All of Me (2 page)

Nerves swam in her belly at this new venture. She’d never left Charlotte before. She’d never left her parents’ house and lived on her own. At twenty-seven years old, if she didn’t do it now, she never would. The opportunity was perfect. The Covingtons were matching her old salary at St. Ambrose, and accommodations were included. She wondered what it would be like, living alone. Probably no different than home.

She sighed and stood. It was time to let go, and in doing so, maybe her parents would, too. She’d been stuck in this rut for too long, not moving forward because she feared her parents needed her presence. But that was her own wishful thinking.

Faith doubted they’d notice she was gone.

She closed her bedroom door behind her, as her parents preferred it, and stopped outside Hope’s room. Her bedroom door was always open, as if their parents expected her to one day return. But Hope was never coming back. If not for the silence and disappointment etched in her parents’ eyes, Faith would assume she was the only one who knew that.

She didn’t know why she did it, but she stepped just inside the doorway of her sister’s room. Unlike her own, splashes of color were everywhere. The walls were a fading rose, the bedspread a deep lavender, the curtains navy blue and homemade. It would seem like a mismatch to anyone who hadn’t known Hope. The wood of the dresser, shelves, and bed
was painted a moss green. Pictures of Hope adorned every nook and cranny. Stuffed animals were neatly lined up on the bed.

The room hadn’t changed in years. A thin layer of dust coated the dresser to her right. For a fleeting moment, Faith considered writing her name in the dust, but shook away the impulse.

Descending the stairs, she moved past her luggage stacked by the front door and made her way into the living room. It resembled any other family room in small-town America: powder-blue walls, country-style plaid couches in cream and navy, plush beige carpet, and a white mantel with family portraits.

The pictures drew her eye. She inspected the photos in their mismatched frames, feeling like a spectator in her own house. Her parents after they brought Hope home from the hospital. Hope, cheerleading at a homecoming game. Hope, posing in her senior prom dress, her many friends gathered at her side. They’d all shaved their heads, too, to match Hope’s. The last picture was Hope and Faith sharing a hospital bed after a treatment.

That was the only photo Faith was in. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear it was a shrine to Hope’s memory, but the mantel had always held these reminiscences, or ones like it, since Faith was a toddler. If Faith wasn’t next to Hope in a picture, she wasn’t displayed.

She tried to draw bitterness from deep inside, allow herself to grow angry, but neither emotion would come. Because she knew her place in this family, always had. Knew why she was conceived. And it wasn’t for a photo on the mantel.

From the other room, the murmurs of her parents’ conversation rose. A quick glance at the clock told her they were sitting down to dinner. Five-thirty on the button, every evening. They’d started without her. Not the first time.

Faith’s plan was to eat with them and then hit the road, but her stomach clenched and she didn’t think she’d be able to
keep anything down. Still, she should try. Their last remaining child was leaving home. Surely they’d want some time together first, to talk about her new adventure and wish her luck. They must be giving her time to finish packing.

When she stepped into the kitchen, her parents were standing by the small oak table, their backs to her. Faith glanced at the stove. The casserole dish, which had been used to bake chicken and vegetables, was empty.

Mom had only made enough for two.

Her chest grew tight, and she tried to inhale a deep breath, yet tears burned her eyes anyway. Tears. She hadn’t cried in ages. Such a useless action.

Mortified, she took in the familiar kitchen to level her emotions. White pine cupboards, green tile counters, checkered laminate floor, fruit bowl next to the wine rack. Faith never drank wine. Maybe she should start.

When she felt more in control, she cleared her throat and walked over to the table. The years had been kind to her mother. Her wavy brown hair, which once trailed down her back, was cut in a bob and interlaced with gray, giving her a distinguished look. Because she’d been a stickler for healthy eating, her lean, lithe frame resembled that of someone much younger. Until you looked in her eyes.

Her dad turned to look at her, by all accounts seeming confused. He had stormy hazel eyes, just like Hope’s, and thick white hair that had once been chestnut, like Faith’s. He, too, had remained in fit shape, though his shoulders sagged as often as his smile.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I . . . just wanted to say good-bye.”

It dawned on her, too late, that he’d thought she left already. Without a good-bye? Without a hug and kiss and
I’ll miss you
? If she’d been more rational, she would have remembered they didn’t hug or kiss in her family. Not anymore.

“Should I make you a sandwich for the road?” Her mother didn’t meet her gaze, but her tone was as formal and
polite as always. Like she was speaking to a member of the choir instead of her daughter. “I got a pound of that shaved turkey you like.”

Faith didn’t care for turkey. That had been Hope’s favorite. “Thank you, but I’ll be okay. I had a late lunch.”

