Kitabı oku: «Driftwood Cottage», sayfa 2

2

The combined efforts of the men in his family and his friends convinced Connor to make the drive to Chesapeake Shores on Saturday. He hadn’t been home since his parents’ wedding on New Year’s Eve. Though he’d made his peace with both Mick and even Megan, things seemed to go better between them when he kept his distance. Their capacity for meddling was beyond his for resisting. They’d made their opinions of his relationship with Heather crystal clear.

The drive home had been pleasant for a change. Although the weather was especially mild for late March, it was too early for most of the tourists and weekenders who flocked to the small towns on the Chesapeake Bay later in the season.

Arriving in Chesapeake Shores to discover all the hints that spring was just around the corner, he realized how much he missed being home. This time of year the town green was edged with beds of daffodils, the salty air of the bay beckoned and there was something special about the way the morning sun filtered through a haze and sparkled on the dew that covered the fresh green lawns.

With temperatures hovering close to seventy, he actually had visions of taking his old rowboat out for a lazy day of fishing. Maybe he could even convince Kevin to come along. It had been ages since they’d spent an idle day out on the water together.

Before heading toward home, he made the drive along Main Street, then turned right onto Shore Road. It was practically a ritual to take a tour of the town his father and uncles had built, to see what was happening. There were always one or two changes that caught him by surprise, especially in spring, when most new businesses chose to open in time for the summer tourist season.

He spotted the “Open” flag fluttering outside his mother’s new art gallery and resolved to make his duty call there later in the day, since he’d missed the official opening. He was anxious to see if she was as knowledgeable about art as his father and the rest of the family seemed to think she was.

Before he drove on, Connor caught a glimpse of another new store right next door. A beautiful handmade quilt hung in the window, a quilt, he realized with a sense of shock, that looked very familiar because it—or one exactly like it—had once hung on the wall in his townhouse. It was the one thing that had gone missing after Heather’s departure.

Slamming on the brakes, he looked around until he spotted a parking place up the street. He swung into it, then tried to still the sudden racing of his heart. He knew that quilt because Heather had made it. He’d watched her in the evenings as she’d stitched every seam, quilted every square, while he’d been studying for his law school classes. He’d been captivated by the contentment on her face as she’d worked quietly, happy just to be in a room with him.

Spotting that quilt in a store window shouldn’t throw him like this, he thought as he strode across the street. It shouldn’t matter to him that she’d apparently put it up for sale. But it did.

It offended him to think that maybe she was giving it up because she needed cash. How much could a quilt bring in, anyway? He thought he’d been giving her generous support money for their son, enough for both of them really, but maybe it wasn’t covering expenses, after all. He knew, though, from their heated exchanges, that she was too proud to take more.

Worse, of course, was the idea that she was selling the quilt because she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, because it reminded her of him. Had she grown to hate him so much? It was true that most of their conversations recently had been brief and edgy, but he’d convinced himself they’d eventually move past the cool civility of late. Maybe that was just another of his many delusions where Heather was concerned, right up there beside the idea that she would change her mind and move back home with him.

He glanced at the sign on the window, which he hadn’t noticed earlier: COTTAGE QUILTS. For some reason that struck a distant chord as well. Had Heather ever mentioned opening a shop like this one? Was it one of the dreams she’d had before setting them aside to be with him? He’d known how much she’d hated teaching, but he couldn’t recall what she’d hoped to do instead once the baby was a bit older. That just reminded him of how many conversations they’d avoided over their years together. Anything involving the future had presented a minefield.

Just then he saw and heard her, Heather, standing amid a sea of fabric with a customer, talking animatedly about which colors worked well together and which ones clashed. With a sense of shock, he realized that not only was her quilt for sale, but that she was working here. How had that happened? Filled with questions, he stood where he was, just outside the open door, and waited.

When the customer left with a heavy bag filled with fabric, Connor stepped inside. Heather looked up, a smile on her face that faltered at the sight of him.

“Connor,” she said, a catch in her voice. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Chesapeake Shores is my home,” he reminded her, his own tone testy. “What the devil are you doing here?”

She gestured around her. “What does it look like? I’ve opened a business.”

A thousand questions came to mind, but he blurted only one. “This is yours?”

She nodded, her expression defensive.

“You opened a business here? In my town?” he said incredulously.

She smiled at his reaction. “Actually if the town belongs to any one person, it would be your father, but I’m pretty sure it’s open to new residents.”

“You didn’t think you needed to tell me you’d moved here?”

