The House on the Shore (56 page)

The house was still.

Her spirit
s sank even lower.

Not knowing what else to do, she walked along the veranda
that wrapp
ed around the side of the house
and looked out over the beach to the ocean,
to
where the Atlantic rollers thundered ashore in a froth of white water.
Soft white clouds drifted
overhead
and the
beach grass
sway
ed in the light onshore breeze.

The beach was empty save for a solitary figure throwing sticks for a pair of Labradors to chase.
She thought of Ensay and Rhona back home in Scotland, and
realized
how much she missed them.
They wo
uld have loved it here.

Lonely and homesick, she slipped off her shoes and stepped down on to the beach.
She couldn’t face dri
ving back to the city just yet.

***

Luke threw his paintbrush down in frustration.
No matter what technique he tried, he couldn’t quite capture the old lighthouse at Long Point.
He looked at his Rolex.
Another half
h
our and the
light would be
gone
.
He packed up his paints and carefully removed the canvas from the easel, loading it, along with the rest of his gear, into the back of the SUV.

During the forty minutes drive from Provincetown back home to Chatham, he thought about his inability to paint.
Ever since returning from Scotland, he’d struggled to put oil to canvas.
It wasn’t as if he was short of ideas—he had plenty.
Not to mention sketches and photographs from which to work.
He just wasn’t satisfied with the work he produced.
It lacked the fire
,
the passion that his paintings were known for.

Luke turned into his driveway.
Yet another car was parked in front of his garage.
New York plates.
Despite the ‘private’ signs, another city slicker had evidently decided to use his driveway as a parking lot.
He really should have ordered those gates before the tourist season kicked off.

He unpacked his gear and carried it into the house, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.
The house was
way too big for just one person, b
ut he didn’t have the heart to sell
it, after spending so much time
and money restoring it to its former glory.
Pausing only to drop his coat over a chair, he climbed the staircase to
his studio in
the watchtower and gazed down on the beach.
Apart from his neighbour throwing sticks for his dogs and a woman with hair the colour of copper, the beach was deserted.
Tumbling copper-coloured curls…
Luke swung the telescope round and focus
ed on the figure
.

Anna shivered in the breeze.
In her nervousness, she’d left her coat in the car.
She rubbed her arms and carried on walking until she ran out of beach.
So much for her hopes of finding Luke at home.
There was nothing for her here.
The sooner she returned to Scotland, the sooner she could try and forget about
him
.
He obviously couldn’t forgive her for turning his proposal down and had decided to get on with his life.

If only she could do the same.

Head bowed, her face pale and pinched, she turned and walked back along the sand.

The screa
m of a seagull pierced the air.

Lifting her head, she squinted into the late afternoon sun.
Without warning, memories of Luke, as she’d seen him that first day, came pouring back.
His easy stride,
h
is tall, athletic body.
His smile.
His laugh.

A lone figure walked towards her.
With the sun behind him, he was
no more than a tall silhouette
.

“Luke!”

She ran then, her feet scarcely leaving footprints in the sand.
When she reached him, she was breathless.
All she could do was stand and stare
, h
er emerald eyes ful
l of love, longing
,
and hope.

“You’re here,” she finally said.
“I thought…I knocked and there was no answer.”

His smile was glorious.
“I was out painting.
What are you doing here?”

“I came to return your painting
,
the one you bought in Bar Harbor.”

“There was no need to go to all that trouble.”

“I disagree.
I’ve…” Anna’s breath caught in her throat.

“You’ve what?”

She could bring herself to say it, instead she told him.
“I finished the book.
It’s going to be published
early next
year.
I’
ve
sign
ed
a contract for a three book deal.”

“So you’ve
realized
your ambition.”

“Yes.”

“Was it worth all the effort and pain?”

“Pain?”

“Yes.
You gave up your home, your job
,
and your boyfriend
.
R
emember?
What was his name?”

“Mark.
You mean
,
Mark?”

“Yeah.
Th
at guy.
Seen him lately?”

“Not since I told him to leave that day at the croft.
Why do you ask?”

“No reason.
You must be tired if you drove down from New York today.
Especially on the wrong side of the road.”

“I figured it out as I went along.”

“You look really good, Anna”

She winced.
“So do you.
This place suits you.”

His hair was longer than she remembered, and
slightly greyer
.
The wind tossed it around.
He brushed it out of his eyes.
“Where are you staying?”

