The Right Time (35 page)

She sank to her knees, nestled between Hennessy’s legs, and reached out with both arms, making Hennessy close the gap.

Self-control obliterated by desire, Hennessy held her rabidly, kissing Townsend with every bit of her body and soul. She could have her. Right now. No bullshit waiting for July, for that stupid one-year probation period.

All she had to do was trick Hennessy into going for it. Hennessy had no experience in what arousal could do to a person. She had no idea how your body could take over and do things you didn’t realize you wanted. But she’d learn. Tonight.

They started to tumble onto their sides, with Hennessy partially lying on top. The heat flowing from her body was amazing. Like she had a fire burning inside. Years of desire never expressed. But she could express it now, as Townsend simply lay there and let her be in charge. This was genius! They’d both have what they wanted, and Hennessy would think it was her idea. What did her grandfather call it? Plausible deniability.

Townsend put her hands low on Hennessy’s back, pulling her close. Lean legs spread apart and a very warm core pressed into Townsend’s leg. As her hands slid down further, to grasp Hennessy’s ass and drag her over to the dark side, she was struck. Struck by a feeling, then a faint voice, in the farthest reaches of her brain. She wasn’t sure who the voice belonged to, but it had elements that reminded her of her own.
This isn’t what she wants. This is what
you
want.

Holding on with a firm grip, Townsend pulled back just enough to look into Hennessy’s smoky eyes. It was glaringly apparent she was acting on passion alone—there wasn’t a hint of thought or planning or reason or control in that beguiling gaze. “Hennessy,” she heard herself say. “
Hennessy
.”

She blinked and gazed down at Townsend, blue eyes blank and vacant.

“Think about this,” she said, having to force the words out.

Something snapped, and a spark of the normal intelligence came into focus. “What…?”

Townsend had to close her eyes. Hennessy’s painfully innocent gaze stuck her like a knife. “We’re at the point of no return. Do you want to keep going?”

“Goddamn,” Hennessy muttered, clearly now aware of her actions. They held onto each other for a long time, Hennessy’s hot body pulsing against Townsend’s. Her breathing slowed gradually, and she started to pull away. When Hennessy lifted her head, she gazed at Townsend for a few seconds, then let her mouth curl into a gentle smile. “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me.” Bending her head once again, she gave Townsend a kiss that was filled with the dying embers of their passion. “You’ve grown so much in recovery.” Her smile grew impossibly brighter. “It feels so damned good to know I can honestly trust you.”

Shaking, Townsend gave her the briefest of kisses, then stood and pushed her hair from her face. Hennessy got up, too, and Townsend had to avert her eyes as she buttoned up her top. Looking at her now—after what she’d done—was like an assault.

“I’m gonna turn in,” Townsend said. She gripped Hennessy’s hand, gave her a smile that had to have looked entirely artificial, then took off for her own room, leaving Hennessy to douse the fire.

After closing her door, Townsend went to the windows and cracked one open, hoping the crisp air would cool some of the shame that burned her cheeks.

But a little cold air couldn’t change who she was. The essence of her soul. She was nothing but a user. As bad as the guys who’d fucked her and tossed her away. She simmered with that thought for a moment, then realized the truth. She was worse than they were. Much worse, because they hadn’t claimed to love her like she claimed to love Hennessy.

Too angry to cry, too anxious to remain with her thoughts, she got dressed again and stealthily snuck out of the guest house. In the short time they’d been inside, it had gotten colder, with the wind picking up to blow clouds of sand up around her as she stalked down the beach in just her shirtsleeves.

She needed something. Anything. Some substance to tame her dark urges. This is what no one seemed to understand. She didn’t like to drink. No one liked to vomit up a gut full of alcohol. No one liked to wake up with a head split in two. She fucking
needed
to drink. It was the only thing that stopped the loop that played incessantly in her mind. The loop that told her, in the clearest terms, that she was a lying, cheating, manipulative asshole who had no right to breathe the same air as an innocent soul like Hennessy. She could try to put up a front. But Hennessy would see through it eventually. And when she did—she’d toss her aside like the trash she was.

Hennessy wasn’t sure what kind of odd mood Townsend was in, but from the time they’d woken until lunch, they’d walked up and down the beach so quickly they were nearly out of breath. She was very glad Townsend had worked on her fitness since being back in Vermont, but she hadn’t realized she was a racewalker.

They stopped by a diner to pick up some lobster rolls, along with a salad for Miranda, and as soon as they’d eaten, Townsend stood up and crushed her napkin into a ball. “I’ve got a book I should read before the week’s over. How about you?”

Hennessy wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She’d been sure she’d have to beg and plead to have some time to read. “I’ve got plenty to do. Want to sit outside? It’s pretty nice out.”

Townsend gave her a tight smile. “Sure. I’ll get an umbrella from the garage. We can use the table up on the patio. The one behind the house.” Before Hennessy could say a word, Townsend was gone, the door wide open, a soft wind blowing into the room.

After a really nice afternoon of reading and making notes, Miranda came out onto the patio. She’d obviously been up for a little while, since her hair was styled and her makeup applied, but her eyes had that puffy, not fully open look of someone who’d been sound asleep not too long ago.

Townsend looked up, her expression blank.

“What are you two doing?” Miranda asked. She reached down and tugged on the corner of Townsend’s book. “Introduction to Sociology,” she read. “Sounds scintillating.”

“I’m happy to drop out,” Townsend said, her words more warning than conversation.

