The Right Time (32 page)

This cottage, used infrequently, was bigger, more lavish, and more beautifully appointed than any home she’d ever been in, and she began to feel uncomfortable while they were still in the foyer. She knew she was being silly, so she tried her best to keep her discomfort to herself.

“You have a lovely home,” she said to Miranda, putting on what she knew had to look like a staged smile.

“Thank you, Hennessy. It’s just a place to get away for a few days. It’s nice to rough it a little.” She laughed softly, and Hennessy tried to guess if she was teasing or really thought this palace was rustic.

The long ride had let Townsend calm down, and she seemed pretty much like her usual self now. Hopefully she’d gotten rid of whatever was bothering her.

“Let’s go take a spin,” Townsend said, taking Hennessy’s hand in her own and pulling her towards the wall of French doors in the back of the living room.

“Where are we going?” Hennessy asked when they reached the back yard.

“To the guest house. That’s where I always stay.”

Stopping in her tracks, Hennessy’s head started to shake. “Not a good idea.” She wanted to upbraid Townsend for being so dogged, but she tried to at least sound like she was teasing, not in any mood for another flare-up. “Your mother won’t hear my screams when you try to molest me.”

“Right.” She laughed. “She’d never hear your screams, regardless of where we were. You’re gonna have to defend yourself.” With a wicked grin, she added, “I’m like an octopus. You’ll think I have eight arms.” She stuck her hands out and let them dart about.

It was time to draw the line clearly. “It’s not a good idea for us to be alone. I want to sleep in the main house.”

For several seconds, Townsend stared silently. Then she muttered something and started down a stone path, heading towards the two-story guest house.

Hennessy watched her go, her anxiety spiking. Angela had been right. Going on a trip with Townsend and her mother was asking for trouble. But now what? She was stuck out in the middle of nowhere. On an island, for God’s sake!

Panicking wouldn’t help a damned thing, so she took in a few deep breaths and stepped back into the main house.

She stood there for a moment, feeling like an intruder. The room was opulent, but simple. Everything had to cost a wheelbarrow full of money, but there weren’t any gold-plated lamps or Ming vases or anything. Just a couple of sofas and three overstuffed chairs. Each as cushy-looking as a feather bed.

A big fireplace with a carved wooden mantle was already blazing. How had that happened? Were there servants?

Miranda came out of the kitchen and stopped short when she spotted Hennessy. “Do you need something?”

“Uhm…I…don’t know where I should sleep. Is there a guest room?”

“You’re not sleeping in the guest house? I assumed you’d be more comfortable there.”

“I don’t…I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but I need to have my own room, Mrs. Bartley.”

She cocked her head, a puzzled smile slowly tugging at her lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve had a fight already.”

“No. Well, maybe a small one. But that’s not the point. We’re trying to take this slowly. We’re not…being intimate yet.”

The older woman blinked in surprise. “
Still?
Why ever not?”

Two Bartley women might be more than she could handle
.
Especially when both of them behaved so unpredictably!
“
Townsend’s got to focus on staying sober. Getting too involved at this point might distract her.”

“Interesting.” Miranda shook her head, smiling to herself. “You
are
just as earnest as Townsend says you are.”

Hennessy nodded, feeling a blush rise to cover her cheeks. “I am pretty earnest. That’s just my way. But I’m also very invested in helping Townsend stay sober. I don’t want to supervise her, but I also don’t want to tempt her to do things before we’re both ready.”

Brow furrowing, Miranda asked, “Do you really think she’ll stay sober? I desperately want her to, but I can’t imagine she can do it.”

“I believe in her,” Hennessy said, her faith in Townsend making her shiver. It had been eight months. Eight months of really hard work. Work neither of her parents had ever even attempted. That kind of work meant something. Something good.

“I can see that,” Miranda said, nodding briskly. “I hope you’re right.”

“I hope so, too.” Lifting her bag, Hennessy asked, “Guest room?”

“Well, there are a few rooms on the second floor, but I’m planning on writing this week, and my schedule’s unpredictable. I’m often nocturnal, and I keep the stereo on rather loud. You’ll be happier in the guest house.”

“But—”

“You can lock your door, Hennessy,” the woman said, giving her a puzzled look. “I don’t think Townsend has an ax with her.”

Hennessy winced. “I didn’t realize there was more than one room.”

“There are three bedrooms. You can have an empty one between the two of you, just to be safe.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Hennessy mumbled. “And I hurt Townsend’s feelings.”

Laughing wryly, Miranda said, “Her feelings are always hurt about one thing or another. You’ll get used to it.”

Hennessy stood in front of the door to the guest house, thinking over Miranda’s words. If Townsend were her own child, she would have washed that sharp tongue with soap. But she wasn’t her parent, and this wasn’t the time to start trying to fix what was obviously a fractured relationship. It was time to start over.

Tentatively cracking open the door, Hennessy stuck her head in, hoping that Townsend wouldn’t hurl anything at her. Spotting her sitting on a white, slipcovered sofa, she asked, “Can I come in?”

“It didn’t take long for mother dear to send you packing, did it?” Townsend’s voice was filled with bitterness. “What excuse did she give for telling you to scram?”

Hennessy walked through the entryway and set her bag down. Approaching the sofa, she took a seat. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I should have asked what you and your mom had already worked out.”

