The Choice (21 page)

The sun had drifted across the sky by the time Gabby got home, and she spotted Molly lying in the marsh grass, her ears perked up and tail thumping. She trotted toward Gabby as she opened the rear door, greeting her with a couple of sloppy licks.

“You seem almost back to normal,” Gabby said. “Your babies doing okay?”

As if on cue, Molly began wandering that way.

Gabby reached for the bags and brought them inside, setting the groceries on the counter. It had taken her longer than she’d anticipated, but she still had enough time to get things started. She set a pot of water on the stove and set the burner on high for the pasta. While it was heating, she chopped the tomatoes and cucumbers for the salad. She cut up the lettuce and mixed the ingredients together with a bit of cheese and the olives Travis had introduced her to the day before.

She added the pasta to the water with a dash of salt, unwrapped the chicken, and began to sauté it in olive oil, wishing she could have done something a bit fancier. She added a bit of pepper and other seasonings, but by the end, it looked almost as boring as it had before she started. Never mind, it would have to do. She set the oven to warm, added some broth to the bowl along with the chicken, and set it inside, hoping that would be enough to keep it from drying out. She drained the pasta and put it in a bowl in the fridge, planning to add a little flavoring to it later.

In her bedroom, she laid out some clothes and headed into the shower. The warm water was luxurious. She shaved her legs, forcing herself not to rush so she wouldn’t nick herself, washed and conditioned her hair, and finally stepped out and dried off.

On the bed were a new pair of jeans and a beaded, low-cut shirt. She’d chosen her outfit carefully, not wanting to dress too formally or casually, and these seemed just right. She dressed and then slipped on a new pair of sandals and a dangly pair of earrings. Stepping in front of the floor mirror, she turned from side to side, pleased with the way she looked.

With time running out, she set out some candles throughout the house and was adding the last of them to the table when she heard Travis knocking. She stood straight, trying to compose herself, then made her way to the door.

Molly had wandered up to Travis, and he was scratching her behind the ears when the door opened. He found himself unable to turn away. Nor could he find his voice. Instead, he stared wordlessly at Gabby, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions that began to crowd his heart.

Gabby smiled at his obvious discomfiture. “Come in,” she said. “I’ve just about got everything ready.”

Travis followed her inside, trying not to stare as she walked ahead of him.

“I was just about to open a bottle of wine. Would you like a glass?”

“Please.”

In the kitchen, she reached for the bottle and opener as Travis stepped forward.

“I can get that for you.”

“I’m glad you said that. I have a tendency to shred the cork, and I hate having pieces floating in my glass.”

As he opened the bottle, Travis watched her retrieve two glasses from the cupboard. She set them on the counter, and Travis noted the label, feigning more interest than he felt, trying to steady his nerves.

“I’ve never had this kind before. Is it any good?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then I guess it’ll be new for the both of us.” He poured and handed one glass to her, trying to read her expression.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted for dinner,” she chatted on, “but I knew that you liked chicken. I have to warn you, though. I’ve never been the chef in my family.”

“I’m sure whatever you made will be fine. I’m not that picky.”

“As long as it’s plain, right?”

“That goes without saying.”

“Are you hungry?” She smiled. “It’ll only take a few minutes to heat this up. . . .”

He debated for a moment before leaning against the counter. “Actually, could we wait for a little while? I’d like to enjoy my glass of wine first.”

She nodded, and in the silence she stood before him, wondering what she was supposed to do next.

“Would you like to go sit outside?”

“Love to.”

They took a seat in the rockers she’d placed near the door. Gabby took a sip of her wine, glad for something to take the edge off her nerves.

“I like your view,” Travis said gamely, rocking back and forth with energy. “It reminds me of mine.”

Gabby laughed, feeling a little burst of relief. “Unfortunately, I haven’t learned to enjoy it the way you do.”

“Very few people do. It’s kind of a lost art these days, even in the South. Watching the creek flow by is a little like smelling the roses.”

