Queen of Broken Hearts (51 page)

“Are you serious, Lex? What did she say?”

“Aw, she flung a fit. Pretty much what I expected. She said Alexia wouldn't speak to me anymore, crap like that. All the stuff she's been pulling on me for months. But I said that Alexia is a college junior and plenty old enough to think for herself if Elinor would leave her alone and quit trying to use her against me.”

“Wow. You did good,” I say with a nod. “I'm proud of you. What was Elinor's reaction? Did she cry or get mad?”

“Both. By the way, you were crying, weren't you, out there in your car?”

I shrug. “A little.”

“You didn't see me park the Jeep behind you, so I thought maybe you were talking on your cell phone. I waited patiently for you to finish until I realized you were sitting there like an idiot, staring at your house and boo-hooing. Figured you'd gone batty at last.”

“That might be true. But I was also trying to figure out some stuff about me and Mack and how we went wrong. I haven't quite worked it out yet, but a few things are getting clearer.”

He nods and rubs his hair, which glistens with raindrops like finely polished ebony. “Yawp, guess that's what happened with Elinor. It's been coming on awhile, but suddenly things started getting clearer.” Tilting his head sideways, he squints at me. “Now it's your turn, Doctor Lady. Why were you going to call me?”

“Well … I wanted to see if you'd come over and build a fire in the fireplace. You know, like you did last time? I've been meaning to ask you for a while, but I just … haven't. I've wanted to, but …” I let my voice fall off.

Lex eyes me warily. “You were calling me to build a
fire?
” When I nod eagerly, he rolls his eyes. He rubs his chin and says, as though to himself, “A fire would feel mighty good tonight, wouldn't it? Nothing better during a storm.”

I incline my head toward the living room. “The wood you brought in last time is still there.”

Before entering the living room, Lex takes off his wet boots and puts them next to the soggy flats I kicked off in the hallway. Following him, I stand aside as he kneels in front of the fireplace to build the fire. Leaning back with his elbows propped on his knees, he watches until the flames reach up to grab the tidy stack of logs with long yellow fingers. With a great whooshing sound, the logs burst into flames, and I close my eyes in gratitude, savoring the warmth on my face.

Lex gets heavily to his feet with a grunt of satisfaction. “Should have us dry and warm in no time,” he says as he wipes off his hands on the seat of his pants.

“It feels wonderful.” Staring into the fire, I absently unwind a long cashmere scarf from around my neck, having forgotten to remove it with my raincoat. I'm glad it didn't get wet; luxurious, butter-soft, and a lovely gold-bronze color, the scarf was a Christmas gift from Rye that I love the feel of. I smile to see that Lex is watching me caress it against my cheek before I take it off.

“Let me see that thing,” he says, gruffly, and I hand the scarf over. “Pretty, isn't it?” he says as he studies it. “Same color as your hair and eyes. Cashmere, eh?” When I nod, he says, “Where'd you get it?”

“Rye gave it to me for Christmas.” I don't add that he said the same thing about it matching my coloring.

Lex lets out a snort of derision. “Guess that's what I get for asking. I wish I'd found it before he did, though. It's perfect for you.” His expression is gloomy as he shakes his head. “All I gave you was a plain old fountain pen. No wonder you like him better.”

“Lex! That's not true.”

“Which part?” he asks so quickly that I laugh.

“The lovely pen you gave me is far from ordinary, and ever since Christmas, I've kept it in my briefcase. It's one of my most prized possessions, and I use it every day.”

Rather than being appeased, he eyes me balefully. “Last week word was going around that you and pretty boy were hot and heavy now. Somebody saw you guys making out on a dance floor or something.”

“Oh, Lord! Our small-town gossips never let us down, do they?”

“Then it's not true?”

With a laugh, I can't resist saying, “Which part?”

“Very funny. You know what I mean.”