“I don’t know.
I hadn’t thought about it.
”

“You don’t have a lot of choices round here.
There’s the Wayside Inn or The Captain’s House.
Both are
okay
.
Would you like to come up to house?
I’ll make coffee.”

“I
f it’s no trouble.”

“
It’s not.
How’s Morag
?
I
s she better?”

“Yes.
She walks with a slight limp, but doesn’t need crutches.
W
hat’s more, she’s pregnant!
I’m going to be a Godmother.”

They turned and walked
side-by-side
towards the house.
He nodded heartily.
“That’s great.
I’m happy for her and Lachlan.
And how are the dogs?”

“They’re fine.
They’re staying with Morag and Lachlan.
They
purchased
Home Farm from the bank
with the compensation they received for Morag’s accident.”

“
The dog
s
would
love it here.”

Tears welled in her eyes
.
“Yes, I imagine they would.”

Luke held open the porch door.
“Come on in.
I think you’ll like the place
, but I’m biased.”

The interior of the house was decorated in the same pastel shades of cream, white and
sea-green
.
Two leather sofas stood at right angles to the huge stone fireplace.
Anna followed him through to t
he brightly lit modern kitchen.

“You have a beautiful home, Luke.”
She took at seat at the breakfast bar.

“Thanks.
You still take your coffee with cream, no sugar?”

“Yes, thank you.
H
ow’s Kate?”

He stopped stirring her coffee.
“Kate?
Man.
I hadn’t thought about her in ages.
She’s long gone.
She ran off with a surfer from California while I was away.
Got fed up of calling and finding no one here.
No patience at all, that girl.”

“I see.”

“I
s
the painting
the
only reason you dropped by?”

Anna blushed.
“No.
Yes.
I mean—”

“It doesn’t matter.”
He came round to her side of the counter and took her hands in his.
“You’re all I care about.
I’ve missed you
so much
.
Climbing aboard Sandpiper and sailing out of Loch Hourn was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I knew if I’d f
orced you to come with me, you would hate
me for it.
I couldn’t have that on my conscience.”

“Oh
,
Luke, I’ve missed you too.”
Shocked by her own driving need, she clung to him.

“I
’ve
wanted to call
and
writ
e
, but I wasn’t sure where t
o send the letters, or if you w
ere still living at the croft.”

“I am.”

“Later, when I got your letter—well, just let’s say my pride got in the way.”

“I was wrong to send you away
,
Luke
.
But don’t you
understand
?
The book wasn’t my only reason for turning you down.”

“
I know, but
you finished it
, all the same.
And you’re happy about it?”

“I am.”

“I have to tell you,
for a while
I
wondered whether
our age
difference
had something to do with why
you found it
so easy to let me go.”

“It wasn’t easy, Luke.
I just told you that.”

“I’m forty-three, Anna.
Ten years older than you.
Is that too much?”

“
Age has
nothing to do with it.”

“
But you had more concerns than the book, didn’t you?”

“
I had to be sure Kate meant nothing to you.
That you weren’t like Mark—that I could trust
you.
Can you ever forgive me?”

“I never stopped loving you, Anna.”
His kiss was slow, t
houghtful, and full of passion.

“I love you too, Luke.
I have since the first day you knocked at my door.”

“I can’t live without you.
Tell me you’re here to stay.”

“I
f you want me to
.”

Luke pulled her against him, his strong arms encircling her waist.
“Anna, will you marry me?”

The woman in his arms smiled radiantly.
“Yes.
”

“In that case, love, I have an idea.”

“Which is?”

“What do you think about spending your honeymoon sailing back to Scotland on Sandpiper to collect those dogs of yours?”

“Good idea,” she said.
“But first you need to give me a proper tour of this wonderful house.
It’s going to be my home too, after all.”

“Makes sense.
Where would you like to start?”

She laughed and kissed the base of his throat.
“Why,
the master bedroom, of course.”

“I think that can be arranged.
Just bear in mind, if we start our tour there, you might not see much of the house for a while.”

“Quite a while, I should hope.”

“Quite a while,” he smiled.

THE END

As a writer, I’m often asked where I get my ideas.
When I set out to write this, my second novel, I knew, having spent twenty years living on a croft
in the Highlands
, that I had to set it in Scotland.