Just The Way You Are (11 page)

She laughed. "Good question. Now, are we doing this or not? Because at some point today, I really need to get back to the hospital."

He flicked her chin with his finger. "You just called the hospital and your grandmother is sleeping, so don't start feeling guilty on me. I'm not used to seeing guilt on a model's face—unless, of course, she just scarfed down a pound of Godiva chocolates."

"My favorite."

"Mine, too. All right. Let's see if this thing works." Jimmy slid onto the front seat, balancing the bike by resting his feet lightly on the ground. "Where to?"

"Head down

Main Street

, hang a left at

Carmen Avenue

, and I'll show you the hot spots: Milton's Barber Shop, Lucy's Hot Curl, and Mrs. Davenport's Frank Sinatra museum."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "No way, I love Old Blue Eyes."

"You do not like Frank Sinatra."

"How would you know, babe? You don't know everything about me."

She made a face at him. "Fine, I stand corrected. But you won't be able to get into the museum, because Mrs. Davenport only opens it on Saturdays."

"Too bad. So are you on, or what?"

"Actually, I'm not." She laughed as the bike threatened to fall over. "This isn't going to work."

"Sure it is. You put your feet on the pedals. I'll keep us stable until you're ready. Then I'll push off and you'll start pedaling really fast."

"If you say so."

He waited until Tessa said she was set, then pushed off and started pedaling. After the first few wobbles, they were cruising down

Main Street

and turning quite a few heads, as well as stopping traffic as Tessa had predicted.

He wasn't surprised that people stared at them; he was surprised to discover that so many of the people seemed to know Tessa. He wondered why she hadn't come home in close to a decade and had a feeling the answer had to do with her sister and her sister's husband. He hadn't seen Tessa run into a man's arms with such confidence since … well, since never.

She usually kept everyone at arm's length. On occasion, he'd wondered if she had something going on, like an affair with a married man, or if she was nursing a broken heart. Hell, maybe it was both.

Her sister certainly hadn't looked happy to see her husband and Tessa together. There was a history among the three of them, he'd bet his camera on that.

"There's Lucy's Hot Curl," Tessa said. "In case you need a haircut."

"I'm not sure I'd trust this mane to someone named Lucy."

"Fine, be a big-city snob."

"Oh, sure, since when has anyone but Gerard touched your golden locks?"

"All right, you win."

"I always do." He began to whistle as they cruised around town. It was fairly flat and easy to get around, not too much traffic to worry about, and he couldn't remember when he'd had such a good, simple, cheap time. He felt … happy. "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true," he sang out.

"Oh, please, don't sing."

"I'm half crazy, all for the love of you."

"I'm totally crazy for doing this with you," Tessa interrupted. "Everyone is looking at us."

"Looking at you. Aren't you used to that by now?"

"Turn left. There's

Carmen Avenue

. I want to show you Central Park."

"Just like the one in Manhattan?"

"Except it's about fifty times smaller."

"Cool." Jimmy made a fairly wide turn as the long bicycle still seemed a bit unsteady beneath his hands. But then he hadn't been on a bicycle in about twenty years. He began to pump harder as the bicycle seemed to be dragging up a small incline. Having a sneaking suspicion why, he flung a look over his shoulder. "Hey, you're not pedaling."

"Of course I am," she said.

"Liar." But he felt a definite improvement in their speed as they hit the top of the hill and began down the other side. "No more loafing," he said with another quick look at her. He should have kept his eyes on the road, but the bloom in Tessa's cheeks, her hair streaming out behind her, was just too hard to resist.

"Jimmy!" she cried.

"Shit!" he swore as he looked back just in time. He had to make a hard turn to the right to avoid a woman, a stroller, and some kind of dog on a very long leash. The turn was too fast, and he had trouble recovering as the bike soared over the sidewalk and down a long grassy embankment, toward a pond—a pond? Tessa hadn't mentioned anything about a pond.

"Turn! Turn!" Tessa screamed.

But he couldn't make the steering work. He didn't know if Tessa was turning to the right or the left, but they didn't seem to be in sync. The bike began to fishtail, and they drew closer to the water. Then he felt the back of the bike flare up as if Tessa had jumped. The next thing he knew he was underwater, under ice-cold water. He thrashed his way to the top, only to realize he could actually stand up since the pond was only about five feet deep. He looked over to the bank and saw Tessa standing next to the pond. She had jumped and left him to his fate. Traitor.

"It's okay, I'm all right. Thanks for asking," he said, pulling himself and the bike out of the water.

