Sea Glass Sunrise (29 page)

He kept on walking, popping his hands free a moment later, then sending the gutting knife, point first, into the pier as he crouched down while Bit ran into his arms. He held her tight as a team of EMTs, SWAT guys, Logan, and Hannah, all raced down the pier. Most heading toward a now-groaning Ted. Hannah, however, stopped in front of Calder.

She stared at him wordlessly for what felt like a day and a half; then she leaped into his arms, wrapping him tightly in her own, and buried her face in his neck. “That was the most selfless, brave, stupid, idiotic, foolish thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.” She beat on his back with closed fists, then clutched them in his hair and leaned back to look in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again. Promise me.”

He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, grinning as he held her so she stayed up face-to-face with him. “Promise,” he said, hearing the shakiness in his voice. Which spread rapidly to his arms, then his legs. “Now, I think I need to go sit down. And maybe throw up a little.”

Chapter Twenty

Hannah pulled into the Winstock compound and parked beside Calder’s truck. They hadn’t talked much on their way back. He seemed to need a little time to come down from the adrenaline rush and process what he’d just done, and she needed some time to figure out how she was going to keep from throwing herself at him.

“I didn’t think to find out where Brooks and Cami got off to,” she said, stealing a glance at him.

He looked . . . well, he looked wonderful was how he looked. But he also looked tired and a bit freaked out by what he’d done, which somehow made him all the more endearing to her. Human, imperfect.
Mine.
“Logan mentioned they’d gone off to the hospital where they took Ted for evaluation before booking him for assault, arson—” She waved her hand. “The list is endless.”

“I guess he is still Cami’s husband, so Brooks will want to do damage control.”

“I’m not sure even his money and power can smooth over this kind of thing.” She shook her head, then looked at him. “So, what are you going to do now?” she asked, not sure whether she was ready to hear the answer. But finding out she’d never see him again would at least thwart that whole throwing-herself-at-him part.

He leaned his head back on the headrest, but didn’t reach for the door. “I tried to talk to Jonah, while you were talking to Logan and your sisters.”

Fiona and Kerry had come down to the docks. Well, pretty much the entire town of Blueberry had been at the docks. It wasn’t often—as in never—that they had that kind of hysteria in town.

“And?” she asked.

Calder shook his head. “Stubborn old coot. Wouldn’t let me anywhere near him.”

“You’d think, if nothing else, he’d want to thank you for what you did for Bit.” She shook her head. “I’ve half a mind to go have a chat with him myself.”

That earned her a brief grin from Calder. “I’ve half a mind to let you.” Then he reached over and cupped her cheek with his palm. It was the first time he’d touched her, in any intentional sort of way, since they’d walked off the pier and been separated by Logan and the EMT crew, who wanted to look over Calder, check his vital signs, hydrate him.

She leaned into his palm, unable to help herself. He could have been hurt or killed. So many things could have gone so horribly wrong. And suddenly the crap that had happened to her back in D.C., the stuff Tim had done, all of it ceased to matter. Life was what mattered, living it was what mattered, enjoying every moment was what mattered. Not worrying over what had happened, or over what might happen next.

“It would be my pleasure,” she told him, smiling, seeing the real weariness in his eyes, and suspecting it had a lot more to do with his own stuff than with what had happened on the pier.

“You know what would be my pleasure,” he said, his head still pressed against the seat. “Making love to you again. Preferably on something flat. And soft. I’m not sure my legs are up to another round of against-the-truck at the moment.”

She laughed, even as her body reacted with an instantaneous and resounding
yes
to that idea. She tried not to let herself wonder what he meant, if it was just about the sex, or if he wanted more than—
Stop it
, she scolded herself. What happened to living in the moment?

Yeah. She was pretty much going to have to work at that.

And Calder Blue was going to head back to Calais, and to his farm on the St. Croix River. Could she handle being with him one more time, knowing it would be the last? Because the first time had been mind-blowing and they hadn’t even gotten naked. Of course, Calais was just an hour and a half away. She looked away from him, back through the windshield.
Is that what you want? Someone you occasionally go have sex with?

Maybe that would be easier. At least no one would get hurt. No one would be betraying anyone or lying, because there wouldn’t be the promise of anything in the first place.

