Beside a Dreamswept Sea (33 page)

If at home, she’d make a beeline for the oak and talk this over with Mary Beth. But Cally wasn’t at home. She was in Sea Haven Village, Maine. A warm and wonderful, sleepy little village, filled with a quaint old inn that had lured her, an angelic innkeeper who pampered and nurtured and cried with her, and a remarkable ghost who was so very loving and special that he devoted himself to protecting Suzie. Cally appreciated all of Seascape’s treasures but, right now, her heart yearned for the familiar. For Mary Beth.

Passing the post office, Cally glanced through the window. The glass-front post boxes had to be antiques. Their polished brass locks gleamed. When she reached the fence beside the little cemetery, down a bit from where Miss Millie had lectured the kids on village history, she stopped, remembering Suzie, so earnest and serious, insisting that Little Island belonged to her as well as to the other village children. Despite Bryce’s explanations, she still insisted. Cally smiled. After Hatch had taken Suzie to see the island, the oldest M and M had successfully negotiated her father’s promise to come back to Seascape at least once a year so she could check and be certain her property received proper care in her absence. “The tourists dump trash in the water, Daddy,” she’d said, “and the tide will sweep it onto my island. I can’t let trash stay on my island.”

Bryce, God love his heart, hadn’t so much as cracked a smile. Nor had he expressed any doubt that his daughter could accomplish the impossible and hold back the tide. “Of course you can’t,” he’d simply said. “While we’re away, Frankie will keep watch.”

That had set Suzie’s mind at ease. Otherwise, Cally suspicioned, Bryce would have a hard time convincing Suzie to ever leave the village.

Would that be such a bad idea?

Bryce had a successful practice in New Orleans. Family and friends. So did Cally. And he also had memories of Meriam. He’d never consider leaving permanently, and maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe they needed to remember where they’d been to fully appreciate where they were going.

And where exactly were they going?

Cally slumped against the fence. The yellow carnation in her hand drooped over the top fence rail, its petals teased by the stiff breeze. In her thoughts she already had accepted Bryce’s proposal, and that disturbed her. She couldn’t do that; she had to be logical, systematic about this decision. It affected too many lives.

In the end, would she accept it? Wishing she knew, she moved over to the foot of Mary Elizabeth Freeport Nelson’s grave and heard children laughing. Two boys wearing blue jackets and white helmets riding their bikes hell-bent-for-leather down Main Street, their tires kicking up clouds of dusty sand and loose pebbles. They looked happy. Content.

She took in a deep breath, then bent down and placed the carnation against the headstone.
I hope you don’t mind me talking with you, Mary Elizabeth. My own Mary Beth is far away, and Bryce thinks you’re a hot line to her. I hope you are, because I really need to talk with her about this proposal of his.

A sense of warmth veiled her and, feeling welcome there, Cally sat down on the ground, still damp with dew, then smoothed her jeans over her ankles. The moisture soaked through the seat of her jeans.
See, this thing with Bryce really has me stumped. I know I’m not lovable, Mary Elizabeth, but he makes me feel as if I am. I like it.
This wasn’t going to work. Not without unvarnished honesty. It was time to strip bare the fluff and get to the substance.
Actually, I love it. And I’m crazy about him and about his kids. That’s the problem.

She looked away from the stone, through the light mist to the fence. Clusters of spiky chickweed hugged the bases of the slats and bent to the breeze. Sunlight streamed between the boards and cast thin streaks of shadows on the ground; cool strips of gray eclipsing brown leaves and wet sand and rock. Feeling as malleable as they looked, she stared at them.
I don’t know, Mary Elizabeth. When he first proposed, I thought he’d lost his mind. But the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I guess that sounds goofy to you, considering your mother and father had that rare love that people like me don’t even dare to dream about.

But since I don’t dream of finding that kind of love, I’m thinking maybe Bryce’s suggestion is a good alternative. We’d both have what we need. Kids and partners who respect us. There’s a lot to be said for respect. I don’t think he’d ever make me feel ugly. I hate feeling ugly. I really hate it. Bryce sees beauty in me. I’m not sure why. And I still can’t look in the mirror, but he makes me want to look into it. He makes me want to look at myself and see beauty, too. And I believe him about being faithful and honest. He’s just that kind of man.

At least, I think he is. My judgment isn’t up to snuff, I know. After all, I thought Gregory felt those things, too, and I learned the hard way that he didn’t. But I was naive then. It honestly hadn’t occurred to me that men wouldn’t be faithful and honest with their wives. Now, of course, I know they can be conniving and dishonest, and I think my judgment is probably better for having learned that. Anyway, I trust Bryce. More importantly, the kids trust Bryce, and I trust them.

Actually, I think it’d be a perfect marriage. Care, concern, respect—good foundation blocks. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anticipating making love with him. I’m worried about disappointing him, of course. What woman wants to feel lacking or ugly then? But he tempts me, Mary Elizabeth. Something fierce. Even after Gregory, Bryce can make me melt with just a look, a glance, a smile. It’s almost obscene. And, from what I’ve seen of it, he has a body that just won’t quit. I’m not crazy enough to think he finds me as appealing as I do him, but he hates loving our kisses and he likes touching me. Sometimes when we’re walking, he puts his hand at the small of my back, and he often touches me when he doesn’t have to—deliberately, I mean. God, but I hate loving the way that makes me feel. He’s so strong, but when he puts his arms around me, he’s gentle. And when he touches my face, he gets this look in his eyes that takes my breath away. I can’t describe all it makes me feel, but . . . oh, I really hate loving the way he touches my face.

