The Seacrest (30 page)

I clinked bottles with all of them, slipped Ace a piece of turkey, and thanked him.

Although I could only think of my upcoming ride with Libby, I patiently waited.

Within the hubbub of good friends and laughter, we dug into the feast.

Chapter 66

September 2, 2013

3:00 P.M.

I
ran a soft brush over Popeye’s smooth coat, taking care to clean all the muddy spots, then wiped down his dusty rump and back. He nudged his big head against my hand when I worked on his face and under his jaw—he loved that part. His black and white mane and tail flowed after the thorough combing I’d given them a few minutes earlier.

I glanced down the aisle every so often, watching Libby groom Serendipity. The horse’s white hair shone, even in the dark barn. Libby worked mechanically through the process, lips tight, eyes downcast.

She’d been very quiet since we finished helping the protesting Fritzi with the cleanup after we’d all eaten our fill. I’d hoped to earn a small smile, or even a surreptitious glance, but none came forth.

“Libby?” I said. “Bareback or saddles?”

“Bareback,” she said. She’d changed from her pink sundress into white jean shorts and a green blouse.

“Got it,” I said. “I’m almost done. Where’s the fly spray?”

She grabbed it from a ledge on the side of the aisle and handed it to me. Her fingers brushed mine, and a surge of emotion filled me. I accepted the bottle, setting it down on the shelf nearby. Turning to her, I called her name softly. “Lib?”

She stopped in the aisle, her back to me.

I came up behind her, turning her shoulders so she faced me. “Don’t,” she said, looking away.

I tilted her chin so her eyes met mine. “Don’t what?”

She pulled back an inch, and I thought I saw fear flicker through them.

Fear? What is she afraid of?

“Finn! Just don’t.” She whirled away, grabbing a bridle from the hook on the wall. “Do you want to ride, or what?”

Her tortured eyes broke my heart. I felt my chest hitch, and a leaden feeling sank to my feet. “Okay. Let’s ride.”

We finished getting ready and in ten minutes our horses jogged along the path to the beach with Ace cantering behind us, occasionally making a foray into the woods when he caught a scent.

We’re weren’t close enough for our bare legs to touch, but close enough that the heat from the horses’ bodies rose up between us. I sensed her angst in the air like a thunderstorm blackening the sky over a fancy dress lawn party. It was at that point I noticed the tears tracing her cheeks.

“Libby?” I said tentatively, reaching a hand toward her.

“No, Finn,” she whispered, and she urged her mare into a smooth, rollicking canter before I could say a word.

I pushed Popeye into a run behind her, but she reached the beach before me and leaned down on the mare’s neck, encouraging her to go faster. Dippy lunged into a gallop, and her long-legged reach pulled her far away from us. Popeye gave it his best, but soon we were fifty yards behind them. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed she was headed for the cove.

In a few minutes, I realized I was right. Libby and her mare disappeared around the corner.

Popeye reached the curve and slowed when he saw Serendipity tied to the driftwood branches. In the far corner, Libby sat with her head on her knees, shoulders heaving. Ace went to her before I could, licking her hands and face.

I slipped to the sand, secured my gelding’s reins, and walked to her side. “Libby? Honey?”

She wept freely now, as if the torment of the past few months simply poured out of her, unrestrained by the need to act normal in front of her father or Fritzi. It seemed she’d held it in for so long that it burst from her now, in agonized torrents.

I sat beside her, one arm around her shoulder, making soft comforting sounds. “It’s okay now, Libby. It’s all over.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Finn.”

“Sorry for what?”

She looked up at me with tear-stained cheeks. “I can’t do this again.”

“Do what?”

Her eyes puddled again. “I can’t find you and lose you again. It’s too painful. All those years of hating you. Then we discover it was for
nothing
. Then Ian…”

I pulled her to me. “Shhh.”

She sat up again, sobbing harder now. “Then Ian comes home, and I…I lose you again. I don’t think my heart can take any more.”

“Honey. Listen.” I hugged her to me. “All that is behind us. I want to marry you. I want us to be forever now.
Forever
.”

“Marry me?” her eyes looked confused. “But I’m still…”

“No. Ian’s dead. You’re a widow. You’re free to marry me, when you’re ready.”

“I…” she sniffled and leaned against me. “I can’t imagine life being so simple. Just up and marry you?”

“Uh huh. And you come with your horses to live with me and Ace at Blueberry Hill. Where we will have a gazillion kids. And we will run the farm. And I’ll paint amazing pictures of the sea and our children.”

She looked up in surprise. “You’re painting again?”

“Uh huh.” I nodded. “For the past month.”

“Thank God. That’s what you’re meant to do, Finn.” Her crying slowed to a stop. She wiped her eyes on my tee shirt, then looked up through her wet lashes. “You still love me after all this?”

I leaned down to kiss her soft lips. “More than ever. I’ve never stopped, Libby. Sometimes love just won’t die, you know?”

A huge sigh of relief whooshed out of her. “I thought maybe you’d given up on me. I treated you so badly when Ian came home.”

