Breakwater Bay (16 page)

Coffee would be good. Meri pushed herself to her feet and realized that she was still wearing her work clothes. She walked out to the living room.

Alden was standing at the window holding a mug of coffee.

“Did you stay here all night?” she croaked. Her throat was hoarse from the plaster dust.

He nodded. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. Where did you sleep?”

“In the chair.”

“The couch pulls out to a bed.”

“No big deal.”

“Well, thanks.” She went over to the kitchen and found a mug already placed next to the coffeepot. She poured herself a cup and sat on the couch.

Alden turned from the window. “There isn’t anything in your refrigerator but congealed pad thai.”

“I’ve been too busy to shop.”

“And too busy to eat?” He raised his eyebrows as he gave her the once-over.

She shrugged. Or at least tried to. It seemed like every time she moved, it set off a new jolt of pain. “You shaved.”

“Found a package of disposable razors under the sink.”

She understood his expression and she wasn’t in the mood for any aspersions cast on her relationship with Peter. “Well, good for you.”

“Finish your coffee, and I’ll take you somewhere for breakfast before I take you home.”

She considered protesting but just didn’t have the energy to fight. She rarely won when Alden really set his mind on something.

“On second thought, maybe we’ll just stop for bagels and eat in the car.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Another lift of his eyebrows sent her into the bathroom to look in the mirror. She didn’t look fine. She was a walking disaster area. Her hair, face, and clothes were smeared with dirt, blood, and plaster dust. She couldn’t go to Gran’s looking like this.

She grabbed a washcloth and turned on the water. Alden called, “Don’t get your stitches wet.”

Meri scrubbed her face with one hand. When she’d gotten as clean as possible, she opened the door and came out.

“Alden, I can’t go looking like this.”

He shook his head, his lips working until he burst out laughing. “Sorry, but you do look a bit like one of my more imaginative illustrations.”

“The poor little match girl?”

He shook his head again, trying not to smile.

“You’ll have to wait while I take a shower.”

“You can’t get your hand wet.”

“I’ll hold it out of the shower curtain or put it in a plastic bag; I must have one around here somewhere.”

“Or you can wait until you get home where I’m sure there are plastic bags, and there’s a walk-in shower. And Therese can hand you soap and stuff.”

She looked back at the bathroom, so close and yet so far . . . “I don’t suppose you—”

They looked at each other for a long second, then Alden slowly shook his head.

“She’ll freak when she sees me. At least let me stick my head under the faucet. I’ll only use one hand. Are you in a hurry?”

Alden sighed. “Come over to the sink. Where’s your shampoo?”

“In the rack on the tub.”

She moved the coffeepot out of the way and turned on the water.

Alden came back with shampoo, conditioner, and several towels. He rolled up his sleeves, then rolled up a towel and put it on the counter for her to use to cover her eyes. She leaned over and rested her head on the edge of the sink, flooded with memories of standing just like this while her mother or Gran washed her hair in the kitchen, then sat her down at the table to comb out the tangles.

A sense of love swept over her for her family, for the life they’d given her. For Alden promising to take care of her. She vaguely remembered trying to ask him about that last night, but it was elusive. Maybe she had just meant to. There would be time this weekend, maybe even during the ride to the farm.

Long fingers pushed her hair forward and she felt water run off her neck and ears.

“Too hot?”

“No. It feels wonderful.”

She felt the cold of the shampoo smelled the sweet scent of citrus as Alden scrubbed the tangled mass gently with both hands.

Meri gave in to the rhythm of his hands, the drag of his fingers. There was something soothing about a shampoo. Like a lullaby. She sighed. “Wonderful.”
Sensual. Sexy
.

He yanked at her hair and the feeling shattered.

“Did you say something?”

“Uh-uh. I don’t think so. Did I?” Did she? She was still loopy from that pill. She sighed as Alden began to scrub again. Harder this time.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry, it’s pretty tangled and I haven’t had to do this in a while. Plus dried plaster is a lot harder to get out than Play-Doh.”

She turned her head to look at him. Water and soap ran in her eyes.