“Maybe it’s a small-town thing,” she speculated.

Travis eyed her with interest. “Tell me honestly, are you enjoying life in Beaufort?” he asked.

“It has its good points.”

“I hear the neighbors are terrific.”

“I’ve only met one.”

“And?”

“He has a tendency to ask loaded questions.”

Travis grinned. He loved her sense of play.

“But to answer your question,” she went on, “yes, I do like it here. I like the fact that it takes only a few minutes to get anywhere, it’s beautiful, and for the most part, I think I’m learning to love the slower pace of life.”

“You make it sound like Savannah is as cosmopolitan as New York or Paris.”

“It isn’t.” She looked over her glass at him. “But I will say that Savannah is definitely closer to New York than Beaufort. Have you ever been there?”

“I spent a week there one night.”

“Ha-ha. You know, if you’re going to make a joke, you could try coming up with something original.”

“That’s too much work.”

“And you’re averse to work, right?”

“Can’t you tell?” He leaned back in his rocker, the picture of ease. “Tell me the truth, though. Do you think you’ll ever move back?”

She took a swallow of wine before answering. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a great place, and it’s one of the most beautiful cities in the South. I love the way the city was laid out. It has the most beautiful squares—these lovely parks scattered every few blocks—and some of the houses that front them are stunning. When I was a little girl, I used to imagine myself living in one of them. For a long time, it was a dream of mine.”

Travis stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. Gabby shrugged. “But as I grew older, I began to realize that it was more my mom’s dream than my own. She always wanted to live in one of those homes, and I remember the way she used to badger my dad to put in an offer whenever one was for sale. My dad did well, don’t get me wrong, but I could tell it always bothered him that he couldn’t afford one of the really grand houses, and after a while, it just rubbed me the wrong way.” She paused. “Anyway, I guess I wanted something different. Which led, of course, to college and PA school and Kevin. And here I am.”

From a distance, they heard Moby begin barking frantically, the sound followed by the faint rustling of claws on bark. Glancing at the large oak tree near the hedges, Travis watched as a squirrel raced up the trunk. Though he couldn’t see him, he knew that Moby was still circling the oak, thinking that somehow the critter would lose its grip. Noticing that Gabby had turned at the sound, Travis raised his glass in that direction.

“My dog is crazy about chasing squirrels. He seems to regard it as his life’s purpose.”

“Most dogs do.”

“Does Molly?”

“No. Her owner has a bit more control over her, and she nipped that little problem in the bud before it got out of hand.”

“I see,” Travis said with mock seriousness.

Over the water, the first brilliant act of the sun’s descent was beginning. In another hour the creek would turn golden, but for now there was something dark and mysterious about its brackish color. Beyond the cypress trees lining the bank, Travis could see an osprey floating on updrafts and watched as a small motorboat loaded with fishing gear puttered past. It was captained by someone old enough to be Travis’s grandfather, and the gentleman waved. Travis returned the greeting, then took another drink.

“With all you said, I’m curious as to whether you can imagine yourself staying in Beaufort.”

She thought about her answer, sensing there was more to the question than it appeared.

“I suppose that depends,” she finally hedged. “It’s not exactly exciting, but on the other hand, it’s not a bad place to raise a family.”

“And that’s important?”

She turned toward him with a faint air of challenge. “Is there anything more important?”

“No,” he agreed evenly, “there isn’t. I’m evidence of that belief because I lived it. Beaufort is the kind of place where Little League baseball generates more conversation than the Super Bowl, and I like thinking that I can raise my kids where the little world they live in is all they know. Growing up, I used to think that this was the most boring place in the world, but when I think back, I realize that the corollary to that was that anything exciting meant that much more to me. I never grew jaded, the way so many city kids do.” He paused. “I remember going fishing with my dad every Saturday morning, and even though my dad was just about the worst fisherman who ever baited a hook, I found it thrilling. Now I understand that for my dad, at least, it was all about spending time with me, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. I like thinking that I can give my kids the same kinds of experiences someday.”

