East Hope (40 page)

Will tried to relax as he flipped a few pages of the magazine
Car Mechanics World,
something left behind by a father in waiting. Perhaps Rusty would have been happy with that. Rusty had called only last week, inviting Will for Christmas. Will had told him that he and Mary Beth were separated. He'd given Rusty a few lame excuses as to why he couldn't come. The thought of the glaring Florida sun, and his ever-successful brother, was more than he thought he could bear. It also pained him to think about the warmth and joy of Rusty's family life, something that still eluded him. Still, he liked spending time with his nephews, three wildly energetic boys, all under ten, and their mother, Jenna, a relaxed, easygoing woman who was a wonderful cook. Maybe declining the invitation had been a mistake.

The other patients eventually disappeared into examining rooms. Will sat in the waiting room by himself for what seemed a very long time. Just as he was about to get up and ask about Caroline he heard the door open.

“Not to worry.” A heavyset nurse in blue pants and a flowered smock smiled down at him. “Your wife is going to be fine. Nothing to worry about. Take her out for a nice lunch. It will do you both good.”

Will stood and started to explain, but the nurse had hurried back behind the door. He thought of Mary Beth, and how if he had stayed in New York, one day he might have been waiting for a child of his own. They would have shared the months of anticipation, purchased baby furniture, talked about names. They might have become a family, that whole new entity that turned you into someone altogether new. Some days it was hard to convince himself that he had done the right thing. This was a hard time of year to be alone.

When they came to the causeway leading to East Hope, the water appeared to bounce in the sunlight and lapped up against the wet black rocks on both sides of the road. This time Caroline felt safe. The car was warm and she rested against the seat, knowing that her baby was fine. Dr. Carney had reassured her that the spotting that had terrified her at the beginning of the day was normal and had been brought on by the pelvic exam the day before.

Will spoke. “How about we stop for some chowder at Karen's Café?”

“Sure.” Caroline smiled. “That's a great idea.”

The trip home had passed quickly. He had told her about closing the bookstore for the winter, his tutoring at the library, his plans to find a job. Though he looked more cheerful telling her of these plans, he could probably use some company too—or was she trying to convince herself of this?

They took a table by the window. The small restaurant was warm, steamy from the heat of the stove.

Martha came to take their order. “I hear you're going to stick it out with us all winter,” she said, speaking to Will. “Gets pretty quiet around here. Hope you won't find it dull.” She flipped open her order pad. “What was that college where you used to teach?”

“Habliston, Pennsylvania,” he said. “It's a small town too. Martha, do you know Caroline Waverly?”

“Sure do,” Martha said. “Heard you did a nice job fixing up Lila's place.”

“Thanks,” Caroline said. “I'm staying for the winter too.”

“You'll find that friends come in handy,” Martha said, looking over her glasses in a knowing way. “What'll it be?”

Will and Caroline both ordered bowls of chowder.

“Why did you leave your job at the college?” Caroline asked after Martha left to put their order in.

Will hesitated at first and looked around at the tables near them as if afraid of being overheard. Seemingly satisfied that no one was near, he told her what had happened.

“How terrible for you,” she said, trying to imagine the kind of student who would contrive such a story, a lie that cost Will his job. Caroline had no doubt that Will would never take advantage of a student. He was attractive, charming in a self-effacing way, and not the kind of guy you'd ever picture moving in on a young woman, she was certain.

“Mary Beth was convinced it was useless to argue,” he said, “lawsuits costing a fortune and everything.”

“You must have felt trapped,” Caroline said.

“I was angry, and the thought of being stuck in New York with Mary Beth away all summer made me all the more determined to do something else. Like I told you, I saw the ad for Taunton's and here I am.” He shrugged and smiled.

Martha arrived with the bowls of chowder. They both ate hungrily, and Caroline thought it amazing how a day that had started so badly had really improved.

“Looks like you have a visitor,” Will said, turning into her driveway. It was almost three. They had lingered at the café.

“I'm not expecting anyone.” An unfamiliar car was parked next to her own.

Will pulled in behind it, and a man got out.

“I can't believe it,” she said, feeling the warmth of the past few hours draining away.

Will turned off the ignition and looked over at Caroline. “You okay?”

“No. Yes. Yes, I'm fine,” she said, almost under her breath.

Pete Spencer, wearing a formal topcoat with the collar turned up against the wind, lifted his hand and waved vigorously. “Thanks for driving me, Will.” She fumbled for the door handle.

“Do you know this guy?” Will looked out at Pete. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes. I mean, I know him. And no. There's no need to stay.” Caroline pushed open her door and glanced quickly back at Will. A shot of cold air flooded the car. “Please. I need to go.”

Will's expression became wary, his eyebrows lifting in concern. “You're sure?”

Caroline nodded. Pete was approaching Will's car. She slammed the door behind her and hurried to meet him.

