Take Me All the Way (23 page)

“You know about that, huh?”

“'Fraid so. I notice more than folks realize, includin'
that one.” Abner motioned over his shoulder to his wife as she headed toward the kitchen.

“I can pay for the cat's food.” Maybe that made sense, actually, now that he was getting more financially stable.

But Abner swiped a hand down through the air and said, “Naw, no need. As long as I don't have to live with a cat or have a cat runnin' around in here, you two can feed the thing all ya want.”

He started to walk away then, but Jeremy felt the need to correct him on something. “It's not my cat, just so you know.”

And Abner simply chuckled. “Whatever you say.” Then went on his way.

Jeremy just rolled his eyes, even though there was no one there to see it.

These cat accusations were getting ridiculous.

A
week after Jeremy had told Tamra his big secret, she sat at a table on Christy's side porch with her and Bethany, helping to decorate tiny bottles of bubbles to be blown at the wedding in lieu of throwing rice or birdseed. The calendar page had turned to October and the wedding was only a couple of weeks away now.

“Did you decide which one you want?” Bethany asked Christy. Now that Tamra's fellow artist had painted a number of beachscapes, Christy planned to select one as a wedding gift. Tamra had seen the paintings and was duly impressed. She'd never seen Bethany's cityscapes, which she understood had been her primary focus up to now—but she thought the girl had been born to paint the beach.

“I'm leaning toward the sunset with the most pink
in it,” Christy said. “That one just glows—it's like you captured light on canvas.”

“Excellent choice,” Tamra said, then shifted her gaze to Bethany. “And now that Christy has made her pick, I'm going to look at the rest and buy one from you, so think about what you want for the various pieces.”

“That's generous, Tamra,” Bethany said with a smile, “but I'd be happy to just give you whichever one you like.”

“No,
that's
generous,” Tamra replied. “But I'm big on supporting other artists and I know you are, too—we all need that to get by in this business. I'll be getting a beautiful piece of art for my home and I want to give you what it's worth.” Then she tilted her head, adding, “And that reminds me—I've been thinking you should set up a table at the Sunset Celebration. It's a great venue.”

Bethany had attended the nightly event with Christy several times since her arrival. “Oh, I agree it's great. But . . . don't you think my pieces are too big, and maybe a little too pricy, for the vacation crowd?”

Tamra turned that over in her head. “Maybe, maybe not. People will spend a lot on something they love. And . . . you could also start doing smaller canvases that could be priced lower. Everyone wants something to take home from their beach vacation.”

Bethany narrowed her gaze and scrunched her lips a little, thinking it over. “Hmm,” she said. “Okay, sure, why not. What do I have to lose?”

Tamra had really come to admire the younger woman's bold, go-for-it attitude. Especially now that she was reaping some benefits of going for something
she'd
wanted.

Jeremy and she had connected more nights than not
in the past week, and it had remained mind-blowingly hot even as it grew still more comfortable. Now they discussed their plans with ease rather than tiptoeing around the issue. If one of them was tired and wanted to just lie low, the other didn't take that personally. And on the rest of the nights, well . . . heaven had come to Tamra's own backyard.

Her garden had quickly come to feel more like
their
place than hers alone now. Sometimes it was all sex, sex, sex—sex in the hammock, sex by the fire, occasionally even sex in her bed of all normal places. Other times, though, it was talking. About her past and his. They never pushed each other, but it had just become easy to share now, in a way she knew neither of them shared with anyone else.

And Jeremy had finally seen her art and seemed impressed—he'd even commissioned special pieces for his sister and mother for Christmas, along with one for Polly, as well.

That had surprised her. “Polly?” she'd asked.

“She's been good to me,” he'd said easily. “And she doesn't have a lot of pretty things in her life—so she might like something pretty, something that catches the light.” For her he'd requested a stained glass suncatcher shaped like a cat.

“But you're not a cat guy,” Tamra had reminded him, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Nope,” he'd insisted. “This is for Polly, not me—remember?”

The sounds of muffled voices from behind Christy and Jack's cottage brought Tamra's thoughts back to the present, reminding her that Fletcher and Jack were currently finishing up the arbor in the backyard.

