The Man She Left Behind (26 page)
Read The Man She Left Behind Online
Authors: Janice Carter
The hike was a good idea, she decided once she was under way. She needed to be alone, to think about everything that had happened in two short weeks.
Two weeks!
She’d managed to be reunited with an old boyfriend, her birth mother and a former best friend.
Two weeks!
She’d managed to be reunited with an old boyfriend, her birth mother and a former best friend.
Well, she amended, make that not quite a reunion but a patching up. Leigh stopped to catch her breath at the top of a dune that had been man-made years ago and was the highest point on Ocracoke. She could see the ocean on both sides of the island.
Is that Sam’s cottage to the north?
Losing Sam had been the worst part about coming home. Yet she was grateful to have had a chance to see and talk to him again. Leigh dug into her pack for the water bottle, took a long swallow and continued toward the shoreline beyond the salt marshes. She passed a section of fence that enclosed the ponies and peered through it, catching a glimpse of two standing dejectedly in the pitiful shade of a juniper tree. They were a hardy race of animals, however, accustomed to the tough wild grasses and brackish water of the Sound. When she reached the shore of Pamlico Sound, Leigh found a gnarled hunk of driftwood beneath a bush. If she crouched, she’d have enough shade to keep the sun from her.
Losing Sam had been the worst part about coming home. Yet she was grateful to have had a chance to see and talk to him again. Leigh dug into her pack for the water bottle, took a long swallow and continued toward the shoreline beyond the salt marshes. She passed a section of fence that enclosed the ponies and peered through it, catching a glimpse of two standing dejectedly in the pitiful shade of a juniper tree. They were a hardy race of animals, however, accustomed to the tough wild grasses and brackish water of the Sound. When she reached the shore of Pamlico Sound, Leigh found a gnarled hunk of driftwood beneath a bush. If she crouched, she’d have enough shade to keep the sun from her.
Dropping the pack at her feet, she stretched out her legs and used her heels to lever her sneakers off her feet. Then she leaned over and pulled off her socks, wriggling her toes in satisfaction. It was midtide and the narrow beach, littered with clumps of dried eel grass and waving strands of beach grass, was alive with ghost crabs, sand hoppers and an assortment of shorebirds.
Leigh unbuttoned her denim cutoffs and loosened the zipper. She looked up and down the shore, but this part of the marsh jutted in and out in tiny sheltered coves fringed by bushes and other vegetation. Confident of privacy, Leigh yanked off her sweaty tank top and flung it aside. She pulled up her one-piece suit quickly, found the tube of sunscreen and lathered it all over her shoulders and back. Then she replaced the baseball cap on her head and waded into the shallow water.
It was warm, but still cooler than the sun and sand. She pranced back and forth, flicking sprays of water up into the air. Refreshed, but not completely cooled, Leigh ran farther into the surf and flung herself into the gently curling waves. She’d always been a skilled swimmer, and growing up on the island had instilled in her a healthy respect for riptides and undertows.
Leigh came up for air, rolled over and swam to shore. Wading through the shallows again, she pulled out the wet fabric of her suit, realizing she hadn’t thought to bring a towel, but decided the sultry air would do the job quickly enough.
When she reached the shore, Leigh strolled along it to look for shells or interesting bits of driftwood. But the pastime she’d enjoyed so much as a child no longer held quite the same fascination. Or maybe it was simply that Spencer’s face kept drifting before her mind’s eye.
Leigh gathered up her things. She’d wear her wet bathing suit home, rather than carry it in her pack. On the way through the edge of the marsh and across the dunes leading to Windswept Manor, she went over a possible scenario for meeting Spencer again.
Their tiff over his investigation of Janet seemed almost silly now. Leigh didn’t understand why she’d gotten so upset. Perhaps the idea that he’d done something so important without consulting her. Or perhaps her faith in Janet was indeed too trusting, as Spence had suggested. By the time she reached the center of the island, she’d decided to find Spencer and apologize. If she turned toward the harbor, she could find out if he was home. If he wasn’t home, she’d simply turn back. The beauty of Ocracoke’s smallness ensured that all distances were relatively short.
