Just The Way You Are
Prologue
"
A
re you ready to go for a sail?" John MacGuire asked his wife. A young, handsome man, he stood on the edge of a wide sandy beach, wearing summer shorts and his favorite T-shirt. He pointed toward the water behind him, to the sailboat that bobbed gently in the quiet bay. "It's the perfect day."
"I can't sail. I'm sick. I don't know what happened, but I can't seem to open my eyes." Phoebe MacGuire took a quick breath as panic filled her soul. "I'm seventy-six years old now, John. How did I get to be so old? I'm scared."
"No need to be scared, my darling, not when I'm here."
"But you're not really here."
"I miss you, Phoebe," he said softly, his voice as gentle as the morning breeze.
"I miss you, too. Nothing has been the same since you died. You were the one who kept the family together. It was you, your strength, your vision. Without you, we fell apart. Alli and Tessa are strangers now, and I don't know how to bring them back together."
"Do you still have the pearls, Phoebe?"
"Of course I do."
"Do you remember the one we found on our first anniversary? That's when we discovered you were pregnant. Then we had a son, and later granddaughters, and we taught them to love the sea, to cherish the family, and to treasure the pearls for the strength that they gave us each year to go on, to live life to its fullest, to complete the circle."
"But we didn't complete it," she said in despair. "Because you died. You left me."
"It was my time, Phoebe, but you must finish the necklace now. The pearls weren't meant to just be a symbol of our love, but of our family, our strength, our unity. The pearls are nothing on their own. But together in a strand, they are everything. It is the lesson we must teach Alli and Tessa." He paused, his expression as tender as a sweet blooming rose. "I wish for our girls a love as deep and as satisfying as the one we share."
"I want the same thing." But as his image faded away, Phoebe wondered if even the perfect pearl could save Alli and Tessa from themselves.
Chapter 1
"
D
addy, did you ever love Mommy?"
Allison Tucker caught her breath at the simple, heartfelt question that had come from her eight-year-old daughter's lips. She took a step back from the doorway and leaned against the wall, her heart racing in anticipation of the answer. She'd thought she'd explained the separation to her daughter, but Megan still had questions, and this time it was up to Sam to answer.
Sam cleared his throat, obviously stalling for time. For the life of her, Alli couldn't move away. She hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but when she'd arrived to pick up Megan after her weekend with her father, she had been caught by the cozy scene in the family room.
Sam sat in the brown leather reclining chair looking endearingly handsome in his faded blue jeans and navy-blue rugby shirt. Megan was on his lap, her blond hair a mess in mismatched braids, her clothes almost exactly the same as Sam's, faded blue jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt. Megan adored dressing like her father.
"Did I show you the picture of Mommy when she dressed up like a giant pumpkin for the Halloween dance?" Sam asked, obviously trying to change the subject.
They were looking at a yearbook, Alli realized with dismay. There weren't just pictures of Sam and Alli in the yearbook, there were other people in there, too.
"Did you, Daddy? Did you ever love Mommy?" Megan persisted.
Answer the question, Sam. Tell her you never really loved me, that you only married me because I was pregnant, that your heart still belongs to—my sister.
Alli held her breath, waiting for Sam's answer, knowing the bitter truth but wondering, hopelessly, impossibly wondering…
"I love your mother very much—for giving me you," Sam replied.
Alli closed her eyes against a rush of emotion. It wasn't an answer, but an evasion. She didn't know why she felt even the tiniest bit of surprise. Sam would never admit to loving her. She couldn't remember ever hearing those three simple words cross his lips, not even after Megan's birth. Or after, in the days and weeks and years that followed, not even when they made love, when they shared a passion that was perhaps the only honest part of their relationship. Sam always held a part of himself back, a portion of his heart and his soul that he would never give to her.
Alli clenched her fists, wanting to feel anger, not pain. She'd spent more than half of her twenty-seven years in love with Sam Tucker, but he didn't love her, and he never would.
She'd lived in a dream, ignoring all the signs of disinterest, Sam's long hours running his family's charter boat business, and his desire to limit their family to the one child who bound them together.
Alli had told herself lie after lie—that Sam would change, that he would suddenly see her for who she was, that he would want another baby. Even now, a deep ache echoed through her soul at the thought of never having another child with the man she loved, but she could no longer live in a fantasy world.