And Tamra hoped this wouldn't be a bad subject to broach, but decided to anyway. “About Fletcher,” she said to Bethany, “I'm really sorry about how things turned out. I know he really liked you and wanted to get to know you better.”

Bethany let out a wistful sigh. “The hell of it is that he turned out to be so cute. Still not my usual type, but . . . there was something about him I really connected to.” Then she shook her head. “Crazy of me, right? To think things would ever work out with a guy I really like?”

“Stop that,” Christy admonished her. “The right guy will come along.”

“I'm not necessarily looking for my Prince Charming,” Bethany argued. “Just someone to . . . connect with, like I said. Someone steady and nice.”

“Well, then I'm sure
that
guy will come along, too,” Christy-the-eternal-optimist said.

Bethany only shrugged. “Maybe. But where is he?” And before either of them could reply, she looked to Tamra and said, “I guess things are working out for him and his wife then.” It was a statement, but also, Tamra knew, a question.

“As far as I know.” Between work and Jeremy, Tamra hadn't seen much of Fletcher lately, but in the brief conversations they'd shared, things had sounded the same—like he and Kim were busy rebuilding their relationship.

“Well, I'm happy for him,” Bethany announced. “It might not seem that way, but I am. I mean, to think he believed all that time that she would come back and then she did. There's something special in that, right?”

And it was hard for anyone to argue that. Even Christy stayed quiet. The silence among them was its
own answer. It was difficult to question an honest-to-goodness miracle.

“Well,” Christy finally said, ending the quiet contemplation, “Tamra is living proof that the perfect guy can come along when you least expect it.”

Tamra's face warmed slightly as a blush stole over her. Sometimes it was still hard to believe the way things had unfolded for her and Jeremy. And maybe that wasn't a miracle as big as Fletcher's, but given the romantic drought that had stretched through most of her life, it still felt pretty darn miraculous in its own way. She'd written Fletcher that note at the party about it being a night for miracles, but maybe it was just a
time
for miracles, a time for change, for all of them. Maybe Bethany, too—even though Tamra had no idea where Bethany's own personal miracle might come from.

“It's true,” Tamra replied. “Things can change in a heartbeat.”

Christy gave her head a thoughtful tilt. “And if you don't mind my saying, you've been a ray of sunshine lately. You seem happier than I've ever seen you.”

“And now we hear all sorts of interesting noises from your backyard at night,” Bethany added, punctuating the statement with a sly grin.

The heat of another blush crept up Tamra's neck and onto her cheeks.

But Bethany quickly added, “Oh, hey, don't worry—I'm not modest. I've had sex in lots of weird places. And he really turned out to be a hottie—so have fun with it.”

Though what Tamra shared with Jeremy had gotten to be more than just fun. She cared about him. A lot.
How could she not? He'd brought her back from such a barren romantic existence. He'd taken her from having nothing to feeling like she had it all—laughter, passion, companionship, and . . . trust. The trust he'd shown in her had blown her away. So she liked to think she'd helped bring him back from a pretty bad place, too.

A few hours later, she found herself in the spot on the pier where she sold her wares most evenings, sorry to notice a slight chill in the air setting in earlier now that summer had passed officially into autumn, but happy enough about other things.

Bethany had brought her paintings tonight—Christy and Jack had provided a folding table for her to sit at with her work propped up in front of it and also behind her, against the pier railing. And she'd seemed utterly surprised when an older woman walking a Chihuahua had purchased one of her paintings for $75 in the first half hour. It had reminded Tamra to go ahead and select the one
she
wanted, too, after which she pointed out with a wink, “Two official sales already—not bad.”

Plus she had plans to meet Jeremy later—he'd suggested getting slices of pumpkin pie at the Hungry Fisherman, which Polly started offering this time of year, and then seeing where the night led them. And she hoped the night would lead straight to sex. Wild, crazy, hot, naughty sex. Because she was finally comfortable wanting that and not being shy about it.

Just then Reece came strolling up, walking Fifi on the pink leash Tamra had given him a few Christmases ago, and he paused to say, “You've got a suspicious grin on your face.”

She let her eyebrows rise. “I do?”

“Yep. And that's new on you. And I like it.”

“Is that so?” She gave her head an inquisitive tilt.

