"Well, I have to agree with your mother," Gordon interjected. "Now, when I met you on the beach that day, I thought, there's an exceptionally beautiful young woman, but even with all those heavy clothes on, I figured you were good for another ten pounds. But now, after a few months in the country, you have a real glow about you."
"I guess Pumpkin Hill agrees with me," Georgia blushed and started to prepare tea.
Something certainly does,
Delia's eyes narrowed,
but I'm not certain it isn't more than just the country air
…
"So, when will you be putting up your sign?"
"My sign?" Georgia frowned.
"'Ballet in the Ba
rn
, at Pumpkin Hill,'" Delia reminded her.
"Oh," Georgia bit her bottom lip, "well, that may not happen here."
"What do you mean, sweetie?" Mother studied daughter's face. "I thought we just established that the demand is there, you're enjoying teaching
…"
"Matt will be moving back to Pumpkin Hill soon. He'll be openin
g a veterinary clinic in the barn
. Isn't it wonderful?" Georgia placed steaming cups of amber tea in front of her mother and Gordon. "It's what he's always dreamed of, and no
w the opportunity is there…
"
"But I thought…
"
"…
Georgia is welcome to stay at Pumpkin Hill as long as she likes
,"
Matt interrupted her.
"I can stay here at the house, Mom, and rent a place in town, maybe, for studio space. I haven't had time to give it much thought yet. But I did get my portable barres this week," she sat down next to her mother. "I can take them wherever I go."
"That was a wise idea." Delia sipped at her tea, trying to digest this late-breaking news.
"Gordon, how's your salvage operation going? Any luck with the
True Wind?"
Matt asked to change the subject. He had a few ideas of his own that had only just then begun to formulate. He tucked them away for future scrutiny.
"We're right on schedule. I was one man short, but Delia came up with someone who is working out quite well." Gordon told them.
"Mom, who do you know in the salvage business?" Georgia asked curiously.
"Well, not exactly salvage, but ships and diving and that sort of thing." Delia set her cup down on the saucer. "Do you remember Tucker Moreland? Captain Pete's son?"
"Sure. He drove the boat out to Devlin's Light when Nicky and India got married." Georgia nodded. "As I recall, he spent most of the way out and most of the
way back staring at Laura…
"
Ignoring that comment for the time being for reasons of her own, Delia continued.
"Well, Tucker was a Navy SEAL. When he retired last year, he returned to Devlin's Light to give his father a hand with his charter business and consider his options."
"How do you know all this?" Georgia asked.
"August Devlin. She and Captain Pete are
…
" Delia chose her words carefully, "
…
old friends."
"I thought there was something between them," Georgia nodded, looking pleased. To Matt, she said, "You met India's Aunt August at Ally's birthday party."
"I remember her very well. Lovely lady. Friendly. Charming. Tested my memory."
"In what way?" Georgia looked amused.
"She quoted something in Latin and I had to scramble to translate it." He grinned.
"Ah, yes," Delia laughed. "August sometimes forgets that everyone was not one of her high school Latin students, though it seems that just about everyone in Devlin's Light was, at one time or another."
"What was the phrase?" Gordon asked.
"Oh. It was a quote from Virgil." Matt flipped over the French toast in the pan on the stove. "
'
Vera incessu patuiiea.'
"
"You'll have to translate for me," Georgia shrugged. "I never took Latin."
He turned loving eyes to her and said softly,
" '
her walk, the true goddess was revealed.
'
"
"Oh." It was the look that passed between them, more than the words, that caused Georgia to blush again.
Delia's left eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly.
Georgia cleared her throat and continued. "Anyway, India told me
that August and Pete were sweet
hearts a million years ago when they were in high school."
"Careful, sweetie. August is only about ten years
older than I am." Delia tapped a manicured finger on her daughter's arm.
