Summertime Dream (27 page)

“Maybe because she had moved on to Grandpa Will?” He caught her hand and kissed her palm before twining his fingers with hers. “It doesn’t really matter anymore, does it? They’re all gone. Grandma, Grandpa, Dad.” He exhaled heavily.

****

His words were calm, but his troubled face clearly showed the letters had left Christopher unsettled. Margie imagined she might have been as uncomfortable if they had been reading love letters to her own grandmother. Thinking of one’s grandparents as young lovers took some sharp readjustment in thought.

He pulled her into his arms. “The truth or lack of truth doesn’t change my life in any way, except in the most important way. It brought me here and I met you. I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

“I know.”

He brushed his hand over her cheek and raised a smile. “Dust. You’re a dusty mess. I’m hot and tired. Come shower with me.” He crushed his mouth to hers, a fierce, heady kiss that would have had her saying yes, even if she had never imagined saying yes before.

The long shower turned to intense lovemaking, tinged far too much with desperation, and led them back to bed, in serious need of rest and food.

Christopher brought up cheese, crackers, wine, and the leftovers from lunch and they nibbled on the food and each other, the wine rich, kisses deep and lingering. As hot and hurried as the loving in the shower had been, now he was slow and tender.

“I love you.” He pushed up on his elbows over her, his eyes serious with passion, and pressed a burning, fervent kiss to her mouth. “Come to Los Angeles with me tomorrow. I’d stay here longer if I could, but I have to go. We need more time together. Come with me.”

No.

Her realization filled her mind sharp and clear and firm.

Yes, she loved Christopher. Yes, she wanted to be with him. Yes, they needed the time together. No, she couldn’t go with him to Los Angeles.

A rending ache gripped her. Did this mean she didn’t love Christopher enough? If she really, completely loved him, where she lived shouldn’t matter, right? What did she know about cities, really? Not like she’d been to many. Los Angeles wasn’t Dallas. She might like the place. Hadn’t she always wanted an orange tree? Christopher was definitely not Eddie. Her misery in Dallas might only have been her illness and stirred-up remnants of homesick college memories. Her misery might have simply been the subliminal undercurrents of Eddie getting involved with Jennifer.

But in the pit of her stomach, the realization remained clear and painfully sharp. Where she lived did matter to her.

Late, but better than never, it was time to do something about the mistakes she’d made with Eddie and avoid those same mistakes with Christopher. As much as she wanted to be with Christopher, as much as she loved him, she didn’t want to go to Los Angeles.

She’d become adept at discounting her own wants and needs. She’d accepted Eddie’s ring that was too extravagant for her tastes simply because he’d placed it on her finger with love in his eyes. She’d transferred to the college Eddie had suggested for her, so she could be closer to him despite her homesickness. She’d agreed to move to Dallas to support his dreams. She’d looked at every condo and apartment and stick of furniture
he’d
wanted. Not because he was overbearing or controlling. No, simply because she wanted him happy.

Everyone thought her marrying Eddie was perfect. Everyone was so happy, she’d convinced herself she was thoroughly happy too. The planning had gotten out of her and Debi’s hands. She’d agreed to the wedding date and church and reception hall to suit Eddie and his family. She’d settled for the lacy wedding dress and veil Grandma Em liked her in, rather than the simple silk dress and flower wreath she’d loved. She’d gone along with the pink and lavender color theme Mom suggested, when she’d really wanted warm and cheerful yellows and reds.

She enabled everyone, all without standing firm on the things she wanted for herself, from her car to her cancelled wedding to her extended leave from work and more, because making others happy made her happy and saying yes was easier than making waves by standing up for her own desires and dreams. Her brother, her parents, Eddie, and now Christopher. Even lost little Julie still steered decisions in her life.

Yes, over the past weeks she’d made some strides on standing her ground, but she could see herself falling into the same old pattern with Christopher. She’d found such pleasure in helping him with the house, in making him happy—blindly saying yes would be so easy. She’d let Eddie’s rejection and Christopher’s sweetness dull her common sense.