“It’s nice to hear you say something like that,” Gabby said. “A lot of people don’t think that way.”

“I love this town.”

“Not that,” she said, smiling. “I was talking about the way you wanted to raise your kids. It seems like you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

“I have,” he conceded.

“You always have a way of surprising me, don’t you.”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

“A little. The more I’ve gotten to know you, the more you’ve come to strike me as impossibly well-adjusted.”

“I could say the same about you,” he responded. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”

She stared at him, feeling the crackle of tension between them. “You ready for dinner yet?”

He swallowed, hoping she couldn’t sense his feelings for her. “That sounds great,” he forced out.

Taking their wineglasses, they returned to the kitchen. Gabby motioned for Travis to sit at the table while she got things ready, and as he watched her move around the kitchen, he felt a sense of contentment settle upon him.

At dinner, he ate two pieces of chicken, enjoyed the green beans and the pasta, and complimented Gabby extravagantly on her cooking, until she giggled, begging him to stop. He asked her repeatedly about her childhood in Savannah, and she finally relented, regaling him with a couple of girlhood stories that made them both chuckle. In time, the sky turned gray and blue and finally black. The candles burned lower, and they poured the last of the wine into their glasses, both aware that they were sitting across from a person who just might change the course of their lives forever if they weren’t careful.

After dinner was over and Travis helped Gabby clean up, they retreated to the couch, nursing their wine and sharing stories from their pasts. Gabby tried to imagine Travis as a young boy, wondering also what she would have thought about him had they met during her high school or college years.

As the evening wore on, Travis inched closer, casually slipping his arm around her. Gabby leaned into him, feeling snug against him, content to watch the play of silver moonlight as it filtered through the clouds.

“What are you thinking about?” Travis asked at one point, breaking a particularly long yet comfortable silence.

“I was thinking how natural this whole weekend has seemed.” Gabby looked at him. “Like we’ve known each other forever.”

“I guess that means a couple of my stories were boring, huh?”

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” she teased. “Lots of your stories were boring.”

He laughed, pulling her tighter. “The more I get to know you, the more you surprise me. I like that.”

“What are neighbors for?”

“Is that still all I am to you? Just a neighbor?”

She glanced away without responding, and Travis went on. “I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I can’t leave tonight without telling you that just being neighbors isn’t enough for me.”

“Travis . . .”

“Let me finish, okay?” he said. “Earlier today, when we talked, you told me how much you’d missed having friends around, and I’ve been thinking about that ever since, but not in the way that you probably imagine. It made me realize that even though I have friends, I’ve been missing something that all my friends do have. Laird and Allison, Joe and Megan, Matt and Liz, all have each other. I don’t have that in my life, and until you came along, I wasn’t sure I even wanted it. But now . . .”

She picked at the beadwork on her shirt, resisting his words and yet welcoming them, too.

“I don’t want to lose you, Gabby. I can’t imagine seeing you walk to your car in the morning and pretending that none of this ever happened. I can’t imagine not sitting here with you on the couch, like we’re doing now.” He swallowed. “And right now, I can’t imagine being in love with any other woman.”

Gabby wasn’t sure she’d heard him right, but when she saw the way he was staring at her, she knew he meant it. And with that, she felt the last of her defenses falling away and knew she had fallen in love with him as well.

The grandfather clock chimed in the background. Candlelight flickered on the walls, casting shadows around the room. Travis could sense the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and they continued to stare at each other, neither one of them able to speak.

The phone rang, shattering her thoughts, and Travis turned away. Gabby leaned forward and reached for the portable phone. She answered, her voice betraying nothing.

“Oh, hey, how are you? . . . Not much . . . Uh-huh . . . I was running some errands. . . . What’s been going on there?”

As she listened to Kevin’s voice, a rush of guilt washed over her. Yet she found herself reaching over and placing a hand on Travis’s leg. He hadn’t moved or made a sound, and she could feel the muscles tense beneath his jeans as she ran her hand along his thigh.