“Well, drive safely,” Dad said. He opened his arms to offer her an awkward hug and wound up patting her on the back instead. “Bye for now. Call us when you get there. Don’t forget to wear sunscreen. UV rays on the beach can be brutal.”

She wouldn’t know. She’d never been to the beach.

“Yes, do drive safely.” Mom’s focus returned to her meal as they both sat down. “Good-bye, Faith.”

She opened her mouth to say . . . something, but the words wedged in her throat when she realized that’s all she’d get. But what had she expected? A total personality change?

Slowly, she nodded her head.

A hot ball of pain burned in her stomach. She had walked through each room of the house before entering the kitchen, as if her brain knew this was a semipermanent good-bye, even if her heart held out hope. She’d wanted to take in the details of home so she could remember it, store away the visual in her mind’s memory box. It was a silly, fruitless notion. There was no imprint of her here.

“I love you,” she whispered, because she did. She’d loved them with the same childish heart that had dreamed of a way out. Or a way in.

“Back atcha,” Dad called.

Mom hummed her response, a cross between agreement and dismissal.

Without further ado, she walked down the hall and gathered her luggage by the front door. One suitcase held her books, a lovely escape she thoroughly enjoyed, and the other her clothes. There were two boxes of therapy materials in her car, and another box with cosmetics. Still, after twenty-seven years, there should be more to pack. More to a life than this.

Anxiety clawed at her throat. She could still tell Mia she
couldn’t accept the offer. She hadn’t signed a contract. Maybe she could get her old job back at St. Ambrose. A comfortable, albeit lonely, existence here had to be better than what was out there. What did she know about being out in the world? Failure loomed. Humiliation at every turn.

She surprised herself by opening the door, then paused. She strode over to the mantel, grabbed the picture of her and Hope, and left.

After dinner, Lacey and Jake had taken Alec on a tour of their new home. He was impressed. The original Covington beach house, just next door, where Mia and Cole resided, was right up there with the homes of crowned royalty. Lacey’s home was slightly more subdued, but still demonstrated the wealth she’d been born into. Because Lacey and Cole had broken up the estate, the lot she built on wasn’t overly wide, so she’d designed up.

Three floors of magazine-quality interior design. There were pale hardwood floors throughout. Each room was painted in a different shade of coastal pastels. The greens, browns, blues, and grays served as both masculine and feminine accents. Much more inviting than Alec’s gruesome apartment.

The main level had a living room with deep-cushioned corduroy couches, a floor-to-ceiling white brick fireplace, and black stained tables. The kitchen appliances were stainless steel, the counters white marble, and the cabinets mahogany. A long, polished kitchen table along the wall held a small
stack of newspapers and a bowl of keys. He pictured Lacey and Jake drinking coffee together there in the mornings. A small library and half bath finished things off.

The second level held four bedrooms, all with an accompanying bath, but the third floor rocked him back on his heels. There were wall-to-wall windows facing east, with a wondrous view of the ocean. Lacey had clearly set it up as her studio. Acrylic paint tubes, canvases, and brushes lay scattered over several tables. More than ten easels dotted the space. A small sink occupied a corner, along with a recliner that had seen much better days.

Alec raised his brows at the chair. “You still have that thing?”

Lacey wrapped her arms around Jake’s waist, her soft blond hair long enough to brush Jake’s hand as he held her arm in place. Her blue eyes lit with mischief. “He watches me paint from that chair.”

“Can’t get rid of Black Beard,” Jake said unapologetically. “It’s a staple.”

“It’s probably held together by staples.” Alec grinned. Jake had bought the recliner for his first apartment eight years ago. It should’ve been junked eight years ago. The fact that Lacey let him keep it said a lot about her.

They made their way back downstairs and onto the front porch, where Lacey and Jake sat side by side. The only thing not picture perfect was Lacey’s yard. There were several large holes in the lawn and various pieces of equipment lying around.

“What’s your plan for the landscape?”

Lacey settled into the crook of his brother’s arm and set the swing in motion. “Jake’s going to line the driveway with palms and Myrica. The base of the porch here will have mountain laurels. Since the mimosa grove separates Cole and Mia’s property from ours, we decided on dogwood trees where the holes are dug. We’ll line the side of the house and path around to the beach with wild oats and sea grass.”

Growing up with a father who owned a landscaping business, he knew what each of those plants was and could picture how the estate would look when finished. He approved. Alec also noted how Lacey always used the term “we” when referring to anything regarding the house. She’d already accounted for and accepted his brother in her life and home. It wasn’t
hers
, but
theirs
.

Some of his tension eased. They really did seem happy. Lacey was always touching Jake’s arm or shoulder or hand, and Jake never went more than thirty seconds without a smile or a glance at her. The princess and the gardener. Huh.

