The Four Seasons (40 page)

When she gathered her purse to leave, Jilly sighed a private sigh of relief that Anne Marie didn't ask about her father. She would, someday, and when she did Jilly would work with Dennis and Birdie on the next step of this reunion. They all needed to proceed slowly.

“You'll call me right away about the baby?” she asked before leaving.

“Of course. You're the grandmother.”

Jilly smiled and knew it would happen. She saw the commitment in her daughter's eyes.

At the door, Jilly hugged her daughter, then reached into her purse and pulled out a long white envelope. “My sisters and I talked and we want you to have this,” she said, placing the envelope into Anne Marie's hand.

“What is it?”

“A legacy that is meant to go to you. You can open it after I leave. We can't begin to tell you how valuable the time capsule was for us and we're so grateful you returned it. We want you to know you're a Season, too. Don't ever forget.”

Turning to leave, Jilly felt a sense of completion. By giving Anne Marie the remainder of Merry's trust fund money, the Season sisters had fully honored Merry's last wish. At the curb Jilly turned to wave once more. Anne Marie was standing on the front porch with Lauren, waving. Jilly's heart captured the sight to tuck away and bring out at lonely moments, like the photograph of Anne Marie as a baby that she had been given today.

As the Land Rover drove away, she looked through the rearview mirror for a final glimpse. She saw Anne Marie pull the check out from the envelope, bring her hand to her heart, then swing her head toward the car.

Jilly grasped the wheel tight and grinned from ear to ear. Birdie was right, she thought as she made her way back. Being a mom
was
the greatest dream.

A
MONTH LATER
J
ILLY STOOD AT
the black wrought-iron fence that bordered the small, redbrick house overlooking the sleeping town of Hodges. Her hand rested on the cool metal as she gazed up at the window on the second floor that was filled with light. She guessed Rajiv was already in bed. Was he thinking of her, she wondered? They'd shared some remarkable moments in that bed.

There was enough vanity still beating within her to suppose he had wondered what had happened to her, or where she was now. Perhaps he even missed her as much as she discovered that she missed him. Or, he could be over her already. That thought sent her heart pumping every last drop of vanity from her pores.

She wasn't young anymore. She thought she might even be a year or two older than him. She wasn't wealthy, either. She didn't have an exciting career or even that elusive something known as potential that had lured men to her in the past. She was simply herself, Jillian Season.

But her identity was hard-won.

She looked again at the light in the window. He's probably just reading a book and not wasting a moment thinking about her, she thought, and wondered for the hundredth time that day what she was doing coming back here.

Except she couldn't stay away. She loved this little place. The garden had exploded with color since she'd last been here. New leaves rounded the craggy branches of the ancient trees. Moonlight dappled through them as the branches waved gently in the evening breeze.

She loved him
.

She held her breath and pushed open the heavy gate. It creaked loudly in the quiet night. One of these days she was going to have to oil that darn gate, she thought with a cringe. Predictably, there followed a high yip from the shadows.

“Pirate Pete? It's me.”

She heard a low, throaty growl.

“Pete, stop that! Come here, boy,” she cajoled in a loud whisper.

The little dog walked stiff-leggedly toward her, his growl rumbling in his chest. When he caught her scent, however, his ears flattened with delight and he sprang forward wagging his tail and whimpering.

“Such a homecoming! Did
you
miss me at least? I missed you, too.” Buoyed by the dog's welcome, she rose again and made her way along the bumpy, uneven walk toward the back door. She passed thin patches of grass and weeds that threatened to choke out the tulips and hyacinth in the garden. Reaching the porch she saw that a flowerpot had been filled with geraniums, but it drooped sadly. The place looked forlorn and not well tended.

Jilly brought her knuckles to the door and knocked. A moment later the light turned on in the kitchen. She smoothed out her hair when she heard footsteps approach, licked her lips
when the lock clicked and sucked in her breath when the door swung open.

He looked thinner. His dark hair was cut shorter and was tousled. A single dark lock fell over his forehead. He stood motionless with his hand still on the handle, blinking as one just awakened from a dream.

“Jillian?”

She shrugged and smiled crookedly. “I'm back.”

He let go of the door and pushed the hair from his face. “So I see.” Then, dropping his arms, he said, “I was hoping you'd come back.”

“You were?”

“You know I was. I never wanted you to leave me.”

Exasperated, she tossed her hands up in a futile gesture. “Then why didn't you tell me that before?”

“You weren't ready to stay. You had things to get done. We both knew that. Besides, there is an ancient saying that translates to something about how you can't hold on to what is not yours. Jillian, to stay was your decision to make.”

“It's true. It was too soon. Rajiv, so much has happened! I met my daughter. She's lovely and I'm so lucky. Then I had to go home to take care of business details and help clear out the family house. We're all moving on. We had a lot of decisions to make.” She looked at her hands. “I had a lot to make.”

“What did you decide?”

She bent to pluck a wilted bloom from the geraniums. Its pungent, spicy smell permeated the air. “It's not so much what I decided as much as what I came to understand about myself. I realized I wanted to tell you all about what was happening to me. More than anyone else. That was strange for me, you see. I've never had this kind of relationship with a man before. I've never shared my private self. Sure, I married three times. But
each time was for a reason that had nothing to do with love or commitment. Not even friendship, really. I was infatuated, perhaps even thought I was in love at the time, but in retrospect it was more of a business deal. I needed someone to handle my finances or to promote my career. I never allowed myself to get involved emotionally or let anyone get so close that I could get hurt.”

