The Summer's End (35 page)

T
he following day, Harper didn't see the shops she passed along Highway 17 or the gated communities nor the long stretch of longleaf pines in the Marion National Forest. As she drove north to McClellanville, her mind was going full speed, caught up in a maelstrom of emotions and thoughts. She'd left Carson in her room alone. She couldn't bear to stay there while her sister read her book. It was too personal.

Harper squeezed her hands on the steering wheel and thought again of her advice to Carson—
now's the time you need to hold on to Blake.
It was high time she took her own advice.

The light turned red and Harper brought the Jeep to a stop, shifting the gears easily. She remembered her terror when she'd purchased the Jeep and realized it was manual transmission. Immediately she'd panicked. Why hadn't she believed she could do it?

As soon as she asked the question, she knew the answer. Fear. Fear of failure. Fear of not being perfect. Fear was at the root of her problems. The bedrock of her timidity.

The light turned green and Harper took off again. She was driving through a remote section of the vast Francis Marion Forest. As the miles passed beneath her humming wheels, her anger percolated. What kind of a sick mother would threaten to cut her child off? she wondered. Mamaw never cut off Parker, not even at his worst. Wasn't that the unconditional love a mother was supposed to feel for her child? Did unconditional love even exist, or was it just another fairy tale?

She'd read books on family dynamics ad nauseam. She couldn't even count the books she'd read about mother-daughter relationships. A lot of them waxed poetic about a mother's unconditional love. A love that knew no bounds. She'd never forget what Erich Fromm wrote. How a mother's love
need not be acquired, it need not be deserved.

“Right,” she muttered bitterly, never having felt that innocent, peaceful assurance of her mother's love.

Cutting the cord between her and her mother hadn't been as difficult as she'd thought it would be. She'd always envisioned that someday she'd go off on her own, but she saw now that was another fairy tale. For far too long it'd been so easy to accept the money handed to her, to live in a gilded cage. Like the child her mother had called her.

At last she came to the blinking light that signaled Pinckney Street. Harper had plugged Taylor's address—which she'd found easily enough, after a quick Google search—into her phone's GPS. She'd never have remembered this turn without it. Flicking her signal, she turned off the highway toward
McClellanville, remembering the long and foliage-tunneled road toward the sea.

She drove through the few blocks of town, then turned on Oak Street and stopped at a driveway bordered by a clump of tall, leggy shrubs. She checked the address. This was it. The dirt drive was bordered by enormous live oaks dripping moss. Peeking out from the foliage sat a charming, if modest, white clapboard house with black shutters and a bright, cherry-red, sloping tin roof. Harper thought it was a vision from a classic southern painting. Two gable dormers adorned either side of the roof, and a wraparound porch embraced the house like loving arms. Jeremy Creek glistened in the sunlight behind the house.

She pulled into Taylor's driveway and spotted Thor lying on the porch. Immediately he raised his head. Harper turned off the ignition, aware the big dog was watching her every move. When she stepped out of the car, Thor immediately barked low and came trotting off the porch and across the yard, his dark eyes trained on her.

“Hey, Thor.” She stuck out her hand toward him.

Thor sniffed her hand, then nudged his head against her leg for a more vigorous rub. He began whining gently, then barking excitedly, his tail wagging. Harper was giddy to be welcomed so warmly.

“Thor, back,” Taylor called from the porch.

The dog responded immediately to the sharp command and backed off.

Taylor leaned over the railing and grinned with obvious pleasure at seeing her. He immediately hustled down the stairs and jogged toward her.

She saw in his expression all that she needed to know. Harper took off at a run toward him, arms out. She ran into his arms and he lifted her in the air and twirled her around. When he set her down, his face drew near to hers and their heated breaths mingled, his lips against hers.

“You're here.” He buried his hands in her hair and bent to kiss her. He kissed her cheeks, her hair, her eyes, her ears, nibbling softly, then finally her lips.

Harper broke from the kiss and looked up at him, eyes shining. “I'm home.”

Once again Harper was on board the
Miss Jenny.
She and Taylor had spent the last hour belowdecks in the stateroom, taking their time making love. While the boat gently rocked, Harper felt treasured in his strong arms, safe. He whispered her name over and over like a litany of prayer, and she responded with sighs. She wanted it to go on forever.

Afterward he held her close. She felt the stubble of his chin against her tender cheek and his breath at her ear.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Taylor asked.

Harper felt her chest constrict, not wanting the seductive, peaceful mood that always fell over her and Taylor on board the
Miss Jenny
to be destroyed.

Taylor, sensing her swift change of mood, moved over her body to face her on the narrow bed. His gaze was searching. “Are you all right?”

“No. Not really.”

“What's happened?” He was suddenly alert.

“I've so much to tell you, I don't know where to begin.”

“My daddy always said begin at the beginning.”

She laughed lightly. “Then I guess it all began the moment I decided to buy Sea Breeze.”

She told it all. She released the entire story in a gush of words, like a floodgate opened, sparing him no details from the moment Devlin arrived at Sea Breeze with the offer on the house, to joining her sisters on the dock, to her decision to buy the house, to Mamaw's delighted reaction and Georgiana's vitriolic one, ending with her threat to cut off Harper's inheritance if she didn't comply with Georgiana's demands.

