Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard (27 page)

It was interesting watching the four of them interfacing together. Not only did they get along extremely well, they functioned like a real family—a small, happy, healthy family. In the evenings, after dinner, he and Sicily and Waverly would take bike rides, exploring different parts of the shore. But Blake continued to take it slow and careful with Waverly. He could tell she was keeping him at a polite, safe distance, and he thought that was probably best…for now. Plus, it reassured Sicily that they truly were friends—all of them.

On Thursday night he decided to take Sicily out—just the two of them. “Why don't we invite Waverly and Vivian along too?” she asked. But he explained that mothers and daughters sometimes needed time to themselves. What he didn't mention was that Janice and Louise were expected to return tomorrow.

In a way, this week had almost seemed too good to be true. Sometimes Blake had wanted to pinch himself to check if he was dreaming. But tonight he was reminded that it had merely been a brief interlude. Like an island waiting for the hurricane to hit, he knew that Janice and Louise would get back tomorrow afternoon. According to Vivian, Janice had secured a rental car, ordered a new BMW, and was anxious to come back for the Pre-Fourth Friday party.

On Friday morning Waverly came over just like she had the previous mornings during this blissful week. She showed up to either get a ride or borrow his car, but then he lured her to visit with a cup of coffee by reminding her she was saving money that way. But he was pleased to see that this morning, she'd come even earlier than usual.

“You know that Janice and Louise get home today,” she said as they sat on his porch sipping their coffee.

“I know, although I've been trying not to think about it.”

“Mom told me that you haven't completely broken things off with her.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” he said. “Although I'd meant to make my intentions—rather my lack of them—a lot more clear by now.”

“Mom said that Janice is in good spirits. She got a good rental car, which Louise is footing the bill for, and she ordered a new Beamer that's even better than her other one. Between her insurance and The Gallery's, it's pretty much covered.”

“Well, that should be a relief to you.”

“It definitely is.” Waverly cleared her throat. “She also said that Janice shopped for a new outfit for tonight's party, and she's really looking forward to it.”

“Uh-huh.” He gazed out over the calm blue water.

“And you.”

He turned and stared at Waverly. “What?”

“And she's looking forward to you too, Blake. I just thought you should know that.”

He groaned. “Thanks. And I was having such a nice morning too.”

“Forewarned is forearmed.”

“So should I be expecting some kind of battle?” He studied her profile, which was perfect. Even with her lips pressed tightly together like that, she was still beautiful.

She shrugged. “I guess that remains to be seen.”

Now he realized that, although he'd made his attraction fairly clear to her, not to mention her mother, Waverly had never said or done anything to state exactly where she stood with him. Oh, he still had that kiss to remember, but what if he was imagining that she'd enjoyed it as much as he did? What if Waverly was thinking along the same line as Sicily—that they were all just very good friends? Like the Three Musketeers. Not that Waverly wasn't a delightful friend. But was he willing to settle for only that?

“Shouldn't we be heading into town by now?” Sicily asked as she emerged from the house fully dressed.

“What about breakfast?” he asked.

“Already ate.”

“Oh.” He looked helplessly at Waverly now. “So do you want a ride?”

“Why don't you just let Waverly take the car,” Sicily suggested, “since you told me I could spend the whole day there since we're trying to get the painting finished today. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you certain?” Waverly asked.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I can work on my screenplay. It's actually starting to gel, and a full day at it would probably be good.”

Sicily leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Yeah, thanks, Dad,” Waverly echoed with a twinkle in her eye.

“Hey, I might be older than you, but I'm not old enough to be your dad.”

She looked slightly hurt now, like maybe she wanted a dad.

“Not that I wouldn't be willing to try,” he said congenially.

“How old are you anyway?” Waverly asked.

“He's forty-three,” Sicily informed her. “How old are you, Waverly? Like twenty-something?”

Waverly laughed. “See why I love this girl? You bet, Sicily, I'm like twenty-something—just add at least ten years, and you'll be closer.”

Sicily looked genuinely shocked. “Really, you're
that
old? Like as old as my mom?”

“I don't know about that,” Waverly confessed. “But I'll be thirty-six on my next birthday.”

Sicily cocked her head to one side as if seeing her with new eyes. “Wow, I had no idea you were
that
old.”

“Yes, dearie, I am.” Waverly inserted a shaky old-lady tremor into her voice and stood up and walked with a hunched back. “Now, if you can help me find my cane and my hearing aid and my—”

“You're not
that
old!” Sicily laughed.

Then they were off, and Blake was home alone to think about how he was going to get Waverly to let him know whether or not he even had a chance with her. He was determined to find out. But first there was Janice and tonight's party. The only reason he'd agreed to that in the first place had been to placate Janice and take some pressure off Waverly. But if Janice had gotten over everything, and the car situation was smoothed out, maybe it wouldn't rock Waverly's boat too much for Blake to change his mind about being Janice's escort to the party tonight.

Really, who needed an escort to a beach party anyway? As enamored as Janice was with celebrity types, she'd probably be willing to go as a single. Plus, she'd have Reggie and Waverly to hang with. But therein was the problem:
Reggie and Waverly.
On a date together. Perhaps it was immature or selfish, or maybe it was plain old love, but Blake decided he was going to the party with Janice after all. After the party was history, he would calmly and maturely explain the facts to Janice.

He worked on his screenplay until past one. Then, feeling hungry and a little lonely, he decided to call Vivian, inviting her to join him for a late lunch.

“That sounds lovely,” she told him. “I haven't eaten yet either.”

“Are tuna-fish sandwiches okay?”

“Perfect. How about if we take our lunch out on the beach—have a picnic?”

“You are my kind of woman.”

She laughed heartily.

“I'll be over in about half an hour,” he promised.

“I'll be here with bells on.”

