Breakwater Beach (29 page)

Chapter 35

Pine needles dulled her footsteps. Liz hadn’t put on socks, and the clogs were waterproof but not warm. She couldn’t button the coat over her belly. Before long, concealing the pregnancy would be impossible. Her cheeks burned, and by the time she got to Mike’s front door, she was breathless.

The bell chimed an off-key note. Mike, in pajamas and a bathrobe, peered through the sidelights. He opened the door and led her into the foyer. “What’s wrong, Liz?”

“Nothing. I opened your present and wanted to thank you for thinking of me. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at all tonight, and saw your light was still on, and decided to come over and tell you in person. I’m so sorry if I woke you and . . .”

Mike put both his palms on her cold face, stopping her incessant chatter in mid-sentence. “You didn’t wake me up. I’m glad you liked it. I understood that you were working.”

Liz leaned in to kiss his cheek. His hands slid down her neck and back as she nestled against his chest. Mike clasped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head,

The ghost stirred. Kiss
him back
.

Liz tried to keep her focus on Mike instead of Elisabeth.

“I think there’s more on your mind, Liz.”

A lot more
. “I’ve treated you so badly and feel terrible. I tried to distance you from the gossip and innuendo. It didn’t work. Jay has given me nothing but a hard time, and even Mae is suspicious. I miss you, and I’m no closer to resolving this than I was last month.”

“Let’s sit down.” He guided her into the living room.

A dim light burned next to a well-worn leather sofa. The fireplace contained a single charred log that resembled a black icicle. There were no knick-knacks around, just a scatter of fishing and boating magazines on the coffee table.

The only nod to a woman’s touch was dusty, ball-fringe curtains on the windows, hardened by dark shutters beneath them. A flat screen television, the only thing new in the room, sat on a rickety corner table, in front of a threadbare tweed recliner.

A portrait of Mike and two women rested on the mantle. Mary and Allison were hard to tell apart: dark hair and eyes, creamy white complexions, and radiant smiles. Mike, with a lot less gray, smiled behind them, one hand on each of their shoulders. The ‘70s shag hairstyles and wide lapelled tuxedo dated his wedding portrait. A snapshot of Mike in a boat with a chocolate Labrador retriever sat on an end table. But the saddest sight was an old, artificial Christmas tree in front of the window, a few ornaments adorning its unlit branches. There were no presents underneath, only a small nativity scene perched on the frayed red skirt.

The extent of Mike’s loss and isolation, an incredible parallel to the misery of Jared Sanders’ life, brought tears to Liz’s eyes. His wife and dog were dead. They had talked little about his daughter. She knew Allison lived in New Hampshire, was a nurse at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center, and rarely came to the Cape. 

Mike had shrugged off Liz’s questions, leading her to believe their relationship was not good. But Allison helped him select that beautiful basket, so they must talk regularly.

Mike noticed her staring at the pictures. “The dog died a month after Mary. Cocoa was pretty old and lived a good life, but he couldn’t have picked a worse time.”

“Isn’t your daughter coming for Christmas?” Liz’s heart ached. She already knew the answer.

“She’s working. I’m going up to ski with her for New Year’s. I’ve had my share of trouble with Allison. Nothing like your arguments with Jay, but . . . she’s . . . gay . . . and . . . it took me a while to accept that. She and Dana got married last year, but I didn’t go. I couldn’t face what my friends would say if they ever found out.

“Things have gotten much better between us lately. I realized you have to do what makes you happy. I called her up and told her how sorry I was about the way I acted.”

“I’m glad you’re going to see her.” She'd made the right decision to come, to make everything right.

There is only one way to put this right
. Elisabeth insisted.

“Jay seemed a little angry,” Mike said.

“Livid is more like it. He’s furious I got involved with someone so soon after Gerry died. He doesn’t believe the baby’s father is dead and is convinced someone is trying to steal my money. He took me to court. I could have lost the ability to manage my own finances, and it still isn’t all settled. I’m trying to stay calm, sleep, and eat right for the baby. I feel so alone and don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.”

Liz shivered when his arms encircled her. The ghost didn't have to exhort her to revel in the comfort of Mike's embrace.

“Are you cold or anxious?” Mike ran his hands up and down her back.

“Neither right now.” Was she imagining he sounded out of breath?

“You still have all your pretty makeup on.” He traced her cheeks, tilted her chin upward, and bent toward her. Their lips met in a first real kiss.

Mike sighed. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“No, how long?” He couldn't learn the truth.

“Since that rat bounced off me.” They kissed again and, as their tongues touched, Mike moved away and caught his breath. “I better walk you home.”

“All right.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

Elisabeth had given Liz the courage to do what she hadn’t that fateful night, but she was carrying Edward’s baby. What man in his right mind would get involved with a woman in this situation? 