The last straw came three months ago when it had become startlingly clear that Sam still held hopes of being with her sister. The realization that, despite years of trying to be the best wife, the best mother, the best woman she could be, Sam still loved Tessa had driven Alli to do the unthinkable—to ask for a separation.
Sam had been shocked, and no wonder. She'd chased after him forever. But no more. She couldn't keep loving someone who didn't love her back. Could she?
The niggling doubt ran through Alli's mind, her heart still battling her brain. She'd always acted on her emotions, forgetting about logic. Even her seduction of Sam all those years ago hadn't come from a master plan. It had been more like a crime of opportunity. And she'd paid for it a thousand times over.
Alli let out a sigh. She'd done so many things wrong, taking forever to grow up, as her grandmother was fond of telling her. Her biggest guilt came from putting Megan in the middle of her battle with Sam, but there was no way to avoid it. Megan had always been in the middle. And she always would be.
"Damn," Alli muttered as tears filled her eyes. She ruthlessly rubbed them away. She had to let go of the past and focus on the future. Making sure her daughter had a wonderful loving relationship with her father was her main concern. In the long run, Alli could only hope that it would be better for Megan to grow up in two peaceful homes than in one unhappy one.
Taking a deep breath, Alli smoothed down the sides of her short-sleeve emerald-green dress, the first new outfit she'd bought in years. It was tighter than she would have liked, but married life and childbirth had only encouraged her naturally curvy tendencies. She took solace in the fact that she still looked better than she had in ages, and there was a small part of her, make that a big part of her, that couldn't help hoping Sam would be floored by her new look.
Clearing her throat with purpose and determination, she entered the family room and said, "Hello."
Sam looked at her, his light blue eyes filled with annoyance. "You're early," he said. "You said seven-thirty, and it's only six. Megan and I were planning to have a pizza."
"I'm sorry." She knew his frustration covered pain. Sam might not miss her at all, but he did miss his daughter.
"This is
our
time together," Sam reminded her.
"I know." Alli tried not to feel anything for the man, but his physical presence had always overwhelmed her. A rugged, outdoor man, Sam had sun-streaked brown hair that was always windswept, never styled. His face was perpetually sunburned. His body was lean and fit, his fingers and palms callused from working his boats. She could still remember the way his fingers felt drifting down the side of her cheeks, her breasts…
She drew in a quick breath and looked out the window at the storm clouds about to descend on Tucker's Landing, one of the small seaside towns along the southern Oregon coast. Although it was late June, the weather was still unpredictable, and on days like today, summer seemed far away.
"It's starting to rain," she said. "The forecast said maybe an inch or more. I didn't want to get caught in the storm. You know I hate to drive in the rain."
Sam tightened his hold on Megan, as if Alli were attempting to steal his dearest possession. But she wasn't a thief; she was Megan's mother. Turning her attention to Megan, Alli could see that her daughter felt torn between them. Megan's blue eyes were worried, her mouth slightly pouty as she chewed nervously on the end of her braid. The last thing Alli wanted to do was make Megan feel like a wishbone, but sometimes it seemed impossible to avoid. They both loved Megan so very much.
"I'll bring her home at seven-thirty," Sam said.
"That's in an hour and a half."
"Exactly. And it's my hour and a half."
She sighed. "Come on, Sam. It's been a long day."
"Maybe Mommy could have pizza with us," Megan suggested. She put her small hands on Sam's face so he couldn't look away from her and gazed at him with bright, eager blue eyes. "Please."
Sam's mouth set into a hard line. "I suppose. If she wants to."
Megan looked at Alli, drilling her with the same relentless gaze.
Alli hesitated, knowing the last thing Sam wanted her to do was stick around. But she hated to disappoint Megan over something so small.
"I could stay, I guess." She glanced at Sam. "Are you sure it's all right with you?"
"Does it matter?" He didn't look her in the eye. Sometimes she thought he went out of his way to avoid looking at her. Maybe she did the same thing. It was easier to keep the distance between them.
Sam gently urged Megan out of his lap and rose to his feet. "I'll call Nina's. The usual?"
Why was it always the simple words, the familiar memories that hurt the most? "The usual," she agreed.
Sam walked over to the desk and picked up the phone. While he dialed the number for the pizza parlor, Megan handed Alli the high school yearbook.
