Summer at the Shore Leave Cafe (11 page)

The next morning I was joined in
the bathroom by my period, earlier than I'd expected it this month.
Fantastic
, I thought, brushing my teeth and glaring at myself in the mirror. Talk about a reality check. It was an obvious sign that I should not be entertaining the thought of amazing sex with a gorgeous man like Blythe. Or any man who was not my lawfully wedded husband and children's father. As the hot water of the shower poured over me minutes later, I leaned into the spray, both hands pressed flat to the tile, torn. Head versus heart…I knew what I wanted to do, and what I had to do, and they were so very opposite. I held my breath until my lungs were near to bursting, keeping my face within the water, until it finally ran cold.

Outside the air was thick with June humidity, the sky leaden as I made my way to the café, angry at myself for being so nervous; I had debated about what to wear for nearly twenty minutes. My hair hung loose and soft over my shoulders, and I was wearing mascara at this ungodly hour of the morning. But I was also simultaneously crackling with excitement at the thought of seeing Blythe. Would anyone suspect? What if I stared at him too long and Mom wondered? Or Jillian, more likely. Mom loved us, but she tended more towards the oblivious than the observant. My sister would smell a rat long before our mother.
Shit, shit, shit
.

“Morning,” Jillian called from the porch, where she was having a coffee. I studied her closely as I climbed the steps, but she didn't appear too stressed out nor was she looking at me knowingly. The memory of Blythe's kisses was so strong in my mind that I felt as though my lips had been branded and would surely betray me to anyone looking.

“What time did the kids get back last night?” she went on, motioning with her head for me to join her. I did, commandeering her cup for a sip.

“Late,” I hedged. I felt like Clint would be feeling miserable enough this morning without me tattling on him. He'd been sincerely sorry last night, I knew.

“How about you?”

Shit. She suspects
. I sipped again, biding my time, but when I met her gaze, Jilly was staring off across the parking lot. I turned to follow her eyes, my heart suddenly awake and throbbing, but it was Justin and Dodge pulling in for breakfast, not Blythe. Not yet.

“Hi girls,” Dodge called, his sunglasses pushed up on his forehead. Justin, his own shades still in place, followed behind, silently.

“Morning,” I said, smiling at them. Dodge lumbered inside, calling good morning, while Justin paused at our table. I gave him the once-over. “A little under the weather this morning, Mr. Miller?”

He winced a bit, like the teenager we'd known long ago, and said, half-kiddingly, “Don't ask.”

“I saw you heading into Eddie's last night, buddy,” I said.

Jilly snapped her gaze back to me, from where she'd been quietly assessing Justin's face. “You went into town?”

My thoughts raced, but there was no point lying. I wouldn't be telling the whole truth, in any case. “Yeah, I saw the fireworks.”

Her lips parted to ask another question, but to my relief the screen burst open and Ruthann came barreling out, the cordless phone from the counter in her right hand.

“Mom, it's Daddy!” she said breathlessly, sounding happy and excited, catching me right the hell off guard. Despite the fact that I'd been apprehensive about telling my two older girls about their father and me, I was downright terrified to inform Ruthann. I stared at the phone in her hand as though it was a spider she'd caught and was holding out for me to touch.

Jillian shot me a look of sympathy and Justin pushed back his sunglasses, revealing blood-shot brown eyes. He, too, looked concerned. Ruthie wiggled the phone at me, eyebrows raised in question. I finally took it from my daughter, and Jilly said with forced brightness, “Ruthie, come with me and let's get another muffin, huh?”

I went right back down the porch steps I'd just climbed, and made for the dock. I put the phone to my ear and said, affecting a cheerful tone, “Hello?” questioningly, as though I didn't know who was on the other end.

“Hi, Jo,” said my husband, and his voice was as familiar as it had always been. Not so warm anymore, though.

“Hi,” I said again. I waited for a moment, but no tears were threatening me. A surprise.

“How's the summer going?” he asked, and his voice sounded slightly deeper than normal, though I couldn't read the emotion present there.