Yet by the time she’d reached the hummock of wild grass overlooking the tiny enclave where Spencer’s house was, Leigh was ready for another swim. Wearing the bathing suit had kept her cool, but had also exposed her to mosquitos, scratches from the sharp edges of the grass and assorted scrapes from other bushes. The V at the front of her suit glistened with sweat, and tendrils of hair clung to the nape of her neck.
Everything at Spencer’s looked closed and empty. Perhaps he and Jamie were at Sam’s, packing up his things. Down the hummock in four long strides, she passed Spence’s picnic table and dilapidated barbecue and headed along the side of the house to the front. The pickup sat in the driveway.
Leigh stopped, suddenly doubting her common sense. Why hadn’t she just gone home and telephoned him?
Janet,
she thought.
That’s why.
Janet,
she thought.
That’s why.
Spencer was crouched at the rear of the truck. Leigh hesitated, then marched alongside the truck and stood behind him as he tinkered with one of the tires.
He almost fell over when she said, “Hi, Spence,” but recovered quickly, bracing himself against the truck bumper as he stood up.
He looked her up and down before finding his voice. “Where did you come from? Or are you a mirage?”
“No mirage, unless they come with scratches and mosquito bites.”
He still seemed dazed. “Were you at the beach?” he asked, referring to the public beach near the Creek.
“No, I came from the marsh.” Leigh gestured with her head behind her.
“You were walking around the marsh in a bathing suit? No wonder you’re all covered in—” he scanned her legs, his eyes pausing briefly midway up and then stopping at chest level “—bites.”
Leigh wished she’d pulled on her tank top and shorts.
He managed to raise his eyes a bit higher then, squinting at her. “Is something wrong? Is that why you’ve walked over here, instead of driving or calling?”
“I went for a walk and a swim in that part of the marsh where Jen and I used to play. Remember? Behind my place? I was on my way home when I...well, I thought I’d like to see you.”
She set her backpack down on the truck’s bumper and zipped it open. “It’s too sunny. I’d better put on my shirt.”
“Why don’t we go round back in the shade,” he suggested. Cupping her elbow in his hand, he grabbed the pack and led her along the narrow path beside the house. Then he handed her the pack. “Put your shirt on if you like. I’ll go get a couple of chairs.”
“Look, I shouldn’t have come. You’re busy. We can arrange another time.”
He stepped close to her, so close the front of his short-sleeved shirt brushed against her damp suit. “Leigh.”
His voice was hoarse and sounded strained. He didn’t take his eyes off hers, but raised his hand to her shoulder and deftly flicked off the strap of her bathing suit. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Coming out of the marsh like some kind of...of...”
“Swamp monster?”
He shook his head, letting his gaze drift down the hollow of her neck and to the moist darkness at the V of her suit. “More like goddess,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss the swelling of her breasts.
Leigh gasped. A rush of heat shot through her, and when his hand slipped off the other suit strap, she arched back. Her breasts tumbled loose from the suit and she heard his groan of pleasure as he cupped a hand around one and planted his mouth on the other. When he got down on one knee, moving his mouth in a line from breast to navel, she clutched his hair to stop him.
“No, Spence. Please. Not here. Jamie...”
He froze, waited a moment and then stood, pulling her to his chest. She could feel his desire. Finally, in a voice thick with frustration, he said, “Jamie’s not here. We have to be in court again day after tomorrow. I let him go to a movie in Hatteras to thank him for his behavior yesterday. But you’re right. Inside is safer.”
Leigh lifted the straps of her suit. She fumbled in her pack for the tank top, which she quickly pulled over her head. When she turned around, Spencer looked disappointed.
“I should get back,” she explained. “I really came here to talk to you—to tell you how sorry I was for treating you so badly at Sam’s funeral reception.” The expression in his face changed to puzzlement. “I was hiding in the bathroom when you were looking for me,” she admitted.
He slumped onto the bench of the picnic table. She sat down on the edge next to him. “Why?” he finally asked.
She took a deep breath, sensing how lame the whole explanation would sound. “I’d just had a little chat with Jen and I was feeling...bad. I couldn’t face you.”
“What did she say?”
