He turned into the house and shut the door. He’d been so close. It had been on the tip of his tongue after the second sneeze.
Maybe you’re allergic to cats.
It would’ve been so easy, such a reasonable remark. It might’ve been the nudge she needed to admit who she was. Maybe that one sentence would’ve helped. If only he’d been able to say it. He nearly
had
.
But then he’d seen the look on her face. The fear scrolled between her eyebrows, glazing her eyes. She had the look of a trapped animal, and he couldn’t do it. Words she’d written months ago surfaced in his mind, words about people inflicting harm on others without thought to the ramifications. Maybe using the cat against her was a small thing when weighed against the actions of Jared and her cousin, but the fact that he was capable of this small infraction against her shook him, shamed him.
Nickels entered the living room and stared at him, eyes half-closed, and Tucker could have sworn they were full of reproach.
“What are you looking at?”
The cat lifted his pointy chin and exited as quietly as he’d appeared.
Tucker made his way toward the office. He had a bed to move and a room to vacuum.
Harbormaster: Growing up, I thought my sister and I would always be together. After all, we’d been in the womb together, shared everything all our lives. We grew up and went our separate ways, though we remain close. And one day I know I’ll be married and my wife will be everything to me—even closer than a twin sister.
The next week Tucker was relieved that he’d successfully removed the cat dander. Sabrina didn’t sneeze once all week.
That was the good news. The bad news was his plan wasn’t progressing as quickly as he’d like, and he was running out of time. Sabrina was working through the emails all too fast. Maybe if they did something together. Something that didn’t involve computers and lists. Something that would force her from her comfort zone and put them face-to-face.
But he’d already taken her out on his boat, and what had come of that? Nothing.
It was time to raise the stakes. He wandered into his office and sat where Sabrina had been an hour earlier. He picked up the tablet with her notes. She was careful, including only innocuous details that were so broad as to be useless, or things he’d already listed.
Can’t whistle
Takes a daily walk
Likes her steak well-done
Reads mysteries
Has an aversion to bees
He smiled at that one. Sabrina had been stung on the eyelid when she was five and had been terrified of bees since.
Imagine a chicken flapping her wings and running in circles, and you have an accurate picture of me in the presence of a bee. Not rational, I know, but I can’t seem to help it. I once spilled a glass of fruit punch all over my cousin’s favorite pashmina scarf in my hysteria.
He opened the email program and checked his inbox. It was empty. She wasn’t writing as often as she had before she’d started working for him. But then, she had less time. He missed her. How could he miss someone who sat right next to him? Because the Sabrina he loved was honest and vulnerable, but the Sabrina who worked for him wasn’t sharing that part of herself yet. He missed that intimacy.
He opened a blank email and started a letter. Right now he didn’t want to trick her or corner her, he didn’t want to manipulate her. He just wanted to talk with her.
I miss you, Sweetpea. Work’s been hectic, but you must be busy too.
I took in a friend’s cat last week. Yeah, I know, I’m a glutton for punishment. The thing did not like me. I have several scratches to prove it.
Read any good books lately? I got another novel at the library, but couldn’t make it past page twenty. You can’t say I didn’t try. I’ll leave the fiction to you and stick with the newspaper.
Tucker paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to say so much more.
I miss you. Even when you’re here, I miss you.Why won’t you open yourself to the possibility of us? Every time you’re near me, I want to touch you. But if I did that, I’d scare you away. You’re like a doe in a field, so beautiful and proud and strong. But at the slightest hint of danger, off you go. What are you so afraid of?
Tucker scowled at his thoughts. He couldn’t say any of that. He’d nearly scared her off for good when he’d mentioned meeting in the first place, and he wasn’t going to risk losing his only contact with her after she finished this job. Or rather, failed at finishing this job. He knew that was the plan, and it frustrated him, but that’s what he deserved for backing her into a corner.
Did I do the wrong thing, God?
It was too late for that question, wasn’t it? But it was never too late to ask for help. He whispered a quick prayer, then sent the email.
He wondered if she was home. Maybe she’d get his message and reply. It had been a while since their last exchange.
The house was quiet except for the hum of the dishwasher. He’d offered Sabrina a slice of the roast he’d slow-cooked that day, but she’d turned it down as always. He wondered if he could convince Sabrina to stay for dinner after she finished. He could cook while she worked, maybe grill a couple steaks on the deck, serve her the corn he knew she wouldn’t eat, couldn’t eat, ever since she’d gotten sick on it in the seventh grade.
He fantasized about sharing a candlelit meal on the water with a salted breeze ruffling her hair. Sure, she wore it scraped back in that ponytail, but it was his fantasy; he could imagine her hair down if he wanted.
If only they could have a normal date. The kind where he picked her up and took her someplace quiet, where she could let down her guard and let him in a little. But he couldn’t ask Sabrina out. She knew he was in love with Sweetpea, and he wasn’t supposed to know she and Sabrina were one and the same. How would it look to her if he put the moves on her?
Well, you’ve got yourself a quandary, don’t you?
The computer chimed as a message appeared in his inbox. Sabrina.
I can’t believe you took in a cat. That’s above and beyond.
I haven’t had time to read lately, but am hoping to get back into a good book soon. I still think you need to keep trying until you find what you like. There’s a genre for everyone. I haven’t given up on you. ....
I got a wedding invitation from Jared and my cousin.
That was the end of her message. His thoughts spun like a whirlpool. How had the news affected her? Was she still pining for Jared? She hadn’t seemed upset at the café or at his house.