“You want to borrow my oil can?” he asked, his voice deep and a little rough, still weary, but amused at the same time.

She wanted to push her hands through his hair, to kiss him slowly, deeply, then take his mind off of what he’d done, before sliding into a long, blissful nap, wrapped against his heated, spent body. “What?” she said, belatedly processing what he’d said.

“For all those gears spinning in your mind.” He shifted in his seat, sat up straighter as the hand that had been cupping her cheek fell back to his lap. From the corner of her eye, she could see he was making a visibly conscious effort to shove the aftereffects of his hostage negotiating aside. “I know what I want, Hannah. And you’re probably not ready to hear it. But I don’t think I’m going to have the luxury of waiting until you are.” He waited until she looked directly at him. “I do want to make love to you. Truly make love to you. I want to do a lot of things with you. In and out of bed. I don’t know how it would all work out, given where you are and where I am, and what we’re trying to figure out for ourselves. But if there was any way those things we’re figuring could align—” He broke off when his phone chirped. He pulled it out of his pocket. “I’m sorry. Eli has called like four times, and I’m really not up for a family conversation. Let me turn this off.”

“There were media trucks there,” Hannah said. “At the end. Maybe they saw the news. You might want to see if—”

But Calder looked at the screen of his cell phone and what color had come back into his face washed straight back out again.

Now Hannah sat up straighter. “Calder, what is it?”

“Text. From Eli.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve been ignoring his calls because I wasn’t up for another round with him or Dad. I knew I’d be back soon enough and whatever the crisis, it could just damn well wait.”

“Calder—”

He looked at her, and she saw something she hadn’t seen the entire time he’d been standing there on Jonah’s pier, putting his life at risk for family members who didn’t know him and—speaking for one of them anyway—didn’t want to get to know him. She saw fear.

“My father collapsed at one of our job sites. Not a heart attack. Could be a stroke. They don’t know—” And then he sort of blinked and reacted, shoving the phone in his pocket and all but kicking the door to the Mustang open as he fished his keys from his pocket. “I’m sorry,” he said, almost absently, his attention clearly and understandably no longer on her. “I have to . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence, he just climbed out of the car.

For her part, Hannah jumped out of her side and skirted the back of the car just as he unlocked and yanked open the door to his truck. “Calder. Don’t race over there. I mean, don’t—just be careful,” she said, feeling beyond lame and useless, because if she’d gotten that news about any one of her family members, nothing would keep her from getting to him or her as fast as possible, and reckless driving would only be the beginning of the risks she’d be willing to take. She got to the driver’s-side door just as he closed it. “Is he—?”

He lowered the window as he jammed his key in the ignition and gunned the engine. “He’s at the hospital, in ICU. That’s all I know. I’ll call Eli on my way there.”

“Okay,” she said, and though she wanted to step up on the running board, kiss him, cling to him, imbue him with some kind of willpower and strength, she stepped back instead, doing the one thing she could do, giving him a clear path with those wide rearview mirrors of his, to back out next to her and get on his way. “Just be safe. And—let me know.” She had no right to ask, but she couldn’t not ask. She didn’t know his father, but she knew Calder, and what happened to his dad affected him. And that mattered to her, if nothing else.

“I will,” he said, but he wasn’t even paying attention to her, not really. He threw the truck into reverse, then just as quickly slammed it back into park and looked at her. “Come here,” he said, commanded actually, or maybe begged.

She all but leapt up on the running board, clinging to the open window frame of the big dually. “It’s okay,” she said. “I understand. Go. Please.”

“Nothing is okay,” he said roughly, then reached out and gripped the back of her head, and kissed her as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did.

“You’ve been through a lot today,” she said, breathless when he let her go. “Just be careful, please.” She cupped his face now, and looked into his beautiful, honey-colored eyes, her own heart clutching at the fear and pain, the guilt and regret she saw in them. “I need you to be careful. Okay?”

He looked at her, truly looked at her. “I will,” he said, so intently, he sounded almost ferocious. “I promise, Hannah.” And then he yanked the truck into reverse and she jumped off the running board so he could back out. He looked at her through the passenger window as he shifted the truck to a forward gear, and held her gaze for what felt like an eternal, heart-stopping moment, then drove off without saying another word.

