The Shadow Box (80 page)

She still didn't get it.

“It's yours, Megan. The papers should be up on the
chart table.”

She said nothing. She didn't move.

”I picked a new name for her. Go look at the transom.”

Nothing.

”I named it
Fallon in Love
.”

That almost made her turn.

“And I had them design a spinnaker with a big red
heart and an arrow through it. It says, ‘Michael & Megan’
in letters eight feet high.”

A disbelieving groan. “Michael . . . tell me you didn't.”

“Okay, I didn't. You still have an unlisted boat.”  

Her chest rose and fell. She glanced back at him now
with her one good eye. It lingered for a moment on the
sling he wore and on his hands where pink new skin had
grown over the burns. She winced at the sight. But she
wouldn't look up at his face. She turned away and she
sat, cross-legged, in the sand.

“Megan . . . it's over. Come home.”

“You know about me, don't you?”

“That's over too.”

“It won't ever be over.”

“Megan . . .”

“And look at us now. Look at me. This eye patch will
make it even worse.”

He knew what she meant. No more getting lost in the crowd. But it was nonsense. Berman says give them six
months and she'll have mostly full sight in that eye and
no scars. Well . . . maybe one little scar at the corner. In
the meantime, however, an eye patch on a beautiful lady
sailor was about the most irresistible thing he'd ever seen.

“Michael, I don't want your boat.”

“It's not mine. You accepted delivery.”

“And I don't want your pity.”

“That's what you think? I'm here because I feel sorry
for you?”

“Michael
...
it won't work. Sooner or later, you'll start to wonder about me.”

“Start
to wonder? Megan . . . what's left?”

“Things like
...
whether I really did kill my mother.”

“You didn't. End of discussion.”

“Then things like . . . these trances. How many more
Taylor Houses have I wandered through? How many men,
like you, have I climbed into bed with?”

“We're going to compare sex lives? Okay, mine started
with Mary Beth
and next
…let me think.
”

“It's not funny, Michael.”

“Okay, how many?”

“None. But you'll wonder if I even know. Someday
you'll get mad at me. You'll use that to hurt me.”

Oh, boy.

“Moon? What do I say to a dumb thing like that?”

“
Take her out for a sail.”

“
She'll want to go catch her own boat.''

“
‘Accidents happen. Ram it.''

That wasn't Moon. That sounded more like Jake.

“Uncle Jake?”

“
Michael.
. .
you talk too much. Hold her.''

“
If I do, I might never let go.''

“You're beginning to get the idea.”

But he couldn't. She knew that he wanted to reach out
and grab her. He knew that she'd only twist away. A
wonderful relationship, not long on surprises. He lowered
himself to her side and touched his right hand to her knee.
He wanted her to be able to feel him. He wanted her to
be able to listen.

“Since this whole thing began,” he said slowly, quietly, “I've done just two things right. One was going to Woods
Hole that day. The day that
I
met you.”

Her eyes welled up again.

“The second thing, Megan, was loving you. Whether
you feel that way or not, whether you come home with
me or not, I'm going to love you for the rest of my life.”

Her small body shuddered. She traced one finger in the
sand. Several moments went by before she could speak.

“You said six months?” she asked him at last.

“U
m
. . . what?”

“You said something about six months.”

Oh, for Pete's sake.

“No, Megan. Dr. Berman said that. What
I
had in mind
was forever.”

“I'll try it, Michael. I'll try for six months.”

He reached for her. She did not resist. She buried her face against his chest. He held her, tightly, with his one
good arm.

“Six months for starters,” he whispered. He touched
his lips to her hair. “We'll try it six months at a time.”

End