Moonlight on Monterey Bay (20 page)

Finally Sam stood up, pulled her up beside him. “Come on.”

Maddie wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Come dance with me, my love.” He held out his arms and took her into them lovingly.

And as the moon slowly filled up the sky and the old dance band played songs of love and life, Maddie
and Sam clung to each other and glided slowly across the deck.

The next day Maddie set out by herself. She needed to be alone when she planted the tree. “It’s my ritual, my special thing,” she explained, and set off in the borrowed pickup truck.

Sam watched her from the doorway to the beach house. Her thick black braid shifted beneath a floppy green hat as the truck bounced down the drive on worn shocks. In the side mirror he caught her smile, her green-gold eyes. He watched her until the truck turned onto the road and disappeared from sight. And then he turned and strode down to the beach, where he ran until his chest burned fiercely and his eyes stung with saltwater spray.

The huge jagged rock he climbed afforded him a view and the aloneness he sought. The time to think.

Sam had brought a bottle of champagne with him the night before. He was going to ask Maddie to move in with him, to live in the beach house, and in San Jose.…whenever she wanted to. To be with him. In the trunk of his car was a plaid dog bed for Eeyore, proof of the seriousness of his intent.

But in the flash of an evening it had all changed. Suddenly his plans, his invitation, were discolored with self-interest.

His love for Maddie was enormous, bigger than anything in his life. But a selfish love was bound to die. He needed to think about Maddie, about her life. About
her
future.

He would do it, would work it all out, but not today, he thought as he climbed down from the rock. Today he needed to be there for Maddie when she came back from planting her child’s tree, her lifeline to the little girl who lived in her heart. He needed to fix her dinner, to take her for a swim in the ocean, to hold her, and to love her through the night.

TWELVE

It was a few days later that Eleanor walked into Sam’s office unannounced, closed the door quietly behind her, and sat down on the small couch.

Sam was standing at the bank of windows in his office, his hands shoved in his pants pockets, his forehead creased.

“Sam, would you like to talk?”

He shrugged. “It’s all kind of complicated.”

Eleanor nodded in understanding, concern shadowing her face. “You love her deeply, Sam, I can see that.”

What Eleanor said was true, but it didn’t come near to describing what he felt. She didn’t know the half of it; what she saw was the tip of the iceberg.

“And I know that she loves you too.”

“Eleanor—”

“Hush, Sam. I’ve known you for many years and
that gives me some rights here. I see the pain in both your eyes, the uncertainty as to where you are going, what you’re going to do with this love now that you’ve given life to it. I love you like a son, Sam, and I’ve grown very fond of Maddie. I don’t want either of you to be hurt.”

Sam took the words in, tucked them away. “You know,” he said, “I had almost convinced myself Maddie and I could go on like this indefinitely, with maybe a shift in living arrangements, and that loving each other would be enough.”

“Love is certainly the cement. But you also need bricks, mutual goals.”

He smiled with a sadness that made Eleanor flinch. “It would be less complicated if I didn’t love her so much,” he said. “Then maybe we
could
go on like this. But she has dreams, and needs. Needs that I don’t think I can fill.”

“I don’t know that you can’t, Sam. But the needs are real, yes. I see her love for children, her desire for a family.”

Sam knew all that, but hearing Eleanor say it was painful; it made the reality too jarring to hide any longer. He knew what Maddie needed—a houseful of kids and love spilling out all over the place. She needed a man like Jack Thorpe, a wonderful, dependable husband, a great father.

He looked out over the city, and a great sadness, like a thick, morning fog, began to settle over him.

Eleanor got up and walked over to him. She rested her blue-veined hand on his arm. “I’m not meaning to interfere. I know you’ll do right by Maddie. Just be careful, Sam. Love is a powerful thing. And it can cause great pain as well as the joy.”

Sam didn’t dismiss Eleanor’s words. They lay heavy on his dreams, interrupting sleep. He explored his options painfully, and was brutal in his introspection. If he continued this way, being with Maddie every chance he had, loving her, he would be denying her the dreams that nurtured her, the future she deserved. And as for permanent commitment … Sam thought of his past marriage, the mess he had made of it. Maybe that would be the biggest hurt of all to her, especially after the losses Maddie had already suffered in her life.

The next afternoon he drove to Santa Cruz, his thoughts weighing him down like enormous sandbags. There weren’t any choices left. If he loved her, he’d give her the biggest gift, make the only selfless move he could, just as she had done for the baby that marked her life forever. He would give her up.

Maddie was sitting on her steps when Sam drove up. Eeyore was asleep at her feet. She was reading
the paper and had a cup of tea sitting beside her. Sam wanted to take a picture, to catch the late-afternoon sunlight as it drifted across her hair and face, and to hold her still in that place, that moment, forever.

But Maddie heard the car, looked up, and a smile spread slowly across her face. “Sam,” she said, her voice as soft as a whisper.

Eeyore lumbered down the walk, tail flapping, and licked Sam’s outstretched hand.

“Do I get a lick, too?” Maddie asked, and Sam’s heart began to tear in two.

His silence made her look at him more closely. She noticed the shadows beneath his eyes, the pain glossing the surface. “Are you okay?” A fear, planted long ago, began to grow within her.

Sam held her face between his palms. “Maddie,” he said slowly, “I think it’s time we talked about some things.”

She nodded and walked back toward the house.

Sam waited until they were inside, sitting like strangers on the couch that had held him that foggy night a lifetime ago. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes on Eeyore, then a plant, a painting. His head felt like it was going to explode. How could he ever let her go? Finally he began.

“Maddie,” he said carefully, measuring each word, “I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone. It’s … it’s an overwhelming thing.…”

Maddie sat silently. Slowly the thoughts she had pressed down, forced into shadows for days now, began to take shape, and she knew before he spoke, what thoughts would be spoken, what agony articulated.