Mike's voice was gruff, his breathing heavy. “I would like nothing more than to make love all night. But you’re six months pregnant, it’s Christmas, and I don’t want to take advantage of your emotional state.”

“I feel much better in your arms. We already missed Midnight Mass. But I understand. This isn’t your child.” She held back, but Elisabeth’s bubbling remorse compelled her into Mike’s open arms.

He stroked her hair and cradled her face in his hands. “I fell in love with you the day we first met. It was like we were meant to be together. I promised to be there if you needed me. But I don’t want to hurt you, physically or emotionally.”

“It’s okay, as long as this is what you really want.” Liz pressed against him so forcefully they toppled onto the sofa.

“Oh, this is what I really want.” He drew her head closer until his tongue met hers. She nibbled his neck. His hands slid down her back. One arm held her against him, the other stroked the curve of her breast and traced the bulging belly, toward her thigh.

“Are you sure?” It sounded like he could barely breathe.

“Absolutely. I won’t break.” There was little space so she shifted to straddle him.

His erection bulged through the bathrobe and thin pajamas. “Let’s continue this upstairs.” Mike led her through the darkened foyer to the staircase.

A bedside light burned in his room. A book lay upside down with a pair of reading glasses on top. He moved them onto his nightstand and took off his bathrobe and pajama top.

Liz sat down next to him and ran her fingertips over his bare chest. He slipped his hands under the waistband of her sweat pants. A look of surprise came to his face when he touched bare skin underneath.

He clicked off the light and slid off his bottoms before settling under the covers. “Come lay next to me.”

Elisabeth stirred again.
This is what it would have been like.

Liz eased off her sweatshirt and let the sweatpants fall around her ankles. Mike sighed in appreciation. He could see her, even in the dark, and she cringed at the thought of her protruding belly.

Lying face-to-face, they explored each other with their hands, lips, and tongues, finding each other’s sensitive spots, interrupting murmurs of pleasure with kisses and caresses. Making love with him was so gentle, so peaceful.

His shaft throbbed between her thighs, and she welcomed him inside. He withdrew when the baby wiggled.

“It’s okay, Mike. The baby always moves like this.” She didn’t wait for a response and climbed on top, settling herself down on him once again. She leaned back so he wouldn’t feel the baby and brushed her lips across his nipples and neck, and then up to his lips. Her hair came loose and fell over his face.

He ran his fingers through it and along her scalp. “Ahh, Liz.”

Mike relaxed into the moment, thrusting slowly. He pressed deeper and climaxed; his release seemed a relief, both physically and emotionally.

She was so close, savoring the tension, yet craving the same satisfaction. He stroked her breasts, belly, and thighs. She allowed herself to cry out; there was no one to hear. Her shudders seemed to go on forever. Liz fell on top of him, reveling in their connection. Elisabeth’s relief flickered deep inside her.

Exhausted, Liz toppled sideways and pressed against him, resting her hand on his muscled chest. Words weren’t necessary. Liz could feel the tenderness in Mike’s embrace. His heartbeat returned to normal and whispers of “I love you” lulled her to sleep.

Weak winter sunlight barely illuminated the bedroom. Crimson and black plaid sheets and wooden shutters did little to brighten the masculine presence, the distance, and the shell he’d created.

Mike had forgotten how another body, molded perfectly to his, warmed from the inside out. Her head tucked into the crook of his arm, and Liz’s hand on his chest infused a sense of long lost peace, contentment. He wanted to lie there forever feeling her slow and steady heartbeat. Her foot rested on his like a rung on a ladder, holding her up against him.

Her nails, painted red, infused the feeling of her fingers brushing against his skin with even more passion. The curves, soft skin, and the lingering scent of cinnamon and spices in her hair aroused him again. The thought of her caressing his face and running her fingers through his hair had him hard and throbbing.

He traced the curve of her back, and she instinctively moved closer, if that was possible. His hand eased around her bottom. As he bent to kiss her neck on the way to her breasts, the baby wriggled a reminder he was still there. Back to reality, Mike resisted the urge to go any further.

He disentangled himself and went to the bathroom. Thank God he had no symptoms of prostate problems. Last night proved all the equipment was in good order. He brushed his teeth, completed his daily ritual of beard trimming, and reluctantly washed off the red lipstick smeared on his face and neck. Even when all traces of it were gone, though it was the same old face, ruggedly handsome, he supposed, with those distinct blue eyes, he was never going to be the same man again.