“Yep. Because I'm pretty sure I know what it's about.”

She blinked. “You are?”

“Yep. The guy staying in Room Eleven,” he said—and then he tossed her a wink before Fifi led him sauntering away.

Soon after, Fletcher walked by hand in hand with Kim, raising a casual wave to Bethany as Kim stopped to say to Tamra, “I'm going to pick out the perfect suncatcher for our kitchen window.” And Tamra realized that maybe some of her happiness with Jeremy had come along . . . because Fletcher had made her believe in miracles. And ever since then, she'd felt like more and more of them were possible.

She watched as they proceeded up the pier, a little sad for Bethany, but feeling like things must be working out the way they were supposed to. After all, that was what Fletcher always said. And she pretty much considered him the authority on that now.

“Hi, Mary.”

She jumped at the sound of the familiar voice, deep and sexy, and looked up to find none other than Jeremy himself standing in front of her. She blinked, stunned. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

He laughed, even if it appeared a bit forced, and said, “No, something's right. It's just . . . time I came here. Time I started getting past some things. I should have come the first time you invited me, but better late than never, right?”

She smiled up at the man who had brought her so much joy, so much passion. “So why tonight? What brought this on?”

“Guess I just wanted to surprise you.”

One more little miracle.

And each day his belief in the Magic grew stronger . . .

Frances Hodgson Burnett,
The Secret Garden

“S
O,” SHE
said, keeping her voice low so no one around them would hear, “are you okay? Being here?”

Another forced chuckle. “Can't say I'm completely at ease.” His glance darted to a couple walking past, and Tamra realized he was instinctively keeping an eye on as many people as possible. “But . . . it's fine.”

“I'm glad you came,” she told him, beyond touched that he would do this for her—even while she knew he'd done it for himself, too. “But you don't have to stay if you'd rather not.”

Yet Jeremy shook his head. “Nah, I'll hang out a while. Try to act like a normal human being.” He managed a wink. “Maybe I'll finally catch Fletcher's show.”

She'd nearly forgotten he'd never seen it. “You should. It's amazing.”

“Might just watch it from up here on the pier with you, though.” He flashed a playful grin. “Keep a better
eye on the perimeter that way. Watch for any Sunset Celebration snipers.”

A quick laugh escaped her, and he chuckled, too. She liked that he could laugh at himself a little.

And so Jeremy hung out with her, clearly inspecting his surroundings while trying not to look like a guy who kept inspecting his surroundings. But occasionally, when a shopper or passerby stopped to converse with her, he meandered to some of the nearby vendors, looking over their art, and chatting with Bethany about her paintings.

Given the lighter crowds due to the change in season, the pier emptied during Fletcher's tightrope act and all the vendors stood at the railing to watch as well. Tamra liked watching the show with Jeremy, liked seeing him take it in for the first time. But it was a little melancholy to watch it with Bethany—because Kim stood prominently in the front row of the crowd gathered for the performance, and given that Tamra could feel her presence even more than she saw it, she was pretty sure Bethany could, too.

Once upon a time, Kim had served as Fletcher's assistant, and while he hadn't yet brought her back in on that same level, she was quick to pass him the props he needed throughout the performance, and it was obvious she was eager to resume her old role. Well, both of them—assistant and wife. And Tamra knew she really would have to forgive Kim—she'd come back, and she was going to be part of their lives now, part of their circle.

As Fletcher balanced on the rope, juggling flaming torches in the air as he merrily flung banter into the crowd, Tamra leaned over and whispered to Jeremy, “Amazing, right?”

He met her eyes briefly, nodding, before refocusing on the show. Then, gaze still on the tightrope and the man atop it, he murmured, “And to think I've been missing this out of fear.” He shook his head. “No more. That stops now.” He glanced back over at Tamra. “Because what else am I missing? I don't want to miss anything.”

The sun was beginning to set earlier these days, ending the celebration a tiny bit sooner with each passing night. By the time Fletcher's act had ended, most of the shoppers were heading to their cars and back to their homes or to the resorts up the road.

Bethany was excited to have sold three paintings, counting the one to Tamra, and thanked her for suggesting she come.

Jeremy had walked from the Happy Crab, so he helped Tamra load her things into her SUV, and together they drove to the Hungry Fisherman.

