“How’d you make out at the estate sale?”
“Pretty well.”
“So it was worth the trip over here?”
Jordan nodded. “Not just for the books. Molly’s having the time of her life.”
“And you?”
“I’ve been enjoying myself. It was kind of you to invite me.”
Sheryl smiled. “Well, our daughters are like two peas in a pod. I suppose we should get to know one another.” She shifted on the bench, finding a comfortable position on the hard wood. Once settled, she ran her hands affectionately over her round belly, as if to reassure herself that all the discomfort was well worth it.
Jordan remembered experiencing those feelings, along with the anxiety of being an unwed mother-to-be, but her memories of her own pregnancy had faded considerably over the years. Eyeing Clay’s sister, she felt an unexpected twinge of longing. She had wanted a second child so badly once she married Richard, yearning to experience it as a whole family this time. Seared into her memory were those long months, stretching into years, when the sight of a pregnant woman on the street would make her chest ache with envy and grief, and despite how it hurt she would stop at store windows to gaze longingly at high chairs and tiny baby sleepers. She had thought she was over it now, but there were moments when sadness and regret still tugged painfully at her heart.
“Mom and I are so glad to have Clay close by,” Sheryl added. “We’ve missed him. Anyway, I think he needs to be with family right now, after the trauma of his divorce.”
“He seems to be recovering well.” Remembering his kiss during the blackout, Jordan felt a small unbidden smile curve her lips.
Sheryl darted her a sharp look. “Yes, well, I’m sure he’s glad to have finally cut his ties to Kathryn, after the hell she put him through working out a settlement. But you know how it is, after a divorce. It’s a relief to have it over but one needs a little time to heal.”
“Definitely.” Jordan had the distinct impression that Sheryl’s interest in her had less to do with Molly’s friendship with Alice than it did with gleaning Jordan’s intentions toward Clay. Had she not resented the intrusion, Jordan would’ve been happy to reassure her that nothing was going on between herself and Clay—one nostalgic kiss didn’t add up to much, after all.
Jordan glanced toward the beach, where Clay was now checking that Molly’s lifejacket was properly fastened. He then helped her into the front cockpit of the kayak and handed her a paddle, before grabbing hold of the back of the vessel and pushing it further out into the water. He’d exchanged this morning’s gray shirt for a white tank top, and Jordan’s gaze lingered on the broad, bronzed shoulders that were now exposed, the rigid muscles swelling with each shove. Once the kayak was released from the beach, he stepped into the back cockpit, his masculine form cutting a stirring silhouette against the dark water. Jordan’s chest constricted, rendering her momentarily speechless.
Across from her, Sheryl gave a sudden jolt, clutching her belly, and then grinned. “Oop, baby’s kicking.”
Jordan dragged her eyes away from the shore, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. “For me, those little movements were the best part of being pregnant.”
“This one has elbows like tiny hammers. Anyway, I should get back to the house.” Sheryl hauled herself to her feet. “We’re having a barbecue tonight and I’m on potato-peeling duty.”
“What can I do to help?”
“I suppose you could gather some berries for Mom. She’s making strawberry shortcake.” Sheryl glanced at her watch. “The girls were going to do that but it’s getting late and they’re having such a good time with Clay.”
“Sure, sounds like fun.”
“I’ll get you a bucket.”
Following Sheryl, Jordan stepped out of the gazebo. As they headed down the hill together, she allowed herself one more brief glance at the water, to watch Molly this time, happily paddling away from the shore.
“We couldn’t have asked for a better evening for a barbecue,” Dean remarked over Clay’s shoulder.
“Hmm.” Clay glanced up from the burgers he was attending on the grill. Indeed, the clear, temperate evening seemed custom-made for such an event, the gentlest breeze delivering the sharp scent of the ocean up from the beach. He looked over at the lawn next to the patio, where the girls had resumed their raucous game of croquet, filling the air with shrieks and giddy laughter.
The adults were gathered on the patio, where two picnic tables and a number of lawn chairs were arranged. Jordan, glass of lemonade in hand, was chatting with his mother, seated next to her at one of the tables. Clay watched them for a moment, his gaze locked on Jordan as she turned her head and her honey-blonde hair shifted across her creamy shoulders.
“Distracting, isn’t she,” Dean said.
Clay made a noncommittal sound, turning his attention back to the burgers.
“Thinking about old times?” his brother-in-law pressed.
Clay frowned. “Don’t tell me my sister has you spying for her.”
“Nothing like that.” Dean shrugged. “I can’t deny Sheryl’s been concerned about you.”
“It’s really not her business.”
“I know. But to Sheryl, you will always be her little brother who needs her protection.”
His frown deepening, Clay began flipping the burgers over with an aggressive motion. “I fear that’s what I’m in for the rest of my life,” he muttered.
“Can’t blame her for thinking you’re falling for Jordan again. I can see it in your face.”
“See what?” Clay asked irritably. He wasn’t used to this sort of heart-to-heart questioning from Dean. He liked the man well enough, but he’d hardly consider him a close friend.