A car door closed in the distance. Between the neat rows of mimosa trees, a woman exited a white compact car and stared at Cole’s house. From this distance he couldn’t make out much more than shoulder-length reddish-brown hair and blue jeans.

He jerked his chin in her direction. “Who’s that?”

“Must be Faith Armstrong.” Jake shrugged.” Ginny’s private tutor. She’s supposed to be getting in from Charlotte today.”

Ginny being Mia’s sister. He hadn’t seen them since his teen years. He was pretty sure Ginny was still in diapers then. “I remember Ginny being quite a handful.”

Jake nodded. “She’s mellowed a lot. Mia’s great with her.”

He remembered that, too.

A teenage girl came bounding off the porch next door and jumped into the woman’s embrace, nearly toppling them both to the ground. His lips curved listening to Ginny’s laugher. Kid had a great laugh. Cole and Mia watched from the doorway. Their voices mingled with the roar of the tide, and he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“You’ll get to see them tomorrow,” Lacey said. “We’re going over there for lunch, if you’re up to it.”

“I’m up to it.”

She nodded. “We should get you settled into the guesthouse so you can write your next masterpiece.”

Alec kept his sarcastic comment to himself and grabbed his bags from the trunk. The guesthouse was on the south side of the property, nestled between several pine and palm trees. Close enough to the big house for access, but far enough to offer privacy. Inside, the kitchen and living room were separated by an island. White wainscoting lined the walls below a chair rail, and the space above was painted navy. Several seascape paintings and white leather furniture served as accents.

“The bedroom and bath are through there.” Jake pointed down a short hall. “There’s a desk in the bedroom. You can move it wherever you want.”

Alec nodded and glanced out the sliding glass door off the kitchen. The private beach was devoid of people. The waves left a white foam as they pounded the sand and retreated, and the sky began to darken with dusk, taking with it some of the heavy humidity. He had forgotten how beautiful Wilmington was at sunset.

If he couldn’t write here, he may as well find a new vocation.

“Is everything okay?” Lacey’s voice held a worried note. “Do you need anything?”

He forced a smile and turned from the view. “Nope. This is perfect. Thanks for the invitation.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “You just come up to the house if you need something. We stocked the fridge and cabinets. Well, Jake did. He knew what food you preferred—”

Alec grinned. “Thank you, Lacey. I’m good. I’m pretty easy to please, actually.”

Jake snorted. “Come on, honey. Let’s leave my brother to his brilliance.”

After they’d gone, Alec stepped out onto the back deck and braced his forearms on the railing. He breathed in salty air as some of the stress left his body. A soft, humid breeze blew in off the ocean, cooling his skin. He closed his eyes to listen to the surf and the gulls squawking as they skimmed the water, searching for fish.

It had been a long, long time since he’d felt this relaxed.
Now all he needed to do was channel that semblance of peace and get a story down.

When he opened his eyes, the newcomer from next door was standing in the surf on the other side of Cole’s property. Dark had descended at a leisurely pace, just like everything else on the southern coast, but there was enough moonlight to make out her profile. She stood motionless, facing the ocean with her arms crossed in front of her, so still she could’ve been made of marble.

Curious, he descended the deck stairs to the beach and hiked in her direction. If she heard him coming, she gave no indication. Not wanting to startle her, he cleared his throat when he got close enough for her to hear him over the waves.

She turned abruptly and must’ve forgotten her feet were buried in the sand because she had to throw out her arms to steady herself. “I’m sorry, I was just . . .” She pointed to the vast expanse of ocean as she righted herself.

It was too dim to make out much of her features, but from what Alec could gather, he never would’ve noticed her in a crowd had they met anywhere else. Plain wasn’t the best term to describe her, but it was adequate. Something about her voice knocked him back a step, though. It barely rose above the tide and had a musical quality.

She must’ve taken his silence for something dire, because she wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just head back—”

“You’re not. Disturbing me, I mean.” He took a half step forward to see her better, but he wound up disappointed because it was too dark. “Besides, the ocean belongs to no one. You’re free to walk here regardless of who finds you disturbing.”

She didn’t seem to locate the humor in his remark as he’d intended. She rubbed her arms, despite the late evening heat, and turned toward the house as if undecided as to what to do next.

“I’m Alec, by the way. Jake’s brother.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Mia said you were coming.”

God, that voice. Like a mermaid call, a singsong lilt from underwater. Fascinating.

Her frame was slender to the point of breakable. The hem of her jeans was rolled to her calves, baring a flash of pale skin. No polish on the toes. Pity. He had a thing for that. A plain white tee covered most of her torso and was too baggy to determine if she had any curves. His gaze traveled up. Her neck was long, regal almost, adorned with a thin chain that disappeared underneath her shirt. Best he could tell, she had a triangular-shaped face and pointed chin. Her eye color remained a mystery.

“And you’re Faith, correct? The therapist.”