Chapter Twenty-One

Hannah stood in a bridesmaid dress she actually loved, tears swimming in her eyes, grinning madly as she watched Alex walk down the aisle, beaming at Hannah’s incredibly dashing and handsome brother. Fergus was the bride’s escort, and he looked about as thrilled as any good Irishman could be. And quite dashing in his kilt and full plaid regalia as well.

She watched Fergus lift Alex’s veil, a tear in his eye as he leaned in and bussed her cheek. Hannah grinned, sniffling herself, as she saw the love glowing on Alex’s face when she turned and looked at Logan, their gazes meeting as he took her hand, and they turned to face the minister. Hannah had been so worried about this moment, about how it would make her feel. And the only emotion brimming in her . . . was joy. Unmitigated, soul-filling, life-affirming joy. Seeing the looks on their faces, the love they had for one another, watching them smile, laugh as they shared a private whisper when Logan fumbled the ring he’d stowed in his tux pocket, all she could feel was joy, and all she could think was how happy they’d make each other, and how lucky they were to have found love, fortunate to be smart enough to recognize it, reach for it, hold on to it.

She felt Fiona’s hand gripping her elbow, and let go of her bouquet with one hand, to reach down and cup her sister’s fingers, pressing them tightly, as she glanced quickly past her to Kerry, who was gripping Fiona’s other hand and letting the tears slide down her cheeks unabated. The three shared a watery little laugh, then Delia turned, saw the sisters grinning madly, and juggled the bouquets to reach for Hannah’s other hand, her own eyes brimming now, too, even as she laughed at herself.

In the end, all four of them stood there watching Logan marry Alex, abandoning completely the traditional bouquet-holding pose, their hands linked, one to the next, bouquets clutched between them, tears tracking down their perfectly made-up faces, sniffling and grinning as vows were traded, rings slid on fingers, and the minister finally pronounced, “You may now kiss the bride.”

A cheer went up from the gathered guests, and from the bridesmaids, who lifted their joined hands in a victory celebration as Logan bent his bride back over his arm, laid one on her, then scooped her up against him, leaving her dainty slippered feet dangling a good foot off the ground as he kissed her again. Then she was in his arms, scooped up against his chest, as he carried her down the aisle, Alex waving her bouquet at the clapping, cheering, laughing guests as everyone filed in behind them, and the celebration began in earnest.

Hannah lost track of how many hours had passed before she finally sat on the edge of Fiona’s bed back inside the house. She wiggled her toes, her heels mercifully no longer on her very tired feet, and flopped straight onto her back, deciding the bridesmaid dress could wait a few more minutes. “Oh my God, I had way too much champagne. I can still feel bubbles tickling my nose.”

Fiona flopped back beside her. “I had too much cake. But it was Boston cream. So, really, I can’t be blamed. I mean . . . seriously, who has a Boston cream wedding cake?”

“Alex does. Bless her renegade-wedding-cake-loving heart,” Hannah said, with a deep, appreciative sigh. “Where’s Kerry?”

“I’m not her keeper. Not today. Last I saw she was dancing with—I don’t even know his name. Right now my sugar high is in dangerous risk of crashing. Which I’m pretty sure means I need more sugar. You know, to balance it back up again. Only the thought of one more bite of cake is making me feel a bit queasy.”

“Just lie here for a minute. The feeling will pass.”

“The urge to eat more cake, you mean?”

Hannah giggled. “No, silly. The feeling queasy part. Because you’re right, that was ridiculously amazing cake.”

“It would be, like, a crime, to waste it.”

“I saw Delia stow a wedge of it in the fridge along with the top of the cake.”

“We can’t eat that. It’s for their first anniversary. You freeze it, then take it out when you celebrate your first wedding anniversary. Tradition.”

“I’m not talking about the topper. I’m talking about the wedge.”

“Oh.” Fiona grinned. “Well, yeah. We’re kind of obligated to eat that.”

“My thought exactly.” Hannah let her eyes close, only the room seemed to move a little when she did that. “Maybe it’s just as well Delia didn’t stash any champagne in there with it.”

Fiona giggled. “She didn’t have to. I might have smuggled some up here earlier when I came to change shoes.”

