The Summer Wind (37 page)

They’d kicked off the sheets and lay exposed to the cooling breeze. Her hand caressed his bare chest, her fingers mingling with the soft curls. Devlin’s hand stroked her shoulder in a lazy swirling pattern, as he hummed to the song that was playing on his CD.

“I like this song,” Devlin said in a low voice. “Makes me think of us.” He began to join in the chorus, singing in an off-key baritone.

“
I saw you last night and got that old feeling.
”

“You know the words,” Dora said teasingly. “I’m impressed.”

“I live to impress you.”

Dora burrowed her head comfortably into his shoulder. Cal was not a cuddler, and of course, neither was her son. With Devlin she found she craved this gentle intimacy, almost more than the sex. The sex was wonderful, but this . . . Dora sighed. She needed to be held, to feel treasured.

Devlin began to sing again in his wobbly voice, “
The spark of love is still burning
.”

“Nice . . .” she murmured absently.

“Woman, didn’t you listen to the lyrics? I’m trying to say something here.”

Dora went very still, suddenly appreciating that Devlin wasn’t joking around.

“That’s how I feel about you, Dora. About us. That old feeling is back. It’s like we’re getting a second chance.”

“Honey, we’ve only just started dating. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“How long don’t matter. It’s like the song says. I saw you and got that old feeling.”

“Dev, wait,” Dora stammered, sitting up and pulling the sheet around herself.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Devlin asked, his smile falling. He moved to sit up, exposing his nakedness. Dora had to look away, still embarrassed at the sight. She’d never felt comfortable naked, not even as a young woman and never before Cal, who was, she could see in retrospect, a prude.

Devlin took the hand that clutched the sheet tight and pulled it away. As it slipped off she lurched to clutch it back, but he reached out to hold both of her hands in his. She blushed, flustered.

“You’re not wearing your wedding ring,” he said, looking down at the pale skin on her ring finger.

“No.”

He didn’t say anything; he just nodded and let his finger rub the empty space on her ring finger for a moment.

“I thought you’d be glad to know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.”

She dragged her gaze to his and was caught by the sincerity in the brilliant blue.

“You were the one for me back when we were teenagers, and you’re still the one for me now. All these years we’ve been apart, I think I’ve been lost. I know now that I never got over you. I never should have let you go.”

Dora felt the impact of those words deep in her heart. She couldn’t respond. Couldn’t move.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I know you feel it, too,” he said. “I know it.”

“I do,” she replied. “When I saw you after all these years, you made me feel like I was sixteen again.”

“That’s how you always will be to me.”

“But I’m not sixteen. I’m thirty-six. With a child.”

“Hell, I know all that. What matters is that we feel the same about each other. Right here, right now.”

“Right now,” she said, “I don’t feel sixteen. Nor do I think of you as that teenager anymore.” She laughed at his puzzled expression. “Thank God! I’ve lived those years, gone through so many experiences, learned so much . . . I don’t want to be that young, foolish girl any longer. Malleable, obedient, gullible even. I like being the woman I am today. Devlin, you’ve made me feel beautiful again. Womanly. Sexy. Right now.”

She looked at Devlin and leaned forward to stroke his face. “And I like who
you
are today. The man you’ve become. I don’t want to go back to being those kids again.”

Devlin reached out to take hold of her shoulders. “I feel the same. That’s what I’ve been trying to say in my own clumsy way. “Dora . . .” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I . . . I love you. I always have and I always will.”

Dora drew back, and her heart began to flutter. “Dev . . . this is all moving so fast.”

Devlin’s smile slipped and he released her shoulders.

“Because you don’t have feelings for me? You don’t love me.”

Dora let out a guttural groan. “Of course I have feelings for you. Deep and very real. But love? I’m not going to rush into using that word again. I’m not ready. I’m not even divorced yet!”

“Well, I am,” he shot back. “And I’ll tell you what. A piece of
paper don’t make a damn bit of difference. It’s what’s in here that counts.” He made a fist and pounded his heart. He went very still. His tone turned indignant. “Eudora Tupper, do you still love your husband?”

“Devlin, how can you ask me that?”