“Er, yes. I’m a special needs teacher, but I have a degree in occupational therapy, too.”

He nodded, hoping she’d keep talking. He was getting all kinds of ideas flitting through his mind about a character for his book just from her voice alone. Each time she stopped talking, the ideas drifted away. Which was interesting, because didn’t all women talk? A lot? Not her. Maybe she was nervous, given his celebrity. How he hated that.

Just as he was about to encourage more, she pointed to the house. “I should get back inside. It’s getting late.”

It was barely nine.

She walked away, and Alec watched until she disappeared behind the dunes. Not even a
good-bye
, or
see you later
, or
nice to meet you
. He shook his head and walked back the way he’d come.

*   *   *

Faith closed the back door to the Covington guesthouse and leaned against it. Exhaustion and nerves warred through her body and she fought to rein them in. She wasn’t used to all this attention, and today she’d received a lot. Well, since arriving in Wilmington, anyway.

She thought she’d be uncomfortable meeting Cole Covington for the first time, but he was an unusual mix of genuine and nice. Faith allowed herself to relax in his company after a few minutes. Not so with Alec. Perhaps because he’d snuck up on her in the dark. She’d picked a time without anyone else on the beach to go out and take in her first real glimpse of the ocean. Even the air was different. Lighter, and scented with an odd mix of fresh fish and brine. The water lapping at her feet was cool and hypnotizing. She’d been so wrapped up in a mix of emotions, she hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone.

What he must think of her. Then again, he probably wasn’t thinking of her at all. Why would he?

His fame didn’t faze her and hadn’t been what had brought on a sudden flare of nerves. Authors, even ones as big as Alec Winston, were just people like the rest of them. Flesh and blood and souls in want of something. No, it was the way he’d stared at her, like he was picking apart her brain. A puzzle to fit together. In all her years, no one had ever wanted to know what made her tick, and in two minutes he gave her the impression he desired nothing more.

Maybe it was a writer thing.

She focused on why she was here, bringing Ginny to mind and smiling. Ginny had been happy to see her. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened either.

Shaking the thoughts away, she shoved off the door and made her way to the living room to get her luggage. Her internal clock was declaring bedtime. She hadn’t even really had the chance to settle in, but there would be time for that. Time was something she had in plenty.

Taking her cell phone out of her pocket, she checked the screen. No messages. Same as the last hundred times she’d looked. A pang of disappointment hit her right in the stomach. She didn’t know why she expected her parents to call. And it was after nine. Too late for her to try them. They’d be in bed by now.

She fished her pajamas and toothbrush out of her suitcase and came across the photo of her and Hope that she’d hastily shoved there before getting on the road. She sat back on her heels and stared at the two of them, her chest growing tight.

Ten years and it still seemed like yesterday that they’d buried her sister. Faith hadn’t felt whole since. In fact, the hole in her chest seemed to grow with each passing year. One day it would consume her until nothing remained but a black void.

“We finally made it to the beach,” she whispered, tears blurring her eyes.

She hadn’t cried in years, and now twice in one day she’d had to bite them back. She sighed and rose to her feet, setting the picture on the small fireplace mantel next to a conch shell. Hope would’ve loved it here.

Faith turned, doing a quick survey of her new place. The sea-foam-green walls and white wicker furniture echoed the simple fashion of every beach house—at least the ones in movies. For her, it seemed the perfect escape. She had no expectations, but was satisfied with the amount of room offered. Yet it wasn’t her home any more than her parents’ house had been. She got the strange sensation she didn’t belong anywhere.

In a few months, she’d go apartment hunting. Once she knew the job was secure and Wilmington was where she’d stay, anyway. No sense in rushing things. She’d built up a lot in savings from not paying rent. Even though the Covingtons compensated her well, she couldn’t afford a beachfront location, but perhaps something within walking distance so she could stare at the ocean. There was something almost . . . healing about it.

Pulling her mind out of the pity party, she slipped into her pajamas and brushed her teeth. Before turning in, she walked to the bedroom window and looked outside. She wondered if she’d ever get used to the sight. Her imagination didn’t do the ocean justice. A full moon illuminated the black ripples, the vastness of water stretching on forever.

Alec wasn’t standing in the sand any longer, but she could all but feel him still in front of her. There was a quiet, humming presence about him that his novels’ back-cover photos didn’t portray. His thick, longish black hair curled just above his ears, and though she couldn’t see them on the beach earlier, she knew his eyes were bluish gray. The square jaw and a shadow of a beard barely growing in gave him a hint of danger. His wide shoulders and taut muscles were a thing of beauty, if not a little intimidating. He was taller than she expected, too—at five foot five, she’d had to crane her neck to look at him. And handsome, especially when he smiled at his own self-deprecating humor.