“And now?”

“And now…I want to be with you and it has nothing to do with what I can gain from the arrangement. It's more what I can give to you. What we can give to each other.”

“That sounds promising,” he said, stepping closer.

“Well,” she said, bringing her fingers up to toy with the buttons on his shirt. “That's not entirely true. I do want some things.” She looked up. “I want to see your face first thing every morning and the last thing every night. I want to hear your voice at my ear and feel your skin next to mine. I missed you, Rajiv. I love you.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, then, opening them, moved forward to encircle her in his arms.

“I don't know what that really means,” she hurried to add, pulling back a bit. “I don't know that I ever want to marry again. I don't know that I'll be any good at this love thing. But I do know this.” She cleared her throat and looked in his eyes. “I'd like a room, please.”

He chuckled and drew her closer. “How long will you be staying this time?”

“Longer than I ever have before.”

His eyes filled. Rajiv stepped back to open the door wide. Then, with a proper hotelier's nod, he ushered her into his home.

Before closing the door behind them he said, “I think that can be arranged.”

I
T WAS A PERFECT DAY FOR A WEDDING
.

Summer had arrived and with it an exuberance of spirit that matched the blazing reds, yellows and pinks of the Season rose garden. The sisters pulled together all their creative resources to stage an utterly romantic Victorian garden party complete with an enormous white tent, white linen and yards of thick white ribbons swirling around pale pink and white rose arrangements. It was a tour de force eclipsed only by the loveliness of the bride herself.

At the appointed hour the violins began playing Vivaldi. The small crowd of guests hushed and turned their heads toward the rear porch, festooned with swags and more roses. Jillian's face beamed as she began her slow, graceful descent down the porch stairs into the garden.

Mrs. Kasparov beamed and waved her gloved hand as she passed. This was the last event for the Season family in the old Victorian. Next week, the house would belong to a new family who would carve out their own memories.

The great-aunts and cousins clustered together with their spouses and children, presenting a formidable family support. Jilly loved them more than ever for their open-armed welcome of her daughter and family. She easily spotted Kyle, tall and proud, carrying Lauren in his arms. Lauren's eyes lit up and her little legs pumped with excitement when she saw Jillian. Beside them, Anne Marie shone with the radiance of motherhood. In her arms she nestled her newest daughter. Seeing the infant's pink face and red peach-fuzz hair, Jilly felt she'd come full circle. They had called the new baby Spring, a gesture that had touched Jilly and her sisters more than they could ever express. Merry would have been so thrilled.

Then she saw his face, handsome and strong, with eyes burning just for her. The heat of a blush pinkened her cheeks as she thought,
So this is what it feels like to be in love
. At last. Rajiv was her lover, her confidant, her best friend. As she walked across the final length of green grass toward him, she couldn't imagine life without him at her side.

He offered her a deep, knowing smile as she passed him on her way to the rose arbor where the ceremony was to take place. Father Frank was standing under it, smiling as she approached. She took her place to the side, then turned to watch Birdie follow her, resplendent in the same celadon-green silk dress that she wore. Birdie strolled as regally as a queen, her broad shoulders back, her red hair shining and her glittering blue eyes settled firmly on Dennis.

There was a pause in the music and once again an anticipatory hush settled over the group. Jilly raised her eyes expectantly toward the porch. The house door opened and a collective sigh whispered in the summer breeze as Rose stepped into vision.

Jilly's eyes stung; she'd never seen a more beautiful bride.
Rose seemed to have stepped out from another time in the antique Victorian gown of white satin and chiffon. Her hair was pulled back from her face by a pearl-encrusted headband and cascaded down her back like a sheath of red-gold silk. In her hands she carried a bouquet of white roses. Her greatest adornment, however, was the joy and love radiant on her face as she proceeded on the arm of Mr. Collins toward her soon-to-be husband, Daniel Hinds. Her DannyBoy.

How fitting that the wedding should take place here in Merry's garden, Jilly thought. Merry had planted her flowers in the soil that had long ago filled the swimming pool, transforming what had once been a site of tragedy into a site of life and beauty and hope.

The reading chosen for the ceremony was a verse in Ecclesiastes that had always been a mainstay for the Season family. Jillian closed her eyes as the priest read the familiar words.

Jilly's gaze traveled to her sisters and she thought how those words had never rung as true as they did now. Life was a cycle of change—and oh, how they'd changed. And how much they were still the same. She was not fooled into thinking that, now that she had found her daughter, and each of them had revisited the dreams of their youth, the cycle was completed. Quite the contrary. Another cycle was just beginning, as the four seasons followed one another in perpetuity. Listening to the couple exchange their vows, Jilly thought how hard they'd each toiled in the spring for this one summer of their lives. A summer rich with promise for each of them. With luck it would ripen into a fall laden with the harvest of their hard work and dedication, then at some point darken again in a winter of doubt, sadness and tragedy. Winter was part of the cycle. Whatever came her way, she prayed she'd persevere with faith that another spring would bloom.

The bride and groom kissed while everyone applauded and shared the high of the moment. Rose turned to face her sisters first over all. It was a glorious moment. In that look all their memories of the past and present dazzled, swirled and danced through their minds, their hearts, directly into their souls.

Jilly, Birdie, Rose and Merry were united forever by bonds that transcended time. They were sisters. They were the Four Seasons.