“I can because you broke my heart once over that man. I don’t aim to have it broken again.”

“When did I break your heart?”

He looked stunned that she could ask. “When you broke up with me!”

“Oh, for . . . Dev, I was eighteen years old!”

“Nineteen. We dated all freshman year you were at Converse and I was at USC. All that summer and part of the next year.”

Dora stared back at him, stunned that he knew this, and by the raw hurt and pain so evident in his voice.

“Then you met your high-and-mighty Calhoun Tupper and you traded me in for a fancier model.”

“I did not!” she said, annoyed that he would say such a thing. “That’s not why we broke up.”

“Then why?” he asked, eyes glaring. “You never told me. Not really.”

Dora shifted. “I . . . I don’t know. We grew up. We changed. I fell in love with Cal,” she stammered.

“Or your mama did.” His tone was bitter.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Am I? You know your mama never liked me. She never thought I’d amount to much.”

Dora crossed her arms. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Everything! You were a mama’s girl. She said jump, you said how high. It was always like that with her. She never liked me, but I can just imagine her putting Cal’s picture in front of you whenever I called. I’m damn sure she never gave you half of my messages once you hooked up with Tupper.”

Dora averted her gaze.

“You married him because your mama told you to.”

“Stop, Dev,” Dora said, looking into his eyes. “That’s not fair. I married Cal because I loved him.”

“Shit,” he said in a long drawl, shaking his head. Pointing his finger at her, he declared, “I don’t believe you.”

Dora straightened, mouth agape.

Devlin angrily flipped back the covers and rose from the bed. He crossed the room in long strides, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

Dora wrapped her arms around herself and sat alone in the king-size bed. The moon rose higher in the sky, like a resplendent queen. A few minutes ago, she’d felt as golden and full of light as that moon. Now she felt eclipsed and cold. She dragged the thick coverlet from the bottom of the bed over her shoulders. Staring out at the night, she ran her fingers along the cable pattern of the wool.

Patterns,
she thought—there was that word again. Dora was beginning to comprehend the power that patterns had to influence behavior. What Devlin had said was true. Winnie had made no secret of her disapproval of Devlin. Was she being a good girl and following the pattern set by her mother, and her mother before her, when she’d married Cal? She thought back to how Winnie had pointed out to Dora that Cal wasn’t the heavy drinker her father was, or Devlin was. Winnie had always
railed against the evils of alcohol, using her father as the prime example of how a life could be corrupted by it. She’d also reminded Dora how Cal was from a family with deep Charleston roots and strong connections. He would provide for her the comfortable lifestyle she was accustomed to.

Dora had loved Cal in her girlish fashion. She had felt from the first that with Cal she was on a trajectory toward marriage. When he dropped to one knee and proposed, she could only answer yes.

They’d married at St. Philip’s Episcopal Church in a traditional ceremony on a sunny day in June. She’d worn white lace; the bridesmaids blush-pink taffeta. Dora had chosen an Aynsley China pattern like her mother’s and her grandmother’s silver pattern.

Was it fair to say that she had judged Devlin by her mother’s stringent measures? Dora swallowed hard. She had to admit it was. Lord help her, she thought, feeling the sting of shame.

Dora tossed the throw off her shoulders. The thick, unyielding wool was irritating her tender skin. As she sat scratching her neck and arms, she wondered how long she would continue to blanket herself in the old patterns that had only brought her unhappiness.

The bathroom door opened and Devlin walked out, tying the belt of an expensive-looking waffle-weave robe. His blond hair was disheveled and his feet bare. He had the heavy-footed walk of confidence mixed with anger.

How times had changed, she thought. She couldn’t help but wonder what her mama would think of Devlin now. This was no longer the clever but poor island boy she’d grown up with. Dev was a self-made millionaire. He’d brought himself
up from almost nothing. He’d become a man, had a successful business, married, divorced, was a father. Yet despite the changes and years, he still loved her.

He stopped at a tray table laden with bottles of liquor and poured himself a drink. He turned to glance her way.

“Want a cognac?”

She could tell from his tone he was upset, but still resigned to being a gentleman. “No, thanks. I’d love a water.”