And then there was Joe. As much as he got on her nerves, a gut-deep nagging told her this was not the time to leave her family behind, not while things needed serious mending between her and Joe. She hadn’t stood her ground with him. She’d lashed out like a child.

Answering Christopher was the hardest thing she had ever to do. Her decision felt like the most selfish cowardly thing she’d ever done. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t Loretta to leap into the unknown with her Nico.

She looked into his hopeful, dear face. “No, I can’t go with you.”

****

Christopher’s heart plunged. He hadn’t assumed she’d say yes, but this free fall of dejection hit him hard.

He’d asked too much of her, while still floundering for what he really wanted to say, yet feeling he should have asked for more. Did he even know what he was asking?

“
No, I can’t go with you
.”

He understood. At least, he hoped he did. This whole relationship had intensified so fast. Too fast. Asking her to essentially run away with him when they’d only known each other for twenty-two days? Well, not run away, not like Grandma Loretta, but take her away from her home, just to be with him. Pure selfishness. Impractical.

A mediocre impetuous attempt to remedy your own dull life and loneliness.

“I love you, I just can’t leave.” Her eyes brimmed with an aching plea.

He said what he needed to say. “I understand.”

Margie needed more time. He needed more time. However wonderful the feelings, they couldn’t build a relationship, plan a future, while rashly riding on pure emotion. At some point, now, they had to face reality.

Reality was she was so young and so close to her family. He’d been on his own for so long, on the move so long, he needed to keep in mind leaving them would be different for her, as a daughter, as a young woman with deep roots in her home town, than it had been for him when he had set out on his own.

Reality was he had a business to run and responsibilities, and begging her to come with him to LA when he wasn’t even going to be there was absurd. Pure emotion talking, without a single lick of sense.

He pulled her close. She settled into him with a dejected sigh. He stroked her hair, her back, wishing for some way to save up this holding her for when they were apart.

His phone rang. He ignored the call. No one that he wanted or needed to talk to at this hour was worth interrupting these last short hours with Margie.

“Not getting that?” She shifted, ready to sit up.

“No, I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, just holding her for the longest time, then drifting his hand over her, tracing his fingertips over her belly and up, over the faint texture change of her scar.

He leaned up on his elbow, looking over her beautiful body. The scar that so distressed her blazed a stern reminder how quickly life could change. He laid his palm over her heart, feeling the steady healthy beat. He tried to imagine never having met Margie. His breath caught on the ragged ache.

She laid her hand over his, question filling her eyes.

Right. Put tomorrow off until tomorrow. You have time enough for now.

Right now he needed to leave her with as much love as he could. Needed to seal these memories between them, to take them with him, to leave her remembering the pleasure of them together. Needed to show her again how lovely she was to him. How perfect. He touched his lips to hers, swept with relief as she welcomed his kiss with a hungry sigh.

Much later, she stirred in his arms. “I need to go home. It’s late.” She slipped from his embrace and from his bed.

“I know.”

Unable to ignore the hour any longer, nothing remained to say or do but pull on his shorts and follow her out to her car. They shared a silent, somber goodnight kiss at the open door of her car.

Despite the churning ache in his chest that nagged at him to say something to fix this, there wasn’t much more that could be said, was there? Heck, he loved her. They’d figure out this whole thing. Couples handled long-distance relationships all the time. Look at Nate and Kay, not even in the same country most of the last five years. This was simply another equation to solve. He would figure out the balance. Logic said this wasn’t the end, but that didn’t stop the feeling he’d failed. Unfortunately, matters of the heart held nothing a judicious audit could analyze. Nothing the logic of numbers could explain. He’d missed something important, and now things were falling apart.

“Goodnight. I’ll come back in the morning to see you off. “

“Come for breakfast, please?”
Come with me, please!
But he wouldn’t ask again.

“I’d like that.”