“A lot of stuff. Most of it self-serving. Some of it had to do with the mix-up about the prom. I guess it was her way of apologizing.”
“Apologizing?”
“About throwing away the note.”
“The note you told me about the other night? The one you gave Mary Ann?”
Leigh nodded.
“I might have known Jen was involved somehow. She was always so manipulative.”
Leigh paused, then said, “She also told me how she kept you occupied while I waited for you at the lighthouse.”
Spencer turned toward her. “I want you to know that was the only time I ever... You were the first one, Leigh. The first woman I ever made love to. Don’t look at me like that. It’s true. I know about all the rumors in the village. There were lots of girls around before I fell in love with you, but you were the very first one I ever actually made love to.”
“And then there was Jen.”
He rubbed his hands into his face and sighed. “Then there was Jen. I guess I should explain myself, but frankly,” he said, turning back to her, “I can’t. I fell for the oldest seduction in the book. As far as I knew, you no longer wanted me.”
“And Jen was right there offering comfort.”
He shook his head slowly, as if he could scarcely believe it himself.
Leigh placed her hand on his arm. “Spencer, it was a long time ago. We were all very foolish—proud and stubborn. Let’s close the book on the whole thing. Right now.”
Spencer clutched her hand in his, staring intently into her face. “Do you mean it, Leigh? Can you do that?”
She had to smile at his earnest expression. “I do. You know, saying that makes me feel so...light. So good!”
Spencer put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “And I can’t tell you how great it feels to hear you say that. Put the past behind. Work on the present.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Hope for the future.”
The future. Leigh thought of Janet, waiting for her at home.
Unfinished business yet.
“About the future—” she began.
Unfinished business yet.
“About the future—” she began.
He silenced her with his lips. “A second chance, Leigh,” he whispered. “That’s all I want.” His fingers began to stroke her neck, working their way down the column of her throat. His mouth nibbled around the curve of her chin.
Leigh put up her hand, halting his hand from further exploration. He raised his head, a question in his eyes.
“Janet’s come back,” she murmured.
He dropped his arm from her shoulders so he could turn right around to face her. “When?”
“She arrived sometime this morning before I was awake.”
“And?”
“And what?” she asked, playing dumb.
“Did you confront her with the phony-name thing?”
“Yes. She said she changed her name years ago to escape an abusive husband.”
“Bull!”
“Why is it? Things like that happen all the time.”
“That’s why it’s so damn convenient for her. She can pull out a ready-made story.”
Leigh stood up and reached for her pack. “I don’t understand why you’re so biased against her. What does she have to do to prove to you she’s my mother?”
His eyes narrowed. “You tell me what concrete proof she’s been able to give you, Leigh. Come on. One thing.”
She hoisted the pack onto her shoulders. She was so upset she was trembling. “I’ve gone through all this with you, Spence. Weren’t you listening? The blanket? The story about my name? She even has a photo of herself with me the day she gave me up.”
That stopped him for a second. Then he countered, “How can you tell it was you? All baby pictures look the same.”
“Brother! I can’t believe we’re getting into this again.”
“Because it hasn’t been resolved, Leigh. You have to decide what you’re going to do about her.”
“She
must
be my mother. Where else could she have gotten those stories?”
must
be my mother. Where else could she have gotten those stories?”
He shrugged. “Everyone in Ocracoke probably knows those tales.”
“They’re not tales,” she argued. “They’re all I have to connect me to my real mother.”
“Ellen was your real mother.”
Leigh went still. When she spoke, her voice was dead calm. “This isn’t about Ellen or Pete. Please don’t imply that they’ll ever be... supplanted by anyone. If they were here, they’d be encouraging me.”
“I’m sorry, Leigh. I didn’t mean your love for them wouldn’t be the same. Gawd!” He stood up, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Just don’t lose track of people who love you. Listen to me. Please!”
“I am listening,” she whispered. She felt her chin tremble. Tears filled her eyes and she averted her face, pretending to fiddle with the strap of her pack. “Please, just let me worry about Janet Bradley. I’ll sort everything out.” She waited, then cracked, “I won’t change my will in her favor or anything.”
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