Best for the Baby (13 page)

“Are you two fighting?”

“No, that’s the problem,” Alaina said, wiping the back of her hand across her wet cheek. “All we want to do is have sex.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I’d expect you to say something like that.”

“Hey! You called me, remember? Do you want my opinion or not?”

Alaina sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m so…so miserable when I think of not seeing him again.”

“Of course you’re miserable. You’re in love.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head even though Maggie couldn’t see her. “Yes, I want to touch him, and let him touch me. The sex is wonderful. But that’s not love. He’s like a brother to me.”

“Eew!” Maggie said with a chuckle. “Last time I heard, having sex with your brother was still a no-no.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I guess I don’t. You and Zack grew up together. You were in love almost from the day you met. You may have been separated from one another for a lot of years, but your feelings for him never changed.”

“Yes, they did. They had to because
I
changed. I’m not that silly teenager anymore, and I’m not that pathetic zombie I was with Gil. And even if I were,
Zack
is different now. There are times when he looks at me that I’m not sure he even
likes
me.”

“Trust me,” Maggie replied with a hint of long-suffering tolerance in her voice. “Down deep where it counts, neither one of you is different. You still love him with all your heart, and I’m willing to bet he cares a lot more than you think. Are we talking marriage? Maybe not. But don’t discount what you shared in the past. It’s still there.” When Alaina didn’t respond right away, Maggie said, “Do you know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because Will and I spent a lot of years running from our pasts and the way we felt about each other. But when we finally stopped denying it in our hearts, we found out that our love was there all the time, just waiting to be rediscovered.”

That may have been true for her sister, but was it really that simple? “I don’t know, Maggie….”

“Just give it some thought.”

“I will,” Alaina promised. Surprisingly, she did feel a little better. “This is awful. Once upon a time, I was the one with all the right answers.”

“Well, I’ve learned a lot since I’ve been married to Will.” There was a pause, then the sound of a soft oath. “Listen,” Maggie said in a tight tone. “I have something
to tell you. I don’t want to. I seriously thought of keeping this to myself. But I realize it’s the right thing to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your guy called here a little while ago. Jeffrey.”

Alaina jerked, feeling as though Maggie had reached right through the phone and slapped her. “Jeffrey called? Is he in Miami?”

“No, but he left a number where he can be reached.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. Had Jeffrey finally made contact with his friends, who had given him the post office address in Lake Harmony? “What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him where you were. I just couldn’t.”

“Maggie…”

“I know I should have,” her sister said in quick defense. “But I couldn’t get the words to come out of my mouth. I didn’t like him when he was here, and I like him even less now. I couldn’t be completely evil, though, and not tell you he called.”

“It’s all right. At least he called.”

“Are you going to take him back?”

Alaina felt herself freeze. Her stomach was tumbling erratically now, as well.

There was another long pause, and Maggie must have sensed how much this news had unsettled her. “If you want his number, I’ll give it to you,” she said. “But if you tell me to throw it in the trash, I’ll do it in a heartbeat, and that guy and his motorcycle can ride off the nearest cliff.”

“That’s not a very mature response.”

“As far as I’m concerned, if you hurt my sister, you need to pay. But you may have a higher tolerance level for bastards. Just tell me what you want to do.”

A
N HOUR LATER
Z
ACK
, tired and out of sorts, picked Alaina up at the square. She sat silently in the passenger seat like a stone idol, staring out the side window. When she did speak, it was mostly small talk. She asked if he had found a contractor to continue work on Heron Cove, and mentioned how enjoyable she found Heather Moran’s shop, Memory Keepers.

When they pulled into the driveway of the cottage, she seemed to come out of her withdrawal a little. She scooped up her purchase from the backseat, then set it on the front porch.

“I thought I’d see if I could finish up the kitchen today,” she told him as she walked around to the trunk to help him remove supplies he’d bought at the hardware store.

“Sounds good.” They lifted out bags containing three light fixtures with dimmer switches, a new level, and a box of wire shelving he intended to put up in the pantry. “I like the way it’s coming together.”

“Thanks. What are you going to do today?”

He motioned toward the low line of ragged hedges that bordered the front of the cottage. “I thought I’d clear away some of those dead bushes.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, a clear sign something was on her mind. “Maybe you should start working on the boathouse.”

Zack’s brow lifted. “Why would I do that?”

She shrugged, then settled against the side of the car. The remaining three bags were cement, too heavy for her to lift. “It needs a lot of attention.”

“It’ll wait,” he said, realizing that the words sounded more curt than he intended.

He withdrew the first bag of cement and placed it on the bottom step. He wished Alaina would go inside and stop pestering him, but she seemed determined to talk. Where was the woman who’d been so uncommunicative on the way home?

He returned to the car for the second bag.

She watched him silently as he hefted the cement onto his shoulder and stacked it on the first. When he came back to the car for the last one, she tilted her head to look at him.

“So why don’t you want to tackle it?” she asked.

“Is there some reason you think I should?”

