Come Morning (18 page)

Brushing back her hair, Briana wondered if there wasn’t some truth to Irma’s observation. “Are you looking for something in particular or just a new fall wardrobe?” Bonaventures was a shop specializing in women’s clothes.

Irma went down the steps carefully. “They’ve got these great new padded bras. Imported. They have this plastic insert in each cup and it comes with a strawlike gizmo. You blow in as much air as you wish, then seal it like an inner tube. With some outfits, you know, you need a little more chest, and with others, less. They’re wonderful and you can’t always find them.”

“I’ll bet not,” Briana commented, standing at the picket fence with her. She leaned to hug the older woman, her smile in place. “I’m so glad you stopped in.”

“Me, too, darlin’. You know I only meddle because I love you, don’t you?”

“I love you, too.” She watched Irma start back the one-block walk to her house, her pace belying her age. She was definitely one of the world’s wonders, Briana thought as she turned back. But before she reached her steps, she caught sight of a familiar figure riding a bicycle heading her way, a bulky package anchored behind the seat.

Pulling up alongside her fence, Slade braked. “Like my new bike?”

“Pretty sharp.” She examined the bike, noting it was built for speed. “When did you get it?”

“Bought it this morning. I used to have a Harley in California, but I’ve never had a speed bike, so I thought I’d indulge myself.” He glanced toward her garage. “I noticed there’s a girl’s bike in there. Maybe we can go riding one day. Good exercise.”

“Mmm hmm.” She sniffed the air, wondering at the source of the familiar smell as she leaned closer to the package wrapped in white paper. “You’ve been shopping.”

“Yeah. I rode my bike into town and decided to get us a couple of lobsters for dinner.” Scooting to the back edge of his seat, he raised the front wheel off the ground, then let it drop down with a bounce before grinning at her. “Neat, eh?”

She had to smile at him. Like a little boy with a new toy, one he’d obviously missed out on in his teens. “Lobsters, did you say? Well, guess what? My cupboards should be in by day’s end, but my new stove won’t be delivered for another day or two. That means you’re the chef tonight.” They hadn’t eaten every meal together over the last couple of weeks since their beach picnic. But most of them.

“I’m planning on it.” He got off the bike and turned it around. “See you around six?”

“That’s good. Do you have a pot big enough?”

“I imagine so. I’ll poke around and find one.”

“How would it be if I bring the wine?”

“Nope. I’ve got it covered, Just bring yourself.” He walked the bike toward his garage.

Briana watched him go and wandered back up onto the porch. The weather was cooler since Labor Day had passed. There were fewer people on the beaches. Only a couple of diehards actually braved the chilly waters and already the days were getting shorter. But the rains had held off and for that she was grateful. Sunny days were cheerier and she needed all the mood elevators she could find.

But the best one of all was Slade.

By unspoken agreement, they’d behaved as friends—good and true friends, not as sweethearts, and certainly not as lovers—since that last soul-searching evening of the balloon incident. There’d been no unnecessary touching, not since that stunning kiss in the sand. Their conversations had centered around the projects they were working on together, her house and his, and rarely got personal, as it had that evening. They’d even managed to leave the past at rest for a while, both his situation with his father and hers with the loss of her son. It had been a healing respite for both of them, Briana felt. No touchy-feely stuff to cloud their minds and no mention of uncomfortable subjects, like his firefighting career.

They’d gotten to know each other better, through actions and deeds rather than words and confidences shared. It had been an experience like no other she’d ever had. If occasionally she recalled with longing the feelings he’d aroused in her by taking her in his arms, she’d managed to relegate those thoughts to the back of her mind. She was aware that Slade, too, remembered those moments, for she’d catch him looking at her when he didn’t think she noticed, and there’d be such heat in his eyes. But then he’d turn aside, putting his feelings on hold.

Civilized was what they were, Briana decided. While the approach gave her breathing room at a time when she needed it, she also wondered how long this unusual alliance could reasonably continue. An attraction so strong was bound to rear its head again, yet neither of them was willing to push the issue right now. Relationships, in order to survive and thrive, needed a great deal of time, attention, and nurturing. And they required two people who had their heads on straight and their emotions under control.