“I would have as soon as we got settled. Getting this place open has taken a lot of my time.”

“Don’t tell me you’re living with my folks,” he said, regarding her with suspicion, already sensing a plot afoot to throw them together. After all, wasn’t that exactly what his mother had hinted at her wedding, that she intended to see that he was next to walk down the aisle? And it would definitely explain the unexpected visit by all the men in the family the previous weekend and their push to drag him down here.

“No. Believe me, I know that would have been a bad idea. I have my own apartment upstairs. Your mother and I …”

He frowned at the mention of his mother. “What does my mother have to do with this? Was it her idea?”

“In a way, yes,” Heather admitted at once.

“And you went along with it,” he said with a dismayed shake of his head. “Haven’t I told you she can’t be trusted?”

Heather visibly stiffened. “You told me a lot of things, Connor, all probably valid from your perspective, but I prefer to form my own opinions of people. I happen to like your mother, and even you have to admit she’s been a godsend in recent months, looking after little Mick.”

Connor bristled. “That still doesn’t mean you should take her advice. Did she tell you if you settled here, eventually I’d cave in and marry you?”

Heather frowned at him. “Trust me, I know your position on marriage, Connor. You’ve stated it often enough and in no uncertain terms. It’s ingrained in my head.”

“Then what are you doing here?” he asked again, genuinely bewildered about why she’d pick this town if not because it was his hometown.

“This decision was all about me and what I want for my future. Your mother saw my quilts and thought I had talent. When I was here for the wedding, she mentioned this space and the apartment upstairs. It seemed ideal for me, especially since it meant our son would get to be around his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. It was a far better option than going back to Ohio to be around my family, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

As rational as all that sounded, Connor couldn’t get over the fact that she’d kept this from him. “We’ve seen each other at least a half-dozen times since the wedding when you brought little Mick to spend the day with me, yet you never said a word about any of this. Why not?”

“You’ve always known exactly how to reach me on my cell phone. You haven’t missed a minute with your son. I didn’t think you’d be interested in knowing where I’m living,” she said with a shrug.

“Of course I’m interested. We’re talking about my son!” he said, his voice climbing.

He saw a bit of light die in her eyes at his words and knew he’d said exactly the wrong thing. It was a habit he’d inadvertently gotten into and couldn’t seem to break. When he should have been telling Heather he missed her, he couldn’t seem to choke out the words. The admission would have revealed a vulnerability he wasn’t prepared for her to see.

“Nothing’s changed where little Mick’s concerned,” Heather assured him, her voice tight. “You’ll still see him whenever you want to. This might not be as convenient as having us in Baltimore, but we’re hardly at the ends of the earth. Besides, other than giving him a chance to get to know his family, this move wasn’t about him, either. It was about me, and it’s been clear for some time now that I don’t matter to you. It was past time for a fresh start. Chesapeake Shores had a lot of advantages that other places wouldn’t have had. I’m sure even you can’t deny that.”

He understood why she thought she didn’t matter to him, but it annoyed him just the same. “Don’t be ridiculous. I love you. We have a son together. And what kind of fresh start is it, if you’re surrounded by my family?”

“This is where I need to be right now. Deal with it,” she said.

Her tone was surprisingly unyielding. What had happened to the accommodating woman he’d known so well? Before he could ask, she held up her hand to stop him.

“I am not having this discussion here, where a customer could come in at any moment,” she said firmly. “Please go, Connor. If you want to spend some time with your son today, he’s with your dad. I think Mick planned to take advantage of the weather and take him and his cousins Davy and Henry out on the dock by the house to fish.”

Connor wanted to stand here and argue with her, tell her that moving here, getting close to his family was a mistake, but he didn’t have the right. His stubborn refusal to take the next step and marry her had cost him the chance to have any say over her decisions beyond those directly related to their son. And how could he possibly argue that a place as serene as Chesapeake Shores with his own family all around was anything other than a perfect place to raise a child? He dropped the argument.

“Will I see you at the house later?” he asked.

“I doubt it. Shanna will bring little Mick home when she picks up Davy and Henry.”

“Tomorrow?” he pressed, not sure why he wanted to know just how deeply she’d insinuated herself into his family’s routines. “Will you be at Sunday dinner?”

She held his gaze. “Will it bother you if I am?”

“Of course not,” he said, managing to utter the lie despite a boatload of regrets. Seeing her, knowing he’d lost her, was some kind of sweet torture.

