Come Morning (11 page)

“I’m not even sure what’s in there. I grabbed the case at the last minute when I was leaving Boston and I haven’t looked inside except to take out my Nikon. I’d planned to take it on my beach walk the other day, but I got sidetracked.” At the last minute, she hadn’t been able to make herself pick up the camera. She pulled off the road and brought the Buick to a stop, then took the case from him. Removing the Nikon, she checked the gauges. “This film’s been in here awhile, but it should be all right.” It actually felt good in her hands, familiar.

“Let me take a couple of you,” Craig said, getting out on his side.

“No, this is your vacation. Besides, I’m the photographer, remember?” They strolled toward the deserted lighthouse, Briana’s sandals skimming the sand while Craig’s loafers were slowly filling up. She tried not to smile.

“You sure can’t complain about the weather,” Craig commented, brushing back his sandy hair. “Is it this nice always?”

“It gets cold in the winter and there’s even snow, but not a great deal. Fall’s the rainy season, starting in mid-September. Every couple of years, they get some really rough storms.”

Craig spotted a purplish-pink wildflower and stooped to look closer. “What’s this?”

“Heather, like on the moors of Scotland. Some long-ago visitor must have brought some over and started a strain.” She stopped, placing the strap of the Nikon around her neck, raising the camera up to eye level, testing the light Her love of cameras, of photography, came creeping back. Yes, it was going to be all right. “Is this close enough?”

“Yeah, sure.” He walked over aways, then turned around. “Ready when you are.”

Briana took her time lining up the shot thinking that the camera felt good in her hands. She focused on Craig with his perfect hair windblown, hands crammed in the pockets of his pressed khakis, Gucci’s nearly buried in sand, and the lighthouse in the background. She took several shots, then changed the angle, shifted, and took a few more. “There, that should prove to one and all that you were here.”

“Is that the end of the roll, or can we take some more in town?”

Climbing back into the Buick, Briana put the camera in her case. “There’s more. Do you want to see the other side of the island? There’re these great cranberry bogs.”

Craig closed his door. “You bet That is, if you have the time.”

She owed him this much, this day, she supposed. He was trying to be a friend, distracting her. “No problem.”

“I heard at the inn that the lobster dinners at a place called Vincent’s are the best. Have you eaten there?”

“No, but most of the places on the island serve fantastic seafood. We can try Vincent’s.”

“Great. Let’s check out the other side, then I’ll take you to dinner. How many lobsters can you eat at one setting?” His smile was teasing.

“Maybe one, certainly not more. How about you?”

“Two, possibly two and a half. I remember once, Robert and I were walking around Faneuil Hall and… hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s all right. Tell me.” Briana steeled herself for the story, determined to get used to hearing both names without weeping. She simply would have to.

Craig wanted to end their day with a walk on the beach near her house, so Briana led the way, snapping more pictures as they strolled. The sunset was dripping reds and golds through a deep azure sky as seagulls dipped into the water for their fish dinners. Two lovers on a blanket sat with arms around each other, oblivious to the few stragglers left on the beach.

“The shoreline’s sure different here than along Hyannis or the coast of Maine,” Craig said, gazing toward the west. “Do you ever go over to Martha’s Vineyard?”

“I have a friend who lives in Edgartown so I’ve been there, but not frequently. There’s air service and lots of charter boats if you want to check it out.”

“Maybe next visit. That is, if I’m invited back.”

She hadn’t invited him this time, Briana thought, then decided she was being uncharitable. Craig wasn’t such bad company, she supposed. He’d entertained her throughout a delicious lobster dinner with funny tales about some of his clients. He’d been gracious and attentive. However, despite mat, she wasn’t anxious to spend more time with him. “Oh, I’ll probably be back in Boston before you think about another trip.”

Turning, she gazed toward Brant Point and narrowed her eyes as she noticed a man sitting on the rocks. As they strolled closer, she was certain she recognized him.

“What’s that fool doing up there?” Craig asked, following her gaze. “That’s quite a fall if he loses his balance.”

Briana didn’t comment, just kept watching Slade as he sat staring out to sea, his black hair shifting in the breeze. She couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking, how long he’d been there. And if he’d taken along a six-pack for company.