As they dug into their pie, Jeremy said, “I have some good news. Wanted to wait until we were alone.”

She looked at him across the table, curious. “What is it?”

“When the golf course is done in a couple of weeks, I'll be starting a new job. On November first. I got on with Sun Coast Builders. Interviewed for it a few days ago, but I didn't mention it in case it didn't work out. It did, though, and the owner, Bob Metzger, is going to mentor me this winter. And whenever he thinks I'm ready, he'll make me a foreman.”

Tamra sat before him stunned.

And when she didn't reply right away, he went on. “I've been giving it some thought, and turns out I like building. A lot. Don't know why. Maybe building
something feels . . . I don't know, just a lot more productive than war.” A sheepish chuckle echoed from his throat as he shook his head. “I don't mean to make it more than it is, but I just want to learn something I like doing and get good at it. So I can rest easy knowing I'll be able to keep a roof over my head. So that's my news, Mary.”

She'd been smiling at him the last few moments—ever since she'd gotten over her initial shock. And now she said, “It's
great
news!
Phenomenal
news! I'm so happy for you.”

He gave Abner credit for his help getting the job, after which he informed her that he'd been thinking about other aspects of his future, too. “I'm going to keep living at the Crab 'til spring since I know Reece could use the business through the winter. But come February or March, I'll find myself an apartment and get settled here for good.”

And though she'd been happy enough already, now it felt as if something in Tamra's heart broke into full bloom—just like one of the flowers in her garden. Because she hadn't allowed herself to think very far ahead with Jeremy; she'd been taking one day—and night—at a time, living in the moment and enjoying each for all it was worth. But at the same time, she'd been aware that he had no real roots here. And she couldn't be sure he'd stay—until now.

“I think this calls for a celebration, Mr. Sheridan,” she told him coyly as he ate his last bite of pie.

He narrowed his gaze on her, his expression flirtatious. “Exactly what do you have in mind, Mary?”

She bit her lip, then spoke lowly. “I was thinking we could get naked in my backyard.”

He didn't bother replying—just called across the restaurant, “Polly, could we get the check?”

T
HE
following evening just before the sun dropped below the horizon, Fletcher balanced atop his tightrope on the beach, as he did every night. Something about the experience felt otherworldly to him—it had always been that way, since he'd first started performing.

Maybe it was the unique vantage point it gave him. It wasn't the kind of freedom that came with, say, being a bird, but it still allowed him to see farther, more clearly, than you could on the ground, and peering down on awe-filled faces had always struck him as a view one might have from heaven.

Or maybe it was because man wasn't meant to balance on a tiny rope strung high above the sand. And perhaps even now, each step he took upon it reminded him that we each set our own limitations in life—and that we could all do amazing things if we only believed we could.

Regardless of the reason why, though, he always felt a little magical up there. Always—every single time.

Just then, with those thoughts rolling through his mind even as he addressed the crowd—he could do that part without thinking now—he caught sight of one particular face there. Kim. Just like he'd visualized.

And she loved him again. Just like he'd visualized.

That
felt like magic. To have held that faith, to have seen that vision in his head and experience the reality of it now. So he let himself grab onto that feeling for a
moment—because it reminded him how powerful he was, how powerful we all were.

There was only one thing wrong with the whole situation. He still hurt inside.

That hadn't been part of his vision. Nope, not at all.

She'd come home—but everything was different now. No matter how hard they tried to make it the same, everything was different. Their
history
was different. It had this big, ugly blight on it now—a big, open, festering wound.

It almost made him want to laugh at odd moments. He'd believed in this so hard that it had actually happened, yet he hadn't factored in that one enormous component of it all—that when someone leaves for four years, even if they come back, it isn't the same. What a colossal oversight.

He'd built a whole life without her. Her departure had, in so many ways, made him into someone new, someone much different than she'd left behind. He had a new home, new friends. He'd become part of a community in a way he valued far more than he ever could have anticipated. He'd accumulated possessions that were his and not theirs; he'd fallen into routines that were, again, his and not theirs.

And she, too, had seen places and known people and done things that were wholly separate from him. There were parts of her life he would never know, never be a part of, even peripherally.

