Island Summer Love Page 9

  And then she thought of Cabot. As his wife, she would never experience such a scene. They would have servants to prepare the meals and wash the dishes. After dinner there would be social functions to attend: concerts and gallery openings, cocktail parties and charity balls. The quiet simplicity of honest work would be something only in her past.

  She began to feel uneasy as Brent moved back and forth behind her from the sink to the cupboards; she wondered if he could read her thoughts, if he knew the turmoil inside her heart. She had to say something to break the silence.

  “I didn’t know you were a lawyer.”

  She saw him hesitate, his hand poised above a wet plate in the dish drainer. He glanced at her. “I’m not. I’m a fisherman.”

  “Isabel told me you used to work with a law firm in Augusta.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “Didn’t you like the law? What made you change and move to Harper’s Island?”

  He smiled. “I got smart. I woke up one day and realized that I’d spent the past twenty years doing things to impress other people. I decided it was about time to impress myself.” He picked up a plate, dried it slowly. “I consider myself lucky. Some people never have the courage to follow their hearts.” He gave her a sharp glance.

  She scrubbed nervously at the crust of stew on a bowl. She cleared her throat. “Will you be hauling tomorrow?”

  He laughed. “No way. I intend to sleep all morning, and then some. I figured I’d take you over to the hospital in the afternoon. We can have dinner at the Blue Lobster after we see Martha. It’s a great little place right on the water. They serve some of the best stuffed lobster in the state of Maine. We’ll make an evening of it.”

  She was startled that he had included her in his extensive plans. She wondered if she was supposed to be flattered. More likely, he had just assumed she would like the idea. And in fact she did. A part of her wanted to accept on the spot, the way a girl with a crush jumps at the chance to be near the object of her affections. But she couldn’t. She’d already accepted the barrette. Going out to eat with Brent would be a step in a very dangerous direction.

  “I can’t. I mean, I would like to see Martha, but I really don’t think—”

  “—you should go out to dinner with me,” Brent finished. He put the last plate away in the cupboard and came to stand behind her. She felt the back of her neck prickle in response to his closeness. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said quietly. “It’s just a simple dinner at a restaurant.”

  She didn’t turn. She bent her head over the spoons she was washing and scraped hard at an imaginary stain.

  “It’s just that I don’t know what Cabot would think,” she said weakly.

  “Do you genuinely care what Cabot thinks? Isn’t it what you’re feeling inside right now that really bothers you?” His voice was very low.

  He touched her then, before she could think of a reply, his fingers moving lightly at her waist, turning her gently around to face him. Her hands dripped soapsuds onto the floor, and she lifted them away from her sides in a helpless gesture.

  “I thought you said you were too tired to do anything out of line,” she murmured, wishing she had the willpower to tell him to stop.

  “I was wrong,” he said softly.

  He bent his head and his mouth claimed hers, tenderly at first and then with increasing passion. She didn’t even try to resist. Her own lips responded hungrily to his kiss, and her arms went around his neck, her wet fingers seeking the strong muscles there. She melted dizzily against him as his hands played up and down her spine. She had never dreamed that a kiss could evoke such overwhelming desire; all she wanted was to surrender herself, body and soul, to Brent Connors.

  When he finally released her, Allison felt dazed and drained. She looked up into his eyes and met his direct gaze. Then it slowly dawned on her what she had done. Horrified, she backed away.

  “You see?” she said faintly. “You see why I can’t go to dinner with you?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I see why you have to break your engagement. I wasn’t the only one who wanted that kiss.”

  “I never . . . I didn’t . . .” She couldn’t think of anything to say.

  He sighed. “All right, you go on playing your imaginary games, pretending you’re in love with your fiancé. But don’t expect me to play them, too. And I’m not going to promise that what just happened won’t happen again. You’re far too beautiful for me to ignore.”

  “What about Martha?” she blurted. “Don’t you feel some loyalty to her?”

  “Martha?” He frowned. “What kind of loyalty should I feel toward Martha?”

  “Now you’re the one who’s playing games!” She moved to the far side of the room, hoping for some safety in distance.

  “I don’t play games, Allison. And I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. How in the world does Martha enter into this?”

  “Don’t you know how she feels about you?”

  The trace of a smile crossed his face. “Martha is infatuated with any working-class man under the age of forty. As long as her parents wouldn’t approve, she’s convinced she’s in love.”

  “She’s not like that!” She felt her cheeks growing warm under his gaze. “She told me about the romance you had with her two summers ago. You can’t pretend it didn’t mean anything!”

  His smile disappeared. “I’m not pretending, Allison. That so-called romance was ninety percent in her head.” He stepped toward her. “But I don’t see how my relationship with Martha has any bearing on your problems with Cabot.”

  “I don’t have problems with Cabot! And if you want to talk about problems, what about Tracy Lawton? You shouldn’t go around kissing other women, getting them all stirred up, when you’re still in love with somebody who dumped you last spring!”

  His face darkened. “You clearly don’t know anything about my feelings for Tracy.” He took another step. “Don’t project your guilt onto me. I’m not engaged. We were talking about you and Cabot.”

