Authors: Sydell Voeller
“Sugar mist.”
The words formed softly on her lips, and she smiled. Yes,
that’s
what the locals had always called it.
Sugar mist.
It smelled fresh and inviting, cooling her flushed cheeks, clinging gently to the tips of her eyelids. She inhaled deeply squeezed her eyes shut, and savored the familiar old sensations from somewhere deep in her childhood.
Yet now the wind was rising, sweeping down the beach, whipping her hair about her face.
From somewhere above, she heard the raucous screech of a crow. She rose and made her way to the water’s edge, stepping over a translucent jellyfish that clung to the wet sand.
Tomorrow
, she thought, staring up at the blustery sky. Tomorrow was the day of the beach cleanup and soon her long hours of preparation would be done.
She’d
checked out the beaches, the meeting and collection sites. The registration forms, data cards, and other supplies had arrived. And local service clubs had volunteered to provide lunches.
But even if Austin still intended to help—he
hadn’t
mentioned it again for several days—she refused to allow his presence to sideline her. Yes, the preparations were nearly done, and for
that
she was grateful.
But the real work still lay ahead.
Chapter Five
The rain slanted down in wet ribbons of silver. The wind howled, rattling the windows. Though Austin had applied rain patches to the leaky spots on the roof as a temporary quick fix, one troublesome leak near Joanna’s china hutch was worse than ever. Joanna had just emptied the pail beneath the leak. Now it was already half filled with new rainwater.
Joanna’s shoulders slumped as she stared woodenly out the window. “What horrible timing,” she said to Austin, turning around slowly to face him. She
couldn’t
mask the despair in her voice. “A little while ago I was on the beach running, and except for a few dark clouds, the weather was fine.”
He nodded.
“Bad timing on two counts.
Tomorrow morning’s beach cleanup, plus your new roof.
Now that the shingles have finally arrived and Trudy’s husband is lined up to help on Sunday, this storm couldn’t have happened at a worse time—”
“... Seventy mile per hour winds and small craft warnings have been issued tonight on the Oregon coast and may last all weekend,” the TV weather forecasted announced, slicing through Austin’s next words. “Heavy rains could possibly lead to flooding and washed-out roads...”
Listening, they edged closer to the entertainment center.
“... Meanwhile, stay tuned for further developments in regards to the possible cancellation of tomorrow’s Oregon Coast beach cleanup. Officials are conferring even as we speak. As I’m sure our viewing audience is well aware, safety is always first and foremost...”
“Those poor Boy Scouts,” Joanna said. “I bet this is ruining their weekend camping trip too.”
“If Camp Meriweather is anything like the one Kyle and I attended when we were kids, then there’s most likely plenty of shelter,” Austin answered. He cupped his hand beneath her elbow. “Dinner’s getting cold. We can keep listening to the news while we eat.”
“All right.”
“Everything looks so elegant.” She smiled at him, temporarily forgetting about the storm as she surveyed the spread of food
he’d
prepared: egg-plant casserole with three kinds of melted cheese, crusty French bread, romaine lettuce with endive salad, and chilled minted pears.
“Thanks. I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day,” he teased.
She could still feel where his touch had warmed her arm only a second ago—and fought off a new wash of desire. An hour earlier,
she’d
emerged from the shower and shrugged into a fresh T-shirt and her favorite black sweats while Austin set the table. It was obvious
he’d
gone to a great deal of trouble preparing this array of food. Though she still
hadn’t
any appetite, she would simply have to try to eat.
“You know, it wasn’t your turn to cook tonight,” she reminded him as they took their seats facing each other. Though
they’d
agreed to share the dinner preparations—after all, two could eat more economically than one—his usual fare was sandwiches or heated canned soup and crackers. Yet Austin had cooked lavish meals like this the past three consecutive nights. And here he was again, eager and attentive, grinning like a proud schoolboy.
“Cooking was no trouble at all,” he assured her. “But finding a tablecloth, now
that
was another story.”
“What do you mean?”
One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “I had to improvise. I picked a sheet out of your bathroom linen closet—the sheet still in the wrapper.”
Her gaze dropped. Instantly she clapped her hand over her mouth at the sight of the floral pattern—a profusion of roses, mauves, and blue. She burst into laughter.
“Oh, Austin, how clever!
Of course, I
don’t
mind. I
don’t
mind at all. I don’t have a matching sheet for this one anyway.”
“I wanted to make tonight special,” he continued. “You know, do away with the usual place mat and paper napkin routine. And as far as the wine glasses go, that part was easy. I spotted that in your china hutch a couple of weeks ago when I was painting.”
“Oh!” A pang shot through her. She felt as if someone was sucking the air from her lungs. She
hadn’t
even noticed the crystal goblets filled with white wine.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. In the background, a blond news anchor was announcing the marriage of a famous sitcom actress.
Her voice was hushed. “The goblets were your wedding gift to us. The... the last time we used them was on our first anniversary.”
His mouth dropped open. He dipped his head in embarrassment.
“Oh, no.
I thought for some reason they looked familiar.” He suddenly stood up. “I’m sorry, Jo. What a stupid thing to do. Hold on. I’ll find something else.”
She fixed him with a meaningful look. “No.
It’s
all right now. These goblets were Kyle’s favorites.” She swallowed hard as her eyes misted over. “I think he would be pleased.” She hesitated. “Don’t you?”