Though . . . if there was one thing that bothered him most about all this, it was that she seemed relatively unchanged or unscathed by any of it. In fact, a certain naiveté hung about her. She seemed unaware of the gulf four years had placed between them. Unaware of
the level of pain she'd caused him. Unaware that his staying exactly where she'd left him all this time, waiting for her, was a miracle.

She can't win with you. You're mad because of ways she's changed and mad because of ways she's stayed the same.

But it'll heal. It'll heal. You just have to let it heal.

This was meant to be; you just have to let it be.

The song entered his head then, Paul McCartney singing those soothing words, and he let the lyrics run through his mind, let them bring him a little peace.

In the end, it's all we have. The peace we let ourselves experience. And love.

If you're lucky enough to be loved by someone who loves you back, you have something truly rare. Which was one more reason among many to forgive. And he would.

When we're old, none of this will matter. The last four years will seem like nothing but a dream.

And . . . if it hadn't happened that way, he wouldn't be here right now. He would have long since left Coral Cove and its quirky charm and accepting people behind. He wouldn't know as much as he now knew about friendship. Or loyalty. Or simple caring. He would have missed so much that comprised his world now.

Kim had to leave you for you to discover all that.

And now she's back, like you wanted, so you can have it all.

Everything happens for a reason. Now heal. Now forgive.

Even as those thoughts tumbled through his head, he'd been doing his act, focusing on his balance, and now he began to juggle the torches he'd just lit. The crowd roared for him, but it was Kim who his eyes
caught on, down below, and she was smiling up at him.

Let it be.

S
OME
nights Jeremy spent the night with Tamra; others he came back to the Happy Crab and slept in the bed he'd begun to think of as his own. It was easy to be with Tamra, easy to be at the little cottage she'd filled with color and art and made uniquely her own. But something made Jeremy not to want to get too comfortable there. He still needed his own space. It was early days of being back in the land of the living, after all.

Though he felt more alive all the time. Having a job, with a future, a job where he'd learn something he could use the rest of his life, felt incredible. He'd acted cool when Abner's friend, Bob Metzer, had offered the position to him, and he'd acted fairly cool telling Tamra about it, too, but inside he'd felt wired—downright electrical. Like a part of him that had been unplugged for a very long time had suddenly gotten juice again.

As he awoke at the Crab, got a shower, and got dressed for another day of golf course construction, he realized he hadn't felt this hopeful and eager since his early days as a Marine, back when he'd thought he could save the world. Now he knew he couldn't, but he was perfectly happy not to be in the world-saving business anymore—it was enough to think he could simply be useful, be part of creating new things.

He'd called both his mom and his sister the previous night to fill them in. And it had felt so damn
good—he knew they could each hear in his voice the shift in his outlook.

“What else is new?” his mother had asked once he'd given her the details about his job with Sun Coast Construction. “Nancy Romo said you're seeing someone she knows. An artist. Tell me about her. Nancy says she's nice.”

He'd almost laughed realizing Coral Cove wasn't much different than Destiny in ways—in a small town, everyone knew your business. It had never occurred to him that information would make it all the way to Ohio without his knowledge. But he didn't mind much.

“Her name is Tamra. We're working together on the mini-golf course. And yeah, she's an artist—makes pottery and stained glass. She's friends with Christy Knight—lives next door to her.”

“So is it serious?” His mom sounded hopeful. Why did the whole world want everyone to be “serious” when they were dating someone?

He just shook his head slightly, even though no one could see it. “We've only been going out a couple weeks,” he told her, “so don't get all excited and blow it out of proportion. It's a new thing. And it's nice the way it is.”

“Maybe you can bring her up for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You
are
coming home for the holidays, right?”

Jeremy let out a breath. He loved his mother dearly. And he should probably go home for the holidays, now that she mentioned it. But he hadn't given it a thought—he'd been way too into living life one day at a time to be thinking that far ahead, even though
Thanksgiving was next month. So he said, “I'll have to see what my work schedule allows for—I'll be the new guy on the job, after all. But if I make it home, I'll be on my own.”

“Well, your father and I will probably take a week away from the winter weather in Coral Cove after the new year, so we'll meet her then.”

“Fine,” Jeremy said.