“Looks like your neighbor,” Craig went on. “Is he a beach bum who does odd jobs for a living?”

Annoyed, she frowned at him. “Why would you think that? Actually, he just inherited one of the best houses on the island and a great deal of money, plus a fortune in art.” Ordinarily, she wouldn’t reveal the extent of someone’s assets to anyone, although Slade’s inheritance was common knowledge on the island, but Craig’s assumption had raised her hackles.

“Inherited, eh? That’s getting there the easy way.” Oblivious to her irritation, he pointed to her camera. “Any left on that roll?”

“No, I took the last one of you wading in the surf.” He’d actually taken off his shoes and socks, turning up his pant legs. Briana decided that was probably as informal as he ever got.

“I’ll get some more film for tomorrow, if you’re free.”

“I’m afraid not I’ve made plans. If I’d known you were coming …” She’d just decided that instant that she’d had enough sightseeing and enough of Craig.

“Hey, that’s all right. Maybe I’ll go fishing.”

She couldn’t picture the fastidious Craig Walker on a boat hauling in smelly fish, but she didn’t really know the man all that well. The sun was nearly gone, sinking slowly at the horizon. “I think we should head back.” One last glance toward the rocks and she saw that Slade had turned in their direction and was now watching them. She had the feeling Slade hadn’t thought much of Craig, and vice versa.

Back at the house, Craig sat down to put on his shoes and socks. “If that roll’s done, I’ll take it in for you tomorrow and get doubles made. There’s a camera shop near the inn.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll get around to it and mail you copies.”

He stood, putting on his charming smile. “I insist. It’s the least I can do after you gave up most of your day for me.

Briana had a feeling he was looking for another excuse to come by the house, but to refuse again would be rude. She’d already rewound the film and now popped it out and handed it to him. “Leave my copies with Ned Farrell at Island Camera and I’ll pick them up later.” She noticed a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, and then it was gone.

“I’ll do that.” He leaned close and placed a very chaste kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for the tour.”

“And thank you for dinner. Would you like me to drive you back to the inn?”

Craig licked his lips, a nervous habit he’d been trying to break. Another one was Briana Morgan. He hadn’t actively pursued a woman in years. Hadn’t had to. But this was different. There was more here than a roll in the hay, not that he’d turn that down, either.

But even a man as stubborn as he could see that he was getting nowhere this trip. “I like to walk. Bye, Briana.” He started off undaunted, thinking there was always next time.

“Have a safe trip home, if I don’t see you before you leave.” And she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t. Perhaps she
was
turning reclusive, Briana thought.

Inside, she slipped off her sandals and set down the camera. Maybe it was because Craig reminded her too much of a time in life when she’d been much happier. Maybe it was his aggressive manner, showing up when she’d made it clear he shouldn’t, and then that annoying kiss.

Kissing, she’d always maintained, was such a personal act that one ought to be able to choose one’s partner. She definitely wouldn’t have chosen Craig. Though he’d tried, his kiss had left her cold.

Unlike the stunning kisses she’d shared with Slade.

He had been the unwilling partner that time. At first. Then he’d responded and even taken over. Perhaps he wouldn’t have initiated a kiss just then, but he’d nonetheless participated wholeheartedly.

Or was it just because she’d been all over him and he was, after all, a man? She’d probably never know.

Briana poured herself a glass of iced tea and carried it out to the screened-in porch, sitting down in Gramp’s rocker. It was something she’d taken to doing most every evening, gazing out at the water, listening to the surf, letting the soothing sounds relax her. Such a peaceful place, she thought, sipping.

A movement to the right caught her attention. She saw Slade climbing the steps to his porch. She waited to see what he’d do, knowing he could see her in the glow of the streetlamp.

Slowly, he looked over and stared for a long minute. “Your company gone?”

“Yes. You want to get back to work tomorrow?”

“Maybe. I’ll see how my day goes.” With that, he went inside.

Well, fine, Briana thought. Now, why on earth was his nose out of joint? And why should she care? Rising, she went inside and locked her door.

