Free to Love (12 page)

“At your beck and call, Aunt Marcella.”
He smiled back and gave her a mock salute. Then his expression sobered. “Seriously, though, I’m glad I can help.
It’s
given us an excuse to get to know each other better. Besides, I never had an aunt. Jo’s lucky.”

“And likewise, I’ve never had a nephew.
Nieces.
All six of ‘em.”
She chuckled.
“Nothin’ but Barbie dolls and tea parties.”
She turned to the bedroom. “Goodnight, Mr. Sullivan.”

“Goodnight.” He paused.
“And Aunt Marcella?”

“Yes?” She turned her head stiffly.

“Please call me Austin.”

“Fine then.
Austin it is.”

He broke into a lopsided smile. And one more
thing
...” He paused, his smile widening.

“Go on,” she urged.

“Better get right to sleep. I’ll see you again in exactly an hour.”

A short time later, Austin struck a match to the kindling, split logs, and crumpled newspaper
he’d
arranged in the stone fireplace. Joanna had been right about the weather. Later that evening, thick fog had blanketed the coast, and now the house felt damp and chilly.
He’d
also noted this past week that the vine maple was beginning to turn. All that added up to one disturbing reality. Autumn was definitely in full bloom—and the fish up north were probably biting like crazy.

He sank down into Marcella’s blue recliner that faced the fireplace, and stared into the dancing orange-red flames. Though the leather was worn and cracked, it felt familiar and comfortable—like a favorite old glove one hated to throw away.

Stretching out his long legs, he heaved a sigh. His morning had started at the crack of dawn when
he’d
first received the news that the beach cleanup was still on. After that, one near catastrophe had given away to the next.

He was tired. Damn. Sheer exhaustion was more like it. And
he’d
be getting little sleep in the hours that lay ahead. Not that he was complaining, exactly, he silently amended as he leaned back farther in the chair and listened to the fire crackle and pop. Somehow—and it was downright scary—it felt good to be needed. It felt good to realize there might be someone who noticed your coming and going, that you
weren’t
merely an isolated nonentity in this crazy, fast-paced world.

But now two females depending on him?
Unbelievable!

He clasped his hands behind his neck,
then
chuckled in spite of himself. Yes,
that’s
what it was going to take to get him through.
A sense of humor.
Never in a million years would he have fathomed
he’d
get sidelined like this.

Good thing it was only temporary, or was it? He was beginning to wonder if the end would ever come. It looked as if
he’d
be putting off that new roof for at least another week, if not longer, till Jo fully recovered. And now there was Aunt Marcella. He squared his jaw. Bottom line was
,
she required his help too.

***

The following week ticked slowly by. Aunt Marcella recovered without incident, though Austin checked in on her faithfully twice a day. Sometimes he picked up her medicine, sometimes a bag of groceries. And sometimes he simply stayed to talk.

Meanwhile, Joanna was making her own slow recovery. Her cough finally began to subside, and the rosy blush in her cheeks reappeared.

Yet, in between running errands for Marcella, Austin continued to keep a watchful eye over Joanna. His concern touched Joanna in ways
she’d
never expected. Her feelings for him had only grown deeper—and a thousand times more chaotic.

“What are you doing?” Austin asked the following Saturday morning when she appeared in the dining room dressed in a pale blue running suit. He was sitting at the breakfast nook table, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.

“I’m going for a run. I’ve been cooped up inside for far too long!” she exclaimed.

“Whoa! Just one minute.” He clasped a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“Just one
minute
what
?” she protested. “I’m going crazy!”

“I understand, Jo. But you know as well as I do,
you’ve
got to ease back into your routine gradually. “You’re probably still weak—and prone to a relapse.”

“I’m fine now. Besides, I told Trudy
I’d
be back to work on Monday.
It’s
also high time I started helping Auntie. I can’t expect you to keep doing that—especially when we need to get the roof on as soon as possible.”

He stroked his chin. She was right about that much. The bundles of shingles
he’d
stacked in the carport a week ago still lay unopened, and he’d grown more frustrated every time he’d spied them.

“All right.
Just take it easy, okay? I’ll keep breakfast warm till you get back.”

Her lips parted in a saucy smile. “I’ll make you a deal I won’t run today—or the rest of the week either.
I’ll
just take a walk.
Nothing more.”

“Promise?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“Of course not.
But just
don’t
worry so. I’m going to be fine.”

“Of course you are. I guess I’ve been so busy playing doctor to you and Marcella, I haven’t had the good sense to know when to stop.” He darted
her a
contrite smile.
“Sorry, Jo.”

“Don’t apologize. Your help has been a godsend, believe me.
Taking over at the beach cleanup.
Helping with Auntie.
Cooking my meals.”
She hesitated. “And most of all, bringing me yellow roses.”

An hour later, they strolled hand in hand down the beach. A lazy sun shed its soft milky light as it filtered through the mist rising up from the water. The breeze nipped their cheeks and tousled their hair.

Throngs of others had flocked there also—undoubtedly in an attempt to capture the last beautiful days of autumn. Teenagers threw Frisbees. Dogs barked. Children with plastic buckets filled with water knelt as they built sand castles. Overhead, an assortment of brightly-colored kites drifted on the wind.

Austin let go of her hand, then stooped to pick up a flat gray rock. He pitched it far into the ocean. They watched it plunge below the blue-gray depths.

“Ah! Not bad,” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” He caught her hand again and gave it a quick squeeze.

“Everything’s so beautiful!” Joanna exclaimed, filling her lungs with the tangy salt air. “One week indoors, and I feel as if I’ve been away from this forever.” Today, for some reason, the sea appeared more translucent.
The sand whiter.
The sky a thousand times bluer.

