Driftwood Lane (26 page)

Later that night Meridith was in her room working on Ben’s scrapbook when she heard a burst of laughter. Ben’s belly laughs drew her from her room, toward the steps. What she saw brought a bittersweet smile.

Meridith lowered herself on an upper stair and peered through the oak spindles. Ben had Jake pinned to the rug and was tickling him. Jake moaned like he was in torture, which only made Ben laugh harder.

She’d never seen the child so happy. He was small next to Jake’s mass, his wiry arms moving furiously, digging his fingers into Jake’s side.

He twisted, straddling Jake.

Jake groaned. “Help! Someone help!”

Ben laughed. “You’re doomed! If I had my ropes, I’d tie you up and toss you off a cliff!”

“No! Not that!”

Meridith smiled around the tears that gathered in her eyes. She wondered if her father had tussled with Ben. He surely missed the interaction. And while she was grateful for Jake’s willingness to play with the boy . . .

What would happen when the repairs were finished and Jake left? She saw how attached Ben had become to him. Her mind flashed back over the previous weeks to other occasions. Jake helping Noelle fix her bike chain, Jake and Max working on Max’s new boat model.

Jake, Jake, Jake. He’d become a fixture around the house right under her nose. Worse, he’d become a friend. A friend the children would lose.

The thought bottomed out her stomach. Another loss.

Meridith stood quietly and walked through the guest wing toward her room. Noelle was on her computer, and Max was painting a model in his room. Meridith descended the back staircase. Killing time, she unloaded the dishwasher, considering what she’d say to Jake. When the last of the silverware was put away, Meridith entered the living room. Ben was snuggled next to Jake on the sofa, watching a cartoon.

“Jake, can I talk to you a minute?”

“Sure.” Easing away from Ben, he followed her out the back door and onto the porch. Meridith perched on the railing, too nervous to sit. It was nearly dark, and the string of lanterns cast a colorful glow on the porch.

Jake let the screen door fall into place and pocketed his hands.

His gaze trapped her for whole seconds. He really was a good guy. The image of him tussling on the floor with Ben was not one she’d soon forget.

“What’s wrong?” Jake’s voice, deep as thunder, unsettled her.

Why did he have to be so handsome? She wanted to fall right inside those brown eyes. “I saw you in the living room with Ben . . . earlier.”

His lips pulled upward, no doubt remembering Ben’s belly laughs.

“He’s a fun kid.”

She hated to wipe the smile from his face. “I know you mean well, Jake, but I think it’s best if you avoid spending time with the children.”

The smile slid south. “We were just playing around.”

“The children are getting attached to you. I don’t think it’s healthy.”

His jaw flexed, his shoulders squared. “They need relationships now more than ever.”

“Not from someone who’ll soon exit their lives.”

He flinched.

She hated to hurt his feelings, had a physical ache from wounding him.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said finally. “I don’t want to exit their lives. I don’t want to exit
your
life.”

Maybe he thought they could be some happy family or something. It was time to tell him everything. “I’m selling Summer Place. We’ll be leaving the island soon. The Goldmans—our guests over the daffodil weekend—made an offer, and I accepted. I haven’t told the children yet, so I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t mention it. We’ll stay through closing in late June.”

Jake’s lips parted. A second later they pressed together. He walked to the end of the porch and back. He reminded her of a caged tiger, constricted by the boundary of the porch.

She hadn’t expected him to be so upset. When he passed, she set her hand on his bare arm, stopping him. The muscles flexed beneath her palm. He was so strong. She had the sudden image of him hitting Sean, using those muscles to protect her.

She pulled her hand away as if his skin burned her. “They’ve had enough loss. They’ve already become attached to you, and that’s only going to hurt them more when we leave.”

His face softened as he stared, his lips slackening, his eyes growing tender. His face had already darkened under the sun. Faint lines fanned the corner of his eyes.

He reached toward her and ran his finger down the side of her face. “Don’t leave.”

His touch left a trail of fire. She pressed her spine to the column. How could she want to dive into his arms and run away at the same time?