Mike Keeny, the old-fashioned guy who’d slept alone since Mary’s illness, held doors for the ladies, always removed his hat, and never used foul language in public. Mike Keeny, who hated being dragged to parties where women wore next to nothing and shoved themselves in the men’s faces for a dollar a pinch. That Mike Keeny had spent the night with an enigma who claimed she was six months pregnant by a ghost from her former life who popped in one night to tidy up some unfinished business. He’d missed Midnight Mass for the first time in years, and instead invited her into his house, after midnight, her party makeup still on, wearing no underwear. Jeez.

Mike went into the bedroom. Liz, still asleep, turned onto her back. The prim and proper lady had a sweet smile on her face. Her mascara was smeared, and she looked like the proverbial angel with black eyes. A glorious tangle of hair lay on the pillow. The sheets, pushed aside, revealed what she kept under cover along with her passion, even though sensuality always peeked through.

He’d finally touched, kissed, and penetrated that body, on Christmas no less. He studied her breasts, juicy with hormones, veins dilated, her abdomen bulging with new tiny red lines juxtaposed with older silvery ones—all scars from a battle with the goddess of fertility.

Mike shook off the intense desire once again. Why did she have this effect on him? Why that
déjà vu
when she sat astride, like she was riding a horse? Yeah, old Mike Keeny had to acknowledge a part of himself he’d hidden away for a long while, and perhaps even denied the existence of altogether.

He covered Liz, after checking for at least the fifth time there was no blood or other evidence the life within her had been disturbed by their lovemaking. He remembered the baby protesting the intrusion, and guilt bubbled up again.

She opened her eyes, stretched like a kitten, and purred, “Merry Christmas.”

Chapter 36

December 25, 2009

Liz gazed up at Mike. Did she love him, or did she just need him to quiet the ghost? He didn’t need to be dragged into this crazy situation. She’d be a single parent. The kids wouldn’t resent their fathers for dying and would appreciate the sacrifices she’d made for them. That would make up for all the pain, loneliness, and resentment caused by being left behind by two different men in two lives.

Who was she kidding? If his half-brother’s attitude was any indication of the way the new baby was going to react, that illusion was far from reality. She couldn’t tell the world the truth. And no matter what she did poor, innocent Mike Keeny would be blamed for not living up to his responsibilities.

Mike had no recollection of Elisabeth and Jared and the painful events of the past. And all her resolve to keep it that way was gone, wiped away like steamy condensation on a mirror. She was staring through the cloudy looking glass at her past, having righted the wrong, at least partially. And right now he was gazing at her like he’d just found a treasure under his Christmas tree.

His hand was as gentle as a kitten, so big it covered most of her face, as he traced his fingers over her cheeks. “Are you okay?” Mike’s normally deep voice softened to a whisper.

“I am so all right, better than I’ve been in over a year. I did what I thought was best for you and me, not for Jay, not for the new baby. Mike, when I read your note I realized what a mistake I made pushing you away.” She lay swathed in an afterglow of relief, peace, contentment.

He smiled and tucked the sheets around her. “Let me make you breakfast. Stay here, and I’ll bring it up.”

“That sounds wonderful, but Jay will be concerned if he wakes up and I’m gone.” She’d ignored him calling last night, and he’d likely be more than concerned.

“Of course, and it’s Christmas Day. Another time. Let me get dressed and I’ll walk you home.”

“I want you to spend Christmas with us.” She couldn’t leave Mike alone, not today, not after last night.

“I’d love to, Liz.” Mike shuddered as she threw off the sheets, swung her legs out of bed, and bolted to the bathroom.

“Where are you going in such a rush?” he called after her.

“You obviously have never been pregnant. When you have to go, you have to go.”

When she returned two minutes later. Mike swallowed hard and grabbed his bathrobe off the bed.

“Hold on!” He wrapped her in it and ran his hands down her back to cup her rear. “It’s going to take a little while for me to get used to seeing you naked.”

“And I’m a sight. Stretch marks and bulges all over the place.” Had she no shame?

“My gallbladder scar here isn’t so pretty either. Who gets to be this age and not show any evidence of life? You’re beautiful.”

“I can’t believe I was so aggressive. You must think I’m some kind of slut, pregnant with another man’s child, working on my next victim.”

“Liz, please don’t do this to yourself. I’m so happy you decided to come here last night.”

She looked at the man who just wrapped her in warm flannel and affection, kissed her on the forehead, and ran his hands over her curves like she was a goddess. His obvious delight warmed her in the chilly room and drove the misgivings away.

He eased away. “I’ll take a quick shower, and then we’ll go.”

While Mike was in the bathroom, Liz dressed, tamed the tangle of hair with her fingers, and made the bed. Mike buttoned on a shirt as he came out a few minutes later.

They held hands and went downstairs, then out into the morning. Frost tipped the dead grass, a minimal nod to a white Christmas. Their breath vaporized on the short walk back through the looking glass, back to reality.