“Then we’ll see you there. Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk about how we’re going to make this work.” She gave him a hesitant smile. “Connor, I don’t want it to be awkward every time we run into each other. I really don’t.”

He sighed. “Neither do I.”

He just wasn’t sure it was possible to act as if everything between them had never mattered. Because the truth was, he’d realized months ago that she and his son were the only things in his life that did matter. He just didn’t see any way to hold on to them without betraying his core belief that most marriages were a sham and led, not to happily-ever-after but to misery.

Back at the house his father had built when he was first developing Chesapeake Shores, Connor paused long enough to throw his bag into his boyhood room, which still had his old sports posters on the walls. In the kitchen he grabbed a handful of Gram’s cookies, relieved to find that she hadn’t stopped baking, even though everyone, including her, had moved out of the main house, leaving it to his father and mother. Apparently Gram still made sure the cookie jar was stocked for visits by all of her great-grandchildren.

Crossing the wide expanse of lawn toward the bay, he could hear the laughter of children coming from the dock, followed by the low, surprisingly patient voice of his father. Stepping out onto the weathered gray boards, warmed by the midday sun, Connor stood unnoticed as his father baited hooks and helped his three grandsons cast their lines, one arm firmly around little Mick at all times. Only Henry and Davy had any real hope of reeling in a fish, but even from his spot in his grandfather’s lap, little Mick dangled his line into the calm waters of the bay, chattering happily to himself in nonsensical words, to which Mick replied as if he could understand him perfectly.

“I wish I had a camera,” Connor said quietly, causing Mick to glance up with a broad smile. “I can’t recall a time you ever spent the day fishing with me and Kevin.”

Mick’s smile faded at the barb. “You’re probably right. And it was my loss. I thank God every day that I have another chance with these boys.”

Up until now Davy and Henry had been totally absorbed with watching the water for some evidence that fish were nearby. When they looked up and spotted Connor, grins broke across their faces. Here was the uncle who was more grown-up playmate than authority figure.

“Uncle Connor, sit with us,” Davy pleaded. “You can put the worms on my line.”

“Big boys put their own bait on the hooks,” Mick told him firmly. “I just showed you how to do it.”

Davy wrinkled his nose. “But it’s yucky.”

Connor grinned. “That it is. Give me a minute with your granddad and little Mick, then I’ll come help you.”

While listening to the exchange, Mick studied Connor curiously. “What brings you home? Were we expecting you?”

“Do I need to make a reservation these days?” Connor asked defensively. For a time he’d been banished from his home for trying to interfere in his father’s plan to wed his mother again, but he’d thought his exile was in the past. In fact, he’d even moved in for a time when Heather had left his son here for several weeks. He’d commuted to work in Baltimore during that time.

“Of course you don’t need a reservation,” Mick said impatiently. “You just haven’t come back here since the wedding. Or should I say since Heather took your boy to be with her?”

“I was persuaded that I was overdue for a visit,” Connor admitted wryly.

Mick chuckled. “Then the mission was a success. You can thank your mother for pulling that together.”

Connor frowned. “Mom sent Kevin and the others to Baltimore? I’d figured you were behind it.”

“Not this time. It was your mother who planted a few seeds here and there,” Mick admitted.

“I suppose it was all about getting me down here so I could discover that Heather’s living in town with my son.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Mick agreed.

Connor directed a sour look at his father. “It’s not going to work, you know.”

Mick reached over to put another worm on Davy’s hook when he saw the boy struggling with it, then glanced up at Connor. “What’s not going to work?”

“Throwing Heather and me together. We’re not getting married.”

Mick shrugged. “Up to you, though it seems a shame for this boy of yours not to have a full-time daddy in his life.” He frowned at Connor. “And before you say a word, I may have been gone too much, but I was a full-time father, and all of you knew it.”

Back on the defensive, Connor said, “My son knows I love him.”

“How’s he supposed to know a thing like that when he never sees you?”

“I see him all the time,” Connor said. “Heather brought him for a visit just last week.”

“For an hour or two, I’ll bet,” Mick scoffed. “What kind of parenting is that?”

“He’s little more than a year old,” Connor protested. “Right now he needs his mother more than he needs me. When he’s a little older, he’ll spend more time with me.”

“And he’ll still grow up to complain that he hardly knew his daddy,” Mick said, then held up a hand to forestall Connor’s retort. “Pot calling the kettle black, I know, but that makes me the voice of experience. Don’t let these precious years pass by without being a part of them. Learn from my mistakes.”