“Hold still.”

“You used to wash Nora’s and Lucas’s hair?”

“Sometimes.” He turned on the water and let it run. She could feel him testing the temperature. Then he began rinsing the suds from her hair.

“Did you ever wash mine?”

“No.”

She thought of what he must have missed when Jennifer took the children so far away from him. And she made a promise to be a good friend to Nora when she came and to try to help her over any rough spots she might be going through. And she’d be a better friend to Alden. A real friend. A friend with—Her thoughts fuzzed over. Damn that pill. A friend. A really good friend.

Alden turned off the water and squirted conditioner into his palm, fingered it through her hair. Stopped when he reached a tangle and eased the knot away. He was full of surprises, this man. He was a natural at taking care of people.

Another rinse and Meri was beginning to feel a little dizzy when Alden flapped open a towel and wrapped it around her head. She lifted her head up until she was standing.

“I did the best I could. It should be presentable.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. Really.”

He collected the shampoo and conditioner and the used towel and carried them back to the bathroom, while Meri went to change clothes and look for a comb. She managed to get on clean jeans, all but the button and zipper, and after a few frustrating tries, she decided to just cover it up with a long sweater. Only the sleeves wouldn’t go on over her bandage, so she had to rummage through the closet until she found a sweatshirt with the cuffs cut off.

When she came back from her bedroom, Alden was throwing the carton of pad thai into the garbage can.

Meri stood combing her hair and watching him. He realized she was there and stopped. “I assumed you weren’t planning to take that with you.”

She shook her head, felt the room spin a bit, and sat down in the nearest chair.

“Maybe you should take another one of those pills.”

“No. They make me dopey, and I don’t want to be dopey.” She stopped, smiled. “Any dopier than usual. I’ll just take some aspirin for now. Though I could use something to eat.”

He tied off the plastic garbage bag. “Are you ready then? We’ll call Gran from the car and let her know we’re coming.”

“Almost. I just need to get some shoes and . . . something else.”

She went back to her bedroom and shoved her feet into some moccasins since she wasn’t about to wrestle with laces or ask Alden to tie her shoes. She’d imposed on him too much already.

She found her suitcase on the far side of the bed threw a pair of boots and sneakers on top and shut it. She lugged it to the door and remembered the box, still on the top shelf of her closet.

Getting it would be tricky, but she wanted to take it with her. She’d have to ask Alden for one more favor. And besides he’d already seen it. There was nothing to be furtive about.

He was wearing his jacket, and he got the box down without comment, found a shopping bag from a local boutique, and placed it inside without a word. Then he picked up the bag and the suitcase and carried it to the front door where the trash bag was sitting.

He helped her into her coat as best he could. Meri slung her purse over one shoulder and followed Alden, her luggage, and the trash bag out the door.

Meri was surprised when they walked out into sunshine. Alden stopped to dump the trash into the outside bin, and Meri got a sudden pang of guilt that came from nowhere for no reason though she thought it might have to do with Heathcliff and taking out the garbage.

And as unreasonable as it was, she just hoped Peter never found out that instead of driving Meri straight to Gran’s, Alden had brought her here and stayed the night.

I
think I’d better call Gran and warn her I’m coming.”

“Good idea.” Alden waited for a car to pass then pulled out of the parking place. He glanced down and watched Meri rummage for her phone. She swiped her thumb to open it and called.

He could feel her watching him as she waited for Therese to pick up. He hoped to heaven she wasn’t going to want to talk on the drive to the farm. He wanted to be on his own territory when she started pumping him for the details of the night he found Riley Rochfort on the breakwater, pregnant, sick, and hysterical.

“I’m fine,” Meri said. “I cut my hand, nothing serious, but I’m taking a couple of days off, thought I’d come out and spend them with you.”

He could hear a voice at the far end but not words. That was fine. He planned to drop Meri off at Gran’s door, then get the hell out until the women had a chance to talk things out.

He stopped at a light. Meri hung up. “So . . .” she said and turned toward him.

“Want to stop for breakfast somewhere or just at a deli.”