For a long moment Austin
didn’t
answer, but instead sank back into his chair. A muscle in his jaw tensed. “Yes, I hope so.” Then he lifted the wine glass, meeting her gaze over the rim.
“To Kyle.”
“Yes, to Kyle.” Her eyes delved into his. The candlelight glimmered, illuminating the angles and plans of his too handsome face.
They shared the next moments in silence, but all the while, she
couldn’t
deny her growing awareness of how powerfully his efforts had moved her.
Elegant menu.
The best white wine.
His endearing attempts at procuring a tablecloth.
And though the utilitarian white candle “centerpiece” looked like something he might have salvaged from the survival kit in his Jeep, she
could’ve
sworn it was the loveliest candle she’d ever seen.
“Italiano eggplant three cheese casserole is my forte’,” he announced, his tone lighter now. “You probably don’t know this, but in my other life, I was a famous vegetarian chef.”
“No, you don’t say.” She laughed giddily, allowing herself to indulge in this fleeting pleasure. All too
soon
she’d be sitting at this very table, solo again.
The thought snapped her back with a start. She hesitated,
then
shot him a direct look. “Why, Austin?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you doing all this?”
***
“I... I guess...” He shrugged with mock indifference. “Who knows? I always did sort of like to experiment in the kitchen.”
He took another gulp of wine, tasted its fruity tartness,
then
swallowed audibly. Yeah.
Good question
, he thought. He knew his answer had sounded lame. Was the real reason merely to take care of her for Kyle’s sake? Tempt her flagging appetite before she ended up getting sick? Or was it more... more than he was willing to admit to himself—or to her?
Outside, the wind blew harder, wailing like a lost child, nearly drowning out the voices on the TV. The chandelier above the table flickered, as did the Anchorhold screen. Then the candle flame sputtered, and in a split second, puffed out.
“Some emergency candle,” Austin said wryly. “I thought that wick looked a little too short.”
She hopped up from her chair. “No problem. I’ll go get more matches.” In a few
minutes
she’d returned.
He got to his feet also. “I’ll do that. You sit down and dig in before this food gets any colder.”
Above all else, I want to take care of you.
***
She handed over the matches,
then
did as he’d said. Her headache had returned. The overhead chandelier was really much too bright.
She’d
have to do something about that soon. Change the light
bulbs,
perhaps look for a dimmer switch.
She stabbed a lettuce leaf,
then
took a small bite, but each time she chewed, her head throbbed more. “Have I missed anything on the news?” she asked.
“No—nothing more about the beach cleanup, if that’s what you mean.” He glanced down at his watch. “National coverage starts in forty minutes, so I’m sure we’ll hear an update before then.”
She released a long, slow breath. “It’s really a shame.
After everyone’s hard work and planning, that the whole event could be called off.”
Another chill rippled through her. It seemed every bone in her entire body ached too.
“Has it ever been canceled before?” Austin asked.
“Not that I know. Normally the cleanup takes place very fall and spring, rain or shine—though of course, unexpected storms always pose a threat.”
She took a small sip of wine to moisten her dry throat,
then
continued, “I’m worried that if the cleanup is canceled altogether and there isn’t another one till next spring, that’ll put even more marine wildlife at risk.”
“Let’s assume everything will still be on,” he replied, biting in a chunk of eggplant. “The weather could change dramatically between now and tomorrow morning. And as for me, I’m hoping for clear skies so I can do some prep work on the roof before Grant Conner comes on Sunday.”
She struggled to conceal her disappointment. How presumptuous of her to think that just because
he’d
assisted her with publicity, he intended to help with the actual cleanup too.
He slathered a slice of French bread with butter and asked, “By the way, speaking of tomorrow morning, what time do you have to report in? And where?”
She forced a smile. “The official starting time is ten. I need to
arrive
around eight to set up the coordination site in the parking lot at Two Capes State Park. That’s the one where the kids from the Boy Scout camp will meet, so I expect it’s going to be especially busy.”
“And if the cleanup’s called off?”
“Then I’ll have to go anyway. It’s crucial that someone’s there to turn away the folks who might’ve missed the announcement.”
He
must’ve
noticed she had barely eaten her food, because he held his fork, in midair and asked, “What’s the matter, Jo?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe that.” He studied her for a long moment. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”
“I’m fine.” She sighed again and slanted him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Austin. This is such a lovely meal. It’s just—”
“You can’t fool me,” he said, rising suddenly, moving to her side of the table. He held his hand on her forehead. “I may be a vet, but I can also tell when a member of the human species isn’t well.
You’re
running a fever. And your skin is pallid. Off to bed. Off right now. I’ll get the aspirin and a glass of water.”
“No, that’s not necessary. It’s nothing more than a little cold.”
“Fine then.
And the best cure for your little cold is bed rest. He scooped her up into his arms, his voice teasing, as he carried her away from the table.
“Doctor’s orders.”
“No!” She struggled to get free, but he only clasped his arms more tightly around her. “Austin, please! Put me down.
I’ll
rest on the sofa. It’ll be better in no time.”
He raised one
eyebrows
. “And you’ll still take the aspirin?”
“Yes,
Just
put me down.”
“All right then.” His voice was firm, but gentle as he released her onto the thickly cushioned sofa and plumped up the oversize throw pillow behind her head and upper back. There. Comfortable?”
“Yes. Very.”
“Now just rest.
I’ll
get you some juice and a blanket too. I won’t be long.” He crossed the family room to the
Anchorhold ,
adjusted the volume to low, then disappeared out of sight.