Rooted (The Pagano Family Book 3) (26 page)

“What?”

“Come with me to Maine. Just for a week. I’ve seen your life here. See mine there. Then, when you’re ready, when we have to decide, we’ll both have some context for the choice.”

He was calm and reasonable, as always, and he was giving her time. “When?”

“Now. Today. We can drive up in your truck, if you don’t mind that. It’s only a few hours to Portland, and I’m not far past it. The rest of my stuff should be arriving from Paris in a couple days, anyway. I should be there to receive it.”

Her family wouldn’t be happy that she was leaving just before Christmas, but he was only asking for a week. She’d be back in time for the holiday. And maybe she’d know more about the choices looming before them.

“Okay. Maine it is.”

~ 18 ~

“Turn left at the stop sign.”

Carmen nodded at Theo’s direction and drove on, northward on Colson College Road. Though they’d talked most of the ride to Maine, she had grown quiet as they’d left the Portland suburbs behind and moved deeply into the Maine Woods. Hoping it was the beauty around them that had silenced her, he let her be quiet.

It really was beautiful, like a Currier and Ives print. They wouldn’t get the heaviest snows until after the New Year, but there was a blanket of about eight inches over the ground, and the pine boughs were coated with white puffs. The roads were clear and dry, though.

Theo watched Carmen see the world he lived in—quiet and peaceful, nearly always. She seemed to be taking it in completely, her mouth open slightly, he hoped in awe. He wanted her to love this place like he did.

Because he couldn’t leave Maine. She had to come to him. She and their daughter.

The Colson town limit was farther down this road, and the college at which he taught was beyond the other side of town. He planned to show her everything, but they’d start with his house.

Carmen paused at the three-way stop and then turned left onto the gravel road that would become his driveway in about half a mile, after they passed the Darrons’ place and Joe Boyd’s. This road was not clear, but resident traffic since the snowfall had formed reliable, well-packed tracks for Carmen to follow. Her Tundra was four-wheel drive, so he wasn’t worried.

He’d offered to drive as they were preparing to leave Quiet Cove, and again when they’d stopped for lunch. Both times, she had cocked a wry, assertive eyebrow at him. She drove her own truck.

Fine with him; he didn’t feel less manly on the passenger side. And it tickled him to listen to her grumble and bitch at other drivers when they did things she considered stupid or inconsiderate—not an infrequent occurrence. She didn’t drive aggressively, but it was a good thing her road mates couldn’t hear her commentary.

As the road narrowed, Carmen stopped, her brow furrowed. A snow-topped, hand-carved sign ahead announced that they were at Wilde Wood.

“You named your place—and you named it Wilde Wood?” Her tone had a mocking flavor.

“Hey, Eli made that in woodshop class. He did good work on it.”

She conceded with a smiling nod. “I guess we’re at the right place then—not that anyone could tell otherwise.”

Theo said, “No one’s been around, and I didn’t think to call my neighbor and ask him to clear the drive. But drive on ahead—that break in the trees is my driveway.

She nodded and downshifted, then asked, “You left your house just unattended since May?”

“No. Jordan was here most of the summer, and then Eli was here until he moved, and my neighbors checked in on things regularly enough. Living back here is pretty safe. It’s a small lake, not all that well known, and no big boats allowed. Most of the property around the lake is still owned by town families, so we don’t have a big contingent of summer people. We have more trouble with college kids in the spring than anything. And that’s just rowdiness.”

There was a fairly steep dip toward the end of his drive, and the Tundra’s tires took half a second to grab on, then made the descent and climbed back up without a problem. As they crested the rise, Carmen took an audible breath.

“Fuck.”

The tone with which she said it was appreciative, almost reverent, and Theo smiled. Yes. This place.

To their right, nestled into the trees, his small, cedar-shake house, not dramatically different in style from Carmen’s beach cottage. To the left, down about seventy yards, Colson Lake, rimmed with pines and birches, busily about its work of freezing for the winter. The house was surrounded by expansive cedar decking of varied tiers, eventually connecting with the walkway to the lake, which became the dock onto the lake. That decking and walkway was the hard work of a summer for Theo and Eli several years before. Past the deck, his office, a tiny cedar cabin of its own. Back and to the near side of the house, functional but not nearly as picturesque, stood a large garage clad in corrugated steel. Once, it had held three vehicles, a riding mower, a little jon boat, and a rack of canoes and kayaks. These days, besides the boats and mower, his ’95 Cherokee was the only vehicle in there.

Carmen parked her truck, and they got out. Theo walked around the back end and went to her, catching her hand in his. “This is where I live.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yes. Come with me. I want to show you something.”

The air was sharply cold, and the snow moderately deep, but he wasn’t worried. She was dressed in big work boots, heavy, black leggings, and a dark brown sweater that hugged her belly. Over it all, she wore a navy down-filled coat with a faux-fur trimmed hood. She was a woman who knew what winter was. Maybe not a winter in the Maine woods, but she knew how to dress for the cold.

Shaking her hand free of his, she zipped her coat closed and then fished in her pockets and pulled out her gloves. When they were on, she took his hand again, and he led her down toward the lake.

He walked her out on the dock, so she could see past the edge of his little cove and out toward the larger lake. On a winter day like this—the sun bright and turning the snow into a sparkling blanket of pure peace, the lake itself iced enough to hold the snow but not yet enough to be trod upon, the trees lifting the white burdens of their boughs to the sky—it was possible to forget there was a world anywhere else. He loved it deeply. He’d lived a life here. He’d lost much here. He’d healed here. And he hoped that Carmen’s general distaste for humanity would entice her to live with him here, beyond the touch of strangers. He wanted to move on here.