“That you’re smitten,” Dean suggested, then waved the word away, unhappy with it. “Call it what you will. I’ve seen it on her face, too, when she looks your way.”
Clay uttered his best skeptical laugh. “You have a romantic soul, Dean.”
“Okay, I won’t force the issue,” his brother-in-law conceded with a chuckle of his own. “I think those burgers are done.”
Clay glanced down at the burgers, beginning to char on the grill, and quickly grabbed a plate to transfer them to safety.
Once called to dinner, the girls dropped their mallets and swarmed the patio. As they gathered at one of the picnic tables, Clay handed out burgers and Lorraine and Sheryl served garden and potato salads.
“Let me help,” Jordan offered, rising from the other table.
“No need,” said Lorraine. “You sit down and start eating. Clay, get her a burger, will you?”
Clay set two burgers on two plates and took them to the table where Jordan sat. Handing one plate to her, he swung his leg over the bench and settled next to her.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling serenely.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Jordan nodded, picking up her burger with both hands. “I’m famished, and this looks delicious.”
The other adults arrived at the table with their own plates, Sheryl carrying the two salads in huge bowls.
“Try some of this,” she instructed Jordan. “It’s our grandmother’s secret recipe. Definitely not low fat. But you can afford it.”
She heaped potato salad onto Jordan’s plate, and double the amount onto her own.
“She’s been taking this eating for two idea very seriously,” quipped Dean, who added quickly, under his wife’s glare, “but she’s never looked more beautiful.”
“Smart man,” Sheryl said, allowing him to help her step over the bench opposite Jordan and Clay.
“Do you know if it’s a girl or a boy?” Jordan asked as Sheryl lowered herself onto the bench.
She beamed down at her belly. “A girl.”
“Got a name picked out?”
“We’re still debating it. Either Lisa or Sarah. We’ve already used Grammy’s name, Alice. And our Alice actually looks quite a bit like Grammy did as a girl, amazingly enough.”
“It’s quite nice to be reminded of Grammy every time we look at Alice,” Clay remarked, plopping a spoonful of potato salad onto his plate. “It keeps her in our thoughts. If I were to have a son, I’d probably name him Liam, after Dad.”
Clay’s mother, seated at the end of the table in a lawn chair, reached across the plates to squeeze his hand. “That would be lovely,” she said, her eyes brimming with emotion. “If it ever happens. You’ve got to get yourself remarried while you’re still young. Kids take a lot out of you,” she added, smiling now. “Best to have them when you’ve still got the energy.”
“Mom, don’t push him,” Sheryl chided, reaching for the ketchup. “He’s still reeling from his divorce.”
“Far from it, Sheryl,” he replied mildly. “I am in fact fully recovered and ready to move on.”
Clay avoided looking at Jordan as he spoke, not wanting to give his family, or Jordan, the impression that he had any notion of moving on with her. Although the idea had definitely crossed his mind, the last thing he wanted right now was a public declaration.
“Of course he is,” Lorraine countered. “Look at him, he’s never looked so relaxed and happy. If you ask me, Kathryn was sucking the life out of him.”
“That we can agree on,” Sheryl muttered. His family had never been fond of his former wife, finding her haughty and aloof on the few occasions they’d gotten together.
“Speaking of wicked women,” Dean cut in, “did you see what Mrs. Portman has done to the trees on her property?”
“Oh, I
know
,” said Lorraine disapprovingly. “It’s a travesty. Those arbutus trees were just gorgeous when they bloomed in the spring. What was she thinking?”
Vowing to thank his brother-in-law later, Clay dug into his potato salad. As the conversation moved on to other topics, his attention wandered elsewhere. After a few minutes he chanced a sidelong glance at Jordan. She was eating quietly, no longer contributing to the discussion. She looked melancholy, keeping her eyes mainly on her plate. Clay cast Sheryl a searing glance, though she wasn’t looking at him. Why did she insist on clinging to her resentment of Jordan? He didn’t know what the future held for him and his former fiancée, but he did know his sister’s transparent disapproval wasn’t going to help things.
Suddenly Jordan looked up from her plate, her eyes meeting Clay’s. He didn’t look away, holding her gaze for a lingering moment. He’d almost forgotten the incredibly vivid, luminous green of her eyes when sunlight set them aglow. The voices of his family faded to a murmur, his thundering pulse overwhelming them.
For a second he thought he saw something flicker across her features—was it a beseeching look?—and then she turned away, returning to her half-eaten plate of food. Damn it, what was she thinking? Was her heart pounding violently like his? Or was she keeping it hardened against him, happy to catch up with her old flame over a weekend but intending to say a final goodbye at the end of it? It was an unbearable frustration that in that moment, when his compulsion was to draw Jordan into his arms and bury his face in the enticing curve of her neck, Clay could only sit and wonder what was going on in her mind
.
* * *
Jordan hadn’t realized she’d been nodding off until the scrape of the patio door sliding on its track jolted here awake. She blinked heavily, aware of the droning voice of a news anchorman on the television.
“The girls are all asleep,” she heard Clay announce, and she looked up from the sofa to see him stepping in through the open patio door.
