Laura Abbot (21 page)

Noel caught Ben’s eye in a silent thank-you. Then he spoke softly to his wife. “Pride and stubbornness or love and forgiveness? It’s your call, darlin’, and now’s the time to make it. Once and for all.”

Pat raised Noel’s fingers to her lips. “I love you, Michael,” she said, and Ben sensed it was the first time in many years she’d used her husband’s birth name. Then she smiled shakily. “All right. We’ll come with you, Ben. For everyone’s sake.”

After Pat excused herself to go to bed, the two men sat on the front porch steps, Fonda sleeping at her master’s feet and Dylan with his head in Ben’s lap. Noel, showing characteristic sensitivity, asked Ben about his father. For some reason, Ben found himself saying things he’d never shared with anyone. Even Laurel. He told Noel about the confusion he’d experienced as a boy, wondering when his father’s next mood swing would occur. And about the love his father showered on his children when the demons were in retreat.

“So senseless,” Noel said, almost as if to him self.

“Dad didn’t think so,” Ben said. “No matter how down he was, he never wavered in his conviction he’d served his country well.”

“He must have been a very brave man.”

“He was.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. Then Noel spoke. “Isn’t it hard for you to understand, then, why I opposed the war?”

“History has shown pretty clearly that there were two sides. Neither appears blameless.”

“Some of my friends died in ’Nam, some went to Canada. I did what I thought was right under the circumstances. But it was a long time ago.” He quieted, then laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I hope my actions then won’t affect our relationship.”

Ben turned and looked straight into the man’s eyes. “Quite the contrary. I’ve been sitting here thinking now might be a good time to ask you for your daughter’s hand. I love her a great deal.” His voice thickened. “Besides, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have as a father-in-law.”

Noel’s eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Thank you, son.”

M
ADDENINGLY
, customers loitered in The Gift Horse right up until closing time the afternoon of the party. Maybe it was just as well, Laurel thought, as she closed the door behind the last straggler. She’d been too busy to dwell on the fact that she had heard from neither her mother nor Ben. Her mother’s silence was a disappointment even though Laurel acknowledged she’d had a shock and needed time to process her feelings. No matter how much she hoped for a quick, easy resolution to the years of estrangement, given the complexities, that wasn’t apt to happen.

She grabbed a quick shower, then put on dressy white pants and a watermelon-pink soft V-necked blouse. Fumbling with her white hoop earrings, she realized her fingers were trembling. She needed Ben. Not for protection, but for support and love.

Please let him be there tonight.

K
ATHERINE GLANCED
around the living room, which was festooned with crepe paper streamers. Nan was a born party giver, and her efforts were visible. Brilliant bouquets of summer flowers graced most of the tables. John had set up a bar in the far corner, and friends, too numerous to count, had been offering birthday greetings since their arrival. A local guitarist strummed background music, and a table bountifully laden with Greta’s most delectable dishes was proving a popular attraction.

Laurel stood by the deck door in animated conversation with Jay. Studying her two grandchildren, Katherine swelled with pride. Handsome, productive, likable. She hoped they would become friends.

With a cocktail in one hand and a wineglass in the other, Quincy Axtell, Belleporte’s most eligible widower, made his way through the crowd toward… Katherine gaped. Toward Maureen No lan—so alone even when her husband was still alive. Studying the adoring smile on Maureen’s face, Katherine chortled. Why hadn’t she thought of that match before? They were perfect together.

That momentary delight, however, was tempered by the realization she hadn’t seen Ben, even though he’d told her he would be here. Several times Katherine had noticed Laurel scanning the crowd when she thought she was unobserved, disappointment momentarily displacing her mask of gaiety. Where was that boy?

One thing about being seventy-five—how could she be that old?—you could get away with outrageous behavior and chalk it up to eccentricity, and right now she didn’t want to dwell on Ben Nolan’s whereabouts or greet any more well-wishers. She had a mission, and it involved Jay and Laurel. She shouldered her way through the crowd. This would do her good and keep her mind off the fact—as if anything could—that she hadn’t heard from Jo.

Deep inside, she’d harbored the hope that Jo would come for this party. She should have known better. What she had done to her daughter was unforgivable.