“Great,” I replied, reaching the end of the dock, too agitated to sit. The sky was the color of an old tin teakettle, and as I watched, a blue-white flash of lightning sizzled in the west. Seconds later a low grumble resonated from the same direction. “Fantastic, actually.”

“Great,” he said, sounding relieved now. He cleared his throat and then added, “Sorry I didn't call you yesterday. I got your message.”

I waited silently, not about to help him out here.

“The girls sound happy,” he observed after a pause. “I miss them around here.”

“I know you do,” I allowed. He was a good dad to them, I couldn't pretend otherwise.

It began to sprinkle and I shivered, but was not about to return inside right now.

“What's up, Jackie?” I finally asked. Lightning threatened again, more brilliantly than before.

“Jo,” he said in his lawyer voice, a much different tone now. “I am going to get married.”

All of the breath seemed to leave my lungs. Thunder rolled through the sky, grumbling like the rage I felt coming to a boil inside of my chest. The lake was being peppered with heavy raindrops. I said, my voice tightly controlled with effort, “I hate to tell you, but you're already married.”

“Dammit, Jo, don't be like this. You left me. It's over between us.”

Despite the fact that I knew this to be true, it still hurt like hell to have Jackson be so blunt. Anger coiled like a living thing inside of me. I hissed, my teeth nearly clenched, “I left because you
cheated on me
.”

“And I'm sorry I hurt you, Jo,” he fired back. “I never wanted to and I am goddamn sorry. But I can't change how I feel. I love Lanny. I'm going to marry her.”

I felt kicked in the gut. This was my babies' father talking to me like this. But it was no time to feel sorry for myself, not right now. I clung to the shred of pride afforded me by Gran's genes. “You'll be happy with that slut, I'm sure,” I said, spitting out the words. Rain was pouring now, and I probably should have been worried about getting electrocuted, standing here with an antenna phone in my grasp. My hair was plastered to my neck. “You two fucking deserve each other!”

“Jo, for Christ's sake!” he yelled. “It doesn't have to be like this!”

“Really, Jackson, how should it be?” I yelled back. There was no chance anyone up in the café could hear me what with the thunder.

“What is that noise?” he asked then, sounding perplexed. “Are you washing clothes?”

“No, it's raining, you moron,” I said, descending now into calling him cruel names.

“Nice, Joelle, let's be like this,” he said sarcastically. “I'll call later when you're not being such an unreasonable bitch!”

“Bitch?!” I shrieked. “
Unreasonable
! How dare you!”

But he'd hung up. Without thinking, I whirled and threw the phone as hard as I could into the lake. I closed my eyes, tipped my chin back and let the rain wash over me for a moment, much as I had earlier in the shower. So much for my mascara. At first I thought it was thunder making the dock tremble violently, and I felt a flash of fear, my eyes flying open. But in the next second big warm hands were wrapping an army-green raincoat around my shoulders, and Blythe was turning me around to face him.

He was such a gorgeous, welcome sight, even as angry and shredded-up as I felt right now. His hair was in a ponytail, bandana in place, shirt clinging to his huge shoulders from the rain. Beautiful, somber blue eyes held mine for a moment. He leaned in to say, “Come on, Joelle, you need to get out of the rain.”

I felt the tenderness of my name on his lips go straight to my soul.

“Thanks,” I said, softly, and he led the way back into the café.

A half hour
later I was in the passenger seat of Jilly's car, riding with her to Bemidji (fifteen miles to the north) on an impromptu trip to the Walmart there. Mom claimed to need a half dozen things that we couldn't possibly buy at the co-op in Landon. She had practically shoved Jilly and me out the door.

“You know, we've had that phone since we were in high school,” my sister said, sounding serious. “I was kind of attached to it.”

“I didn't mean to chuck it,” I said, half-resentfully, watching the drenched landscape out the window. The southbound lane was heavy with traffic: trucks hauling boats with outboard motors, cars with luggage racks strapped on top, enormous RVs loaded with families heading back to Minneapolis after a weekend of camping.

“So, what did he say?” she pressed.