“Goodnight. I love you.” Crap. Could he sound any more desperate? His grip on the door tightened painfully.

Hell, you are desperate.

Her smile trembled. “Love you too. See you in the morning.” She ducked quickly into the car and he shut her door.

He stood there on the driveway as she drove off, waiting until her taillights had long faded into the night before heading in. His gut twisted a knot the sight of the For Sale sign at the road and that made no sense. He should be relieved at their good progress in readying this place for sale.

Packing was a short chore, even with the extra bag of stuff he’d collected over the past weeks and the letters to Grandma Loretta from Nico.

He read through each again. No answers to that mystery yet or why the guy felt somehow familiar. Heck, Nico probably resembled some actor on television. But how could she run away with Nico in July and yet marry Will in September? And Dad was born that following April. He’d gone his whole life without noticing the discrepancy between his grandparents’ anniversary and Dad’s birthday.

His stomach rolled. Maybe the crueler rumors about Loretta held more truth than Taylor believed. Maybe she did run around. Maybe Taylor had lied to cover up being more involved with her than simply old childhood friends. Maybe she was involved with Will
and
Nico? They only had Nico’s side of the love affair. Were Nico’s letters left behind because she’d chosen Will?

That was probably the logical reason.

The knot in his gut tightened. He was being disloyal to her memory, to the grandmother he loved. Those ugly rumors had to be false.

He retied the ribbon, and tucked the bundle in his suitcase.

Finished packing for now, he stripped and stretched out on the bed. The sheets held Margie’s scent, so no surprise sleep evaded him, but he refused to open his computer and work. His head was too full of Margie with or without her scent on the sheets to concentrate, so he might as well make his frustration complete and wallow in the happier sensual memories.

The quiet night settled around him. A breeze rustled the trees outside and stirred the curtains, wandering through the room to brush faint and cool over his skin.

He’d miss the country quiet.

He’d miss this place. Somehow, the old dump had become home.

Crazy. He should be looking forward to getting back to his apartment where everything was tidy, nothing was falling apart, and he could focus on his work without getting distracted by the crumbling old house or ancient family history.

But even looking forward to restored calm routine couldn’t keep his mind off how empty his arms and his bed were without Margie.

You got attached. You knew better and you screwed up anyway. Getting attached to things screws you over every time.

Tomorrow was going to suck. He glanced at the clock. Make that today already.

He groaned and tossed over to his back.

The coffee was waiting and he was dressed, packed, and car loaded when Margie arrived, Penny tagging at her heels. She walked through the kitchen doorway, straight into his arms, and they just held each other wordlessly. Penny quietly curled up on the kitchen rug.

The coffeemaker coughed a hissing gurgle.

He nuzzled a kiss to her cheek and caressed his hands over her back, searching for the impetus to let her go. “Ready for some coffee? Let’s have some breakfast.”

She nodded against his chest.

Although they already had thoroughly discussed plans for finishing off clearing the house and readying the place for showing, they reviewed everything once again over toast and scrambled eggs.

“I want you to have the writing desk and lamp. They’re not near enough to say thanks for all your help and work...”

“I helped because I wanted to. I enjoyed it.”

“Still, I know how you liked them and you said how you wanted a real desk of your own.”

“Thanks. I’d love to use them for my writing.” She gave a watery smile before pushing at the cooling remains of her eggs with a point of toast.

“I just wish I’d had time to work on the third floor.” He bit back his worry about her tackling stuff too heavy. She was enthusiastic, but careful. He trusted she’d be sensible. “Thanks for finding those two boys to do the heavy work.”

“No problem. I’ll crack the whip on them as soon as they get home from camp. They’re real excited about earning the money. I’ll keep you posted on what we find, so you can make decisions.”

“I trust you to make the decisions on what to keep.” To his surprise, no lingering worries followed in the wake of that statement. He trusted her.

Hah, see, you can delegate.

“There’s thunderstorms in the forecast.”

“My flight should be off the ground before then. Nothing to worry about.”