Connor considered another quick, heated comeback, but instead dropped down onto the dock next to little Mick. “Hey, buddy, catch anything?”

His son gave him a wide grin and happily waved his tiny fishing rod in the air. He crawled off Mick’s lap to lean into Connor’s side, snuggling close, and reminding Connor in ways that Mick’s words never could, of just what his stubbornness was costing him.

When the quilt shop had emptied of customers around lunchtime, Heather called next door and reached Megan. “Do you have a minute?”

“Jane’s about to go pick up a couple of sandwiches, so I can’t leave just now. What’s going on?”

“Could you just meet me out front? We’ll both be able to see if any customers come this way.”

“Sure. Do you want Jane to bring back something for you, too?”

Food was the last thing on Heather’s mind. All she’d been able to think about for the past hour was Connor’s unexpected appearance earlier.

“If she’s going to Sally’s, have her bring me back a tuna fish sandwich on a croissant,” she said eventually. “I’ll bring the money outside with me now.”

“Will do. See you in a minute,” Megan promised.

One of the improvements the town had made along Main Street and Shore Road had been to add benches in front of many of the shops. It allowed weary shoppers to rest for a few minutes, but even more essential, it allowed bored husbands to relax outside, instead of pacing around casting daunting looks that cut short their wives’ shopping sprees.

Though the sun was warm, the breeze off the bay was cool. Heather pulled on a sweater, then sat outside to wait for Megan. When Connor’s mother joined her, she sighed as she sat down.

“This feels so good,” Megan said. “I’ve been on my feet all morning. I shouldn’t complain, because that means business has been good. How about you? Were you busy?”

“Swamped,” Heather said. “Mostly lookers, but I did have a couple of nice sales.”

Megan regarded her intently. “Then why don’t you look happier?”

“Connor’s here,” she announced, watching Megan closely for a reaction.

“Really? He didn’t let any of us know he was coming.”

“But you knew he might be coming home, didn’t you? You don’t sound all that surprised.”

Megan shrugged. “I hoped he’d be home soon, of course, but I didn’t know his plans.”

Heather still didn’t believe Megan was as clueless as she was pretending to be. “Why didn’t you warn me? He walked in here this morning, spoiling for a fight. I’m not even sure how he knew this shop was mine, since you said you hadn’t told him.”

“I hadn’t said a word,” Megan reiterated. “He might have recognized the quilt in the window. Didn’t you tell me it used to hang on the wall in your apartment?”

Heather couldn’t believe Connor had paid that much attention to the quilt she’d made. When she’d worked on it in the evenings, his head had mostly been buried in law books. He’d barely even commented when she’d hung it in their townhouse.

“I suppose it’s possible,” she conceded slowly. “Are you sure you didn’t let something slip about the shop?”

“I told you I wouldn’t,” Megan said, clearly not taking offense at the question. “But I did warn you he was bound to find out about it sooner or later. Is he upset?”

Heather nodded. “I’m not entirely sure if it’s because it caught him off guard or because I’m here in his town.”

“Probably a little of both,” Megan assessed. “Did you talk?”

“Not really. I didn’t want to get into anything here when a customer could walk in at any second. We agreed we’d talk some more when I bring little Mick over for dinner tomorrow.”

The look of satisfaction in Megan’s eye suggested she’d been hoping for exactly that. Heather studied her suspiciously. “Are you sure you didn’t have anything to do with luring him down here this weekend?”

“I can honestly say that I haven’t spoken to him in days,” Megan said.

“I think there’s a loophole in there somewhere, but I swear I can’t spot it,” Heather said with regret. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter what Connor’s doing here. Like you said, he was bound to turn up sooner or later. I guess I’d just been hoping for later. I’m not quite ready to go head-to-head with him. I’m still feeling my way with this new life of mine. I might not be strong enough to defend every decision.”

“Of course you are,” Megan said. “You’ve started a whole new life for yourself and your son. You can handle anything Connor dishes out. You were strong enough to walk away, after all. That took courage, Heather, especially when your heart wanted you to stay.”

“I only did it because I felt I didn’t have any other choice. Your son is a very smooth talker. If he puts his mind to it, he can destroy all of my rational reasons for being here and convince me I belong with him.”

Megan regarded her curiously. “Are you really worried that he’ll talk you into something you don’t want to do?” she asked, then added gently, “Or that he won’t try at all?”