He paused, then turned back to the tray and put the stopper back on the crystal bottle. He then opened two bottles of water and carried them to the bed.

He handed her a bottle, then slid beside her on the mattress. She moved to make room for him against the headboard. He stretched his legs out beside hers and leaned back, taking a long swallow.

Dora leaned against his shoulder, relieved that he’d returned to the bed and not stayed away in a show of pique. Only a man with confidence would do that, she thought. She reached out to take hold of his hand on his lap. Immediately, he squeezed it.

“Dev, we haven’t talked yet about
your
marriage,” she said, glad that they were both sitting against the headboard, looking out at the ocean, not at each other. It made the honesty somehow easier. “Did you love your wife?”

“I thought I did. I won’t deny it.”

“I’m glad,” Dora said. She wouldn’t have liked to think he hadn’t been in love with his wife.

“Ashley and I got married a long time after you and I broke up,” he clarified.

“Why did you divorce?”

A long sigh rumbled in Devlin’s chest. “I screwed up. Screwed around. I was too young to get married and too stupid to appreciate what I had. We hung on for longer than we should’ve. I don’t think either of us wanted to admit we’d made a mistake. Especially after Leigh Anne came along. But when Ashley finally made the call, I didn’t fight her. I couldn’t. I’m not gonna lie. The divorce was hard to go through. We both still bear the scars. But I can look back and see it was for the best.”

“How is she?”

“Ashley’s doing okay. Getting married again.”

She looked over at him. “Are you okay with that?”

“Sure,” he replied quickly. Then, more sincerely, “I’m happy for her. He’s a good guy. He’ll be a good father for Leigh Anne. But she’ll always be
my
little girl. I’d do anything for her. Getting a divorce doesn’t change how a father feels about his child.”

Dora thought about Cal and believed Devlin was right, unfortunately for Nate.

“Where do they live?”

“Over in Mt. Pleasant. They have a real nice house on the creek. Not far.”

“Do you see your daughter often?”

“Every other weekend, and we work out holidays. I haven’t missed a school function or a dance recital,” he said with a measure of pride.

She smiled, glad to hear that.

He shifted against the headboard to look into her eyes. “Honey, I know we talk about the past a lot and what we remember from back when we were sixteen. I like that you make me feel like that again. And that I make you remember.” He paused, playing with her fingers.

“But I know we aren’t kids any longer. I got the aches and pains to remind me.” His laugh rumbled low. “I’m not that reckless surfer that you used to know. I’m a man now. But just because I’ve grown up doesn’t mean I have to be old, now does it?”

She shook her head and moved a hand to place it over his. “No, not at all. I love that you’re still spontaneous and fun. You make me happy.”

He cocked his head. “I hear a ‘but’ coming . . .”

She smiled ruefully. “But . . . like you said, I enjoy a quiet life, my home and my garden. My son. I like staying home at night. While you . . .” She looked into his eyes. “You go out all the time. You walk into the bar and Bill knows your drink. You called Dunleavy’s your office.”

“It’s the nature of my business. I go out with clients when they can go, which is often on weekends and in the evenings. I take them to restaurants to talk about deals and to add some local color.”

“It’s all business?”

“No, of course not.” He paused. “What are you asking? Do you think I can’t settle down?”

“I only know what I see.”

He looked at her hands again. “Did it occur to you that I might be lonely?”

She abruptly looked up at his face. The blue of his eyes burned like torches against the ruddy tan and burned a hole right through her arguments. She couldn’t quite grasp the concept: Devlin Cassell, lonely?

Dora had not considered that possibility. She shook her head, then lowered it onto his broad, strong, capable shoulder. He wrapped his arm tighter around her.

“Dev,” she said, pushing herself to be honest. “It means so much to me that you love me. Be patient with me. I can’t say the words. Not yet. It might just be paper, but I need to get my divorce signed, sealed, and delivered before I can move forward. I’m not ready for anything more.”

He sighed, but his hand gently patted her shoulder. “Okay, honey. I won’t rush you.”

“Thank you.”

“As long as you’re not pushing me away again.”