H
OLDING HER BEER
in a death grip, Laurel looked up at Jay. “You’re sure you don’t mind? I mean, it must be a shock to learn you have a cousin and…it’s me.”

He smiled warmly. “A shock? Yes. But a pleasant one. Not just for me but for Granny. She’s loving having you as a granddaughter.”

“I’m very fond of her.” Laurel smiled wistfully. “Wouldn’t it be great if everybody could just forget the past and start fresh?”

“Ever the optimist, are you?” His eyes twinkled.

“I try, but this situation isn’t easily remedied.”

“Don’t give up yet.” He nodded toward the kitchen, where Nan was in conference with Greta.

“Mom’s starting to come around.”

“I know it isn’t easy for her.” Several children, shepherded by Megan and Mike, jostled past them on their way outside. When Jay took Laurel’s arm to steady her, waves of loneliness swept over her.

“Do you know where Ben is?”

He studied her with concern. “Did he tell Granny he’d be here?”

She nodded.

“Then he’ll be here. Trust me.”

Jay’s words should have been comforting. Live for the day, Laurel reminded herself. Celebrate her grandmother and their newfound bond. She could wait to think about Ben.

Just then Katherine swooped down on both of them, a triumphant smile wreathing her face. “There you are. It’s time. Come with me.” She left no room for argument as she ushered them out onto the deck. “Wait here,” she said, positioning them by the railing overlooking the water.

A humid breeze rose from the lake, caressing Laurel’s skin. Below, children frolicked on the swings and slide. Adults in casual resort wear mingled, smiling, laughing, sipping cocktails. Behind her, Summer Haven embraced her with a cooling shadow. Laurel’s heart skipped a beat. This was exactly how she’d pictured it that windy November day when she’d first glimpsed the house. A family home.

Only part of her family was missing. Her mother. Her father. And Ben.

Clapping her hands, Katherine emerged again, trailed by her guests. “All right, everyone. I have an important announcement.” Conversation died. “First, I want to express my gratitude for a lovely birthday celebration.” She gazed fondly around. “Coming home to Belleporte was the best decision I’ve ever made. Thank you for making me feel so welcome.”

Quincy Axtell raised his glass. “That was easy to do.”

“Hear, hear,” someone echoed.

Katherine beamed, then, holding up her hand, once more silenced the throng. “I want to tell you about the best birthday present a crotchety old woman could possibly receive. Laurel?” She gestured for Laurel to join her. “You old-timers know that I have another daughter, whom I have not seen for many years.” Laurel heard a catch in her grandmother’s voice. “I’ve always believed that there is no such thing as coincidence. Laurel came to Belleporte to open a shop. I came here to start a new life. Little did we suspect that we would find so much more.” When she linked her arm through Laurel’s, Laurel shivered in anticipation. “Friends, our precious Laurel is Jo’s daughter, my granddaughter.”

Those standing nearby erupted with exclamations of delight. Surrounded by love and good wishes, Laurel was aware of her eyes misting as she embraced her grandmother.

After the initial flurry of congratulations, Katherine produced a penknife from her pocket. “If Jay will do the honors, it’s time to make Laurel an official family member.”

Jay took the knife, chuckling as if he’d anticipated the punch line of a joke. “Where do you want them, Laurel?”

“Want what?” Laurel felt Katherine’s hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

Jay ran his fingers along the surface of the deck railing. “Your initials, of course.”

“You’re a Sullivan,” her grandmother whispered. “You’re part of us and of Summer Haven.”

Before she answered, Laurel looked out over the serene, blue-green surface of the vast lake, her heart expanding with a sense of belonging. “There,” she said, pointing to the time-worn “JS” scratched into the wood. “Beside Mother’s.”

P
AT FRESHENED UP
at Ben’s apartment, where Noel was leaving their truck. Now that she was here in Michigan, she didn’t know if she could go through with the birthday party. All those people. And what if her mother couldn’t explain the past? Worse, what if she couldn’t understand about the awful argument? About Noel? Then there was Nan to face. She must’ve been furious. How could Pat sashay into Summer Haven as if nothing had ever happened?

Noel appeared at the bedroom door. “We’ll be late.”

“I’m ready,” Pat told him, then tensed. That was a lie. She’d never be truly ready. This was just something she had to do. Probably should’ve done long ago.