He bent down and kissed her cheek. How long had he been waiting, and why hadn't he called to say that he was coming? She heard Will slowly backing out of the driveway as she and Pete walked toward the house, then the sound of the Jeep growing fainter down the road. Pete stood close beside her as she unlocked the back door.

P
ete seemed a complete stranger to her. To say that he was from away was an understatement. Caroline had nearly forgotten the velvety Southern accent that he had never lost. In his polished city clothes, an expensively cut sport coat and wool pants, he looked out of place seated in one of Lila's wicker chairs at the kitchen table. Caroline thought of Rob's wooden shape box that he had played with as a toddler; it had solid, colorful wooden pieces: a circle, a square, a rectangle, a star, each one slipping through the one correct hole in the lid. There was no hole in Lila's house that was meant for Pete.

“I wish you'd told me you were coming,” Caroline said. She stirred a pot of bean soup that she was heating for his lunch. Knowing that he had waited for her all the while she and Will had been enjoying their chowder in the village made her feel guilty.

Pete laughed uncertainly. “And have you try to talk me out of coming?” He sipped from the glass of red wine that she had poured for him. He set the glass down and ran his hand across the old table, as if uncertain where he was.

“How did you find me?” Caroline asked. His presence made her wary; he might be capable of putting a crack in her fragile existence. As the baby's father, he must have some rights. Could he force her to go back to Washington? He was a powerful man.

“Your mother told me that you were in East Hope,” he said. “The town isn't very big.”

Caroline reached for a pottery bowl and sliced bread from a loaf on the counter. Her hands shook. For a while he watched her and said nothing. If it weren't for the ticking of the hall clock, the silence would have been complete. She had forgotten how handsome he was, how assured. Memories of her other life floated back—that comfortable existence, a time of ease when her life had been so calm, so worry-free, like a story that read, “Once upon a time there lived a woman whose life was quite perfect.”

From the fridge she took a platter of cheese along with a bottle of sparkling water. She ladled the steaming soup into a bowl and set it down in front of him. His eyes followed her every gesture. His physical presence seemed to overtake the room. Her own movements felt slower, as if bogged down from the weight of the baby inside her, his baby too.

“Why are you here?” She tried to keep her voice strong and calm.

“You make a beautiful mother,” he said.

She shook her head. “I don't want to hear that.” Steam rose from the hot soup in front of him. “I thought we had an understanding,” she said, sitting down across from him.

“You never did like small talk.” He smiled and took a spoonful of soup. “This is great. You can always count on a foodie for a good meal—even at the last minute.”

“Please,” she said. “This isn't easy for me.”

Pete set his spoon down on his plate. “For me either.” He looked serious. Last summer's tan had faded, and his dark hair was graying slightly at the temples, noticeable in the unforgiving winter light. Yet there appeared to be something kind about his eyes. He didn't look as if his every comment would be laden with innuendo, some ulterior motive just beneath the surface. “I wanted to tell you a few things in person,” he said.

“I see,” she said, hoping he was not here with some greater bad news.

“After you left I thought about a lot of things.” He stirred his soup distractedly. “I admire how you left your old life behind and started over.”

Caroline looked away from him. “I made certain choices because I had to.”

“But that's it. I started to think, Why not me?” He ripped off a hunk of bread and helped himself to a piece of cheese.

“Pete, really I . . .” Caroline couldn't think what to say. She was amazed that he was considering this, that he might follow her example. Pete leaving town? He was a fixture in Chevy Chase, with his big fancy house, his cool, unflappable wife. Suddenly she felt chilled. Did he want to come here?

“Red,” he said, using her old nickname, “let me finish.” He put the bread down, leaned his elbows on the table, and clasped his hands. “I've left Marjorie. You know I haven't had a relationship with her for years.”

Caroline took a deep breath. “I never wanted to break apart your marriage.”

“It was broken long before us.”

“No,” she said, losing patience, “there is no ‘us.' I think you'd better leave.” His declaration early in the summer that he had thought of her, even wanted to be involved with her, overwhelmed her again. He had offered to help her but, wisely or not, she had rejected the idea.

“Wait. You've got to hear me out.” More color came to his face. “I remember when I first knew you and Harry, those early years in Washington. What I'll never forget is the way Harry looked at you. He was blinded by love. You used to look at him that way too. Marjorie and I never had that. Never.” He stopped speaking and stared across the table at her. The creases around his eyes made him look weary.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. Had she and Harry really been like that? How had she let herself forget?

“You've always been good to me, Red. Even if you'd let me share your life, it would never be like that. I know you. It's not there.” He pushed back from the table and sighed. “You'd never look at me the way you used to look at Harry.”

Caroline glanced away. “I'm sorry,” she said again. It seemed now as if everybody's lives were falling apart.

Pete pulled back to the table, picked up his spoon, and concentrated on eating the bean soup. A few moments later he spoke again. “I went to California this fall. That's where I was when you came back to Washington for your house closing.”