Briana doubted if either of them had those two prerequisites.

She heard her name called and turned to see one of the workmen in her kitchen signaling her. Time to stop daydreaming, she told herself as she went to see what he wanted.

It wasn’t a date, Briana reminded herself as she brushed out her hair. They’d shared many a meal together by now, so one more could hardly be called a date. It was just a lobster dinner for two friends.

Then why was her stomach all jittery?

Because she’d skipped lunch, since workmen had been all over her kitchen most of the day. Zippering up her yellow linen slacks, she turned in front of the full-length mirror, examining her image. Irma was right, she had picked up a few pounds. Not enough to make her slacks tight, but rather enough so her clothes were no longer so loose. She actually had a few curves again.

At the closet, Briana removed two sweaters, angling her head, trying to decide. Yes, the matching cotton sweater would be best. Slipping it on, she shook out her hair and finger-combed her bangs. She’d have to think about a haircut soon. Time was getting away from her.

Sliding her feet into leather flats, she stopped to review the finished product. A touch of makeup, which she so seldom wore, made her eyes seem larger and her mouth fuller. Not exactly a knockout, Briana decided, but she’d do. The last thing she did before leaving her bedroom was to dab on some cologne. Might as well go whole hog tonight.

Pocketing her key, she left the house and crossed over to Slade’s lawn, climbing onto his porch. Surprised that he hadn’t left the door ajar for her as he usually did, she gave two sharp raps and waited. No answering sounds from inside. She knocked again, then wandered across the porch to the window and peered inside. No sign of life.

Her heart stuttered for just a beat. Where could Slade be—was something wrong? When he didn’t appear after another minute, she tried the knob and found the door unlocked. Inside, she called out his name.

Briana heard a chair scrape back, the sound coming from the kitchen. Heading that way, she walked through the empty living room and on into the dining room with its table set for two. Slade was sitting at the small table by the window. Its entire glass top was covered with envelopes and letters in a state of disarray. A large blue ribbon had been carelessly tossed aside.

Slade looked up, his expression a little dazed, as if surprised at seeing her, and set down the letter he’d been holding.

Pausing in the archway, Briana glanced at a big pot on the floor by his feet, then at him. “Is something the matter, Slade?”

“I’m not sure.” His voice sounded rusty, as if it hadn’t been used in a while. He glanced down at the pot, the scattered letters, then at Briana. “I was looking for a lobster pot and found this one up on the top shelf in the pantry. I was about to wash it when I found these letters inside.”

Briana sat down in the only other chair. “Jeremy’s letters?”

Gazing down at them, he fingered one or two, then nodded absently. “They’re all from my mother.” His expression changed, turning bleak. “My poor, sad, faithless mother.”

Briana had wondered if going through Jeremy’s papers would shatter even more of Slade’s illusions. It might have been less nerve-wracking to let things be, though there were those who preferred knowing the truth no matter the price.

“I take it she confessed to an affair and that’s why Jeremy left.”

He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Not just an affair, bad as that would have been. An affair that produced a child. Me.” Slade saw her eyes widen. “Yeah, that’s right. Jeremy wasn’t my real father. Small wonder he could no longer stomach the sight of me after he found out.”

This wasn’t the way he should be viewing this, not after all this time. “Slade, he could hardly blame you. You were an innocent child. Your mother may have hurt Jeremy with such a betrayal, but none of that was your fault.”

“Apparently that’s not how Jeremy saw it Punish the mother, punish the son.” He grabbed one of the letters, the first he’d read. “She sent him this one just six months after he left us, which was when the checks had begun arriving, when he’d settled here in Nantucket Probably that was when she first learned his address. She begs him in this letter to forgive her, but that if he can’t do that much, at least to not shut me out of his life. She goes on to say how much I missed him.”

Briana watched him swallow a lump in his throat and knew how very much he was hurting.

“What did high-and-mighty Mr. Jeremy D. Slade do about her pleas? I ask you. Exactly nothing. Her next letter, and the next and the ones after that, all beg him to write to the son who’s too young to understand an adult situation. But he never did.” Viciously, Slade kicked the pot by his feet. “He never did.”