“Just at the deli, if that’s okay with you. I know you never eat breakfast, and I’m anxious to get home.”

“Fine with me.” He drove to a deli near the highway and double-parked, leaving Meri in the car. He came back a few minutes later with a large paper bag.

As Meri unloaded the bag, Alden pulled into traffic.

“I hope you’re going to eat some of this,” she said, taking things out of the bag and handing him one of the coffees.

He’d bought her a bagel, fruit salad, a yogurt, orange juice, and coffee, hoping it would keep her busy and away from conversation.

Of course he hoped in vain.

As soon as she’d eaten half of the bagel and they weren’t even to the bridge, she said, “When were you going to tell me about my mother?”

“We already discussed this. Your mother is Laura Hollis. Your dad is Dan. And you already gave me a hard time about keeping what I knew from you.” He kept his eyes on the road and cursed the slow-moving traffic.

“You didn’t tell me you were there in a ringside seat.”

He ignored her.

“That you actually pulled Riley from the breakwater and saved her life—and mine.”

Alden gripped the steering wheel, pretending he hadn’t heard her.

“Won’t you tell me?”

“Yes, but not while I’m driving.”

“Fair enough. But you were there when I was born.”

“Yep. Saw you two minutes after you came into this world.”

“I hope not naked.”

He felt her smile. “No, they had you so swaddled up you looked like a jellybean.” He glanced at her. “But there were plenty of other times . . .”

“Alden!”

“What can I say. You were a free spirit. I can’t tell you the number of times you’d escape out of the back door,
sans
diaper, headed for the dunes. It was very embarrassing.”

“Not for me . . . evidently.”

“For me. I was a teenager. Those kinds of things are monumental. More than one time I had to carry you back to the house kicking and squirming. One time you peed on my shirt.”

“No. You never told me that.”

“It was good training for fatherhood; by the time Nora came along I was impervious to disgusting baby emissions.”

She threw a grape at him.

He batted it away.

“Alden, does it really not make a difference?”

Like a light switch clicking from on to off, she’d turned serious.

He looked over to her and tugged a piece of hair curling at her shoulders. “Not in any way.”

She fell silent after that. Alden didn’t know if it was because her hand was hurting or if she was lost in her own thoughts. He wasn’t about to ask.

He knew he’d have to tell her the whole story of his involvement, detail by detail; she was like that. And God knew he’d done the same thing, over and over until it became a kind of story, a fiction separate from himself and reality.

When Alden looked again, Meri’s eyes were closed. Hopefully she’d fallen asleep. He was tired; sleeping in a chair just didn’t cut it and he’d been drinking coffee since earlier that morning. Enough to give him the shakes or maybe it was just nerves.

He laughed at himself. He’d been a kid, he’d made a promise, which he had kept. How could she fault him for that?

M
eri roused when Alden turned into the lane that led to their houses. “I can’t believe I fell asleep, after sleeping all night. Sorry.”

Alden looked straight ahead. “You needed it.”

She covered a yawn with her bandaged hand. “You’re not off the hook, you know. I still want you to tell me what happened.”

“I know. Why don’t you finish reading the diary first.” He glanced at her, but not long enough for her to start asking questions. “Or have you finished?”

“Not yet. But . . . you knew there was a diary?”

“Therese told me a few days ago.”

“And you brought it to me.”

“Hmm.”

“Did you read it?”

“Of course not.”

She laughed slightly. “Don’t get all indignant. You’re in it.”

“I figured as much.” And he wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much, except that he didn’t want anything to change between them.

“You saved my—Riley and you saved me.”

He flinched. No one had spoken that name for decades.

“What’s the matter, Alden? Why didn’t you tell me all these years?”

And here it was. “She made me promise.”

“You were a boy.”

“A promise is a promise.”

They’d come to the farmhouse, and Alden stopped the car at the kitchen door. Therese was already standing in the doorway. She must have been watching for them. Meri turned to say something, but Alden jumped out of the car and began unloading her things.

Meri got out and hurried to hug Gran. “I’m fine. So don’t look so worried.”