“At last. I’m surprised they weren’t sleepier after the day they had,” Lorraine muttered. She was ensconced in an armchair on the far side of the living room, knitting a bright red garment beneath a gooseneck floor lamp. Behind her, Sheryl and Dean sat playing a languid game of Crazy Eights at the dining room table.
Jordan glanced at her watch. It was after ten o’clock. Time for bed. Stretching her arms, she rose to her feet and grabbed her empty tea mug from the end table next to the sofa.
She was heading to the kitchen with it when Clay stopped her, grasping her elbow.
“Come with me,” he said quietly, taking the mug from her and setting it on the coffee table.
She looked at him, puzzled. “Where?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to attempt to seduce you,” he whispered. “I just want to show you something.”
As he headed back out onto the patio, Jordan followed him into the crisp night air, pausing to button up her cardigan.
Clay nodded upward. “You don’t see a sky like this in the city.”
Following his gaze, Jordan turned her face up to the sky. “It’s magnificent,” she breathed, filling her eyes with the array of stars scattered like glittering diamonds across a swath of inky black. She smiled to herself, enchanted by the dazzling display above her.
“Come down to the beach with me,” Clay said.
Jordan looked at him, meeting his steady gaze. He looked younger in the dark, as he had during the blackout at her house a few weeks back. Not answering him at first, she glanced back at the living room. The others were ignoring the pair on the patio—except for Sheryl, who glared at them over her cards, and then glanced away quickly when she saw Jordan looking.
“Don’t worry about them,” Clay said. “Come on, it’ll drive Sheryl crazy if we disappear together into the night.” He grinned wickedly, his brows arching upwards.
Jordan smiled. “How can I pass up an offer like that?”
He grasped her hand to lead her down the path behind the house. Taken off guard as his fingers curled around hers, she didn’t resist, grateful for the guidance as the light from the house faded to darkness. On the lawn she saw the silhouettes of the girls’ tents, still and silent.
With only the moonlight to guide them, they walked carefully over the hill where the gazebo sat, and then made their way down to the water. Jordan heard waves lapping against the shore as they drew nearer. A change in the texture of the ground told her they had arrived at the beach.
“Let’s sit down,” Clay suggested, lowering himself onto the sand next to a large boulder.
Jordan sat next to him, tucking her skirt under her legs. A cool breeze off the water touched her bare legs, making her shiver. Even so, she wanted to stay a while. It was so serene out here. A crescent moon hung over the bay, reflecting a pale glow on the gently rolling surface of the water.
“You used to love coming to the beach at night,” Clay said. “Do you remember the time we spent the whole night on Spanish Banks?”
“Yes, of course. You pointed out all the constellations to me.” She still remembered their names—Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Cygnus—though she’d be hard pressed to identify which was which now.
“Well, I have to admit, I spent a good deal of time memorizing them beforehand so I’d sound like I knew what I was talking about. Just to impress you.”
“And when you couldn’t remember the names you’d make them up,” Jordan said, laughing as she savoured the memory. “I liked it, it was sweet.”
“You squeezed your eyes shut and made a wish on the North Star,” Clay recalled. “You refused to tell me what you were wishing for, even when I tried to tickle it out of you. It drove me crazy. I don’t suppose you’d tell me now.”
“I don’t even remember,” she said, though she recalled it perfectly well. Lying warm and content in his arms, she’d wished she could hold that pure happiness in her heart forever.
On impulse, Jordan slipped off her shoes and slid her toes through the cool sand. “What do the stars look like in Egypt or Greece?” she asked, gazing upward.
“Pretty much like this,” Clay replied. “Only there never seemed to be much point in looking at them. All I could think about was that you should have been there beside me.”
Jordan turned to look at him. “What about Kathryn?”
He lifted one shoulder. “She wasn’t one to sit around watching the world go by. Or the sky, for that matter. Kathryn was constantly on the move, always accomplishing something. It made me dizzy sometimes.”
So she wasn’t much like me after all
, Jordan mused. It gave her a surprising sense of satisfaction to know the woman Clay had married hadn’t really replaced her.
“You looked like you were having a blast with the girls this afternoon,” she remarked, changing the subject. “Molly’s been having so much fun.”
“She’s a great kid. There was something I wanted to mention to you, though. I know it’s none of my business, but a while back when I spoke to Molly, she seemed pretty angry at Richard.”
Jordan nodded. “Yes, well, she was pretty hurt by the divorce. In her eyes, it was Richard who abandoned us. But since she’s been to visit him, things have improved.”
Clay looked genuinely relieved. “I hope for Molly’s sake that she and Richard will maintain their relationship.”
“I hope so, too. I hope he still has time for her now that he’s found himself a new fiancée.”
“Hmm. Seems he’s had no trouble moving on.”
“You mean unlike me?”
“No, I didn’t mean that.” Clay paused. “But I wonder if your reluctance to be with me again might have something to do with the things I said to you years ago, about not wanting children. I want you to know, all that’s changed for me. After thinking for years that I didn’t want children, I don’t know how I could live without them now.”