Barefoot Season (18 page)

She drew in a breath. “I’m sorry I slept with Allen.”

Carly swung back to face her, both eyebrows raised. “Okay,” she said cautiously. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I know he had a part in it. A big part.”

Something she hadn’t been willing to admit at the time, Michelle thought, relieved Carly had taken a step toward middle ground.

“I was angry,” Michelle said, settling on the stool to relieve pressure on her hip. “You had him and you were engaged and you wanted me to be a part of things. Maybe you meant it as a friend, but it seemed like you were rubbing my nose in it.”

“I was,” Carly admitted. “A little. Mostly, though, I was so happy. I thought I’d finally found someone to love me. I’d felt empty and broken for so long. If Allen loved me, then maybe I was okay. That’s more what I was thinking. ‘Look at me. I’m not a loser.’”

“You weren’t a loser.”

“Yeah, I was,” Carly said. “He only picked me over you because I slept with him first. I really think he liked you better.”

Michelle wasn’t sure what to do with that information. “We were both reacting. But I want you to know I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

A moment of fragile peace, she thought, wondering how long it would be until it shattered like spun sugar.

She wanted to say more. She wanted to point out that she’d been a virgin and Allen had taken advantage of her, so she had even less blame, but to what end? The past existed. There was no going back. No undoing. There was only moving forward and hoping it all got better.

Sixteen

C
arly stood on the shore, watching the gray water of the Sound. The rain had stopped but an angry wind buffeted the waves into swirling patterns. The cranes swept low, looking for food, or maybe playing a complicated game. Did birds play? Did they find life funny or annoying or familiar? Not questions she usually asked herself, but then she didn’t often think about the Puget Sound cranes. Being around Leonard, however, meant thinking and talking about little else.

“We followed them out for miles,” he was saying, his gaze trained on the sky. “They were searching for fish.”

“Or messing with you,” Carly said.

Leonard glanced at her, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “Why would they do that?”

“Because they can.”

He flashed her a smile. “You’re giving them too much credit. Culturally we like to anthropomorphize everything around us. Cranes don’t have a sense of humor.”

She hoped he was wrong. Laughing made life a lot more fun.

“You should come with me, sometime,” he said. “Out on the boat.”

She shook her head and took a step back. “No, thanks. I don’t do boats. Or water.”

“You live on an island.”

“I get the irony of it, believe me, but no. I don’t go in it or on it.” She looked out at the Sound. “It’s pretty from a safe distance, and I don’t mind going on a bridge or a ferry. But anything smaller? No, thanks.”

“What about when you go swimming?”

“I don’t.”

“Go or know how?”

“Both.” She shuddered. She’d never been able to figure out why she was afraid of water, but that didn’t make the fear go away. Just the thought of stepping into anything deeper than a bathtub made her nauseous.

“I could teach you.”

It took a second for her to realize what he was saying, and the implication in the offer. Leonard had been at the inn for nearly three months. They’d become friends. Nothing more.

She angled toward him. He was tall and cute, with broad shoulders. He was a little skinny, but strong. A good man. A safe man. Like Robert, she thought. She was surrounded by nice guys and she wasn’t interested in any of them. So far the only one who’d made her quiver had been Mango, whose flirtatious charm came too easily to him and, she suspected, too often.

“Leonard,” she began, her voice gentle.

He pushed up his glasses and nodded. “Don’t bother,” he told her. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“How can you?”

He gave her a rueful smile. “I’m not the guy who gets the girl. Especially a girl like you.”

“It’s not you. I was married before and it didn’t work and I just can’t seem to want to get involved again.”

“Do you still love him?”

“No. That’s the strange part. I’m not sure I loved him back then.” She hesitated, before adding the truth. “He cheated on me.”

“With Michelle?”

“What? Why would you ask that?”

“She was gone and now she’s back. There’s tension between you.” He flushed. “Damaris likes to talk.”

“Great.” She wondered what other secrets the cook was sharing with their guests. “It was a long time ago. Allen cheated with a lot of women.”

“You married him, anyway?”

“I was stupid.” In truth, she’d been pregnant, but Leonard had already heard enough about her sordid past.

“He’s the stupid one for leaving.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate the support. As much as I’d like to put all the blame on Allen, I have some responsibility in what went wrong.”

“If you change your mind,” he said, “about, you know…”

“You’re very sweet.”

“That means no.” He shrugged. “I guess it could be worse. You could have said I was nice.”

“The kiss of death?”

“You have no idea.”