Taylor turned to lie on his back and laced his hands behind his head. “So, I guess you're not an heiress any longer.”

“Sadly, no. I'm broke.”

“Well, kiddo”—he slapped her bottom teasingly—“nice knowing you.”

She threw a pillow at his face. His hand whipped up to catch it first. He spun around and tackled her back on the bed, pinning her under his arms.

Harper and Taylor burst out laughing. He kissed her lips soundly, then pulled Harper up to his chest so she could snuggle against him. Once settled, Taylor took her hand in his and played with her fingers.

“I'm glad you came to me. I want you to always feel you can.”

“I do. I will.”

A smile played at his lips. “You really told your mother you were going to stay here? Look for a job in Charleston?”

“Yes.”

She felt his chest rise and fall. “Good.”

“But I have to be realistic. I'm not kidding when I said I'm broke. I've been spending recklessly all summer and my checking account is low.”

“Hey, if what you paid me is causing you trouble, you can have it back.”

“You don't take money from damsels in distress?”

“No, ma'am.”

She reached up to pat his cheek. “My hero,” she said teasingly.

“I'm not joking. I don't need your money. I never will.”

“I'll be okay.” She patted his chest. “It's just that I'd always depended on the check from my trust fund. The money was always there. I never questioned it. But now that my mother is cutting me off, I've woken up to the fact that I have no safety cushion.”

“You have me.”

She heard the words. Was comforted by them. “Yes, but I don't want to fall back on depending on someone to take care of me. Not that I don't appreciate it,” she hurriedly added. “It's more that I want a measure of independence. At long last. I don't even have a job.”

“Yet.”

“Let's be serious. How long will it take me to get one? Carson's been searching all summer for something in her field and hasn't found anything. I'm an editor. There aren't that many positions open in my field. Add to that, I'll have to move from Sea Breeze soon.”

“Those are just excuses. Not reasons for leaving.”

“They're not excuses. They're fact.” She played with the hairs on his chest. “I've been thinking . . . I may have to go back to New York.”
She felt his breathing stop. “Just long enough to save some money,” she rushed to add. “And apply for a job here. I need to buy some time.”

“No,” he said firmly. “If you go back, even for a day, your mother will get her claws into you and keep you there. She'll never let you come back.”

“She won't do anything of the sort.”

“You won't come back. You'll get involved in your job. Maybe you'll meet someone new.”

“It won't be like that.”

“Are you willing to take the chance?”

A labored sigh was her answer.

“Don't leave, Harper.” Taylor held her tight, his eyes pleading, his voice husky. “Stay.”

“Taylor . . .”

Taylor shifted to sit in front her. He pulled her upright as well. She quickly brought the sheet up to cover her nakedness. Across from her, Taylor's bare shoulders and chest were as broad and imposing as a mountain.

“Please. Look at me.”

When she dragged her gaze to his, they connected.

His sea-green eyes were turbulent with emotion. “I know fear. All too well. I faced life and death over and over. People claim that's courage. But that was the easy part compared to what I had to face when I came home. I learned that real courage is facing your fears. It takes guts to face and defeat your fear—or be defeated by it.” He put his hands along her cheeks, holding her head so she couldn't look away. “Harper, I know what you're afraid of. What you're afraid to admit. You want to be a writer, don't you?”

She stared into Taylor's eyes. Her answer was welling up inside her. One that, until now, she'd been led to believe was trivial, unrealistic, and, worse, self-destructive. One she'd kept hidden.

“Yes.”

“Then write.”

Harper's heart was in her throat. “I've been writing. All summer.”

“Exactly.” He half smiled. “I seem to recall you saying that your writing was better here than anywhere else.”

“True.” Tears threatened. “I feel safe here.”

His gaze rekindled. “I promise you, with me, you have nothing to fear. Not ever.”

She pulled back, tucking the sheet higher up over her breasts. “You're asking me to put all my trust in you. To risk everything, my job, my inheritance, to stay here with you. Tell me, Taylor, why I should do that?”

Two deep furrows lined his brows as he looked steadily into her eyes. “Because I love you.”

She felt her breath leave her. He'd said the words. Spoke aloud the one reason that could keep her here.

He stared back at her, his eyes vulnerable, waiting.

“I love you, too.”

Taylor's eyes filled with resolution. He reached up to gently wipe the tears from her face. “I know this is fast. Maybe crazy. We've only known each other a few weeks. But it feels like I've known you forever.” He looked at her fingers entwined with his and released a quick smile. “You were right. I confess. I knew the moment I first set eyes on you that you were the one for me.
It just took my jaded heart a while to admit it.” He looked up at her. “I'm not as brave as you.”

His words washed over her like a summer storm, rinsing away her fears, her doubts. In that moment Harper realized that there was indeed such a thing as unconditional love. A love that knew no bounds and was never ending, because that was how she felt for Taylor.

“I don't have a lot of money. I'm just starting a new job. I don't even have a ring. All that will come later. We have time to work out the details. I just don't want to lose you. It doesn't matter to me if your mother cuts you off. All I want is
you.
”