Tessa didn't reply. She had one arm wrapped around her middle and he was suddenly afraid that she'd hurt herself.

"Tessa, Tessa," he said as her body seemed to shake. He dropped the bike on the ground as he came out of the water and rushed to her side. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm—I'm fine," she said, then burst into full-fledged laughter as she pointed at his head. "You have green moss in your hair."

"And here I was worried about you. Silly me."

"You should be worried. You practically killed me," she said with a grin that was so much wider and freer and more joyous than any he had ever seen on her face.

"You look pretty alive to me." He ran his hands through his hair, then winced as he pulled out some sort of weed.

"I'll be black-and-blue tomorrow," she said. "Probably won't be able to pose for any photographs for a while. I might have to sue you for lost wages."

"I might have to sue you for being so distracting."

"Excuse me?" she asked, planting a hand on her hip. "I didn't say a word. You weren't paying attention to the road. You almost hit that poor woman."

"I wasn't paying attention because I was looking at you. Besides that, haven't you ever heard of going down with the ship?"

"We were on a bicycle, not the
Titanic."

"Same thing."

"It is not the same thing."

"Well, I'll give you this, you have great survival instincts." Her smile vanished abruptly, and the light went out of her eyes. "What did I say?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, you look like I just pulled the lights out of your Christmas tree."

"It's just something Grams said to me once about saving myself, surviving. Forget it."

"That's your secret?"

"I don't have any secrets," she said, flopping down on the ground.

Jimmy sat down beside her. "Sure you do. You never talk about your family. I didn't even know you had a sister or a grandmother, and I thought we were good friends."

"We should go back. You'll catch a cold. The afternoon wind can be brisk here on the coast."

He could feel the drops chilling his skin, but he was far more interested in hearing her story than in getting warm. "Why haven't you come back here before?"

She rolled her head on her neck. "You're not going to stop asking questions, are you?"

"Not until I get some answers. What happened? Did you suddenly get too famous for the old hometown?"

"No."

"Then, what?"

"I didn't want to see my family or this town because it's where everything fell apart." She let out a long breath. "When I was twenty years old, my sister slept with my boyfriend and got pregnant."

"Ouch."

"Sam did the noble thing and married her."

"After he'd done the noble thing of sleeping with her."

She sent him a sharp look. "I don't hold Sam blameless, but Alli chased after him for years. She finally caught him in a weak moment and made the most of it."

"Where were you at the time?"

"Aspen."

"I didn't mean geographically."

"Sam and I were supposed to come back here together that Christmas, but I got a chance to model in Aspen, and I took it."

"Bad decision?"

"Well, I lost Sam, but that modeling job got me a contract."

"And you never looked back."

"Not until now." She paused. "But I had to come home for Grams. She's the reason I'm here, not Sam or Alli. I don't care about either one of them."

"Then why were you in Sam's arms a few hours ago?"

"Sam was just being nice. He knows how worried I am about my grandmother."

"I can see that." Jimmy stretched out his legs in front of him. "So, any old feelings come back during that hug?"

"We should go." Tessa got to her feet.

"Just tell me to shut up, Tessa, I can take it."

"Shut up, Jimmy."

"You still have feelings for him, don't you?"

"You just told me you'd shut up if I asked," she said in exasperation. "Fine. I don't know what feelings I have. When I came back here, I thought Sam and Alli were happily married. But it turns out that they're not."

Jimmy felt his stomach turn inside out. When Tessa had told him that her old flame was married to her sister, he'd felt bad for her, but at least the guy was out of the running.

"Sam and Alli are getting a divorce," Tessa added.

He looked into her troubled blue eyes and had to ask. "Do you want him back?"

Chapter 11

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P
hoebe could hear them talking over her like she was already dead and buried, and she didn't like it one little bit. She suspected it was evening, but which evening she couldn't be sure. She definitely smelled food, spaghetti she thought, and she'd heard Alli ask William if he wanted to get a sandwich in the cafeteria.

Tessa was in the room, too, and Sam—she heard his deep baritone in between the two female voices. They seemed to be arguing about something.

Her mind drifted away with the weariness of it all. She'd wanted so badly to fix what was wrong between the girls. They were sisters, after all. They were family, and once she was gone they'd only have each other. It hurt her to think of them apart, separated by a wall of betrayal and distrust. But she didn't know how to make it better. Maybe if John had lived…

After his death, everything had gone to hell in a handbasket, as her own grandmother used to say. It was that Christmas after his death that Tessa hadn't come home. It was that Christmas that Alli and Sam had fallen into bed together, made a baby, and destroyed one family at the same time they were compelled to build another.

