The Great Escape (43 page)

“Bree, don’t do this to yourself.” He sounded tired, a little impatient. “It’s not necessary.”

She’d started this, which made it unconscionable to take her pain out on him, but the words spilled from her in a dark torrent. “You listen to me, Mike Moody. I spent years begging for a man’s love, and I’ll never
ever
do that again. Do you understand?”

“
Mike!
” Toby shouted from the house. “Mike, where are you?”

Mike stared at her, his eyes suddenly old and tired. Then he walked away. “I’m here,” he said as he stepped out of the trees.

“What are you doing over there?” Toby asked.

Mike’s shoes crunched in the gravel on the driveway. “Nothing important.”

Bree rested her cheek against the rough bark of the tree, shut her eyes, and willed herself not to cry.

A
T
D
R
. K
RISTI
’
S INSISTENCE
, T
EMPLE
restricted her workouts to ninety minutes a day. This left her with free time she’d otherwise have spent brooding over Max’s continued refusal to talk to her, so for the past few days, she and Dr. Kristi had started hanging out at the farm stand for an hour or so each afternoon. When Lucy finished her writing for the day, she joined them.

While Bree hand-painted a beach scene on one of her Christmas globes, the rest of them sprawled in her Easter egg chairs and combined group therapy with girl talk. They comforted Temple over Max’s rejection and told Lucy she should give up her lobbying work. They didn’t understand the obligation she felt to help children who hadn’t been as lucky as she’d been. Bree never mentioned Mike, although she talked freely about her marriage.

“It feels good to have girlfriends,” she said one afternoon. “I didn’t have any when I was married. I knew all they wanted was for me to explain why I kept turning a blind eye to Scott’s cheating.”

“Bastard could never pull that shit on you now,” Temple said, crossing an ankle over her knee.

“No.” Bree looked suddenly sad, then seemed to shake herself out of it as she gazed at Kristi. “I haven’t had much business this afternoon. Are you sure you wouldn’t consider—”

“No!” Kristi declared.

Temple and Lucy exchanged looks, entertained by Bree’s attempts to convince Dr. Kristi to wear her red bikini as a way to draw in more business.

“You wear it,” Kristi said hotly. “See how you like it.”

“If I looked like you, I would.” Bree got back at Kristi by putting her on the confessional chopping block. “I don’t understand how you of all people can ever feel inadequate about men. You could have any one of them you want.”

Lucy immediately thought of Panda.

Kristi shoved her sunglasses on top of her head. Even her ears were perfectly shaped. “That’s what you think. The kind of men I’m attracted to aren’t attracted to me.”

“Corpses?” Lucy said, taking the empty periwinkle chair.

Temple laughed, but Kristi pursed her pouty lips like the prim nerd she was inside that knockout body. “Go ahead and mock. I like men with brains. Thoughtful men who read real books and have interests beyond playing beer pong. But guys like that won’t come near me. Instead, I get all the players—actors, athletes, zillionaire fifty-year-olds looking for a trophy wife.”

Lucy rubbed an ink stain on her thumb, then decided to hell with it. “What about Panda?”

“A fascinating exception,” Dr. Kristi said. “He looks like he should be the leader of the beer pong gang, but it doesn’t take long to realize how intelligent he is. Last night we spent an hour talking about Puccini. He has an incredible grasp of politics and economics. And a social conscience. Did you know he still works with street gangs? Too bad he’s completely unavailable emotionally.”

“Because he’s in love with Lucy,” Temple said pointedly.

“Right,” Lucy drawled. “That’s why he keeps coming over here to see me.” Even though she knew it was better for him to stay away, it rankled that he hadn’t even made an attempt to contact her.

“Temple hadn’t told me about your relationship when I made a play for him,” Kristi said earnestly. “I don’t believe in poaching.”

“If you really want a man,” Bree said, “you should do what Lucy did. You should disguise yourself. Make yourself ugly so regular guys aren’t afraid to approach you.”

Lucy pointed out the obvious. “Making Kristi ugly would take a Hollywood special-effects team.”

A silver Subaru sped by. Temple gasped and shot out of her chair.

“What’s wrong?” Kristi said.

Temple’s hand flew to her throat. “That was Max!”

“Are you sure?” Bree asked.

But Temple was already running toward the house.

The three of them gazed at one another. Finally Lucy said exactly what they were all thinking. “I’d give anything to see what happens next.”

“You and me both,” Bree said. But just then a van filled with women and kids stopped. With a glance of regret toward the woods, Bree went to help them.

Which left Lucy.

“Stay right where you are,” Dr. Kristi said. “This is a private affair between Temple and Max.”

“I know,” Lucy replied. “But—” She jumped up from the chair and made a dash for the path.

“Don’t let them see you!” Kristi called out as Lucy disappeared.

Lucy knew this was crazy. She didn’t want to go near the house. But she also needed to believe in happy endings, and if there was going to be one, she wanted to see it firsthand.

She turned onto a narrow track that led toward the garage. She moved carefully, dodging a stack of rotting firewood, a grown woman who’d lost her mind. She peeked around the corner of the garage just as Max emerged from her car. Her short red hair was as rumpled as her olive cargo shorts and ill-fitting tan blouse. Temple shot out of the woods and then froze, every insecurity that lurked behind her Evil Queen’s bluster written on her face. “Max …” The word sounded like a prayer. “Max, I love you.”

Max stayed where she was, her unyielding expression testifying she was just as strong-minded as her lover. “Enough to stop hiding? Or are all those messages you’ve been leaving for me crap?”

“Not crap. I do love you.”

“Enough to go out in public with me?”

Temple nodded.

“Enough to get married?” Max said stubbornly. “And throw a big party? And invite everybody we know?”

Lucy saw Temple’s throat work as she swallowed. “That much,” she whispered.

