The Seacrest (11 page)

“No. Everyone’s asleep. They won’t be back to feed the horses until six in the morning.”

 “Good.” I noticed the bedroll she’d prepared. A white sheet covered it, and a soft pink blanket lay folded atop.

I took her hands and drew her toward me, sliding my arm around her waist and pressing her pelvis close to mine. “You look like an angel tonight. That dress. Your hair. Your eyes.”

She reached up and kissed me, softly at first, then deeper and somehow more intimately than ever before. I felt myself falling into the lushness of her, the soft, ripe, plum-tasting sweetness of her mouth, the unbearable aching need to claim her once again, the curve of her hip, the roundness of her bottom.

I made myself wait, and instead of pouncing on her and impaling her in that sweet, agonizing second, I slowly unbuttoned her dress from the front, revealing the plump softness of her high breasts; her nipples hardened against my touch.

The dress fell away, proving me right. She wore nothing beneath it, and as she stood in the golden glow of the lights from below, I let my fingers trail from her shoulders, along her arms, to her hips, and finally to her behind, where I cupped her from both sides, pulling her closer.

Like a gazelle, she leapt to me and encircled her legs around my waist, laying her head against my chest. “Finn,” she whispered.

“I love you,” I murmured into her soft hair.

I walked her to the bed and lay her carefully down, shucked my clothes as fast as I could manage, and lay beside her on the sheet, mesmerized by her eyes. I was inflated to hurtful proportions already.

She eyed my readiness and chuckled. “You want me, Finn McGraw.”

I moaned, now barely able to hold myself back. “More than you’ll ever know.” I reached down to touch her soft pubic hair, letting my fingers trail lower and deeper into her moist folds. With one finger probing, I realized she seemed ready for me without any of the advanced foreplay we’d engaged in last time.

“What are you waiting for?” She bit my lower lip and pulled me atop her, guiding me inside with one fluid motion. “Love me, Finn.”

I groaned again, barely able to speak. “My God, Sassy.”

The sound of the surf down on the beach wafted in the loft windows, lulling us with its cathartic beat playing in counterpoint to the rhythm of our coupling. Her body squeezed and drew me deeper inside. I thrust into her, kissing her mouth and muttering love words that spilled from my heart. It felt so right. So good. So perfect.

She began to mew and moan louder, arching her back and gripping my backside with her hands. In the deepest most distant part of my brain, I wondered if anyone would hear her cries. But as the urgency increased and I began to ride her furiously, I, too, lost all control and shouted in a primeval, abandoned manner.

When we finished, I lay atop her, our bodies still combined as one, my head on her heart, our fingers entwined.

“My God, Finn. You are the best.”

I didn’t dare ask her who I was better than, I just took the compliment as any young man would. I’d satisfied her. She loved me. And I felt as if I’d moved to true manhood tonight, in this barn, by the sea, beside my Sassy.

Chapter 25

July 14th, 2013

6:30 P.M.

I
stood at the front door of The Seacrest, pressing the buzzer. Normally, I just walked in the back, where the kitchen beckoned. Tonight I needed to speak to Libby, and I felt the only way to be sure of seeing her was to rouse the household to summon her from her quarters, where she usually spent her evenings.

Fritzi came to the door, opening it wide as if to greet a stranger. She frowned, stopped, and put both hands on her ample hips. “What you doing, you silly man? Why don’t you come around back, like usual?” Her German accent had remained strong over the years, and she still pronounced “w’s” like “v’s.” “And take off those muddy shoes!”

“Sorry, Fritzi.” I looked behind her, wondering if Libby was downstairs. “I’m here to see Miss Libby.” I kicked off my shoes and followed her inside.

She waved a hand, motioning me inside the tall-ceilinged entrance lined with antique wooden benches and long tables with fringed lampshades and bayberry candles in pewter holders. “Come. Sit in the library. I will call her.”

I usually didn’t frequent the nicer rooms near the front door, and it felt strangely luxurious to step barefoot along the thick Oriental rug. Realizing my cutoffs and old blue tee shirt weren’t exactly appropriate attire, I shrugged. The household could take me as I was. No pretenses. Just me.