I'm silent for a moment, trying to decide what I should do. Finally I say, “I'll tell you about it, if you'd like. But don't listen to the gossips. Evidently it's been a busy time for them, because another thing going around was that you moved back to Elinor's house.”

“I was over there a lot, but I sure didn't move in. I'm still at the marina.” He blinks at me. “Don't tell me that's why I haven't heard from you lately?”

I shrug and say, “You heard that Rye and I were having an affair, didn't you?” At first he won't meet my eyes, then he shrugs elaborately. I'm not surprised that rumor was circulating; a couple of times I caught Rye's neighbors peering out their windows at me when I left his house late at night. “I figured folks were saying that,” I tell him, “since I've been at his place a lot lately, too, like you being at Elinor's.”

“The rumors went a little further than that,” he says, then adds, “Folks were saying that you'd stayed over a few times, too.”

“Not true. I won't be coy and pretend that I didn't consider it. But I've decided that Rye has always been one of my dearest friends, and it's best for both of us if we remain that way. I just told him last night. You sure you want to hear this, Lex?”

He thinks about it a minute, then shakes his head. “I thought I did, but I've changed my mind. You're telling me there's no affair, and that's good enough for me.” With a grin, he looks down at the scarf he's holding. “Still wish I'd found this thing first, though,” he says as he steps forward to loop it back around my neck. Since his hands clutch both ends of the scarf, I'm imprisoned by it, and I study him curiously as we stand facing each other.

“Lex? All along I've tried not to say anything, because it was something you had to work out for yourself, but you did the right thing about Elinor. From the first time I met you and realized she was your ex, I've wanted to say that I didn't think she was good for you.” Or good
enough
for you, I think.

He sighs. “Ever since I left her place, it feels like a load's been lifted off my shoulders. I've never been a gloomy, down-in-the-mouth kind of guy, you know? Yet I've been miserable as hell lately.” Deep in thought, he absently twists and loops the ends of the scarf around his hands. I could easily free myself, ducking under the scarf and stepping away from him, but I don't.

“I'm not sure Elinor's entirely to blame for all my misery, though,” he continues. For the first time tonight, his eyes linger when they meet mine.

I lower my head, blushing. “Oh, Lex … there was another reason I was going to call you.”

“Besides the fire?”

“Besides the fire.” My smile is tentative, nervous. “You see—well—I've felt bad that we didn't part on the best of terms the last time you were here. The night you built the fire and fell asleep on the sofa, remember? So … ah … I wanted to say that I regret if I said or did anything to upset you. I've missed you these last couple of months.” I manage another weak smile and glance up at him hesitantly before blurting out, “Actually, I missed you a lot. So much that it made me understand some things I hadn't seen before.”

He's quiet for so long that I dare steal a glance at him. He gives his head a shake and says in a tight voice, “The problem is, I'm not sure you and I can be friends anymore, Clare.”

Taken aback, I blink at him as my face burns hotly. Putting a hand to my throat, I say, much too loudly, “Oh! I …
see.
If that's the way you feel, then of course I understand. I—Well, I do understand. Really.” I'm taken aback by the sense of loss I feel, and I swallow hard, too stunned to move. The rain has picked up; a gust of wind roaring down the chimney causes the fire to dance and spin wildly, casting a yellow glow on us. So eager was I to warm myself by the fire that I neglected to turn any lamps on, and we're standing in darkness, with only the fire for illumination.

Lex twists the ends of the scarf around his hands again, pulling me a step closer. He says, “It was actually Elinor who made me see that you and I couldn't be friends.”

“Elinor!” I cry. “But you said you were through with her. Why should you listen to anything she has to say?”

“Because she said something that surprised me, but at the same time, it made a lot of sense. I can't get it out of my mind. It's the thing I was coming over here to tell you.”

“You were coming here to tell me something that Elinor said?”

Nodding, he stares down at me. “She thinks that you and I can't be friends because of the way I feel about you. She seems to think that the way I feel about you … well … that it goes way beyond friendship.”