But Max wasn’t done with her. She made a brusque gesture toward her stocky figure. “I’m not making myself over for you. What you see is what you get, chub and all.”

“I love what I see. I love you.”

Max twisted one of the silver rings on her fingers. “This could destroy your career.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do care,” Max said, but she softened as she saw the tears glistening in Temple’s eyes.

“Not as much as I care about you,” Temple replied.

Max finally melted, and they were in each other’s arms.

Watching two women exchange such a passionate kiss was a little icky but also completely satisfying. Lucy backed away to give them privacy.

Chapter Twenty-three

W
ITH THE EXCEPTION OF A
man walking with a dog, Lucy had the beach to herself. Smaller and less accessible than the south beach, this spot on the west side of the island was mainly used by the locals, but even though it was Saturday, a thickly overcast sky had kept all but a few away. She’d settled in a sheltered spot at the base of a sand dune, her chin resting on her bent knees. Max had arrived two days earlier, and she and Temple had left yesterday afternoon. This morning, Kristi had taken off. Lucy was going to miss them. Maybe that accounted for her melancholy mood. She was making steady progress with her writing, so she had no reason to feel depressed about her work. By mid-September, she should finally be able to leave the island.

She sensed someone approaching. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Panda walking toward her. Toby must have told him where she was.

Even though the sun had buried itself beneath the clouds, he wore dark glasses. He was clean-shaven, but his hair had grown wilder in the eleven days since she’d last seen him. It seemed like months. The knowledge she worked so hard to suppress struggled toward the surface. She shoved it back into the darkest recesses inside her where it could do no harm. While her own heart raced, he ambled toward her as casually as a tourist out for an evening stroll.

If he was mad at her for running out on him, it didn’t show. He nodded and took in her shorter hair, no longer quite as dark but still not back to her natural light brown color. She wasn’t wearing makeup, her fingernails were a wreck, and she hadn’t shaved her legs in a couple of days, but she didn’t let herself tuck them under her hips.

They gazed at each other, maybe only a few seconds, but longer than she could bear. She pretended to examine a trio of ladybugs crawling along a piece of driftwood. “Come to say good-bye?”

He stuffed a hand in the pocket of his shorts. “I’m leaving in the morning.” He gazed out at the water, as if he couldn’t stand looking at her longer than he needed to. “I’m starting a new job in a week.”

“Great.”

Another uncomfortable silence fell between them. At the water’s edge, the beach-walker tossed a stick into the lake, and his dog went after it. Whether she wanted to or not, there were things she needed to say before he left. “I hope you understand why I had to move out.”

He sat in the sand next to her and pulled a knee up, leaving a wide space between them. “Temple explained it to me. She said it was because I was an asshole.”

“Not true. If it hadn’t been for you that night—” She dug her toes into the sand. “I don’t like to think about it.”

He picked up a beach stone and rolled it in his palm. The dune grasses bent toward him as if they wanted to stroke his hair. She looked away. “Thanks for what you did.”

“I don’t need any more thanks,” he said gruffly.

She rubbed her arm, her skin gritty beneath her fingers. “I’m glad you told me about your brother.”

“I wanted to take your mind off what happened, that’s all.”

She pushed her feet deeper into the sand. “I think you should tell Bree about Curtis before you leave.”

He dropped the beach stone. “That her old man had no conscience? Not going to happen.”

“She’s a big girl. She knows he screwed around on her mother, and she needs to know about this. Let her decide whether or not to tell her brothers.”

The stubborn set of his jaw told her she was wasting her breath. She poked at a zebra mussel shell, feeling as undesirable as this invasive Great Lakes intruder. “With everything that happened, I never asked why you came back to the bar.”

“To get my car. I was pissed with you.”

“I made such a fool of myself that night. All summer, really, with my badass act.”

“It wasn’t an act. You are a badass.”

“Not true, but thanks.” She sifted some sand through her fingers. “One good thing came out of the experience. I learned that trying to slide into another skin wouldn’t fix me.”

“Who says you need fixing?” He displayed a comforting degree of indignation. “You’re fine just the way you are.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “Thanks.”

Another long silence fell, an awful, unbreachable chasm that spoke volumes about the distance that had grown between them. “How’s your writing going?” he asked.

“Pretty well.”

“That’s good.”

More silence, and then he rose. “I need to finish packing. I came here to tell you that you’re free to stay at the house when I leave.”

That was the only reason? Her chest aching, she looked up and saw her reflection in his dark glasses. “I’m fine at Bree’s,” she said stiffly.

“You care about the place more than I do. If you change your mind, here’s a key.”

She didn’t reach for it—couldn’t make herself—so he dropped it in her lap. It landed on the hem of her shorts, the yellow happy-face key fob staring up at her.

He reached for his sunglasses, as if he were going to take them off, but changed his mind. “Lucy, I—” The stubbornness she knew so well thinned his lips. He rested a hand on his hip and dipped his head. The words that emerged were as rough as if he’d rubbed them with sandpaper. “Stay safe, okay?”

That was all. He didn’t look at her again. Didn’t say more. Simply walked away.

Her fingers curled into fists. She squeezed her eyes shut, too angry to cry. She wanted to throw herself at his back and wrestle him to the ground. Slap and kick. The callous, unfeeling bastard. After everything that had happened, after everything they’d said and done, this was his exit line.

She finally managed to make her way back to the parking lot. She biked to the house, peddling as furiously as Miss Gulch on her way to collect Toto. No wonder he’d never come to the cottage to check up on her. Out of sight, out of mind. That was Patrick Shade’s way.

Bree was at the farm stand. She took one look at Lucy’s face and set aside her paintbrush. “What happened?”

It was over. Finished. Accept it.
“Life,” Lucy retorted. “It sucks.”