They stood at the end of the dock; Theo behind her, his arms around her.

“God, Theo. It’s like Narnia. This can’t be real.”

He burrowed his face past the hood of her coat and into her hair, taking a deep breath of her. “But it is. We’re alone here. Totally private.” He slid his hand up under her coat and sweater, and then into her leggings, under her panties. He rubbed his palm over her taut, rounding belly. Their little girl. “No one to see us, no one to bother us.”

“Theo…”

Hearing reluctance in her voice, but not resistance, he pushed his hand between her legs and found her becoming wet already. She gasped and flinched as his fingers brushed her clit and her folds.

“No one to mind us at all,” he breathed against her ear. He pushed his fingers deep, holding her snugly with his other arm as she folded forward with a cry. She wet his fingers thoroughly, and he groaned into her hair.

“I love to feel you want it like this, to feel you swell at my touch.” He moved his fingers to her clit and rubbed, keeping the pressure firm and steady, but varying the way he moved, as she liked. Here on the dock in December, bundled up in their winter layers, he wasn’t planning to linger. He wanted to get her off quickly and powerfully. She was extra sensitive these days and doubly responsive, and now he was bent over her back because she’d nearly doubled over. With both gloved hands between her legs, she held his hand on her and flexed, grunting, until she came, going suddenly, rigidly still, and wetting his hand even more.

When her body relaxed, he stood them both straight and removed his hand, setting her clothes to rights. Then he turned her to face him and kissed her flushed cheek. “Welcome to Maine,” he murmured.

~oOo~

They spent their days primarily alone together, tucked into his little woodsy haven. Joe Boyd had been over to check on things recently enough that the Cherokee started almost right away, the pipes were working well, and the wood was dry.

The new ruts through the snow-covered drive brought visitors within the first day—Joe, an older, rough-edged, old-school Mainer, showed up in his ancient Willys with his Mossberg at the ready, but he was warm and friendly as soon as he saw Theo, and he gave Carmen an appreciative eye—and then gave Theo a brotherly wink when he noticed her belly.

Perry and Marijean Darron came over after that, having already talked to Joe. Marijean came bearing baked goods and homemade apple butter. Theo liked them both a lot, especially Perry, with whom he’d coached Little League for Eli and Jeremy Darron. They’d spent a lot of summer hours out on the lake in that little jon boat, too, dangling lines in the water and downing a six pack or two.

Marijean was a sweet stay-at-home mom who homeschooled their four sons and put a diligent shoulder to all the things she felt certain that a good mother did for her family. She was also an inveterate gossip. She asked a lot of passively prying questions of Carmen, and Carmen’s answers grew progressively sharper until Theo realized that she was about to leave civility behind completely and just lay into his plump, mostly harmless neighbor. He found a polite way of sending the Darrons on their way.

After that flurry of company, though, they were left alone unless they sought out civilization. Theo took her through town. They replenished the larder at Donovan’s IGA, and they had a couple of meals at the Pink Plate Diner. One day, he took her to campus, eerily quiet during winter break, and showed her his office, which had a stale, dusty smell of disuse. It was strange to be in this room again. He’d spent years in it, his entire career could be traced back through the books that lined three walls and the papers that filled the file cabinets, but after so many months away, it barely felt like his.

Carmen studied all of his framed degrees and certificates, the teaching and service awards, the National Book Award, photographs of him during
Orchids
’ peak
with famous writers and dignitaries. Then she plopped into the old armchair he kept for students and asked, “Is this the hot seat?”

He sat at his desk, trying to ignore the solid red light glowing on his phone, indicating that his voice mail was full. He wondered if there was a way to simply erase the entire thing without listening to any message at all. He’d have to look into that. “It’s where students sit, yes. Not sure how hot it is.”

“Do you make them cry?” She nodded toward the nearby box of tissues.

“Crying happens sometimes, yes. I don’t set out to make them cry, no.”

“I bet you’re a tough grader. You probably make all their papers bleed red ink.”

He smirked at her. “Critique is how we learn.”

Triumph filled her laugh. “I knew it! You’re that professor all students moan about. You probably never give As.”

“When they’re warranted, I do. But an A suggests mastery.”

She slouched back in the chair, playing with the beaded pull of the floor lamp next to it. “Yep. You’re a ninja prof. You’re all hot and nice and funny, and then you tear them a new one.”

He shrugged, enjoying her play. Then she stood, came to him, and pushed herself between his legs. “What would I have to do to get an A from you?”

Lifting her shirt, he kissed her bare belly, then pulled her onto his lap. “Master me.”

~oOo~

Two nights before she was scheduled to go back to Quiet Cove, and the night before Jordan was scheduled to be home for winter break from the University of Maine, they had their first snowfall of the week. The flakes were the fluffy kind that were pleasant to be out in, and would be good packing for children’s snowmen, forts, and snowball fights in the morning.

Theo took Carmen for a short walk through the falling snow, leading her through the well-worn trail the boys had made over years of wandering through their woods. They didn’t go too far; dusk was falling, and the woods got dense and deep dark a couple of hundred yards from the house. But it was beautiful and nearly perfectly quiet, except for the crunch of their own boots through the snow. Carmen slid her hand into his glove with his, and Theo felt a completeness he had not known in a very long time.

Maybe not ever.

That night, as every night of this week, he stoked a fire in the stone fireplace, and they ate a simple meal and then curled on the sofa together to read. He read an actual book, made of paper and ink; Carmen read on her tablet.