  She flushed hotly. “What makes you so certain we’re not meant for each other? You don’t even know Cabot! And what gives you the right to judge me?”

  “I’m not judging you,” he said softly. “And I don’t have to know Cabot to see how you feel about him. Every cell of your body tells me.”

  She turned away. She refused to argue with him any longer. He obviously knew very little about her, and nothing at all about Cabot. The fact that Brent was able to unleash so much passion in her was merely an indication of how badly she missed Cabot.

  “I won’t take you to dinner tomorrow,” he said quietly. “You can pack a lunch when we go to see Martha.”

  “I’m not going with you.” She moved back to the sink and immersed her hands in the dishwater.

  “Martha will be disappointed.” He reached out to touch her cheek. The heat of his fingers against her face startled her and she stiffened.

  “I’m planning to take the ferry.”

  He shrugged. “Have it your way, then. I’m too tired to point out the drawbacks right now. Maybe you’ll change your mind by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I can assure you I won’t!” In her frustration, she splashed water onto herself, then gave a sharp cry of outrage.

  He grinned and leaned close to her. “You sound like my four-year-old niece. Only she’s not half so pretty when she’s angry.”

  With a groan of fury she lifted her dripping hands to push him away. Instantly, he caught her wrists and stretched her arms to the sides. She struggled to break his grip, but his hands were like iron shackles.

  “Let me go!” she cried. She was trembling now with a white anger she’d never felt before.

  He released her hands immediately, but didn’t drop his penetrating gaze. His eyes held her for a long time, and for an instant she thought she detected something sad there, a kind of poignant tenderness she’d never noticed before.

  He swallowed and took a
step back. “I’d better leave before this gets out of hand,” he said huskily.

  Without another word he turned and left the house.

  Allison had finished the dishes and had finally stopped trembling when Isabel and Abel returned from their walk.

  “We saw Brent on our way back to the house,” Isabel said. “He says he may sleep all day tomorrow.”

  Abel chuckled. “It’ll be a first, if he does. That boy never did seem to need much sleep.” He glanced at Allison. “You look pretty tired yourself, young lady. Don’t feel you have to stay up on our account.”

  “That’s right,” Isabel put in quickly. “We usually turn in pretty early ourselves, especially when Abel’s hauling.”

  Abel nodded. “Up at four tomorrow, I reckon. Looks like it’ll be good weather.”

  Allison was glad to retire to the little bedroom on the second floor. As she undressed and slipped into her nightgown, a wave of fatigue washed over her. She went to the window and opened it. A gentle breeze lifted her hair and caressed her face. She leaned out, gazing down at the little village. The houses along the street were somehow friendly and comforting, despite their sagging lines and faded clapboards. How different the look was from the widely-spaced homes in the suburban development where she’d grown up. There, each house had been isolated on its own neatly manicured lawn, but here the houses seemed to lean toward each other like old friends. She found herself staring at the little red house near the end of the street. Brent’s house. The only light came from the kitchen window. It seemed to beckon her warmly.

  She sighed, wondering what kind of community she would be living in a year from now. She probably wouldn’t be able to even see another house from her window. Cabot already had plans to build a beautiful, ten-room house on twenty acres of land he’d purchased in Concord. Even though the site was well off the road, it was surrounded by trees and protective shrubbery. Privacy, he had often told her, was the hallmark of good taste.

  Well, it was obvious that you didn’t have much privacy on an island. She went to the bed and slid wearily under the covers, pulling the blanket up to her chin against the cool night air. She closed her eyes and felt herself fall quickly toward sleep. Her last thought was of Brent, bending toward her, his lips parted in a slow smile.

  Allison woke slowly, roused by the caroling of birds. For a moment she forgot where she was; she lay with her eyes closed, drifting out of a pleasant dream of lying in someone’s arms. When she opened her eyes, she saw sunlight streaming in through the window, and clear, cool air gently blowing the white curtains, and she remembered that she was in the Cutlers’ house. Brent’s grandparents. She knew suddenly whose arms had been around her in her dream.

  She sat up quickly. She must find a way to make it clear to Brent, in no uncertain terms, that she was off-limits. And the only way she could make that plain was to convince him that she really loved Cabot.

  She looked down at the diamond ring on her left hand. In its large, oval setting, it seemed to glare at her accusingly, like some cruelly faceted eye. She had a strange urge to remove it and slip it into the bottom of the bureau drawer. She wished Cabot had given her something smaller, more inconspicuous.

  She flipped off the bedcovers and swung her feet to the smooth wood floor. She didn’t want to think about Cabot this morning. It was a glorious day; the air was cool and crisp; the sky was exploding with sunlight. She felt alive and energetic. It was a perfect day to begin her play group project.

  She showered in the little green bathroom at the end of the hall, and dressed hurriedly in khaki slacks and a soft, pink blouse. She tied her hair back at the nape of her neck with a matching ribbon, reluctantly discarding the gold barrette on the bureau top. She was determined not to give Brent any confusing signals. She was engaged to Cabot, and although he might not be the world’s greatest lover, that could be an advantage. At least he didn’t arouse an unbearable emotional turmoil within her every time he entered a room.