I followed Fritzi through the library to a leather sofa appointed with so many buttons I couldn’t imagine any upholsterer who had enough patience to sew each of them into the back of the couch. Of course, it was an antique, and that particular craftsman was likely long buried, the product of his skilled hands outliving him.

I settled on the horsehair seat and looked toward the door as Fritzi ponderously made her way back toward the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she nonchalantly told me she’d ring Libby in her quarters upstairs.

“Okay. Thanks.”

Rudy strode past the opening, then stopped abruptly and backed up. “McGraw? What’s wrong?” He slicked back his long white hair and peered at me with near black eyes. “Everything okay in the stables?”

I jumped off the sofa, and if I’d had a hat I think I would have been wringing it in my hands before me. “Yes, sir. Everything’s fine. Just wanted a quick word with Libby, if I could.”

He shrugged, tilting his glass filled with an amber liquid in my direction. “Okay. Be sure she fixes you one of these if you want it. It’s a very good year.”

I smiled and nodded, feeling like an idiot around him. Like a servant and his lord, I was relieved when he left the room, kicking myself for my overly subservient “sirs.” Cripes, I was a millionaire myself now, and I still acted nervous around my boss.
I’m such a dolt.

She came into the room in a storm cloud, her face drawn into a furious mask. “What the hell do you want, Finn? And why are you sitting in the library, like company?”

“I,” I stammered at first, then got hold of myself. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? I was in the middle of an email. You interrupted me.”

I walked toward her, and her eyes widened, as if she thought I’d kiss her like she’d kissed me at the farm earlier. She held up both hands and backed up. “What are you doing?”

I stopped, reaching for her hand. “Geez, Libby. What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting so weird?”

She backed up a few steps and turned to the mantle, running her fingers along the silver frame of her husband’s military photo. “It’s nothing. Just ignore me, okay?” Her mood shifted and her face fell. She gazed at Ian’s photo. “It was all so good in the beginning.”

I sat in the stuffed red chair by the fireplace and she plopped onto the Ottoman nearby.

“Same with me and Cora. In the beginning.”

She glanced over, her eyes full of sadness. “Really?”

“I don’t even know who she was in the end. I’m pretty sure she didn’t love me anymore.”

Her brow creased. “Seriously? I thought you too were solid.”

I stood and paced, looking out at the black sea through picture windows that filled one wall. “Heck, no, Libby. You know she was in my brother’s car when they died.”

“It doesn’t mean they were together, together.” She traced a circle on the mahogany table beside her, eyes averted. “But I did kind of wonder what they were doing in that car.”

“I know,” I said, walking faster now, back and forth in front of the windows, my arms flying up and down as I spoke. “They’d never met, as far as I knew. And here they were in a car together, at night, when she was supposed to be at the college taking one of her damned classes.”

“Do you think they were having an…affair?”

I growled my answer, turning to the sea. “I have no fucking idea.”

“Geez,” she said. Empathy flowed through that one word, more than I could stand.

I paced some more, my anger building. “That’s not the worst part.”

She stood and walked to my side, touching my hand. “Really? There’s more?”

I swallowed hard. “There is.”

She waited until I was able to spill the words. I clenched my hands at my side, but it was my heart that constricted so tightly inside me. “Cora was four months pregnant.”

She turned me toward her, her eyes searching mine. “Oh my God. Finn.”

 I nodded. “I don’t even know if it was mine.”

“You wanted to have children, didn’t you?”

“More than anything on this earth. But she fought me on it, since the day we were married.”

This time she took my hand in hers and squeezed. “I’m so terribly sorry. That really stinks.”

I pressed her fingers. “Yeah, it does.” I released her hand and looked back at the glimmering black sea, where moonlight played on the crests and valleys of the swelling water. “I may never know the truth.”

“You deserved so much better,” she said.

I turned toward the mantle, motioning toward Ian’s photo. “So did you, Libby.”

We stood in silence for the next five minutes. I never asked her about the kiss, or why she was so mad at me. That had been my original intent, but now seemed the wrong time.

I’d ask her another day.

I turned to head back to the cottage, where in spite of Cora’s lingering presence, I felt grounded and comfortable. Maybe one day I’d feel the same way back at the farm.