I hadn't been exactly forthcoming after Blythe had opened the door to Shore Leave for me, his eyes on my face. I had sensed his reluctance to go to work as though nothing had happened between us last night, but we didn't have a choice. Ruthann was eating a caramel roll (the three older kids were certainly still in bed) while Jilly was working to keep everyone involved in conversation, attempting to ignore me as politely as possible. My instinct had been to go directly back to my own bed, but then Mom had trumped up the necessity of a trip to the supermarket, and I had been summarily loaded into the car.

I looked over at my sister, wanting suddenly to tell her everything about last night, and how amazing it had been kissing Blythe. About how I was crazy with longing to meet him this week and make love all night. Again, just the thought made my stomach light as feathers. The last thing I wanted to talk about my cheating husband who wanted to get remarried. I said, “I'm sorry about the phone, Jills.”

“Fuck the phone,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What did Jackie want?”

“He wants to marry Lanny,” I said, pressing four fingertips to my forehead for a moment, hard.

“Really,” Jillian said, her voice dripping with scorn. “Well, let him. What a bastard.”

“You know, he really thinks he loves her,” I added, not sure if I was sticking up for him or just torturing myself. “And you know what, I hope he's happy. She just better be good to the girls when they visit, or I'll kill her with my bare hands.”

Jilly angled a glance my way. “You seem okay with it.”

I shrugged, looking back out the window. I was still wrapped in the raincoat that Blythe had brought me on the dock, and snuggled into it a little more, sort of hugging myself. I was totally unprepared for Jilly's next statement.

“Jo, I made love with someone,” my sister whispered, and my head whipped around as though magnetized to the opposite side of the car. Jilly kept her gaze fastened out the windshield.

If it's Blythe I will come unglued
, I thought, irrationally, my heart clanging. I could hardly form a word past the ball that had suddenly lodged in my throat. But Jilly continued, still looking away from me, “With Justin.”

All of the tension drained from me abruptly, replaced by frank surprise. I responded, still slightly breathless and quite inarticulately, “Huh?”

She went on in a rush, her voice soft and low. “We sat on the dock one night, just about a week before you and the girls got here. It was Saturday, and I was a little drunk, and we were talking about old times. And I kissed him, Jo, but the crazy thing was, I really wanted to kiss him, and just hadn't known it until that moment.”

“And?” I pressed, poking her in the ribs.

“He was so passionate, and then I remembered Aubrey always talking about what a great kisser he was, all the way back in high school. It was so amazing, Jo, it felt so good.”

“And?” I asked, and again applied my pointer finger to her ribs for good measure.

“Ugh, don't,” she bitched at me, flinging her elbow in my direction. “And nothing. I don't know why I tell you shit!”

I knew she wasn't really angry, so I bent my finger and flicked her earlobe. Just to pester her, I added a third, “And?”

She continued in a rush, “We went at it right on the dock. My knees were full of splinters for days. It was amazing. I wanted him so much.”

“Jilly, don't beat yourself up,” I said then, laying off the teasing, knowing she was upset because of Christopher. I couldn't explain how much she had loved her husband, and I knew she still felt like she was cheating on him, even over a decade later. “You know you have a right to be happy.”

She shook her head vehemently. “It's not that…well, maybe it is that, a little. It was more afterward. Justin was angry at me, actually angry, thinking I was…taking pity on him.”

“He said that?” I cried, louder than I'd intended.

“He didn't have to,” she went on, finally turning to face me for a moment. “When I saw him the next day he was so remote, and when I got him alone he told me I didn't owe him anything, and that we'd made a mistake.”

“He did?” I was furious for her. “What the hell?”

“He's protecting himself, don't you see?”

“Fuck that,” I said. “I would never have suspected in a million years. You guys seem so normal around each other.”

“It's been so totally awkward,” she said. “No one suspects anything, so please don't say a word.”

“You know I won't,” I assured her. “But I want to punch him. How could he insult you like that?”

“He's not insulting me,” she insisted. “He is so afraid of feeling something for me that he's purposely pushing me away.”