“It’s all got to be done sooner or later.”

He tossed the last bag on the stack, shut the trunk, then splayed his hands across it as he looked at Alaina. He felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. He resented the fact that she didn’t seem to know when to let go of a conversation he clearly had no interest in. “Actually, I was thinking of having it demolished.”

Surprise crossed her features, followed by wary concern. “Why?”

“Lots of rotted boards.”

“Wood can be replaced. It seems to me that if you’re
planning to sell the place, a boathouse would be a real draw for a house on the lake.”

“It’s old-fashioned. Most of the newer homes have bigger boathouses to hold bigger boats. Just like the cottage, it needs updating.”

He headed for the porch, but her voice brought him up short. “Are you sure that’s the reason you don’t want to tackle it?”

He swung around. Suddenly, his belly felt as if it were a mass of angry knots. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you avoiding it?” she asked. “Because that’s where your father died?”

Gut twisting, he returned to her. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Dad,” he said.

“You can’t let the ghosts of people you loved—”

“Don’t talk to me about ghosts,” he snapped. He had thought she would back down by now, but her eyes were inscrutable as she continued to hold his gaze. “I don’t believe in them. But even if I did, my father’s spirit isn’t hanging around the boathouse ready to put a hex on me.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He’d had enough. “No, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve got a game plan for today, and those bushes are getting cleaned out no matter what. The boathouse will wait.”

“Zack…”

He walked away, heading toward the toolshed without a single glance back.

But once he got there, he realized she was probably right. The boathouse did need to be looked at and a decision made about repairs or rebuilding so he could inform the contractor he’d hired. Zack didn’t want to get
ripped off because he’d have to take someone else’s word about what had to be done.

Since he didn’t want to go back to the cottage and have a fight with Alaina, he went down to the boathouse. He hadn’t entered the building in over a year—maybe no one had—but that didn’t mean he had actively avoided it.

The door creaked loudly as he opened it.

He glanced around the interior.

The space was cool and dim, the only light coming from the opening that led out to the lake. The walls were bare boards, hung with various items you’d find in any boathouse on the water. The boat well, holding his father’s bow rider just above the gently lapping waves, was nothing special, nor was the boat. The building, and everything in it, were completely unremarkable.

There was a boatman’s wooden chest against one wall, where extra life jackets, bait buckets and other supplies had always been kept. Zack sat down on it, letting his anger fade. He didn’t want to be irritated with Alaina—this might be the last two days they’d ever have together—but he couldn’t help it. What had she been trying to imply?

After a while, he looked up, spotting with no effort at least half a dozen places that needed repair. The roof had been leaking for a couple of years. Even in the slightest rain.

He remembered the day his father had called him, wanting to come up here to make a project of it. A couple of days at most, he’d said, then they could get in some fishing time. Just the two of them on the lake until they got tired or the fish stopped biting.

But none of that had happened.

Zack’s pulse had started to settle, but in a blink, it began to skitter away from him again. An emotion so dark and violent that it shook him made it difficult to breathe for a moment. Pressure built in his chest, the pain sharp with images of what his father’s death must have been like.

He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths until the crushing weight eased.

“Zack…”

His head shot up. Alaina stood in the doorway, her hands clenched at her sides. She looked tense and a little miserable, but nothing he could see in her eyes suggested she’d come to apologize.

“Let it be, Al,” he said in a harsh tone. “I don’t want to spend our last couple of days fighting about something that was over a long time ago.”

She took a jerky step forward. “I don’t want to fight, either, but it’s not over. Not for you. And that’s precisely why I
do
think we should talk.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Then just listen,” she said as she came to stand in front of him. “Ever since I got here, you’ve been unwilling or unable to talk about your father. You bristle every time his name comes up. But I remember how much he meant to you, how much you loved him, and I don’t want to leave here until I understand why that changed. Because maybe there’s something that can be done to fix it.”

He took an impatient breath. “There’s nothing to fix. Dad was a stubborn, critical old fool who brought about his own death. He wouldn’t listen to anyone, especially me. So now you know, and you can stop worrying about it.”

“That’s not an explanation. I want to know what happened between you two.”

“Nothing happened,” he said, enunciating slowly and carefully. He’d about reached his limit. “We grew apart, started seeing things differently. That’s all.”

Her fingers gripped his arm. “Why are you so reluctant to talk about the past? Running from it—”

“Look who’s talking about running from the past,” he said suddenly, shrugging off her hand. “What were you doing when you took off on the back of that Harley with your tree-hugger? Searching for a bright new future? Don’t kid yourself. You just didn’t want to face the life you ended up with after the divorce.”

She didn’t respond the way he expected. He thought for certain she’d hightail it out of the boathouse, full of wounded anger. Instead, she turned and sat beside him on the boatman’s chest. Not a word passed between them for several long seconds. They both simply stared straight ahead.

Finally, she asked quietly, “Is it me you’re really mad at, Zack?”