"Sorry," Georgia laughed. "Anyway, August went away to college to become a Latin teacher and Pete stayed in Devlin's Light and became a sea captain and ran charters and when she didn't come home he married someone else. He and his wife had several sons—Tucker's the oldest—and a few years ago, his wife died. He and August have sort of, um, resumed their friendship."
"When Gordon mentioned needing someone with expert diving skills
, I thought immediately of Tuck
er," Delia told them.
"We drove up to Devlin's Light a few weeks ago," Gordon continued, "and I met with Tucker and discussed the project I'm working on. He's exactly the man I was looking for. I made him an offer and he accepted."
"He's commuting from Devlin's Light every day?" Georgia asked as Matt placed a plate of French toast—the top slices slightly darker than the rest—on the table. She hadn't missed Gordon's
we.
"Oh, no," Delia shook her head, "he's staying at the inn."
"Really?" Georgia grinned. "Well, isn't that convenient."
"What's that mean?" Matt stood in front of the cupboard taking plates down. "Are you sure you won't join us, Delia? Gordon?"
"Thank you, no." Delia smiled, knowing exactly what Georgia was thinking about Tucker's stay at the inn. The very same idea had occurred to her.
Georgia took the teacups and placed them in the
sink. Then, on second thought, she moved them to the back of the counter, off by themselves, careful to note which cup had been whose. The teacups, with the remnants of tea and shards of tea leaves in their bottoms, sat on the counter like gifts she couldn't yet open.
"
What's convenient about this diver staying at the inn?" Matt repeated as he sat down at the table and helped himself to French toast.
"Tucker seemed very fond of Laura." Georgia said evenly. "And he seemed like a really nice guy."
"He's a great guy," Gordon nodded his head. "Terrific."
"Laura has met a lot of nice guys. A lot of terrific guys." Matt noted. "She wouldn't give any of them the time of day."
"Perhaps they gave up too easily," Delia stirred her coffee slowly. "Somehow Tucker strikes me as the type of man who might not."
Maybe I need to make a trip to Bishop's Cove and check this situation out,
Matt thought as he took another bite.
Maybe
I
should see firsthand just what this Tucker Moreland's all
about
…
Later, as Delia and Gordon prepared to leave, Georgia walked arm in arm with her mother to the car. "Mom, why didn't you tell me about Laura's husband."
"I thought if she wanted you to know, that she should t
ell you. I take it that Matt…"
"I think he was so surprised that I didn't know, that it sort of blurted out. Mom, if this man had deceived you as totally as he deceived her, wouldn't you divorce him?"
"Divorce
is the very least I would do to hi
m," Deli
a said dryly.
"Why do you suppose Laura won't file for divorce?"
Delia worried her bottom lip with her top teeth for a long minute. "There's something I can't put my finger on, Georgia. I believe that at one time she had filed, then let it drop. I've asked her and she makes vague comments." She paused, then asked, "My gut feeling?"
Georgia nodded.
"I think she's scared somehow." Delia seemed to choose her words carefully.
"Scared?" Georgia asked. "Scared of what?"
"I think she's scared of him. Of Gary."
"But he's in jail, and his request for parole was turned down."
"For the time being
…"
Delia said thoughtfully.
"Is there any way of finding out when he's eligible?"
"In two years he can apply again."
"You have already checked?"
"Of course."
"What else?"
"What do you mean, what else?"
"What else have you found out about him?" Georgia watched her mother's face for a sign that there was more. She was pretty sure there would be.
"It seems Reverend Harmon has quite an active little ministry there in prison. He has many devoted followers. A regular little network from one prison to another."
"That's what Matt said…
oh, I see.
Your private investigator…
?"
"Jeremy Noble is the best in the business," Delia assured her. "He's been keeping an eye on Reverend Harmon and his little band of merry men. As luck would have it, the warden in the prison where Harmon is incarcerated happens to be an acquaintance of Jeremy's, and he seems to feel that Harmon has almost a Svengali-type hold over some of his fellow inmates. A
frightening thought." Delia ap
peared to shiver.
"Do you really think that Laura might be interested in Tucker Moreland?"