Phoebe prayed for John to speak to her again, to tell her what to do, for it was only in the strange dreamworld that she felt like a whole person, able to move freely, to speak clearly. But John was gone for now. He wanted her to finish the pearl necklace, to ask the girls to help, to remind them of what family and love were all about. But she could barely speak. Every time she woke up, she had to struggle to get small words out. How could she make them understand what they needed to understand?

But even as she worried, she felt the heaviness in her heart begin to lessen as the outside world grew louder and her dreamworld faded away.

* * *

"Look, her eyelids are fluttering." Alli reached out her hand to Sam.

He squeezed her fingers as he moved closer to her side. "She could be dreaming."

"I want her to wake up. It feels like forever since I've talked to her."

Alli leaned against him, and he felt more needed in that moment than he had in a very long time. She was such an independent woman, his wife, so strong, so bullheaded, that it was easy to think of her as totally self-sufficient. Only he knew better. He knew her insecurities, her fears lay just beneath the surface, and it didn't take much to turn her confidence into insecurity. Tessa could do that better than anyone. And he supposed he was a close second.

They'd had a love-hate relationship for eighteen years now. They'd been so many things to each other—neighbors, friends, enemies, lovers—and now they were supposed to be separated, on their way to a divorce. What would they be to each other then? Strangers? It didn't seem possible that they could have ended up in this place.

He looked up as the hospital room door opened and Tessa walked in with William.

Alli stepped away from him immediately, as if she'd been caught doing something wrong, like holding his hand, like caring about him.

But why was that wrong? His definitions had changed, grown blurry. Marrying Alli had always seemed to be wrong. But divorcing her seemed wrong, too. And Tessa; he didn't know what the hell to do about her.

"Hi," Tessa said softly, her blue eyes seeking his for reassurance. "Everything okay?"

"Fine. But how are you?"

"I'm okay. Jimmy is in the hall. I didn't think it would be right to bring him in here since he's never met Grams. I wouldn't want to confuse her if she wakes up."

"That was thoughtful of you."

"Grams?" Alli questioned. "Are you awake?"

Sam looked to the bed as Phoebe's eyes slowly opened. Thank God, he breathed in silent prayer. Because if anyone could make the world right again, it would be Phoebe. She'd been as much a grandmother to him as she was to Alli and Tessa. And in the past three months she'd been a lifeline in a sea of confusion.

Phoebe's lips trembled and then moved into what looked like a smile. As her facial muscles seemed to respond to her command, her expression relaxed.

"It's all right, don't try to talk," Alli said.

"Maybe she wants to try," Tessa suggested, coming around the other side of the bed.

Phoebe's lips parted, and after several ragged breaths, she said, "Pearl."

Sam leaned closer to the bed, surprised by her word choice. Had he heard her correctly? Had she meant
Pearl
or were her brain signals all mixed up?

"Pearl?" Alli echoed. "What do you mean, Grams?"

"Don't push her," Tessa said. "Give her a chance to collect her thoughts."

"Tessa." Phoebe's gaze came to rest on Tessa's face. "You came home," she said slowly, looking more triumphant with each word.

"Yes, I came home," Tessa said with a laugh that was a half cry. "For you. You scared me. But you're better. I can see that you're better now."

"Alli," Phoebe muttered, moving on to her other granddaughter. "And Sam."

"And William," Alli added, moving back so William could stand next to the bed.

Phoebe smiled at her old friend. "William. I remember walking on the pier."

"That's when you fainted. I called the paramedics. They came pretty quick," William said.

"When? Today?"

"No, it was Sunday. Today is Tuesday."

A frown knitted her brows together. "So long?"

"You've been resting," William said. "For once in your life you've actually been sleeping in."

"Sleeping too much," she said, her words still a bit garbled.

Sam let out the breath he'd been subconsciously holding. Phoebe was going to get well. He could feel it.

"Favor." Phoebe struggled with the word. "Finish my necklace."

"I don't understand," Alli replied. "You didn't want to finish the necklace without Grandpa. Remember?"

"Wrong to stop. Need to finish … make everything all right."

"Why don't we talk about this when you're home?"

"When is the Fourth of July?"

"Monday," Alli replied.

"By then," Phoebe said. "Has to be done by then."

"But Grams—" Tessa protested. "We can find the pearl together when you're better."