Heather sat back with a heartfelt sigh. There it was, the undeniable truth. As smart as she knew her decision to move out and leave Connor had been, a part of her still desperately wanted him to fight to get her back. If he didn’t, the part of her heart that wasn’t already broken would finally shatter.

Connor’s plan to take his rowboat out for the afternoon had pretty much gone up in smoke when he’d discovered Heather was now living in town and his son was hanging out with his grandfather.

When little Mick tired of being outside with his cousins, Connor scooped him up and headed for the house. “I’ll make some sandwiches, Dad. Will you and the boys be up soon?”

“A half hour,” Mick said. “Then we’re all going to take naps, right, boys?”

Henry regarded him with a serious look that puckered his brow. “I don’t take naps anymore, Grandpa Mick.”

“Me, either,” Davy chimed in.

“Well, I do,” Mick said.

“So does your cousin,” Connor told the boys. “If you’re not sleepy after lunch, I’ll play a game with you, okay?”

“Henry’ll beat you,” Davy boasted of his older stepbrother. “He’s good at games.”

Connor laughed. “Then I’ll need to be very careful which game I pick to play. I hold the record at some of them.”

Mick shook his head. “Are you still that competitive kid who hated having anyone beat you at anything?” he asked Connor.

“Sure am,” Connor replied, giving him a wink. “See you at the house.”

An hour later Connor had fed the kids, then sent both his son and Mick off for naps before settling down in the den with Davy and Henry. Despite his protests, Davy fell asleep before he could even get the video system set up. Connor carried him upstairs, returned, then turned to Henry.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather rest for a while?” he asked him.

Henry regarded him eagerly. “I’d rather play,” he said at once. “Davy’s not much competition, and Grandpa Mick and Kevin don’t really understand how the game works.”

Connor made a big show of sizing him up. “You any good?”

“Really good,” Henry said in a rare show of confidence from a boy just starting to find his place in his new family.

“Want to place a little bet on the outcome?” Connor taunted. “You win, I’ll take you into town for ice cream. I win, you treat.”

“Don’t do it,” Kevin said, wandering in with a handful of cookies just in time to overhear. “Your uncle Connor cheats.”

Connor turned on his brother indignantly. “I most certainly do not. If anyone cheats, it’s you, big brother.”

“Since when?” Kevin said, snatching up the remote.

Behind them Henry giggled. “You guys are crazy.”

Kevin grinned at his stepson. “You are not the first to notice that, my boy. How about you and me team up against this hotshot? I think we can take him.”

Henry nodded eagerly. “Awesome!”

“That doesn’t strike me as fair,” Connor said, “but bring it on.”

An hour later, he’d destroyed the two of them. He regarded Kevin with satisfaction. “Who’s crying now? I see a double hot fudge sundae in my future.”

“Okay, okay, we bow to your superior expertise,” Kevin said, winking at Henry. “Why don’t you run upstairs and see if Davy’s awake? We should probably get home.” He glanced at Connor. “I was supposed to take little Mick back to Heather, but I assume you’d rather do that yourself.” He studied him pointedly. “Or am I wrong?”

“I’ll take him,” Connor said, his voice suddenly tight as he scowled at his brother. “So, you knew when you came to Baltimore the other night that Heather and little Mick were living here in town?”

“Guilty,” Kevin said.

“Yet you saw no need to mention it,” Connor said accusingly.

“Hey, all of this is between the two of you. The rest of us are innocent bystanders.”

“Innocent, my behind,” Connor said. “Since when has any O’Brien ever stood on the sidelines when it comes to stuff like this? You’re all a bunch of meddlers.”

Kevin didn’t even attempt to deny it. “You know now—isn’t that what counts? Well, that and what you’re going to do about it. Any idea about that?”

Connor sighed. “Not a clue.”

Kevin’s expression brightened. “I have a thought or two.”

“Says the man who was not meddling,” Connor said. “Forget it, big brother. Keep your ideas to yourself. If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. You might circulate that message to the rest of the family, as well.”

Kevin laughed. “You have to be kidding. You said it yourself, meddling is the family hobby. The only way you’re going to deal with Heather in private is if the two of you move cross-country.”

Connor thought of the shop Heather had just opened. It was as cozy and welcoming as their home had once been. He doubted she’d be open to abandoning it, and he was in no position to make such a suggestion anyway. What could he offer her except more of the same? Sadly, all of his vows came with conditions, conditions she could no longer accept.

And that meant they were at a stalemate, with no obvious solution in sight.