"I think she's more interested than she wants to be. But first, we have to get her to agree to dissolve that sham of a marriage. She'd never pursue another relationship while she is still married. Even if it is only a legality. We'll just have to work on her. Tucker isn't the type of man who happens along every day."
"Mom, you're not playing matchmaker
…"
Geor
gia cautioned.
"Of course I am, sweetie," Delia put her arms around her daughter and hugged her. "And if you hadn't done so well on your own. I'd be actively matchmaking on your behalf, too. Matthew really is a fine young man. I'm not certain I could have done better myself."
"Matt is wonderful, Mom," Georgia said simply.
"Good. Let's hope he stays wonderful so that I don't have to track him to the ends of the earth." Delia turned toward the car, an arm around Georgia's shoulder.
"Mother…"
"Georgia, you are my baby." Delia kissed her lightly on the cheek. "My last child. I want only happiness for you. I love you very much, my precious girl."
"I love you, too, Mom." Georgia whispered. "And I want you to be happy, too."
"Oh, but darling, I am happy." Her eyes followed Gordon as he walked around to the driver's side of the car. "I am very happy. I have everything a woman could ever ask for. Absolutely everything. I am blessed beyond measure, Georgia."
"And you deserve every last bit of it," Georgia hugged her mother.
Delia turned to get into the car as Georgia went to say good-bye to Gordon. Turning back to Matt, she touched his arm. Her eyes bore the slightest glisten, like the last trace of dew on a summer morning.
"I see you've taken my request to get to know my family to heart," she said softly.
"Directly to heart," he replied.
"Don't let her be caught in
…
in whatever other concerns you might
have, about me, about the situa
tion," she pleaded.
"This is between Georgia and me," he told her.
"Matthew, in my family, when one is wounded, we all bleed." Delia whispered. "Take care with my precious girl."
"Always." The simple word was his most solemn promise. "Always."
nineteen
"
T
hank you so much for solving my little water problem," Georgia toyed with the collar of Matt's shirt and bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling.
"Hey, it was nothing," he leaned back against the truck and took her with him. "My pleasure. I think maybe I should stop back on Friday night to make sure it's still working. A system that sophisticated is real high maintenance."
"I thought it might be, seeing how it's so high tech and all." She grinned and pulled his face to hers.
"Hey, you never know when one of those hoses might spring a leak." He kissed her solidly. "And besides, I really
do need to measure off that barn
space."
"Then I'll look for you on Friday night."
"Dinner will be on me." He opened the door to the truck and Artie jumped in.
"No cheating with take-out," she warned him.
"I hate take-out."
"Me too." She laughed. "My sister, on the other hand, couldn't exist without it. She has a different take-out menu for every night of the week."
"Well, I'll make something. I'll come up with something good." Matt paused, then asked tentatively, "How do you feel about Sherlock Holmes?"
She recalled the memorabilia in his apartment.
"Elementary, my dear Matthew," she grinned. "He's the quintessential detective."
"I'll bring videos." He gathered her into his arms for one last kiss, one that lingered, one that he hoped would carry him through till Friday, though he knew he'd barely be out of the drive before he'd wish he could kiss her again.
"Um, dinner and detectives," she said as she backed away from the truck door as he closed it behind him. "Sounds like a great night."
"A great weekend," he promised as he started the engine and turned the truck around, slowing to wave before heading on down the drive.
Georgia stood for a long time with her arms folded tightly across her chest, staring at the end of the drive. Finally, she turned and walked back to the house, Spam at her heels.
"He'll be back in five days, Spammy," she sat on the bottom step and spoke aloud to the pig. "Five days."
The pig sat at her feet, looking up.
"You don't mind Artie so much anymore, do you?" She scratched the back of the pig's head. "Which is a good thing, since he'll be living here too."
Georgia absently toyed with the pig's ears, thinking about all the news Matt had shared with her over the weekend. He'd be moving here soon, maybe as early as next month.