"I'm sure the girls will do as you ask," William interrupted, sending both Alli and Tessa a stem look. "We want your grandmother to concentrate on getting well, nothing else, right?"

"Yes," Alli agreed. "If you want us to finish the necklace, we will."

"Together, you and Tessa," Phoebe said. "Can't go to the store. Have to find a wild pearl like we did before."

Alli leaned over and kissed Phoebe on the cheek. "We'll do it exactly like we used to."

"Exactly," Tessa added. "We want you to get better, Grams. Don't worry about anything."

"I'm tired," Phoebe said wearily.

"Then we'll say good night," Alli said. "Just rest."

Sam stepped up to the bed after Tessa said her good night. He kissed Phoebe on the forehead. "You take care of yourself, Phoebe."

"You take care of them," she said slowly. "Keep them together. I'm counting on you, Sam."

Keep them together—wasn't he the reason they were apart?

"I'll do my best," he replied, following Alli and Tessa into the hallway.

Tessa stood next to Jimmy. Alli leaned against the wall, her arms crossed in front of her like a shield. For a moment in Phoebe's room they'd been together, now they stood apart. Sam had a feeling it would take more than a pearl necklace to bring them back.

* * *

"Are you angry with me?" Phoebe asked the man sitting next to her bedside. William had been holding her hand since the others left, but he hadn't said much. He'd always been a mystery to her, keeping his distance during her marriage, then courting her like an old flame since she'd become a widow. He'd asked her to marry him, to move back East with him, to return to her roots, to take the place in his life he'd always thought she should have.

William cleared his throat and spoke. "Why would I be angry with you? I'm glad you're finally awake and talking. You scared me."

"I scared me." She drew in a breath and let it out. "Wasn't sure … I could make it back."

"Well, you did, and you're not going anywhere, except home."

Home. That sounded perfect. He must have seen her expression change, for his own grew more despairing. She didn't want to hurt him, yet she feared she did with every word she spoke, every breath she drew. He wanted her to be the girl he remembered, the one who'd almost married him. She could barely remember that girl.

"I've changed my plans, cleared my schedule," he said briskly. "I can stay here with you as long as you need me."

"You don't have to stay."

"I want to. I'm not leaving, Phoebe. Not without you. I've waited too long. Do you remember what you said to me Sunday morning?"

"No."

"You said you'd consider marrying me. It was as close to a yes as you've ever come."

She did remember. Because he'd been battering her resolve for so many years that it had become almost impossible to say no to him. And it wasn't that she didn't care for him, she did. But she still loved John, and William couldn't understand why. He was convinced she'd married John because of her parents, and not because she'd fallen head over heels, crazy in love with her husband.

"I can see that you do remember." William smiled tenderly. "I can make you happy, Phoebe. I have more money than I'll ever spend, houses in three cities, servants to take care of your every whim. It was the way you were supposed to live."

She was too tired to argue with him now. Too weary to think beyond getting out of bed.

"It will be wonderful," he said. "Just as soon as you get better, we'll make plans."

She nodded, more concerned with the immediate future. "The girls must find the last pearl. It's important to me, to them."

He didn't want to talk about the pearls, about the symbol of her love for John. That was apparent from the sudden frown that turned his face to stone.

"Whatever you want," he said.

"I'm afraid."

The frown softened. "I know you are, Phoebe, but I'm here for you. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

"Maybe you can't stop it."

"Don't talk like that."

"I'm not ready to die."

"Of course you're not."

She felt a tear slide down her cheek as she thought about all she wanted to do. Summer was coming, the Fourth of July. She wanted to fly a kite in the festival, eat clam chowder, sit on her deck and watch the fireworks.

She wanted to watch Megan grow up and see Alli's business take off, and read about Tessa in the magazines. She wanted to know how everything would all end, if Sam and Alli would get back together, or if Tessa would come between them. She didn't want to miss a second of what happened to her girls, her family. Yet there was a part of her that felt like she was slipping away, until William's tight grip on her hand yanked her back.

"You are not dying, do you hear me?" he said forcefully. "We're going to be together. I know we are. I'm not giving you up."

"I want to go home."

"You will, soon."

"What if I have another stroke? Can't live like my mother."

"Stop worrying. The stress isn't good for you. You're not your mother. You won't have another stroke. This is our time, Phoebe. Our time."

His stubborn persistence made her feel better, anchored to the real world and not the hazy one in her mind.

"Those girls of yours are going to find the luckiest pearl in the entire Pacific Ocean and then you'll feel better," he promised.

"You're a good friend."

"I intend to be more than that."