Was it merely her confinement that had sharpened her senses so?
Or this wonderful, caring man striding close by her side?
The thought caught her suddenly off guard, making her heart turn over.”

“Ah, Jo.
You should’ve been a mermaid.” He angled
her a
look, then paused, his eyes teasing. “If I remember my Greek mythology correctly,” he went on, “the mermaids’ singing lured many a sailor. And the German story of the nymph Lorelei says she inhabited a cliff overlooking the Rhine.”

“And if I’m remembering right,” she teased back, “Lorelei turned out to also be the poor sailors’ undoing. She beckoned them to the rocks below. She caused their destruction.”

He chuckled. “But isn’t that the destiny of every unfortunate man who falls beneath the wiles of an alluring female?”

She pulled her eyes from his, wondering whether his statement carried some hidden agenda. She had to ask. “And that’s why, Austin Sullivan, in all your thirty-one years, you’ve made sure to stay single?
To escape such destruction?”

“Perhaps.
But don’t knock bachelorhood.” The mirth vanished from his face. “There’s something to be said for going it alone.”

He balled his hand into a fist, his thoughts spinning. What that something was, he could no longer be sure—but
he’d
be damned if he’d admit that to her. Besides,
he’d
soon be gone, and so much the better. These past weeks had tested his restraint in ways
he’d
never anticipated.

They walked on in silence, listening to the gentle hiss of the surf licking the shore. Straight ahead, Cape Castaway jutted out. In minutes, they approached a small deserted cove and stopped to gaze at a rocky precipice where, at the bottom, russet-colored starfish clung. The cliff, deeply chiseled and glistening with sea spray, loomed high above them.

“Let’s sit down,” Austin suggested, nodding towards a sun-bleached log.

“Good idea. I guess you were right. I’m tiring a little more quickly than I expected.”

She sat down next to him. Near their feet, a red Oregon rock crab scurried across the sand,
then
disappeared beneath a granite slab. Farther beyond, a group of sandpipers peeped as they ran along the shore, stopping and starting like a tiny black and white chorus line.

“It’s so great to see the healthy seabirds and a much, much cleaner beach,” Joanna said, breaking into a wide smile. “When I called Trudy to check on the final tally, she said nearly twenty-five tons of plastic were collected during the cleanup.”

“Ted and I were just talking about that the other day when I stopped in at Anchorholdto chat. He expects over time to see a difference in the number of animals brought in there.”

“I’m not surprised. The cleanup was one of the most successful on record. Workers on a beach north of here even found two car hoods, a couple of refrigerators, and five televisions.”

“Wow!” Austin chuckled. “I’d hate to have been the poor soul who hauled all that stuff in.”

Nodding, she chuckled too.

They talked on and on, taking in the tranquil seascape, the hidden wonders in each other’s eyes. Sometimes they spoke solemnly. Other times they laughed.

And when Austin gathered her into his arms, his lips urgently seeking hers, Joanna knew
she’d
come one foolish step closer to falling in love.

Chapter Eight

“Thank goodness for Auntie,” Joanna said to herself the next morning as she backed the car onto the main road. An early riser, a woman filled with quiet wisdom and strong conviction, Marcella was always at her kitchen table by five-thirty every morning to read and meditate. If anyone could help Joanna sort through her turmoil,
it’d
surely be Auntie. Truth was,
she’d
outlived two husbands.

“What a surprise!” Marcella exclaimed when she greeted Joanna at her front door a short time later.
“And what a relief to see you back on your feet.”

“Oh, Auntie!”
Joanna enveloped the older woman in a gentle hug. She felt so small and
frail,
Joanna marveled she hadn’t fractured any bones that day she fell. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help when you needed me.”

“Nonsense, child.”
They drew back, surveying each other at arm’s length. “All I did was get a little bump on my head,” Marcella continued. “I’m still not sure why Austin insisted on rushing me to the hospital—though he was such a dear.”

At the sound of Austin’s name, Joanna’s stomach twisted. “But
I’m
here now. I’m here for whatever you might need me to do.”

The familiar, old-fashioned kitchen, with its sheer Priscilla curtains, Formica countertops, and red and white canisters, gave her a fleeting modicum of comfort. So much the way she remembered it as a child when she and her family used to visit. Even the smells were the same—the faint rose scent of hand soap mingled with lemony floor wax.

“All I need now is the pleasure of your company,” the older woman said, running a gnarled hand through silvery, permed hair. She motioned to a kitchen table chair, and Joanna sank gratefully into it. “My freezer is chock-full. I have at least a three month’s supply of medicine. And
there’s
a lady coming once a week to help with the cleaning until Lucille gets back—she’s the wife of another doctor in town, a charming woman by the name of Helen. Austin made sure he left no stones unturned.”

“Hmm.
Most likely Ted Ashelman’s wife,” Joanna murmured, more to herself than Aunt
Marcella
. Though Austin had obviously forgotten to tell her about that, she knew he was quickly becoming good friends with both Ted and Helen.

Joanna looked away, trying to hide the pain she was certain reflected in her face. Truth was, the rest of the day after her and Austin’s romantic interlude on the beach,
they’d
spoken very little. The tension had been like an ominous wall casting its looming shadow between them.

Is everything all right, dear?” Aunt Marcella
couldn’t
be fooled as she narrowed her gray eyes on Joanna.

“Yes. No. Oh, Auntie, I’m really not sure.”

Pulling up a chair next to Joanna and sitting down, Marcella covered her niece’s hand with her own. Tortuous blue veins flattened beneath transparent skin as she gave an encouraging squeeze. “So what is it?” she asked. “Not your new job, I hope.”