A bird cawed overhead. Molten and bittersweet, Cally spotted the gull and watched it fly away.
I love him, Mary Elizabeth. God help me, I thought I was smarter than to ever love another man. But Bryce sneaked in on me. While I was sidetracked, falling in love with the M and M’s, he slipped right into my heart.

The problem is that he doesn’t want it. And I’d be nuttier than Batty Beaulah Favish if I wanted him to want it. But I do want him. And the kids.

She rocked back and dusted a brittle brown leaf from her shoe. It crackled, tumbled to the ground.
I think with them I could be content. When I came here, I thought I’d never be content again. I didn’t see how I could be. But he’s promised me all the things I’ve wanted for most of my life. With him, I could be the sunshine of my home. I know you have no idea how much that means to me, but Mary Beth knows.

A woman’s voice sounded in Cally’s mind.
I know exactly what it means to you, Cally. You’re thirty-two and starting over with everything you’ve never wanted. You believed you’d never get what you wanted and suddenly you’re offered a new dawn. A chance for all your dreams to become realities. And it’s scaring you half to death.

Cally jerked, looked through the trickles of mist, but saw no one. Internally. The woman had talked to her internally . . . just like Tony. Oh, God. “Who are—” Her voice gave out, and she paused, swallowed, then tried again. “Mary Elizabeth?”

I understand, Cally. My name isn’t of consequence, only that I understand your dilemma.

Cally told herself to get a grip on her emotions. She wanted to run, but her legs were about as stable as sand. No way would they hold her. Okay, this was strange. Bizarre. But so was Tony, and he was helping Suzie. Maybe this woman was Mary Elizabeth. She hadn’t confirmed or denied her identity, but maybe Tony’s sister had come to help Cally. Did it really matter who she was? She was right, she understood Cally’s situation, and Cally had promised herself to appreciate miracles here. If this didn’t qualify as a miracle, she sure didn’t know what would.

Ah, you’ve stopped shaking. Good. Your blood pressure spike made me uneasy. I’m glad it’s nearly down to normal now.

“Me, too.”

Talk internally, dear. People are milling around and we wouldn’t want them to think you’ve snapped your crackers.

Cally glanced over. Lydia Johnson stood outside The Store. Her husband, Horace, was filling a half-barrel with ice and beer near the front door. And Jimmy Goodson tinkered under the hood of an old green pickup in the parking lot of his garage.

Back to business. I hear all you’ve been telling me, Cally, yet I’m sensing a huge obstacle that you’ve not yet mentioned. Do you know what it is?

She did.
I have the chance to get everything I want. But is it the right thing for Bryce and the kids? That’s the obstacle that’s driving me insane.

The children simply need your love. Can you give that to them?

I wouldn’t consider this for a second if I didn’t love the M and M’s.

Well, that resolves that. Now, Bryce. Well, he’s a bit more ticklish a situation.

He is. See, I’m okay with what he’s proposed. I’ll get everything I want. But to do it, I’ll have to lie to him. That rankles.

As well it should. If you agree to this, then you’ll have promised him honesty.

Exactly.

But I’m a little confused—oh, wait. I’ve got it now. You’d have to agree to a loveless marriage to Bryce when you really do love him. That’s the lie.

Yes.
Desolate, Cally watched the sun burn through the last remnants of mist.
I don’t think I can do it. I’ve been lied to, and I hated it. So has Bryce. He deserves better. We both do, and—

Marriage vows are sacred.

Yes. Yes, they are.

Of course, if you don’t lie when stating the vows—which you wouldn’t be doing in repeating them because you do love Bryce—then you wouldn’t be sacrificing honesty or violating your own code of ethics.

I wouldn’t? But Bryce wouldn’t know it. Or else he’d know the truth. He surely wouldn’t miss me vowing to love, honor, and cherish him, Mary Elizabeth.

It’s tradition. And he’s a very traditional man. I doubt he’d think twice about it.

That’s a really thin line.

Ah, but it is a line, Cally. Remember what Suzie told you, hmm? If only you have the courage to believe—

A hot tingle rippled up Cally’s spine.
Miracles can happen beside a dreamswept sea.

Take the essence of that message into your heart, into those secret places where all your hopes and desires live, and dream. You’re far too special to walk away from everything you ever wanted out of fear of tripping over a thin line.

But what if he does think twice about me making the vows? What if he senses I love him? Can I live with the man for the rest of my life, loving him, and he not know it?

I’m not sure.

That’s the real obstacle. His knowing I love him could destroy everything. Now, or even years from now. I could lose him and the kids, Mary Elizabeth. Thinking they’d be my family forever, I could lose them all.

You could. I’m sorry to have to agree, but truth is truth. Mmm, I guess that makes the real obstacle a question of whether or not you love him and the M and M’s enough to take those risks.

I guess it does.

And your answer?

I wish I knew. I love them, but—

You fear you lack the courage to live out the masquerade.

Cally nodded, staring down at the stony ground.

Bryce awakened in a cold sweat.

His pajamas clinging to his damp skin, he sat straight up in bed, blew out a shuddery breath, and dragged his fingers through his hair. He shook inside, all over.

It’d been a long time since he’d dreamed of Meriam. And never had he dreamed of her as vividly as he had tonight.

The room was dark, and the sweat clinging to his body had him chilled. He grabbed a fresh pair of pajamas, his robe, then headed for the shower.

The hallway was empty. Suzie had sent Cally to bed, too, he imagined. Cally. Pursing his lips, he put the little Occupied sign on the nail centered in the door, then turned on the shower. On the white half-moon rug just outside it, he stripped then stepped under a stream of hot water and let it sluice over his chest.

She hadn’t yet accepted his proposal. But she hadn’t yet rejected it, either. And after tonight and what he’d dreamed, he only prayed she wouldn’t reject it.