He replied, hoping she hadn’t left.
I’m sorry. When?
Less than a minute later, her response arrived.
About a month ago. :/
A month ago? He’d wanted to know when the wedding was, but she must mean it had been a month since she’d received the invitation. And she was just now telling him? It must’ve hurt if she hadn’t told him sooner. And if it hurt, maybe she still loved Jared. Tucker was hurt now too. Hurt that she still had feelings for Jared and that she hadn’t confided in him sooner. He poised his hands over the keyboard and typed.
When’s the wedding? I really am sorry. ..
At least she was telling him now. What did she need from him? He wished he could do more than type a few words of encouragement. He wanted to hunt Jared down and beat him to a pulp, but that’s probably not what she needed from him. He wished that he could at least wrap his arms around her and tell her he loved her, that Jared didn’t deserve her anyway.
Another email arrived.
Twenty-second of August.
He typed a response,
Are you doing okay? Want to talk about it?
A few moments later another message arrived.
No, thanks. I’m coping. Just wanted to tell you.
’Cause I could beat him up, if you want, he replied, then sat back, waiting for her response. It arrived seconds later.
Good to know. I’ll let you know if I need to call in my manpower.
Tucker grinned. He wondered if her family had given her any warning. But she didn’t want to talk about it, so he refrained from asking. Instead, he asked the obvious question.
Are you going?
He pushed Send.
Before he could lean back, she replied,
Going where? :-P
He smiled.
To the wedding, goofball.
No.
When the sinking sensation hit his gut, he realized he’d been hoping she’d go. To avoid the wedding meant she was still angry with her cousin. And if she was angry with her cousin, she still had feelings for Jared, didn’t she?
Coward. Just ask.
Before he could stop himself, he typed the words.
Do you still love him?
After he hit Send, regrets of all sizes and shapes crowded into the room. What if she did? She still wore that infernal bracelet, and he was sure it was a gift from Jared. Why would she still wear it if she was over him? He considered writing back.
Never mind
, he’d say. But before he could act on the thought, another message appeared. Maybe he should delete it without reading.
Who was he kidding? He wanted to know
.
Needed to know. He felt sick as he opened the email.
Why do you ask?
Well, duh. Wasn’t it obvious he had feelings for her? Maybe he’d never come out and said he loved her—she might think it was weird or pathetic.
Why didn’t you answer my question?
He tapped his fingers on the keys, waiting. It had been over a year since she’d seen Jared. Could you love someone that long from a distance? Could you even be certain of your feelings?
A new message arrived.
My aunt and uncle seem to have given up on reaching me. Part of me is relieved, but I admit the victory feels a little hollow.
She was changing the subject. Not a good sign. He replied,
Maybe they haven’t given up. They’re probably distracted by the wedding.
He hated the loneliness her words implied. She knew he was there for her, didn’t she? A message appeared.
Maybe.
And no, I don’t love Jared.
Relief filled him. If she didn’t love Jared, there was room in her heart for him, wasn’t there? Feeling renewed, he changed the subject to current news events, secure in the knowledge that, while her heart may not fully belong to him, it didn’t belong to someone else either.
Sweetpea: I got the name Sweetpea from my mom. I don’t remember much about her, but she was always working in our garden. I can still hear the soothing sound of her voice as she whispered “Goodnight, Sweetpea” from my bedroom door.
A week later Sabrina was grabbing her bag from the kitchen counter when she noticed the blinking light. Checking the time, she decided she could spare an extra minute before leaving for Tucker’s. Char had been queasy when Sabrina left the café. Maybe Gordon needed her to finish Char’s shift. Truth was, she’d welcome the opportunity to avoid Tucker.
The stress was eating her alive. Sitting there, pretending to work, desperate to escape before she did something stupid, like grabbing the man and kissing him full on the mouth. One of these days, her facade was going crack wide open and she’d find herself chin deep in a pit of humiliation.
She pushed the machine’s button and listened.
“Hey, Sabrina! It’s Arielle. I left a message last week, but you didn’t return my call. A-hem! But my feelings aren’t hurt. Really. Not hurt at all.Anyway, call me back, okay? For real this time. I’ll keep pestering you until you do. You know I will . . . Bye!”
Sabrina deleted the message and headed out the door. She wouldn’t return this message either. And yes, her cousin would continue leaving messages and sending emails. Sabrina knew what Arielle wanted, and her cousin wasn’t getting it.
She pushed up the kickstand, hopped on her bike, and began pedaling down the lane. The incident with Jared and Jaylee had drawn a line between Sabrina and her family. And Arielle stood on the line, trying to pull everyone to the middle. Arielle had always been the mediator, but never had her job been so impossible. Maybe that skill served her well in class, but they weren’t three-year-olds fighting over a canister of red Play-Doh. Sometimes there was no good resolution.
When she reached town, she stopped to let pedestrians cross. Town was packed when the summer people arrived. She couldn’t fathom having a vacation home and six free weeks to spend at it. If she did, she would put up a hammock on her back porch and read all day. But the summer people seemed to prefer sunning at the beach, spending money in the boutiques, and being waited on in the restaurants. Sabrina would rather learn to cook her own gourmet food. But what was the point when she was only feeding one?
Two black Labs were leashed to the bench outside the Even Keel Cafe, and a little girl stopped to pet them. Her parents nudged her along; then her dad swooped her into his arms, and the girl wrapped herself around him. The mom laughed at something the girl said. They looked like the all-American family.