Hannah knew she’d be sorry. So very sorry, but she grinned, too. “It’s going to be a good night.”

Fiona reached over and twined her fingers with Hannah’s. “It already is.”

Hannah would have sworn she was cried out, and not from the heartbroken tears she’d been so susceptible to since . . . Lord, it felt like a lifetime ago now. But the happy-happy, joy-joy wedding tears had been pretty prodigious as well. She squeezed her sister’s fingers. “Hasn’t it, though? It was so beautiful. Every part of it. And who knew our brother could dance like that?”

“Fergus taught him.” When Hannah lifted her head to send an amazed look, Fi laughed. “He did. It was a secret. Well, I knew, but Alex didn’t.” They lay there in silence for a few minutes, then Fiona said, “Have you heard from Calder? How is his dad?”

“I got a text last night saying he was still undergoing tests and they were waiting for results. They feel pretty certain it was a stroke, but the damage it caused isn’t known yet.”

“It’s just awful,” Fi said in hushed tones. “I mean, Calder goes and does something so massively heroic, and then that happens. Seems really wrong. I mean, on top of it being wrong anyway.”

“I know,” Hannah said. It had occurred to her, more than once that day, that beautiful, lovely day, just how much her life had changed in such a short time. It felt like a lifetime ago, another life completely, even, when she’d driven away from her newly sublet, fully furnished condo in Alexandria, a key to a newly leased storage unit in her pocket, heading to Maine with nothing more than a suitcase of clothes she hated and a bag of pity pretzels in her lap.

“So . . . what are you going to do about him?” Fiona asked.

“About Calder’s father?”

Fi took their joined hands and popped Hannah in the stomach. “No, doofus. About Calder. I mean, something
is
going on there, right? And you’re going back to Virginia soon. So, are you just going to walk away?” She leaned up on one elbow, and added, “And don’t say you can’t go there because you just broke up with Tim. Fate is fate and timing is everything. Life doesn’t always hand you chances when it’s convenient or when it’s best for you.” She flopped back again. “I’m just saying, you should think about it.”

“I am,” Hannah said, after a moment.

Fi popped right back up on her elbow. “You are?” She leaned down and kissed Hannah on the forehead. “Good for you! I really didn’t think you would.”

Fi flopped back again and Hannah groaned, thinking she was going to be the queasy one if her sister kept doing that. “Actually,” Hannah said, “I’m not going back to Virginia.”
Best to just rip off the Band-Aid
. But she closed her eyes and squinched up her face, which made no sense since it did nothing to keep Fiona’s squeal from pinging against her eardrums, and everything to make the still-tender skin on her nose sting as well. She covered her nose with her hand, and made an
ow
face under her palm. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to talk Bonnie into taking her stitches out before the wedding. But she’d refused to wear a bandage on her nose for the wedding photos.

Fiona let her hand go and flipped to her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. “Tell me everything. I’m assuming you decided this before you came home, so just be aware, it’s only because you’re still in crash recovery that I’m not popping you one right now.”

“Actually, if you don’t stop bouncing this bed, I’m going to throw up on you, and you’ll have much bigger things to worry about than why I waited until after the wedding to share that tidbit of news.” She lowered her hand, happy to see there was at least no blood on it. “I thought you were queasy,” she groused.

“You have zero room to bitch right now. Tell me.”

Hannah sighed, then took a breath. “The breakup was not good.” She spent a half second deciding if she should go there, and decided she was done giving Tim any stage time in her life. “But the truth is, I’ve been unhappy longer than that. The breakup was just the thing that made me review my life.” She rolled her head to the left, looked up into her sister’s compassionate gaze. “I thought I wanted to be a big city litigator. And, the truth is, I’m good at it. Really good.”

“But being really good at something isn’t the same as being really happy about doing it.”

“No,” Hannah said. “No, it’s not. I just . . . I don’t know. I feel guilty. Like I quit. Like I’m running back home again. And that’s not it. At least, I hope that’s not it.”

“You know, when you went off to Georgetown, we were all so proud of you, so happy for you. I mean, if anyone could make the transition from a small coastal town in Maine to the most important city in this country, maybe the world, it would be you. You were the elegant one, the sophisticated one, the smart one.”