It was a good news-bad news kind of weekend.
"That would be a good thing," she said aloud, grinning at the prospect of seeing him every day.
He'd be taking the ba
rn
space.
"Not as good, but I can probably find space for the studio in town. Not my first choice, but all things considered, like the fact that it
is
his ba
rn
, not so bad. I'll work it out."
Then there was the matter of Laura's husband.
"Not good. Not good at all." She shook her head, wondering how she could help her sister when Laura wouldn't confide in her, and oddly, didn't seem anxious to resolve her predicament.
"But then there's Tucker…
and Spammy! Looks like Mom has a gentleman friend!" She giggled and the pig rolled over on her back. "What a perfect thing. Mom and Gordon Chandler! I'm going to ca
ll Laura…"
Georgia went back into the kitchen and dialed the inn. She left a message for Laura with Jody, who was, at that moment, preparing dinner for seventeen guests.
"Full house," Georgia murmured.
She opened the refrigerator and contemplated her dinner possibilities.
Cauliflower soup, she decided, and took the ingredients out and placed them on the counter. The teacups—her mother's and Gordon's—still sat along the back near the wall. She paused momentarily, then
grabbed them to look inside. There was still a bit of liquid in the bottoms of each.
Taking both cups to the kitchen table, she sat down and peered first into Delia's.
Clouds near the handle, with several dots nearby. Dots, she knew, emphasized the importance of the closest symbol.
Farther down, what appeared to be a candle.
She set the cup on the table and lifted Gordon's, turning it around three times, clockwise, on his behalf.
A fish. Something that looked vaguely like an old Roman soldier's helmet, and next to it, a vase.
Humming, Georgia opened Hope's book, which she now kept in the kitchen for handy reference, and studied the symbols.
"Candle, candle," she muttered.
A symbol of one who does good deeds.
"Nothing could be closer to the truth," she exclaimed. "That's my mother to a
'T
'
!"
The clouds, however, were harder to define.
A dark period
…
have courage, have hope
…
The dots nearby added urgency to the message.
It could mean something else,
Georgia told herself.
There's probably lots of different meanings, depending on who you ask
…
Putting her mother's cup aside, she checked Gordon's once more to make sure that the images still looked the same to her, that no other shape was more accurate. The fish, helmet, and vase all looked the same. She would go with those and see how Hope had interpreted those objects.
She looked for a fish shape, and found one.
Good fortune. Your endeavors will prosper.
Finally, some good news.
She searched for a helmet through the pages and pages of hand-drawn symbols.
The protector.
You are in a position of trust.
A vase.
You will be of service, of strength, to others.
"Well, then, that's nice for Mother," Georgia mused. "Maybe those last two together mean that Gordon will be there for Mother, that for once, she'll have someone to help her, instead of her being the one who always helps everyone else. Not that s
he ever seems to need help…
"
She closed the book on that upbeat note, pushing aside the darker suggestions she'd found in the leaves over the past several days and the question of what help her mother might require.
"
M
att, supposing you tell me what planet you're on so that we can join you there." Liz leaned over the end of the desk and waved a piece of paper under Matt's nose. "That's the third time today you tuned me out."
"What do you mean?" He attempted to tune back in without appearing that he'd actually been gone, a futile effort. Liz was far too sharp.
"Don't give me that stuff." She smacked him lightly with a thin file. "You have no idea of what I just said to you."
"Ah, sure I do." He glanced down at the file in her hand—
Henson: feline
—then beyond her to the waiting room. "You said the Hensons were late bringing in their cat."
"You're good, you know that?" She laughed and smacked him with the file again. "But I asked you if you'd mind if I left a little early today so that I could pick my grandson up at nursery school. My daughter has the flu."
"Oh, sure," he grinned. "Not a problem."
"Matthew Bishop, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were in love."
The flush spread slowly up from his collar.
"No!" she whispered loudly. "When did you find time to find a woman?"