He snorted, then shot her an exasperated glance. “You are the most infuriating woman.”

She didn’t smile, but he could tell she wanted to by the way her mouth twitched at one corner. “So you’ve told me before. More than once.”

He felt himself relax. This was just Alaina. Nonjudgmental. Someone who knew him far too well, and who never hesitated to ask the tough questions. But someone who had always known how to listen, too.

His expression sobered. “What do you want to know?”

“When did it start to go wrong?”

There was another pause before Zack sighed. “Two years ago. When I bought the franchises and set up my own company. He told me I’d sold out.”

“On the family business?”

“And my talent. Dad claimed that it wasn’t what I was meant to do with my life. That woodworking was a gift I’d gotten from him and his father before him, and I should have stuck with it. There was no reasoning with him. He wouldn’t let up, until sometimes we were barely speaking.”

“Isn’t it odd,” she said, almost to herself, “how the people we love the most are given the least margin for error?”

“I tried hard to make things right between us. But he was just so unreasonable, right up until the day he died.”

It got very quiet for a little while, with no sound but the gentle lap of lake water against the boathouse to break the stillness. Finally Alaina turned her head to look at him. “Sheriff Moran told me about your father’s fall. How he died.”

Zack felt his insides tighten, and breathing took more effort than it should. “It didn’t have to happen,” he said roughly.

“No, it didn’t.”

“He acted like a damn fool.”

“You’re right. It was very foolish. Is that why you’re so angry with him? Even now?”

“I’m not angry with him.”

“Really? I wish I had a mirror so you could see your face.” She gave him a questioning look. “So then…if you’re not angry with your father, then who
are
you mad at?”

He felt the muscles in his face harden into stony resistance. He hopped off the boatman’s chest and turned to face Alaina. He spread his hands on either side of her thighs so that they were eye to eye.

“You seem determined to tell me something,” he said. “So why don’t you just spit it out?”

She didn’t flinch or fidget or look away. In fact, the corner of her mouth lifted slightly again. “Okay,” she replied mildly. “If you’re too stubborn to admit it, I’ll tell you. The person you’re mad at is you. You’re eaten up with guilt and remorse over your father’s death. You think that if you’d been here instead of getting your award in Miami, you could have saved him.” She shook her head. “But that’s not true. Sheriff Moran told me about your dad’s heart, how that attack was just waiting to happen whether you were around to help him or not.”

“You don’t understand,” Zack informed her with a husky note of irritation in his voice.

“You’re right,” she said quickly. “I don’t understand what it’s like to lose a parent. But I know what avoidance looks like, because I spent years perfecting it when I was married to Gil.” She blew out a long breath. “That’s not you, Zack. You’ve always met things head-on. So for you to ignore the way you feel about your dad’s death, to pretend that everything’s just fine when it isn’t…”

He straightened and backed away from her. His stomach felt lined with lead, and suddenly he needed some space around him. He turned and stared down into the shadowy water. Almost immediately he heard Alaina jump down from the chest, and a second later she came up beside him, placing her hand on his arm.

“None of what happened was your fault. It was just life. Unfair and unkind, but it gets messy sometimes, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. But look at those old home movies. Can there really be any doubt in your mind that your father loved you? He wouldn’t want to see you carrying this burden of guilt.”

He gave her a tight look, trying to find an extra measure of patience. “I’m sorry, Al. I know you mean well, but I really don’t want—”

“Okay,” she said swiftly. “I won’t push anymore. But will you agree to do something for me?”

“That depends on what it is.”

“Call Sheriff Moran. Tell him you want to bring back his tuxedo.”

The request was so unexpected Zack had to take a moment just to be sure he’d heard her right. “What?”

“Just do it. Ask him his theory about why it was hanging in the closet.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Please. Just do it for me. Soon. Today if possible.”

“I have a lot of things to do around here, as you just pointed out a few minutes ago.”

“Trust me,” she said, giving him a smile that never failed to make his heart gallop. “There’s nothing you can do here that will be more important.”

Z
ACK TOLD HIMSELF
that it was just to get Alaina off his back, but he had to admit to a certain curiosity about her insistence. He was surprised when Sheriff Moran took his phone call and suggested they have lunch at the Creekside Diner. With the older man’s tuxedo in hand, Zack left Alaina working in the downstairs bathroom,
and headed into town. While he drove into Lake Harmony, he wondered why he was doing this, and what it could possibly accomplish.

He and Moran camped out in one of the diner’s back booths. After a reasonable amount of small talk over cheeseburgers and fries, Zack mentioned the tuxedo, and the fact that Alaina seemed to think he ought to ask how it had ended up in the cottage’s hall closet. From that point on, the conversation unspooled.

Sheriff Moran had been friends with Tom Davidson too many years not to know the man inside and out. He spoke lovingly of him, but plainly, pulling no punches. There were stories he told that Zack had never heard, not even from his mother, and in spite of the times the two men had disagreed, through every tale ran the thread of respect and fondness they had shared.