Hannah rolled her eyes, despite being deeply touched by her sister’s heartfelt words. “The last thing I was when I left Maine was elegant and sophisticated, and as for smart, we all have smarts.” She laughed at Fiona’s pointed look, knowing she meant their younger sister. “Just because Kerry makes rash, impulsive decisions, doesn’t mean she’s not smart enough to know better.”

“Actually, you’re right,” Fiona said. “Not about Kerry. She doesn’t have the smarts God gave a donkey. Wily and the nine lives of a cat, maybe. What you’re right about is that it’s true. You weren’t elegant and sophisticated.”

“Gee, thanks,” Hannah said, wryly. “I think.”

“I mean, when you were here, you were like we all were. Small-town girl, because, duh, what else could we be? But you saw yourself as what you could be. And because you saw that future so clearly for yourself, we saw it for you, too. Because we wanted for you what you wanted for you.”

“So, are you saying I’ve just been faking it this whole time?”

“No, you were—are—definitely those things, and more. You’re everything you always wanted to be.” She took her sister’s hands. “What I’m saying is, clearly you’re unhappy. Or unfulfilled, or . . . something. Maybe it is just the breakup aftermath, leaving you feeling wobbly. Trust me, I know what that feels like.” She eyed her sister with an affectionate smile. “In fact, we both know just how much experience I have with what that feels like.” She laid her hand over Hannah’s, which she’d folded over her middle, and squeezed them both. “But now I see you here, and see how you’ve so easily, so swiftly, so . . . naturally, slipped back into being the old Hannah.” She laughed. “Okay, maybe the old Hannah with a bit of D.C. polish and prestigious law school smarts, but what I mean is, it’s occurred to me that maybe you weren’t so much faking it, as forcing it.”

The words hit Hannah with such unmistakable truth, she couldn’t even formulate a good dodge in her rapidly spinning mind.

“I mean, the minute you get here, you shuck all of your sophistication, right down to the clothes, the way you wear your hair. It’s like you can’t wait to be free of your other self.” Fiona stopped, looked down. “I’m talking out of my ass. I don’t know what’s going on in your world. I guess maybe we all unwind when we’re away, like you do on vacation. I’m sorry—”

Hannah covered Fiona’s hands to keep her from pulling them away, and okay, maybe a little to keep her from flopping again. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

“I am. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I wasn’t trying to—”

“You’re trying to help me. To love me. And you are, and you do. You’re also right. I think. Or maybe I know. Maybe some part of me has always known. I kept thinking if I finally felt like I’d made it, I could relax and maybe actually start to enjoy it.” She looked at Fi. “But that feeling never came. So I climbed harder, faster. And the relationship, I guess I pushed that, too, made it out to be more in my mind than it really was, because that was even more proof that things were going as I’d planned. I actually thought he was going to propose to me. Can you believe that?” She shifted her head back to stare at the ceiling, then just closed her eyes. Her thankfully dry eyes.

“Oh, Hannah—”

“No,” she said. “It’s done, and it never should have been in the first place.” She opened her eyes. “It’s my past now. Along with the rest of my life in D.C.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, true excitement in her eyes. “What are you going to do? I mean, are you going to give up being a lawyer?”

“No,” Hannah said. “I do like what I do. I just didn’t like where I was doing it. Or the kind of work I was doing. If that makes sense.”

Now Fiona did flop. “Oh, it makes perfect sense.”

Hannah turned her head and frowned. “Sounds like you need to spill it. Is this what you said you wanted to talk to me about? The first day I got here?”

“Yes. Only now that I know you’re coming back, I think I know the answer. I think I answered it myself. Just now.” She turned her head to face Hannah’s and their gazes locked. “Is it more scary or exciting? Ditching your old life? Coming back to everything you know, where you feel like you fit in, but have no clue how to take what it is you do and earn a living from it where there might not be an actual demand for it.”

“Oh my God,” Hannah said, almost on a whisper. “You want to leave New York! But I thought your business was booming.”

“It is. In fact, I need to hire someone, maybe several someones. There’s a magazine spread coming out soon, and I know that’s going to hammer my already crammed calendar.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Which sucks.”

“Because you don’t think you can find good enough help? Or because you don’t want to delegate?”