“I can’t ruin your life, Maddie.”

Maddie lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. She tried to snuff out the fear, to lighten the moment. “I didn’t know that was being considered, Sam,” she said. “But good. I support the decision.”

“No, listen, Maddie, let me say this while I still have the courage. I can’t make the kind of commitment you need. Your needs—they’re so real, so vital. I’ve messed up people’s lives once before, and I can’t do it again, not to you. I love you more than my life. But I can’t let that love cause you to have less of a life than you deserve. You’d come to hate me for that.”

Maddie was silent. For a long time she sat as still as the coffee table, her mind sifting through his words. She tried to sort them out, to extricate them from the pain she felt. And then a tiny seed of anger bubbled up from the thick morass of emotion, a clean spurt of indignation. Her eyes were lit, her voice strong and clear.

“What you’re saying, Sam, is that this is it. Summer is over.”

“Maddie, I—”

“No, wait—” She put her hands up in front of
her. “I’m a part of this, too, Sam. I have a mind, feelings—”

“Of course. And that’s what matters the most to me.” He touched her arm, but when she stiffened, he pulled his hand back. “I can’t be what you need. I can’t fulfill the dreams you have, and you shouldn’t have to alter them. You deserve the best.” His voice faltered, then broke off. He wasn’t sure how much strength was left in him, and for one brief moment he considered backing off, coasting awhile longer. And then he looked at her face, the face he loved, and he knew he was doing the right thing. “I’m not the man who can give any of that to you.”

“Just like that?” Her voice was tight. “You’ve decided that this is best, so just like that—whazoom!—it’s over?”

“Not just like that, Maddie.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re a coward, Sam Eastland. You’re hiding behind who you were five years ago. And you know who’s being hurt the most?” Her eyebrows shot up into her hair. “You, that’s who. You’re denying yourself the chance to grow, to change, to be something maybe you weren’t all those years ago. And that’s terribly sad.”

Sam’s voice was strained. “Maddie, I love you. This is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life.” Her anger was settling in around him, a soothing balm for the great sadness that numbed his face, his lips, his jaw.

Maddie was getting up from the couch. She wobbled slightly, then caught her balance and looked beyond him, past his ear, to the edge of a picture frame. Tears stung her eyelids, but she refused to allow them to escape. “That’s too bad, Sam,” she said slowly. “Life is difficult.” The tears were so close now that the colors in the room were beginning to run together. She couldn’t see him clearly. Good. That was good.

She turned, her head held high, and forced her legs to work. With Eeyore slowly trailing behind her, she walked sedately out of the living room, up the stairs, into her tiny room. Once inside, she closed the door, crossed to the narrow bed, and flung her body across it. And pressing her head into a pillow, she filled it with silent cries of anguish.

Maddie thought she had drained her body of tears. But she was wrong. There were more tears, discovered the next morning when habit pulled her from sleep and tossed her cruelly into the harsh light of day. At first the dull pain in the pit of her stomach was undefined, and then, as her bare feet hit the floor, it all flooded back and the tears began again.

She pulled on sweats and ran along the beach, past fishermen and early surfers and strollers, her dog at her side and her heart crumbling like the sand beneath her feet. The sun came up, the fishermen fished, and
the surfers surfed. But Maddie’s world had collapsed. And it would never be the same again.

There were days when Maddie almost hated Sam for the terrible pain that rested in the center of her soul. Her anger and pain and love all came together, a thick rope that was wrapped around her heart, strangling her.

“It isn’t right,” she told Joseph. “Love shouldn’t hurt like this.”

“Right means little in matters of the heart,” he said, his face a mass of tiny worry lines. “But I saw Sam a few days ago when I went to get Eleanor, and if it helps any, darlin’, he looks even worse than you do. And I know what he’s done was a gift of love on his part, nothing less.”

Maddie tried to smile, but it wobbled, then died. “I knew it would have to end, Joseph. Deep down, I did. He’s right—we don’t want the same things in life. So it could never have worked—” But the words were haphazard, tin sounding, and when the tears came, she knew she didn’t believe herself anymore. “But we should have tried to work it out together, Joseph,” she said through her tears. “We should have—” We should have what?

Joseph pushed the square box of tissues across her desk. “Here now, Maddie, use these, and when they are all gone, the tears must stop. I can’t have you smearing our contracts.”

She smiled through her tears and reached for his hand. “Dear Joseph, how do you put up with me?”

“I don’t know, I certainly don’t know.” He wrapped her in his strong arms and held her while wide damp circles stained his shirt.

That next night Maddie picked up the phone to call Sam. The sound of his voice, she thought, would soothe the pain, stop the tears. But the futility of it made her hang up without dialing.

But when a painting she had ordered for his beach house was delivered to the office the next day, Maddie refused Joseph’s offer to take it by the house. “It’s my job,” she said sadly. “I can do it. I can’t live this way. I have to realize that it’s over. Somehow I have to accept it—”

With her heart in her throat she drove up the familiar drive. No one was home, but the key was beneath the pot of geraniums as always and she slipped it into the lock. Maybe she should have let Joseph do it, shouldn’t have subjected herself to this. It hurt too much, she thought as she walked silently through the hallway to the back of the house. The picture was a painting of a sailboat by a local artist, one Sam had spotted at an art fair they’d gone to together. He had loved the colors of the sails, the motion of the water. Maddie hung it over a small table near the backdoor and then forced herself to look around the room. It felt different, remote somehow. And then she frowned.

A thick layer of dust coated the coffee table, and in the kitchen she spotted the glasses she and Sam had used the last time she had been there. And then she looked around the house more carefully. Sam hadn’t been there for a while. She forced herself to walk upstairs.