  She found Isabel in the kitchen, busily kneading bread dough. A quick glance at the clock told her she’d slept later than she realized; it was almost ten.

  “I guess I’m too late for breakfast,” she said wistfully.

  “Not at all, dear. There’s granola in the cupboard, or if you prefer something hot, I’ll cook up some oatmeal.” Isabel turned to her and smiled.

  “Granola will be fine.” Allison helped herself to a bowl and spoon, and was soon sitting at the table pouring creamy milk over the grainy homemade cereal.

  Isabel placed a bowl of fresh strawberries in front of her. “Help yourself. There’s more where they came from. And take all you want; they don’t last forever.”

  “Thanks.” Allison took one of the red berries and bit into it, savoring the sweet, juicy taste. “I was hoping you might introduce me to some of the parents on the island today, so I can sound them out about the possibility of a play group.”

  “I’d love to,” Isabel said. “But you don’t need to worry about getting their support. You already have it.” She smiled at Allison. “I mentioned it to a few people this morning when I was at the store, and let me tell you, everyone’s very excited. Pete Hayes even said he’d get a crew together to clean out the old schoolhouse this weekend. So all you have to do is be there to greet the kids Monday morning.”

  Allison blinked at her. “You mean things are already started? Before I even talk to anyone?”

  “You talked to me, dear. And Abel. In a community this small, it doesn’t take long for things to catch fire.”

  “I really appreciate it, Isabel. Not just that, but everything you’ve done. I had a wonderful night’s sleep.”

  “I’m glad, dear.” Isabel plopped the bread dough into a large wooden bowl and covered it with a towel. “I’ve made arrangements for you to see the school this morning, and then this afternoon, when Brent takes you over to the mainland, you can stock up on some supplies. Pete Hayes—he owns the store, you know—said to charge it all. We’re already planning a fund-raising dance for later in the summer. Hope to catch some of the tourists that way.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Allison felt a heady rush of enthusiasm, and then suddenly remembered that she wasn’t going to the mainland with Brent. “But I’ll need to know the ferry schedule.”

  “Whatever for, dear?” Isabel slid into the seat across the table and gave her a puzzled look. “Didn’t Brent offer you a ride? I’ll have to speak to that boy.”

  “No, he offered. But I don’t feel it’s quite right for me to go with him.”

  Isabel frowned. “The Blue Lady is the fastest boat on the island. It’ll certainly get you there and back in half the time it’ll take on the ferry. Is there something I’m missing? Did Brent say something that offended you? I know he can be awfully blunt at times.”

  Allison shook her head and bent over her bowl of strawberry-laden granola. “I told him yesterday that I’d take the ferry.”

  Isabel chuckled. “Well, I doubt he thought you were serious. The ferry only runs twice on weekdays—at nine and three—so if you went this afternoon, you wouldn’t be able to get back until tomorrow. He was probably too tired to explain it to you last night. But don’t fret—I know he’s planning to go. As a matter of fact, I’ve already packed a lunch for the two of you.”

  Allison gave Isabel a startled smile. The woman’s calm practicality was amazing. And she was obviously right. If Allison was going to see Martha today, she would have to go with Brent. In the fresh light of the new day, her reaction to Brent last evening seemed exaggerated and unnecessary.

  “How can I thank you?” Allison blurted.

  “Nonsense, I’m glad to help.” Isabel beamed. “Now, as soon as you’re finished eating, I’ll take you over to see the school. I think you’ll agree, it’s the perfect place for your play group.”

  Chapter Nine

  The schoolhouse was perched on top of a windswept hill. As Allison climbed through the tall grass behind Isabel, she was struck by a wave
of nostalgia, even though she’d never attended classes in a one-room schoolhouse. But something about the location and the feeling of the place seemed so elemental, so American, that she felt instantly satisfied, as if, after wandering, she had come home.

  On the wide front porch Isabel turned and pointed down the hill toward the sea. “There’s a path that runs down to the swimming beach and on around to the thunder hole. On warm days we always used to run off at lunchtime, and it was all the teacher could do to get us back in the afternoon. Some of the boys played hookey every afternoon.” She laughed, clearly relishing the memory. “I’m afraid Abel was one of them. Never could get him to sit inside with a book if it was a good day and the sea was calling. Brent’s the same way.”

  She turned to unlock the schoolhouse door. “You’ll find it’s quite humble inside. Not much to it by today’s modern standards, but it should do for your purposes.”

  Allison stepped into the building and immediately smiled with pleasure. It was everything Isabel had promised. There was a large, central room that could easily be divided into different play areas, and a smaller room in the back that would be an ideal place for younger children to take afternoon naps.

  “It’s fantastic!” Allison cried. “It will be absolutely perfect!”

  “I think the children themselves might enjoy having a hand fixing it up,” Isabel ventured. “The older ones could be a real help, and it would be an adventure for the little ones.”

  Allison nodded enthusiastically. In her mind’s eye she saw a wall mural sweeping around the schoolroom: island scenes, perhaps, painted by the children themselves. “Maybe some of the parents could put up some swings and a seesaw. Or even a slide.”