By ten the next morning, Briana had put in two hours scraping paint and sanding around the enclosed porch, yet she still hadn’t seen a sign of life next door. Silly to worry, she supposed. Slade was a grown man. A grown man who’d been known to drink his troubles away, whatever they were. Why she should care was a good question, one Briana didn’t want to consider for long. Simple human compassion for a neighbor, she finally decided.

Finished, she washed her hands, rinsed off her warm face with cool water, and tied back her hair. After taking a long drink from her bottle of water, she strolled outside. All right, so she’d make a fool of herself yet again, go over and ask him if he felt like painting today since the house was pretty well ready. If he rebuffed her, so be it. At least she’d know.

After all, he’d asked her if he could help. It would be rude to start painting without him, wouldn’t it? Of course, something could have come up, an appointment he’d forgotten. It wasn’t as if she
needed
his help. Well, only at the top of the house.

Then again, what if he’d tripped and fallen down the stairs, was even now lying there in desperate need? Briana smiled at her rationalizations. The curse of an overactive imagination.

Oh, to hell with it!

The sun was very hot as she stood on the porch and rang his doorbell. She could hear the echo through the rooms, but no footsteps. Fine. He wasn’t home. She’d manage just fine without him. She was just about to leave when she heard sounds inside. Then the door swung open and Slade stood there.

For a moment, her breath caught. He was shirtless and shoeless, wearing only gray knit shorts that advertised his sex more enticingly than if he’d been naked. Dark, curly hair was in evidence on his strong legs, his wide, muscular chest, and even his square chin since he hadn’t shaved. He was rousingly male this morning, causing her to take a step backward and clear her throat.

“Hi. I was wondering if you were still interested in painting.” For a moment there, she’d forgotten why she’d come over.

Slade glanced out and saw that the sun was high in the sky. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Time got away from me. Yeah, I want to paint, but first, maybe you can help me with something.” He held open the screen. “Have you got a minute?”

Briana hesitated for a heartbeat, then decided she was being foolish. “Sure.” She stepped inside, wishing he’d put on a shirt. Why was it that if they’d been out on the beach, she’d think nothing of his outfit, but here, in such close quarters, she found his lack of clothes unnerving? And oddly exciting.

“I’ve been up in Jeremy’s storage room looking over his paintings. Have you ever been in there?”

“No.” Glad for the distraction, she gazed around the gracious living room. “Actually, I haven’t been inside this house since I was a teenager. Jeremy rarely had guests. It’s even more lovely than I remember.” Through the archway, she spotted the cut glass bowl on the dining room table and strolled over. “Lemon drops. He always carried some in his pocket, too.”

Slade tipped his head thoughtfully. “It’s quite possible you have more memories of my father than I do.”

His words were said without pity, more as an observance. Yet she wished she hadn’t reminded him of the years he’d missed knowing Jeremy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Not your fault. It’s just that every day in this house—in
his
house—I learn something more about him. Yet I don’t feel I’m any closer to knowing him.” He ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t a man who verbalized his feelings easily, especially to women. Yet, since witnessing that episode in her backyard and then yesterday when she’d reached out for comfort in the only way she could think of at the moment, he felt he could say things to her he wouldn’t have under normal circumstances, and that she just might understand. “Does that make any sense?”

“Yes, it does. There are times when I’ve wondered if we ever really know anyone.” She trailed her fingers along the rim of the lovely bowl, her eyes downcast. “I knew Robert for three years before we married, even lived with him awhile before the wedding. Yet within the year, I knew I’d made a mistake, that I hadn’t looked closely enough, that I hardly knew him at all. But by then, I was pregnant with Bobby.”

“So you stuck it out.”

She turned to him, met his eyes. “For a while. But things got worse and I divorced him three years ago.”

That was it, the thing he hadn’t guessed, the
something
that explained her behavior. A woman who’d loved her husband and lost him a few short months ago wouldn’t have reached out for another man as Briana had yesterday. At least not the kind of woman he felt Briana Morgan was. “That explains it.” When he saw her puzzled look, he stumbled about for another explanation. “Your visitor, Craig Walker. You’ve obviously been together awhile.”