* * *

The heat was bad enough but the bugs were worse. The grasshoppers had arrived and they were everywhere. Crunching underfoot. Flying into her, getting tangled in her hair. Michelle hated the grasshoppers, hated the heat. The unbearable scorching air surrounded her like a thick, smoking blanket, sucking the air from her lungs. She turned, wanting to run but unable to. Her feet were tangled. She was hot, too hot. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. She screamed then. Screamed and screamed until the nightmare faded and she was in darkness.

Her breath came in gasps. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, like thundering hooves. Sweat covered every part of her, and despite her burning skin, she shivered as the night air cooled her.

Confusion made it hard to think, to answer the basic questions like where was she and was she all right. Some of it was that she’d been deeply asleep—so deep she’d allowed the nightmares to surface. Some of it was she was still a little drunk. Which meant she couldn’t have been asleep too long.

She automatically reached to her right and turned on a lamp. The clock on the nightstand said 12:34. She’d been in bed less than an hour.

As that thought registered, so did the room. She recognized the furniture, the shape, the murky shadow that was the sunroom. Something moved.

She spun toward the doorway and saw Jared standing there.

He had on jeans and nothing else. Golden hair covered his chest and angled down to the open waistband of his jeans. His feet were bare, his hair mussed. In other circumstances, she would have thought he looked sexy as hell. But his eyes were wary and he wasn’t watching her the way a man watched a woman he wanted.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, pulling up the covers and glaring at him. “This is my room. If you can’t respect my privacy, then I’m leaving.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I was checking on you.”

“Why? Does it give you a thrill to watch women sleep?”

“Not especially. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be…?”

The nightmare, she thought grimly, remembering how it had ended. With her screaming. It hadn’t all been in her sleep.

“Did I wake you?” she asked, less defensive now, but no more pleased with his presence.

He shrugged. “It happens.”

The nurses at the hospital had told her she often screamed out in her sleep. The information had been delivered matter-of-factly. It wasn’t as if she were the only one on the ward dealing with the aftermath of what she’d seen and done.

“How often?” she asked.

“A few times a week.”

She winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You went through a lot over there.”

“It would have been easier to come home with a rash. At least that’s quiet.”

“It’ll get better.”

“You know this how? Did one of the fish tell you?”

He shifted so he was leaning against the door frame. Involuntarily her gaze strayed to the open waistband of his jeans, then lower, to where he’d obviously hastily pulled up his zipper.

Something stirred low in her belly. What was he wearing underneath? Briefs? Boxers? Nothing?

“I served.”

His words were at odds with her thoughts. It took her a second to remember what she’d asked, and when she did, she covered her face with her hands.

“Sorry. That’s right. I knew you had. I’m a mess.” She dropped her hands and looked up at him. “What did you do?”

“I was a sniper.”

Sniper as in—

She swore silently. Talk about an unrelatable experience.

There was more. Bits and pieces drifted to her. Local gossip loved a juicy story and he’d had his local fifteen minutes of fame.

He’d returned to the island with a wife. She’d been young and pretty, from somewhere back east or the middle of the country. Maybe one of the vowel states. But she hadn’t liked island life enough to stay. Or maybe it was being married to a guy who ran boats. Either way, she’d left. All that had happened just before Michelle had taken off.

“You have nightmares?” she asked. “From when you were in?”

“Not anymore. I got help. You need a group.”

“I don’t want a group.”

“I didn’t say you had to like it. You need to figure out how to make sense of it all. How to deal. You need someone, Michelle. Find a group.”

His voice was low, the words insistent. Sexy.

Her gaze drifted across his bare chest. He was strong and powerful. A take-charge kind of guy, which could be both good and bad in bed, depending on his attitude. She had a feeling Jared was the good kind.

The sort of hot tickling deep in her belly stirred again.

What would he say if she invited him to join her? Yes would be her first choice, but she wasn’t sure. For all she knew, he was involved with someone.

There were also other issues. For one, she had to pee. For another, she would want to brush her teeth first and she couldn’t figure out a way to do that casually.

“Think about it,” he told her.

She had a bad feeling he wasn’t talking about sex.

Even so, she nodded.

“I can get you a number,” he added.

“You just happen to have information on veteran support groups lying around?”

“You’re not my first rodeo, kid. You found the information on this room at the VA, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I post it there on purpose. I keep this room for returning vets. To give them a safe place to get back into this world. After what I went through, I wanted to help.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Great. She’d been thinking about sex and he considered her a mercy case. Wasn’t that always the way it went?

“Get out,” she growled.

He surprised her by grinning.

She reached behind her and grabbed a pillow. By the time she’d tossed it in his direction, he was already gone.

“Dickwad,” she muttered as she sank back on the mattress and turned off the light.