Libby stopped me at the door. “Finn?”

I turned. “Yes?”

She crossed the deep piled rug and stood before me, looking up with her dark eyes. I pushed away the memory of her kiss, guilt and pleasure mingling too strong to face, to difficult to handle.

“Why don’t you come for breakfast tomorrow?”

I shrugged, still depressed. “I could, I guess. Why?”

“Fritzi’s making blueberry pancakes. Her specialty.”

My stomach growled, and I realized with a start that I hadn’t eaten since my own breakfast, hours earlier. “Okay.” With a great effort, I brought forth a small smile. “Thanks. Sounds good.”

“Seven,” she said. “And bring Ace. He can have the leftovers.”

“Thanks.” I headed into the dark night, with strange mingled thoughts of betrayal and desire racing through me. I needed food and a good night’s sleep. It had been a long day.

Chapter 26

August 1st, 1997

10:00 P.M.

I
lay beside Sassy in the loft the next evening, our lips nearly touching. Exhilarated and exhausted from two nearly consecutive lovemaking sessions—once on the bedroll and once over a saddle—I leaned forward a quarter inch to touch my lips to hers. “Love you, Sass.” I throbbed in every place she’d touched, and the pulsing sensations were almost too sweet to bear.

She stretched and smiled, skin glistening in the dim light from the first floor. “You do, don’t you?”

I traced my fingers lightly down her side and back up again, lingering on her breasts. “You know it.”

“I love you, too.” She reached down and stroked me with soft fingers. “But I don’t think I’m ready for a third time.” She laughed softly. “Come on. Let’s walk on the beach.” She jumped up suddenly and extended a hand to me.

“I’ve gotta get my pants on,” I said, still sluggish from the afterglow.

“No. Let’s be wild tonight, Finn. Let’s go naked.”

I thrilled to the idea, but didn’t want her to get in trouble again. “What if someone’s out there? Or if your father looks out the window and sees us?”

She pointed to the sea through the open loft window. “Look. There’s no moon tonight. It’s cloudy. He’d never see us.”

I grinned like a goofball. “Okay.”

We clambered down the ladder—I was particularly careful to avoid splinters from the old wood in places that would really hurt—and when we dropped to the soft dirt floor, we clasped hands and began to run.

We flew out the door, into the night, with the unimagined freedom of wind whistling through every part of our exposed bodies. I couldn’t help admire the way Sassy looked when she ran. So fit. So slim. So incredibly lovely.

In minutes, we reached the beach, and soon walked in the surf, swinging our arms and turning to kiss every so often.

I took her in my arms, turning her toward me. “Sassy. Listen to me. I want to know who you are. I need to know your name.”

She looked up at me, all innocent and sweet. “Why? Why do you have to spoil things, Finn?”

“Why would it spoil anything? I know where you live now. It’s no secret. So why would knowing your name make one bit of difference?”

“Exactly. Why would it?” she said.

I huffed. “No. I mean why can’t you tell me? At least your first name?”

She turned away. “School’s coming up soon. Only another month.”

“I know, so why wait?”

“I might not be here, Finn.”

“What, are you dying or something?” I tried to make light of it, but she’d worried me.

“No,” she loosed a whispery laugh. “I might be going to another school.”

“Away from here?”

“Yes.”

“Are you moving?”

“No.”

“Then how can you go to another school?”

“Don’t worry about it, Finn. Let’s just enjoy the rest of summer.”

I stood my ground. “Sassy. I need to know.”

With a pout, she looked back toward The Seacrest. “You’re so persistent.”

“Come on, Sass.”

“Fine.” She took my hand and led me to the jetty, settling carefully on a big square granite rock.

“Seriously? Are you gonna spill it?”

“I guess.”

“Well?”

“My name is Elizabeth. But everyone calls me Libby.”

I leaned over to kiss her. “Nice! I like it. Was that so hard?”

“That’s not the hard part, Finn.”

“What do you mean?”

“My last name is Vanderhorn.”

I stared at her.
“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You mean of
the
Vanderhorns? The richest family in Brewster? Maybe the richest on the whole Cape?”