Startled, I stare up at him before saying with a laugh, “Elinor said that! How did you respond to such an outrageous thing?”

His eyes reflect the glow of the fire, and he smiles down at me. “How do you think? I told her I've never heard of anything so ridiculous.”

I'm lightheaded with relief, and my laugh sounds foolish and giddy. “Where do you think she got such a foolish idea?”

When Lex loops the ends of my scarf around his hands again, I realize it hasn't been an absentminded gesture on his part after all, fiddling with the scarf. Each turn of his hands has pulled us closer. “Damned if I know,” he murmurs. “As I tried to tell Elinor, I've never even kissed you.” Smiling, he adds, “One more twist of this scarf, though, and that might have to change.”

I look down at the cashmere scarf wrapped around his hands. Large, rough hands, callused, but I've found them to be both gentle and trustworthy. Returning his smile as I place my hands over his, I say, “Too bad you've gotten the scarf as close as it will go. You can't twist it again.”

“Want to bet?” His eyes never leaving mine, he loops the ends once more.

It's two days before the first retreat, and everything moves into high gear. I have moments of sheer, unadulterated panic. Many times I wish I'd left well enough alone and continued to have the retreats at the conference center in Fairhope—it would have been so much easier. So what if the cost was so high it kept many women from attending? At least I'd be sane enough to conduct the next one. At Fairhope's conference center, the attendees were responsible for booking their own rooms at nearby hotels, but now we provide lodging, which means linens. There are four bunk rooms, with five bunks in each, beds enough to accommodate the participants in addition to volunteers staying overnight. In my office in the back, I have the daybed, so I won't have to drive back and forth. At the outlet in Foley, Dory and I had purchased dozens of towels and washcloths, sheets, pillows, and light blankets that double as spreads. What we hadn't considered was laundry. Dory blew it off, saying that she'd take the used linens home and wash them, but I wouldn't allow it, as busy as she is with her business now. Although Fairhope boasts a laundry service, they won't travel as far out as the Landing, so we compromise. I'll consent to the White Rings taking the laundry to the service, but that's it. One problem covered, a million or so to go.

At the conference center, there had been a costly meal plan, but I hadn't had to worry about food. I've hired a cook and two kitchen workers for Wayfarer's Landing, and one of the White Rings who previously ran a restaurant has volunteered to take charge of planning the meals and running the kitchen. Two days before the retreat, she calls to say she has the flu. The same morning both of the kitchen workers quit before ever getting started.

So that the participants won't have to listen to me every session, I've always brought in as many resource speakers as possible: anyone I can beg, bribe, or coerce. The lineup for the first retreat is dazzling. Because of the publicity last year about the retreats, resource speakers from all over the country have offered their services. I've lined up a child-custody specialist from Miami, a financial planner from Cleveland, and the Native American founder of an ecumenical spiritual community in New Mexico. Not ten minutes after I've hired a replacement for one of the kitchen workers, the financial planner cancels on me.

As if that isn't enough, I have a nagging concern that overrides the endless details, cancellations, headaches, and frustrations, and it's all Dory's fault. Dory, in all of her whimsical, charming, but maddening weirdness, has drawn me into her circle, and I'm in a panic.

After the work started on Wayfarer's Landing the past fall, I held several meetings with Etta, Dory, and the White Rings to plan the upcoming calendar year, discussing how many retreats to hold, how often, who would do what and when. Once I agreed to schedule the first retreat for the weekend of the spring equinox in March, Dory started pestering me with another of her fanciful notions. Catching me off guard, she begged me to hold the Asunder Ceremony in the labyrinth at dusk, incorporating the pathways. Before she could finish her breathless speech, I shook my head, saying we'd have enough to do without trying to figure out a way to light up the labyrinth. It'd be great to have the ceremony there once we've had a few retreats and ironed out the kinks, but
not
at the first one.