat, scowled at him, and moved toward the door.

“Stay for pizza?” Jenny asked hopefully. “We have plenty.”

“Sorry,” Ebony answered, glancing at Ethan, “but something is making me feel ill.”

“At least let Ethan drive you home.”

“I’ll walk.”

Ethan put on his coat. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Thanks anyway, but I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” he said, opening the door for her. “I’ll be back shortly, Jenny.”

“Take your time.”

Ebony smirked, then walked to the car and quietly got in, not saying a word as Ethan slipped in beside her and attached his seat belt. “You didn’t think I would accept this drive, did you?” she said in a challenging tone.

“Women are a mystery, and you, particularly, are an enigma.”

“You’re an acquaintance,” she explained, “and you’re my best friend’s brother.”

“Yes, I am your best friend’s brother,” he agreed, “but I think I am a little more than an acquaintance to you.”

“An acquaintance,” she insisted. “I am accepting a drive from an acquaintance.”

“Whatever you say,” he returned, pulling out onto the road.

To her chagrin, he drove very slowly. As they turned into the road that led to her house and the cove where Ethan tied his boat, they noticed a black half-ton truck parked off to the side. Painted on the door of the truck were the words “Baxter’s Pest Control.” The driver, a big man in his forties, was wearing sunglasses and staring directly at Ethan.

Ethan read the sign. “Is that Bern?”

“Yes,” she answered, noticing the maliciousness of the man’s glare.

“If looks could kill.”

“You made a fool of him,” Ebony said flatly, staring straight ahead, “and then you left. I’m sure there’s hardly been a day since that he hasn’t thought about you.”

“You’re probably right. But holding grudges isn’t a good thing, is it?” He drove past the truck.

“Finally,” she muttered as they reached her house.

“Can I walk you to the door?”

“No.”

“Did you miss me?” Ethan inquired softly.

Ebony turned to him. Had she missed him? Yes. Had she needed him with all her heart? Yes. Had he caused her incalculable pain, innumerable sleepless nights, and an aching soul? Yes, yes, yes. He was the one man she had ever loved. He was the one man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. He was the one man whose children she wanted to raise.

“Did you miss me?” Ethan repeated.

“No.”

He got out of the car, walked around to her side, and opened the door. She got out, and they stood facing each other, inches apart. Ebony immediately pulled away, but her heart was pounding, and she swallowed hard, her eyes leveled on his chest. She looked up at Ethan.

“I hate you,” she said.

He knitted his brows. “‘Hate’ seems like a strong word.”

“I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life.”

“All right,” he stammered with an agonized look. “I know I did something inexcusable, but I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Leave me alone,” she answered slowly. “Get out of my life.”

He gazed at the ocean. “I will leave you alone,” he said, “but no matter what you say, I will never believe that you hate me.”

“Leave me alone,” she said, turning her back to him and walking away.

Ethan got into his car, but she refused to look at him for even the briefest moment. He drove away, and Ebony walked to her house and leaned against the wall. Like a dam unable to hold the spring runoff a moment longer, Ebony slumped forward, put her hands over her face, and wept. Without even thinking about it, she unconsciously touched the locket that lay next to her heart.

Chapter Five

For the next five weeks, as the warm winds of spring awakened everyone’s zest for life, Ebony avoided Ethan with unfailing determination. He began an architectural business in Halifax, but continued to live in the island cottage. Every evening, after he and Ron finished work and supper, they would row up and down the bay, often in the mellow light of fading dusk. Ebony watched them out her window and could not help but notice they were getting faster and faster as the days passed.

“The Mortons are unbeatable,” she said to herself one evening. “It will be the Mortons who dance with their wives at the awards ceremony.”

Though they were not speaking or connecting in any conceivable way, Ebony was constantly aware of Ethan’s presence. Sometimes, late at night, she would gaze at the big island with her binoculars and see Ethan sitting beside a banker’s lamp, working in his study. He seemed to be drawing, or thinking, or brooding. She wasn’t sure which, and she would not allow herself to care, yet, somehow, in a strange and inexplicable way, she drew comfort from his presence, and she wondered, just wondered, if he was thinking of her as she was thinking of him.

On the last Saturday in April, Ebony put on a long white dress with rose-colored flowers, black shoes, and colorful beads in her hair. She went for a walk, and just as she approached the Shad Bay store, she noticed Ethan standing beside the picnic table outside. He was drinking juice and reading a poster advertising the upcoming dory races. She stopped dead in her tracks, concealed behind a hedgerow of greenery, and admired his sprawling, masculine pose. He had always possessed an unflappable confidence and disregard for what others thought, but for some reason, she was both repelled and attracted to those traits in him. Ebony walked forward, and Ethan, seeing her out of the corner of his eye, snapped to attention and smiled.

“Hello,” he said.

“Mr. Harrington,” she returned, walking past him.

McKenzie Nickerson, a local fisherman who had once tried to hook up with Ebony with the smell of rum on his breath, pulled into the parking lot and stepped out of his pickup truck. He looked at Ebony, then, seeing Ethan, bristled like a ruffed grouse preparing to drum. Ethan did not notice McKenzie and continued to drink in Ebony’s form with greedy eyes. When she walked into the store, Ethan casually leaned against a picnic table and continued to drink his juice. McKenzie went into the store and bought a pack of cigarettes, his eyes on Ebony almost the whole time, even through the window. When he came out, another man arrived, and they began talking about the upcoming dory races. Ebony walked past them.

“Man’s boat,” McKenzie said, loud enough for Ebony and Ethan to hear. “Not the kind of boat for a silver spoon.”

Ethan, realizing McKenzie was talking about him, squinted his eyes. Ebony had seen that look before and could sense trouble. The other man, apparently knowing Ethan’s reputation for brawling, quickly hurried into the store. Ethan walked directly toward McKenzie.

“See you at the races,” Ethan said calmly, brushing past him and whistling as he strolled down the road.