"Daddy showed me your picture," Megan said. "You
were really pretty, Mommy."
Alli stared down at her sophomore photograph. She'd been trying to grow her hair out, to be more like Tessa. But where her sister's thick, wavy blond hair grew like a weed, Alli's own copper-colored cap never quite made it past her shoulders, and was so thin and fine it almost seemed to disappear. Once, a very long time ago, Sam had told her that her hair was like silk, and she'd thought, foolishly of course, that he'd found something about her that he liked better than Tessa.
Alli slammed the book shut. Megan looked at her in surprise.
"What's wrong, Mommy?"
"Nothing." She forced a smile on her face. "What did you do today?"
"We waxed the hot rod."
"Of course," Alli said. Because next to his business, waxing his 1955 red Thunderbird was Sam's favorite pastime. She wouldn't have minded so much if the damn car hadn't been just another reminder of Sam and Tessa. In her mind's eye she could still see the two of them tooling around town in it.
"Do you want to see it?" Megan asked.
"The car?" Alli asked in confusion.
"No, the thing I made you. Weren't you listening, Mommy?"
"I'd love to, honey."
"I'll get it." Megan ran out of the room, and Alli walked over to the bookcase and stuck the yearbook in a dark corner where she hoped it wouldn't be discovered for another decade.
As her gaze traveled around the familiar room, she realized that Sam had done some cleaning, made some changes since he'd moved back into his family home and his parents had retired to Arizona. His father's pipe no longer sat in the ashtray on the desk. The three-foot-high pile of fishing magazines had been tossed in a large open box along with some other knickknacks—obviously destined for storage.
The changes made her feel uncomfortable. The thought that Sam was finally accepting that this was his home bothered her more than she cared to admit. That he was changing the house to fit him as a man instead of a child was odd, too. This house had been a part of her own childhood, because she'd grown up next door.
When she was nine, and Tessa eleven, they'd lost their parents in a car crash and come to live with their grandmother, Phoebe MacGuire. They'd traveled between houses as kids do, and Alli had come to know this one almost as well as her own. Although she had usually been the one tagging behind, trying to catch up to Sam and Tessa, and somehow the door always seemed to slam in her face.
Sam hung up the phone. "The pizza will be here in fifteen minutes."
She nodded. "Great. So, how did the weekend go?"
"Fine."
"Megan starts summer school tomorrow. We'll have to redo our visitation schedule."
"I hate that word," he said with a fierceness that startled her. "Megan is my daughter. We should all be living together, not visiting each other."
Alli didn't know what to say. So much for thinking that Sam had accepted things. "I'm sorry; that was the wrong word to use. You know you can see Megan as often as you want, Sam. I would never keep you apart."
"Then why ask for a divorce? Why break up our family? Why the hell do you have to be so selfish, Alli?"
His words hit her like bullets, each one hurting more than the last, and her only defense was to hit back.
"Don't blame it all on me, Sam. I wasn't the only one who wanted out, just the one who had the guts to ask."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"The hell I don't," she said sharply. "When I found that box of clippings and photographs of Tessa, I felt like I'd just stumbled upon you in bed with another woman."
"I was never unfaithful to you."
"Maybe not in body, but in mind you certainly were. How do you think it feels to know the man who is touching you is thinking about someone else?" Her voice shook with the depth of her pain. She could still see herself sneaking into Sam's office to surprise him with an intimate anniversary dinner, only to find a box of Tessa's photos hidden away in the bottom drawer of his desk. She'd been looking for the corkscrew he kept there so she could open the wine she'd brought to celebrate nine years together. What a fool she'd been.
"It was never like that," Sam said.
"It was always like that."
"Alli—"
"And it wasn't just the box of photos. It's been so much more, and you know it. I wanted more children, Sam, and you refused over and over again. Because having another child with me, making a deliberate choice to add to the family, would mean you were planning to stay with me. But you couldn't make that commitment, could you? You couldn't cross that line, because you weren't planning to stay forever. Well, I just cut the time short."
Before Sam could reply, Megan returned to the room.
"Look, Mommy, I made you a candleholder out of a wine bottle, see?" Megan held up the papier-mâché-covered bottle with a proud smile. "Daddy helped me. Can we light a candle for dinner?"
"I guess."
"No," Sam said abruptly. "We don't need a candle."