Inside a riot kicked up. She was back in the apartment on Warren Street, coming home from school, slipping in the door, unsure if she’d find her mom racing around the kitchen, slumped on the bathroom tile, or just gone.

The same uncertainty roiled in her now. “I have to.”

“This is their home. Your engagement is over,” he said gently. “Is what you’re going back to as important as what you’re leaving?”

He didn’t have to say he meant them.
Us
. She shook her head, dislodging his hand. How had he turned this all around?

She slid past him, needing distance to breathe, to think. She thought of explaining her reasons, but the financial barriers now paled in comparison to the other one. She crossed her arms, a pathetic barrier between him and her heart.

“When you’re finished with the repairs, you’ll be leaving. Once that happens, I
will
sell Summer Place and we
will
move to St. Louis. And until then, I need you to keep your distance from the children. For their sakes.”

Jake ran his hand through his hair, leaving it tousled.

Meridith had the sudden urge to smooth it down. His hair would be soft and thick between her fingers. She knotted her hands in fists before she was foolish enough to surrender to the impulse.

Jake’s hand lowered to his neck and stayed there.

“Jake . . . ?”

He turned and set his palms on the railing, leaning toward the ocean. The wind ruffled his hair. “All right, Meridith,” he said, finally.

The screen door clicked in place behind her. Jake wanted to punch something, but he forced himself to close his eyes and inhale the brine-scented air instead.

It seemed as if, piece by piece, the kids were being taken from him. First, Meridith was awarded guardianship. Now he wasn’t allowed to interact with them. And in a few short weeks, they’d be taken across the country to St. Louis. Might as well be half a world away.

To make matters worse, he couldn’t argue with what she said. If he’d wanted to be certain Meridith had the kids’ best interest at heart, he had plenty of evidence. Given what she knew—or rather, didn’t know—she was doing the right thing, protecting them from more hurt. But he didn’t have to like the repercussions.

As bothered as he was by all that, it wasn’t the only part of the conversation that made him feel like exploding.

All this time he’d thought it was her feelings for Stephen that kept Meridith at arm’s length. But Stephen was gone, and still she held back. He’d seen the look in her eyes. She’d been putty in his hands when he’d touched her.

And then a wall had come up, shutting him out. What gave? And equally as baffling, how had Meridith, in two and a half months, gone from adversary to keeper of his heart?

Thirty-six

Meridith gathered the album decorations and returned them to the bag, then stowed Ben’s album in the closet with the two completed albums.

After closing her closet door, she removed her socks and changed into her long nightshirt. Outside rain pattered the window and the wind stirred the chimes on the front porch.

Meridith brushed and flossed, then propped her foot on the sink ledge and smoothed on her favorite lotion. The past few days had been awkward between her and Jake. Being near him always put her on edge, but now that he’d made his interest clear, it was worse. Because she had feelings, too, and hiding them was hard.

Avoidance had become her MO, but it wasn’t easy when he lived under the same roof.
Not much longer
. She could do anything for three weeks, right?

The lights flickered, then went out, leaving her in total darkness. The heat kicked off, and the only remaining sound was the rain tap dancing on the roof.

Meridith rubbed the lotion into her hands, then opened the door. Her room was a black abyss. No matter how wide she opened her eyes, there was not even a vague hint of a shadow, and the only flashlights were downstairs in the laundry room cabinet.

She felt her way across her room and looked out the window. It was like looking at a sheet of black construction paper. Maybe the whole neighborhood was out, but it was hard to tell since it was late and people were likely in bed.

She looked farther down Driftwood Lane and caught a distant porch light. The rain kicked up a notch, pummeled the window. It wasn’t storming, so she couldn’t imagine lightning had kicked off their electric.

What if something was wrong with the circuitry? At least they had no guests at the moment. Listening to the heavy downpour, she thought of the sump pump in the basement. If it continued to rain all night without the pump, she might awaken to a flooded basement.

She stared in the direction of her door. Should she get Jake? Could he do anything about it? He might be asleep, and she hated to disturb him, hated even more to be alone, face-to-face with him.