The back door was still unlocked. The only sound in the kitchen was the soft ticking of the old cuckoo clock.

“I’m going to get bathed and dressed,” she said. “Would you mind lighting the woodstove and making some oatmeal? That McCann’s takes at least a half hour to cook.”

“Of course.” Mike got to work as Liz went up the back stairs.

When the fire burned hot, he closed the doors to bank it so it would heat up the big, drafty kitchen. He measured out the water and oatmeal and put it on to simmer, along with the teakettle.

Kevin stepped into the mudroom, looked at Mike with eyebrows raised, then grinned. “Merry Christmas. I try to get here early to bring in the wood. I don’t like Liz haulin’ it around in her condition.”

“Merry Christmas. I already started the fire.” He stirred the oatmeal.

“It’s about time.” Kevin winked. “I suppose livin’ with Mae for so long some of her meddlin’ ways have worn off on me. But I want ya to know I think it’s a shame that poor lady’s been alone, seeing how the two of ya feel about each other. Mary would’ve had Jesus if Joseph wasn’t around, but I’m sure he made it a bit easier on her.”

Mike closed the pot lid. “So you know about her pregnancy.” A tickle of unease ran through him. Kevin was a friend, but this was getting very personal.

“Aye, Mae told me. Even though it sounds wild, Liz doesn’t act crazy. The babe’s on his way no matter where he came from. Anyway, I’ve said more than I should’ve already. You’re doin’ the right thing.” Kevin patted him on the back.

“Thanks. I appreciate you sticking up for me.”

Kevin raised the pot lid. “Ahhh, McCann’s. Well I best be getting’ back home since you’ve got things under control here. Will we see ya later?”

“Yeah.” Now they were back in more comfortable territory.

Kevin gave the thumbs-up sign and bounded out the back door just as Jay came in.

“Good morning, Jay. Merry Christmas,” Mike said.

“Where’s my mother?” Jay’s fists clenched at his side.

“Getting dressed.” He should have anticipated this. If he’d been thinking with his head.

Jay stalked toward him, barefoot, silent. “That was some Midnight Mass. I never realized it went on all night.”

His jaw dropped and breath caught again, but not for a good reason this time. “I don’t think I should comment without your mother here.” Mike faced him, drew himself up to his full height, and resisted the urge to wipe the sneer off the kid’s face.

The fact that he towered over him didn’t stop Jay from getting way too close. “Really, Mr. Keeny? Well, I’ll comment that this place is like Grand Central Station, with people coming and going at all hours, sneaking in and out of the back door, and up and down the back stairs. What the hell are you up to? She swears the baby’s father is dead, but my mother isn’t the kind of woman who would voluntarily put herself in a situation like this.”

“Jay, your comments are uncalled for and rude.” Liz’s voice was uncharacteristically jarring. She stood in the doorway, elegant as ever in a black silk tunic and pants, brow furrowed, hands on her hips, chin held up.

“Liz, I better go,” Mike said. He wasn’t getting in the middle of a family argument, he was causing it.

“No, please don’t. This needs to be settled now. Jay, Mike is not the father of this child. That man is dead. I know it’s hard to accept that I had another relationship so soon after your father died, but I was once in love with Edward. You don’t understand how hard it’s been for me to lose two companions in the same year.” Her voice remained hard, almost haughty.

“Mom, you’re lonely but for God’s sake, don’t keep compounding your problems. You were married to Dad for twenty-five years! You got pregnant by mistake but don’t make another one! This man won’t acknowledge he’s the father, yet he drops in whenever he pleases. What kind of love is that?”

“This baby is not a mistake, it’s a miracle!” Liz took Jay’s shoulders in her hands and peered so intently into his eyes the young man looked away. Her voice deepened. “And Mike is not his father. I don’t want to have to say it again. I have to live my life, Jay. Your dad never wanted me to be alone.”

“I know, Mom, but I promised I’d take care of you. This man is after your money!” Jay shook his mother’s hands off.

Stomach in knots, Mike watched as Liz lost her balance, toppled backward, then hit the wall with a thud. He ran over and grabbed her before she fell to the floor. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Liz’s eyes were wide in shock. Tears filled her eyes and her chest heaved.

Mike’s hands instinctively cradled her abdomen, way too intimate a gesture for this setting.

Jay's fists clenched. He remained more focused on Mike than on his mother, the pregnant woman he’d nearly knocked on her ass.

Enough was enough. Mike grabbed him by the collar of his fancy button down shirt. “If you have an argument with me, push me around. You wanna fight? Come on, I’m waiting. You keep your hands off your mother.”

Mike let go, and Jay stormed out of the kitchen.

The clocked struck eight and the little bird came out of the clock. “Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!”