“I think you’ll find a high school diploma opens up a world of exciting career possibilities,” Miranda said as she turned her head to look across the expanse of grass that led down to the water. “Have you been here all day?”

“Just since lunch,” Hennessy said, trying to jump in before Townsend could say something rude.

“Why don’t we have dinner together? I’m craving some seafood.”

“That would be great,” Hennessy said, ignoring the pointed look Townsend gave her. “We’ll be ready whenever you’d like to go.”

As expected, Townsend behaved like she’d rather be anywhere but in her mother’s company. Hennessy was worldly enough to realize that mother/daughter relationships were written upon layer after layer of interactions hidden from everyone but the participants, but she honestly couldn’t understand why the simplest comment from Miranda annoyed the holy hell out of Townsend.

From her perspective, Miranda was a charming companion: erudite, sociable and with a keen sense of humor. If it had been just the two of them Hennessy would have had a great night. But Townsend couldn’t let the smallest comment go unchallenged. Miranda usually didn’t get very deeply involved, sloughing off snide remarks that would have gotten Hennessy a righteous whupping if she’d tried something similar. But the evening went completely off the rails when Miranda said, “Townsend, did I mention the headmaster of your school asked me to give the commencement address at your graduation?”

“What?” Townsend snapped, outraged in the blink of an eye.

Taken aback, Miranda repeated her comment. “Does that bother you?”

“Fuck, yes, it bothers me!” Townsend spat. “Why didn’t you ask me first?”

Miranda blinked slowly. “It didn’t dawn on me that you’d be opposed. I can’t imagine why you’d care. No one pays attention to what the speaker says.”

“It’s
my
goddamned graduation! Not yours! Everyone knows you’re my mother, isn’t that enough?”

Chuckling softly, Miranda said, “This will surprise you, but I don’t need to compete with you for attention. I can live happily without the acclaim of a small town in Vermont.”

Townsend stood and fumbled in her lap for her napkin. Wadding it up, she threw it into her mother’s face, her own visage filled with rage. “Stay out of my damn life!” She violently pushed her chair against the wall, drawing the notice of the very few patrons who were not already paying rapt attention. Every pair of eyes followed the indignant girl who stalked away, many of the diners covering their mouths to furtively reveal Miranda’s identity to their dinner companions.

To Hennessy’s astonishment, Miranda didn’t seem upset. She was clearly embarrassed, but not angry, and Hennessy summoned the nerve to ask, “Are you all right?”

Blithely, she waved a hand in the air. “Oh, of course. I’m used to it by now.” She took a sip of her wine, pensively regarding Hennessy with a curious gaze. “Doesn’t she do that with you?”

“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t be here if she did.”

“Well, you can choose to leave. The state of Massachusetts frowns on parents abandoning their children, no matter how justified they may be.” Miranda’s wry, good-humored tone shocked Hennessy.

“You act like it doesn’t bother you,” she said, knowing her astonishment was showing.

“She’s been like this for years. One can get used to anything when one has to.”

Hennessy put her head down, torn between running after Townsend and wasting a perfectly nice piece of fish. Her turmoil must have been obvious, because Miranda gently said, “If you want to find her, go right ahead. I can have them box up your food.”

“You don’t mind?” Hennessy said, already getting to her feet.

“Of course not. She’ll be walking along the shore. I’d guess that she’ll head north and then come back this way before she walks home. If you want to save the steps, you can head right down to the water and wait. She’ll be along when she’s blown off some steam.”

Hennessy nodded and gave her a thin smile. “If you see her before I do, tell her I went north first, okay?”

“I will. Now don’t take this too seriously.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll try.” Hennessy took a step, then turned back to the table. “I’m sorry for forgetting to thank you for dinner, Mrs. Bartley. It was a wonderful meal, and I truly enjoyed your company.”

Miranda gave her a smile that bore much of the same charm Townsend’s did. “I feel the same, Hennessy. Now go before you have a stroke.”

Running from the restaurant to the ocean, Hennessy removed her shoes and socks and let the chilly water wash over her feet. As soon as she felt that familiar sensation she slowed her pace. Running after Townsend wasn’t a good idea. Townsend not only had a quick fuse, it took her quite a while to calm down after a flare-up. If some time passed, that flare-up might cool down.

She walked for nearly an hour, crying most of the time. If Hennessy had any idea the week was going to turn out this way, she would have chosen to stay in her room. Alone. Being alone was a heck of a lot better than being lonely—like she was now. It hurt so damned much to let someone inside, only to have them push you away. That’s what Townsend was doing. Forcefully pushing her away.

Townsend wasn’t a mean person. She just
wasn’t
. In her heart, she was kind and thoughtful and open and caring. But she was also lost, and struggling against a hell of a lot more than drinking.

Finally, in the distance, she saw her, walking with her head down and her hands shoved into her pockets. Hennessy slowed down even more, knowing from Townsend’s posture that she was still angry.

When they approached each other, Townsend looked up in surprise, so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed Hennessy. Without a word, she fell into her arms, burying her head against her chest and sobbing pitifully. Hennessy merely stroked her head and rubbed her back briskly, while she cried too. It was just like the day they’d gone to the trailer park to see her mama. Townsend had been right there for her, understanding and patient. But it wasn’t the same. Miranda didn’t try to lift Townsend’s wallet to buy booze. She might have had her faults, but they sure weren’t obvious. And that just made Hennessy feel lonelier.