Maybe the electric would return on its own. She stared into the darkness waiting, as if her wish might make it happen. But a minute later there was still no bathroom light, no night-light in the hall.

Meridith sighed. She couldn’t afford a flooded basement. She had to do the responsible thing. A floorboard squawked under her feet as she exited her room and shuffled down the hall. The wood was cold against the pads of her feet. The children’s rooms were quiet. She felt her way along the wall to the doorway that separated the wings.

Having come to trust Jake, she no longer locked it when they had no guests. The doorknob turned easily, and the door swung silently open. She felt her way along the chair rail. The nautical room doorway, more chair rail, the guest bath, chair rail. Jake’s door.

Her palm traced the glossy surface of the five-panel door. Closed. He must be asleep or he would’ve come to find her, or at least gone to check the breaker box or whatever he might need to do.

She let her fingertips rest against the flat panel, wondering if it was worth waking him. What was in the basement, really? Some old boxes and a concrete floor. But flooding brought mold, and mold wreaked havoc on health.

Stop being such a baby, Meridith
.

She tugged her nightshirt down, then rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. She could be wearing a clown costume for all he’d know.

Closing her fist, she tapped lightly, not wanting to startle him. Her heart echoed the drumming of the rain on the roof. She was being ridiculous.

There were no sounds from the other side. She tapped again, harder. He’d surely hear that even if he were sleeping. She thought she heard the squeak of his mattress and turned her ear toward the door.

A thump sounded, then Jake’s muffled complaint.

A moment later the door latch clicked. She felt the
whoosh
of air on her skin, smelled the woodsy, spicy smell of Jake. Before she could stop herself she drew in a lungful of the fragrance. Heaven.

“Meridith?” His voice was close.

“Sorry to wake you,” she whispered, though the children were too far down the hall to be disturbed. “The electric went out.”

“I noticed.”

She thought she detected sarcasm and imagined his lips twitching. She hated not being able to read his face.

“It’s probably just the storm,” he said.

“There’s a light on down the road, and I haven’t heard any thunder. I’m worried about the sump pump.”

He was quiet a moment, and she wondered if she was overreacting. Maybe she should say never mind and slink back to her room.

“Sounds like it’s really coming down. I’ll go check. Where are the flashlights?”

“In the laundry room cabinet above the dryer. Is there anything I can do?” She moved aside so he could pass, but anticipated his direction incorrectly. A flash of bare skin grazed her fingertips. His stomach.

Jake went still. “I can handle it.” His tone was hesitant, breathless.

Meridith’s stomach tightened in a knot even as the air around them seemed to pulse. His body heat warmed her skin, and his breath stirred the hair at her temple. A shiver shimmied down her spine.

He was there, so close. She could smell him, hear him, feel him. Of its own volition, her hand reached into the space. The pads of her fingers grazed the warm hard flesh of his stomach.

She heard his sharp intake of breath even as his muscles flexed under her fingers.

“Meri . . .” he whispered, a warning.

She should withdraw her hand, step away. Yet she couldn’t seem to move.

She felt his work-calloused palms on her cheeks. A moment later his lips touched hers. He took her mouth, stole her breath. His lips moved with sureness, possessing her.

Her hands crawled up his chest, around his neck, into his hair. It was soft and thick between her fingers, just as she’d imagined.

He pressed her into the doorframe. His jaw scraped the tender flesh of her palms. His breaths were ragged. Or were those hers? They were melded into one and it wasn’t enough.

His lips lifted a fraction. “Meri,” he whispered.

She registered her complaint by closing the distance. She’d never felt such need. He was like water for her thirsty soul, food for her famished heart, and she took it all greedily.

He groaned, setting off an earthquake that rippled all the way through her.

“Meri,” he mumbled against her mouth. The sound of her name on his lips was the sweetest of music. She wanted him to say it over and over again. She would never tire of it.

“Meri,” he said, pulling back, a breath away. But this time, the hands framing her face held her in place.

Her heart was rapid staccato, stealing her breath. She gulped in air.