Sitting between Ben and Noel on the short drive to Belleporte, she clutched Noel’s hand, digging her fingernails into his flesh. All too soon, Ben turned off the highway and rounded a curve. There it was. Still. The wrought-iron sign with its curlicue letters spelling
Belleporte.
Lofty trees formed a canopy over the road, then the woods slowly gave way to the village itself. Pat’s free hand moved instinctively to her chest. “It’s…it’s the same. There’s the florist and—wait, the golf course is over there.” Everywhere she looked were familiar landmarks, some with shadings of difference, but she’d never imagined it would be so like the place that had lived in her imagination all these years. Memories swept her away. The bank. Primrose House.

“Let’s take a detour up Shore Lane,” Ben said quietly.

Coming into view was the Mansfield cottage, transformed. “Oh,” Pat crooned, at a loss for words. The Gift Horse. She brushed away tears of pride. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Noel murmured.

“Laurel’s made it happen,” Ben added.

“I wish—”

“Another day, darlin’. Laurel will want to give you the grand tour.”

Then, after a few more blocks, Pat spotted the gazebo and, in the distance, Lake Michigan. Something primal turned over inside her. She put a hand on Ben’s arm. “Stop.” Then realizing she’d sounded rude, she explained. “I…I need a few moments. By the lake. Alone.”

Neither man said a word. When Ben parked near the gazebo, Noel stood aside and let her out of the car. Slowly, heart pounding in cadence with the breaking waves, she moved past the gazebo to the end of the boardwalk. Dune grass whispered, gulls shrieked their hungry cry, a bold sun balanced on the horizon between sky and lake, and in the west aimless clouds bled from amethyst to peach to crimson. She hunkered down and scooped up a handful of sand, slowly letting the warm grains sift through her fingers. She closed her eyes, touch and sound and smell restoring her to Belleporte, the place she’d never truly left.

Finally she stood, dusting the last grains of sand from her hands, and with a deep breath, turned toward Ben’s car. Both men looked up as she approached. She gave them the first genuine smile of the entire trip. “I’m truly ready now.”

The road to Summer Haven was as she remembered it, except now it was paved. A few new houses sprouted from clearings, but most of the cottages she recognized. Because they were late, Ben had to park at the foot of the hill. Noel put his arm around her shoulder as they started walking up the drive. Sounds of music and laughter carried on the air, reminding her of so many bygone parties and celebrations.

Then she saw the house, sitting majestically on the ridge of the dunes, its gabled windows and twin chimneys just as she remembered. But something was different. It was brown. Not the pristine white castle of make-believe. Not the Summer Haven of her youth. A new Summer Haven.

The front door opened and a tall, dark-haired, elegant woman came onto the porch. She waited, arms at her side, her body held in tight control.

Pat left Noel and walked rapidly forward, then stopped. “Nan?” Time fell away.

“Jo?” Nan took two steps toward her sister. “You’re really here.”

“I’m really here. Please, forgive—”

Before she could finish the sentence, Nan had crossed the space between them and embraced her. “I didn’t know how much I’d missed you until I saw you,” Nan whispered.

Pat clutched her sister, feeling again her thin shoulder blades beneath her fingers, inhaling the familiar lily-of-the-valley fragrance she always wore. The words spilled out. “I tried to make contact, but when I didn’t get any answers, when my letters were returned, I thought, ‘They don’t want me. They won’t want my baby.’”

“Shh.” Nan rocked her. “We want you. I want you. Both of you.”

Becoming aware of Noel and Ben, Pat slowly withdrew and turned her sister toward Noel. “If you’re deeply in love with your John, you’ll understand that my love for Noel was so great I risked Father’s wrath rather than lose him.”

Noel stepped forward and laid a hand on a shoulder of each woman. “I am so happy this day has come at last.”

“I am, too. Welcome, Noel.”

Pat looked past Noel to Ben. “Thank you,” she mouthed. Nan tucked her sister’s arm in hers. “Mother will be thrilled. This is the only gift she’s ever wanted. Let’s not keep her waiting any longer.”

Steadied by Nan, Pat allowed herself to be led into the house, knowing with a mixture of regret and anticipation that thirty years had been too long to wait.