Briana understood his anger and wished she could do something to ease it. “How did he find out? I mean, you were already ten.”

“Before I got home from school that day, they must’ve had some sort of argument and she blurted out the truth. We’ll never know why. And the great man couldn’t handle it, could no longer accept the boy he’d once professed to love. Which translated means he never loved me at all.”

“I’m not so sure.”

Slade raised his head to look at her. “Not sure? Read these letters and you’ll be sure.”

But Briana remained unconvinced. “Slade, there had to be a reason Jeremy didn’t destroy these letters. He didn’t put them with his other papers, or in a lockbox or even a bank safe-deposit box. No, he tucked them away where you probably wouldn’t find them for a while. But eventually you would. I have a feeling he hoped by then you’d understand him a little.”

He kept staring at her, his brow wrinkled. “Just what is it I’m supposed to understand? That he was small and mean and petty? That he left a woman he knew to be weak to fend for herself, never once contacting her to see if she was alive or dead? That he turned his back on a boy who adored him because of
wounded pride?
Jesus, Briana! I’m glad none of his blood flows in my veins.”

No, he wasn’t, but right now, he surely thought so.

“Slade, your father could have destroyed these letters. You’d have come here at his death when his attorney contacted you, and never learned the truth. You’d go along believing a lie. But Jeremy hadn’t been able to live a lie, to pretend he still cared for your mother after such a serious betrayal, and he probably assumed you wouldn’t want to, either. So he made sure you found them.”

She couldn’t tell if he was listening or ignoring her, but she went on anyway. “Maybe he wanted you to know because it was his way of apologizing for the hurt he’d caused you. Maybe he hoped you’d understand, man to man. We can’t know what he was thinking. Yet there’s still one important unanswered question: Why did he leave not only these letters for you to find, but everything—his house, his paintings, his money—all to you, that boy he walked away from without another thought, as you say?”

“Damned if I know.” He ran long, agitated fingers through his hair.

“Because even though, right or wrong, his pride wouldn’t let him return to the family he’d left, he never forgot you. He couldn’t erase the love he felt for that boy.”

Slade thought of the boy on the pony in the painting over the fireplace. It seemed to have been painted with a lot of love. Or had Jeremy been incapable of feeling the real thing, but damn good at faking it on canvas?

Briana saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes and went on. “I believe that leaving you everything, after all the bitter, lonely years, was Jeremy’s way of telling you he’d loved you after all.”

But Slade wasn’t ready to buy into her theory. “Well, it comes a bit late now, doesn’t it?” Slade shoved to his feet and began gathering up the letters, shoving them into old, yellowed envelopes, straightening the pile. When he finished, he wound the blue ribbon around the packet and walked over to the counter, thrusting the bundle inside a drawer. His back to Briana, he stood looking out the window over the sink, letting his emotions settle. Hoping they would.

The sun was lowering, light and shadow dancing around the kitchen. Still seated, Briana watched the powerful muscles of Slade’s back bunch and clench as he struggled for control, his big hands clutching the counter’s edge. Then she saw a single tear slide down his cheek, but it disappeared so quickly she wasn’t certain if she’d imagined it. She wondered if he’d weep all the more if she weren’t there.

Tears or not, he was grieving, Briana realized, recognizing all the familiar signs. He hadn’t known the man he’d been named after, but Briana knew that Slade grieved for him now all the same, despite his words to the contrary. As he’d once told her, he’d tried all these years to hate Jeremy and could never quite pull it off. He grieved for his mother as well, as he’d probably been unable to do at her funeral, weighed down with sadness at how early her life had ended, and how alone her death had left him. Infidelity was a terrible thing, and discovering it about a parent was even worse. Yet Slade had to feel that his mother had paid a very high price for one mistake. And he was probably grieving for what might have been, for lost opportunities, for the high price of pride.

Rising slowly, she went over to him and slipped an arm around his waist, wondering if he would reject her.

With a deep sound from his throat, Slade turned and gathered her to him, holding her tightly. Very tightly.