He reached around her for his coffee
cup which he had set on the corn
er of her desk. Trying to ignore the question, he asked, "Does Chery have the day off?"
"Don't you even try to waltz away from that one," Liz crowed. "Look me in the eye and tell me that there isn't a new woman in your life."
"Ah, well, there is someone…"
"Well, then, who is she?" Liz demanded.
"She's my sister's sist
er…"
Liz appeared to think this over before asking quietly, "Isn't that against the law?"
"No, no. Georgia is my
sister's
sister, she's not
my
sister." He stopped when he realized that didn't sound much better. "My sister and I were both adopted by the same couple, but we're not related by blood. Georgia is Laura's half sister. They have the same birth mother. But I don't. With either of them."
"I see," Liz nodded, though it was clear that she was still working through it in her head. "How does your sister feel about you being in love with her sister?"
"She doesn't know yet. I'm just finding out myself."
The front door opened. The Hensons with their cat.
"By the way," Matt whispered as he waved a greeting to his patient, "do you happen to have any good vegetarian recipes you could share with me? It's my turn to cook this weekend."
Matt ushered the Hensons into the first examining room.
"I'll see what I can come up with," Liz replied. "And Matt—"
He turned in the doorway as the Hensons passed by with their cat.
"It's about time."
Matt c
huckled and started to close th
e door.
"Nothing with tofu, though," he called back over his shoulder.
"I really don't like tofu…
"
T
he week had shaped up nicely for Georgia. By Wednesday, the catalog she'd requested from the nearby state college had arrived, and she had pored over the course requirements for a dance major. She figured she was good for credit worth at least a minor in performance arts, and decided to make arrangements for a performance exam upon which her advanced standing would be based. She could also probably take a proficiency exam in English. Cheered that she could start out with some credit behind her, she called the college and arranged for her dance proficiency to be evaluated, and was given a date in late June. She wrote a check for the summer dance instructors' seminar and stuck it on the pile of mail
she'd take to the post office when she drove into town later that day. She tended her new tomato plants and babied her dill and basil seedlings, then watered all with the hoses that Matt had hooked up for her.
On Friday morning, she'd heard a car come up the drive and was delighted to see that Lee had driven down for a surprise visit. He wore gray shorts and a T-shirt with the DRA—Dancers Responding to AIDS—logo and carried worn black ballet slippers in one hand and an enormous bouquet of white lilies in a white porcelain vase in the other.
"
When you called the other night to tell me about your new barre, well, nothing would do but that I help you christen it," he'd tol
d her when she flew down the barn
steps and raced across the yard to spin him around with a bear hug.
"Oh, Lee, we haven't danced together in years," she kissed his cheek. "Oh, come on, I can hardly wait!"
She dragged him by the hand to the second floor.
"Well, this is an improvement," he pointed to the portable barres. "
And with some mirrors, some bet
ter lighting, a decent floor
…
"
She held up a hand, palm first. "Please, no more. I've mentally redone this place a thousand times. All in vain."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He slipped off his loafers and pulled on the ballet shoes.
"Matt will be moving back soon and he's go
ing to be renovating the barn…"
"Wonderful!"
"…
for a veterinary clinic."
"You mean, as i
n animals, birds, reptiles…
"
She nodded.
"It's okay, though. I can stay in the house. I just have to look for another place to dance in."
"Pity. This place is ideal." Lee tested the spring of the floor.
"
Sanded and finished, this floor would be perfect."
"It would be." Georgia moved to the barre and began her stretching exercises.
"You don't seem very upset." Lee took a place a few feet away and began to stretch along with her.
"I'm not."
"Why? I would think you would be."
"Because it will mean that Matt's here all the time."
Lee digested this while doing a series of
plié
s.
"And this wo
uld be significant because…
"
"Because I think I might be falling in love with him."
"Georgey, we've been out of touch for far too long. Fill me in with all the details. And don't leave out any of the good parts."
Georgia laughed. "You want to know all my secrets."
"Well, you have to admit it's been a long time,
car
a."