Giving her a curious look, Townsend asked, “Do you want to be here at all? Do you want to be with me?”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s mid-March, and I haven’t seen you since January the second. I would have come to Boston any weekend between then and now, but you wouldn’t hear of it. You keep me at arm’s length, like you’re half-in and half-out.”

Scooting closer, Hennessy said, “That’s not true. I’m all in. I’m one hundred percent into this, into you. But I want to give you the space to learn how to be your own person, the you who doesn’t abuse her body or her mind.”

Townsend nodded and sat quietly for a few moments. She was staring at the fireplace, her eyes twitching over the gnarled wood that had been neatly stacked by the hearth. “Would you stop loving me if I slipped?”

Hennessy answered without a moment’s hesitation. It was easy to fire off a response you’d thought of a thousand times. “No, I wouldn’t. I’d still love you, but I couldn’t be with you if you decided to start drinking again.”

Eyes narrowed, Townsend stared at her with the gaze of a much older, hardened woman. “So, one slip and I’m out?”

“No,” Hennessy said, making sure she was clear. “Almost everyone has a slip or two. But if you quit the program, if you stopped
trying
to quit drinking, we’d have to end it.” She could feel herself start to mist up. “I can’t do that to myself. I can’t watch my daddy and my mamma
and
you all slowly kill yourselves. I can’t.”

Townsend reached up and gently wiped at the tears that were slipping down Hennessy’s cheeks. “I won’t ever drink again,” she whispered. “I promise I won’t.”

Fighting the agitation that pulsed in her chest, Hennessy said, “Please don’t talk like that. It’s only going to get you into trouble. Just try to stay sober right now. Right this minute. Don’t worry about tomorrow.”

“I
know
that’s the golden rule, Hennessy. I hear it every single goddamned day. I just get sick of feeling like I’m hanging on by my fingernails. I want some certainty.”

Terror plucked at her heart. Was she looking for an escape route? “You feel like you’re just hanging on?”

Townsend turned and stared at her for a second. “I feel fine, goddamn it! But you and my mother and my shrink and my team manager all treat me like I’ll run to a bar and guzzle the whole fucking place dry if you look at me cross-eyed!”

“What’s a team manager?”

Growling, Townsend said, “That’s the moron at school who watches me and three other fuck-ups. Mrs. Hopkins treats us like we’re some kind of fucking science experiment.”

Hennessy suddenly felt tired. Worn out. Like she’d had this conversation a thousand times and would have it a thousand more. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be another authority figure. That’s not good for you.”

Townsend grabbed her by the shirt and shook her. “What’s not good for me is having you constantly harping about what’s good for me! Act like you’re eighteen for fuck’s sake!”

Dropping her head into her hands, Hennessy sat quietly for a few moments. “I’m sorry. I…it’s hard for me to relax.”

Townsend let her head drop behind her. Her whole body limp, spent. She blew out an audible breath, then sat up again and rubbed at her face with her fists. “I’m sorry, too.” The sofa cushions shifted as she scooted closer and gently draped an arm around Hennessy’s shoulders. “Can I take that back?”

Hennessy nodded. “Yeah.”

As Townsend’s grip tightened, she said, “One of the things I love about you is that you’re more mature than you should be. I can’t have it both ways.”

“Okay.” Hennessy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s start over.”

“It’s hard to do that. Let’s hug for a while. We do better sometimes when we don’t talk.” They rested against each other, their bodies slowly molding together.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, then Hennessy murmured, “What does a girl have to do to get a decent kiss around here?”

Without a word, Townsend shifted and pressed her lips against Hennessy’s. Sensation hit her in the solar plexus and she gave into it. She’d been dreaming of Townsend’s lips for the past three months and finally having them pressing into her was a tonic. Townsend let out a guttural groan that made Hennessy throb. After a long while she pulled away. “Nice,” Hennessy purred. “Nicer than my dreams.”

Reaching for the back of her head, Townsend pulled her close but wound up kissing air when Hennessy slithered out of her grip. “Time for some lunch. I’m starving.” She leaned forward, placed a quick peck on Townsend’s lips, then started to get up.

But Townsend clearly had other ideas. She tackled Hennessy and tumbled her into her lap. “I need more,” she growled, placing a flurry of kisses on Hennessy’s face, neck and ears.

Gently but firmly pulling away from Townsend’s fervid embrace, Hennessy got to her rubbery legs and took a deep, calming breath. “Too much,” she managed to get out. “That’s too much.”

Townsend leaned back against the cushions, then ran a hand through her hair, a wan smile on her face. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“I admire your persistence. Your determination is what’s going to see you through this.” She extended a hand and Townsend started to grasp it, but Hennessy pulled it away at the last second. “Fool me once…” she said, laughing as Townsend fell back onto her butt. After Townsend got up on her own, Hennessy dropped a kiss onto her head as they left the guest house, their laughter quickly absorbed by the sounds of the sea.

Miranda had left a note on the kitchen counter.
“I’ll fend for myself this week, girls. I suggest you do the same. If you could buy some nice salads and leave them in the refrigerator, I’d be forever in your debt. Here’s some cash for incidentals.”
Hennessy blinked as she counted the hundred dollar bills. She thought there were five, but Townsend shoved them into her pocket before Hennessy could be sure.

Townsend leaned against the granite counter, arms crossed over her chest, a smug smile firmly attached to her mouth. “Still think you’re going to get to know my mother this week?”