He took care making the sandwiches, chopping celery and using some fresh crisp lettuce. Then he added in some chips, a couple pieces of fruit, and some other goodies, and loaded it all into a grocery sack. Realizing it might be difficult for Vivian to get up and down to sit on a blanket on the sand, he decided to grab a couple of folding chairs. He'd noticed she was moving slower and with a bit more difficulty, although it could be his imagination, spurred on by knowing about her “condition.” Slinging the straps of the folding chair bags over one shoulder, he grabbed his grocery bag with the other.

He happily went down the trail to her house, whistling along the way and thinking how handy this trail had been this past week. He set his picnic things by the porch, then went to the door and knocked. And waited. Then he knocked again, louder this time. And waited some more.

“Vivian?” he called out, going around the house to see if she might be puttering with the flower pots or something.

But no one was there. So he went back around and knocked again. Then he opened the door. “Vivian?” he called again, walking through the quiet room.

He could hear water running somewhere and, following his ears, realized it was in the kitchen. “Vivian?” he said as he went around the cabinets, thinking he'd turn off the faucet.

But then he saw her, laid out lifelessly on the floor with shattered glass nearby and a spilled bottle of aspirin beside her. “
Vivian!”
He fell to his knees, leaned over, and checked for a pulse in her neck. Seeing it was there, but faintly, he wondered what to do first. Realizing she'd probably been about to take an aspirin, which he knew could be lifesaving, he quickly crushed one and slipped the white powder into her mouth. In the next instant, he called 911 on the kitchen phone.

Before the ambulance arrived, Vivian regained consciousness and tried to sit up.

“Wait,” he told her as he slipped a folded towel beneath her head. “Paramedics are on their way. Don't move.”

“No hospital,” she whispered.

“But Vivian,” he pleaded.

“I just fainted,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Lightheaded…blacked out.”

“Maybe so, but what can it hurt for a doctor to look at you?”

She closed her eyes and sighed.

He felt like her betrayer as the paramedics checked her vital signs, hooked up some oxygen and IV tube, then loaded her into the ambulance. Her face was pale, her eyes frightened.

“I'll follow and meet you there,” he assured her. Then, realizing he was car-less, he asked one of the medics for a ride. They let him sit in the back, telling him to stay out of the way of the two medics who continued to help her. As the ambulance rushed through town with sirens on, Blake bowed his head and prayed.

Holding her hand, he started to go with them into the ER but was instructed to remain in the waiting room. “Promise you won't call Waverly,” Vivian told him in a firm tone, still holding his hand. “Not yet. Not like this. Promise?”

“Okay, I promise.”

She released his hand and was wheeled away. But now he was torn in two. How could he not call Waverly? What if her mother was dying? And at the same time, how could he break his promise to a possibly dying woman? Finally he realized that all he could do at the moment was to pray. And that's what he did.

It was past four by the time he was allowed to see her again. She'd been moved to a private room and, to his surprise, looked rather well. The color had returned to her face, and she was even smiling. “Did you keep my promise?” she asked as soon as he was by her bedside.

“It wasn't easy, but I did.”

She patted his hand. “Good boy.”

“I'm not convinced your daughter would agree.”

She sighed. “I know. You're probably right about that. But I didn't want Waverly to find out about—well, you know—like this.”

“Would you rather she'd found out about it if you'd died?”

She seemed to consider this. “Well, she couldn't very well be mad at me if I was gone, now, could she?”

He shook his head. “Don't be so sure of that.”

“Anyway, I'm not gone. Not yet. I knew it wasn't my time to go.”

“What made you so certain?”

“I could feel it inside me. Like God wasn't finished with me yet.”

He made a small smile. “I hope you're right.”

“Of course, now they want to put me on hospice.”

“Hospice?” He tried to remember what that meant exactly.

“You know,” she told him, “when you're going to die within a year or so.”

“Right.”

“They say their program is one of the best. And I have to admit I was impressed with the woman I met. Maybe it's not such a bad idea.” She handed him a brochure. “What do you think?”

He glanced through the highlights. “It sounds like a good organization, Vivian. It allows you to remain in your own home with some help and some control…and dignity. What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I suppose.” A tear slipped out, and he reached for a box of tissue, handing it to her. “It's just that…” She wiped the tear away. “I've always been so healthy and independent. It's hard to admit I might need some help.”

“But what if your need of some extra help is a way for you to connect more tightly with others?”

Her thoughtful expression deepened.

“And keeping your secret from Waverly seems cruel to me.”

“Cruel?”

“Yes. If she knew what was going on, she'd probably spend less time working and more time with you. I personally think that would be good for both of you.”

She nodded. “Perhaps you're right.”

“I know I'm right, Vivian. Trust me on this.”

“But what are you going to tell her? I mean, on the phone?”

“What do you want me to tell her?”

Vivian looked worried. “Can you tell her I fainted?”

He shrugged. “As long as you tell her the rest of the story. After all, you did sort of faint, right?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“So, please, let me call her,” he urged. “Especially before she goes home and finds us both gone and wonders what's happened.”

“Yes, yes,” she agreed. “You're right. Besides, Lou and Janice will be getting there now. Naturally, they'll wonder too.”

So, realizing that he didn't even have his cell phone on him, he went to the nurses' station and borrowed a phone. When Waverly answered, he kept his voice was calm and even. “I don't want you to be alarmed, Waverly, but I'm here with your mother at the hospital and—”

“What happened? Are you guys okay?”

“I'm fine. Your mother had a little fainting spell.”

“Oh, good. Not good that she fainted. I'm just relieved it's not too serious—”

“Actually, it's a little more serious than that. But she needs to be the one to tell you.”

“Oh, okay. Well, Rosie gets here in a few minutes. But I could lock up and leave if—”