“No, you didn’t. You had too much on your plate. You just couldn’t deal.” I kissed her again. “I knew that.”

“But you stayed away after the funeral. You didn’t try to kiss me, you…”

“I was giving you space. I thought you needed time.”

She squeezed her arms around my middle and snuggled against my chest. “I thought you’d changed your mind about us.”

My voice grew husky, and I knew my body betrayed my constant longing for her. “No way in hell. Never. I adore you.”

She glanced down at the telltale signs. “I guess you really do,” she laughed.

“Come on,” I said. “I don’t want to make love to you in the gritty sand again. I’ve got a surprise for you at my place, anyway.”

I led her to the horses and we cantered up the beach toward Blueberry Hill, turned onto a narrow trail, and emerged into my backyard. We dismounted and I led her around to the front of the barn where Jax’s prize autos had been. “Come on in,” I said. “I’ve been working hard in here.”

I slid the big barn door open and flicked on the lights. All of Jax’s cars were gone except the red Corvette, which I’d parked around back. I envisioned tooling around Brewster with Libby at my side and Ace in the back seat.

I’d donated the proceeds of the sales to a children’s hospital, and in place of the classic cars were now four spacious box stalls for horses. The loft was stocked with fresh timothy hay, a bin of grain sat at the end of the aisle, and water and feed buckets lay in their respective corners in each stall.

“Look,” I said. I walked Popeye through fresh pine shavings to the stall, removed his bridle, and opened the door to the outside. “I’ve fenced in that old field. It’s a perfect pasture.”

To the west of the blueberry fields, the grassy field stretched along the shore. Electric fencing would keep the horses contained.

“Wow,” she said. “You did this? It’s beautiful!”

“Of course. Where else would we keep Popeye and Dippy? They can’t stay at your father’s house. If we want to ride, we need them near us.”

“Us,” she said pensively. “That has such a nice sound to it.”

I smiled and helped her get Dippy settled in her own stall. Both horses ran outside to investigate the field, and in minutes returned, nickering for their dinner.

I threw them fresh leaves of hay, scooped out some grain, and filled their water buckets.

“There you go, guys. See you in the morning.”

Libby looked at me, her old confidence shining from her eyes. She canted her hips. “Wait a minute. You were pretty darned sure of yourself, mister. How’d you know I’d stay the night?”

I pulled her to me. “Love conquers all, my dear.”

She kissed me and laughed. “Really? And you just assumed I’d say yes to your marriage proposal? Which, by the way, wasn’t really a proposal, just a…statement.”

I dropped to my knees in front of her. “I meant to do it right. But at the moment, it just slipped out. I’ve got my grandmother’s ring up in the bedroom. I was going to have it ready, in my pocket. I was…”

She smiled down at me. “Ask the question.”

I did. “Will you marry me, Elizabeth Vanderhorn?”

She held her hand out to pull me to my feet, her eyes saucy now. “Not that you actually deserve it, but…yes.”

“Will you have my children?” I asked, softly, between kisses.

She nodded. “I never thought I’d have the chance. Ian didn’t want kids. But yes. I will have six or seven, if you do.”

“Let’s start with one,” I chuckled.

“You’ll have to build more stalls. If all our kids are gonna ride, they’ll need ponies.”

“I’ll build a whole new barn for them, as long as you assure me you’ll never leave me.”

Her dark eyes grew solemn. “I promise.”

With one hand around her waist, I turned toward the house. “Let’s shower. And then…there’s a great big bed that’s been waiting for you.”

“Really?” she said. “The bed’s been waiting for me?”

I pulled her against me, barely able to wait for the shower. “Well, maybe I’ve been kinda waiting, too. You’re all I think about, Lib. All day, every day. I can’t take another night without you.”

We kissed again and finally pulled apart, breathless, hurrying inside, where she stopped in front of the fireplace, staring.

“Finn?”

She stared at her portrait that I’d recently finished painting. It was my best work to date, and I’d hung it over the mantle just that morning. It showed her patting Dippy, in a profile view, with the sun setting behind them on the ocean horizon. “Oh my gosh. It’s beautiful.”

I grinned. “You like it?”

“Like it? It’s a masterpiece.” She hugged me. “I’m so glad you’re painting again.”

“Yeah. I’ve taken Jax’s office—you know, the one that used to be my parents’ room? I set it up as a studio. It’s pretty cool.”

She pulled me toward her and kissed me deeply. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I want to be with you forever, Libby. ‘Til the day we die.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll never get rid of me now, Finn McGraw.”

Chapter 67

September 2, 2013

5:00 P.M.

W
e showered separately this time, because I wanted to do things right on the day Libby said she’d marry me. No hurried, urgent coupling under the watery spray or down in the sand for us today. I wanted to reclaim her, romance her, reach out to her heart to celebrate our new union.

I jumped in the shower first, and while she showered I closed the bedroom curtains so the filmy white fabric fluttered in the sea breeze. It wasn’t likely that anyone could see us, even if they were out in the yard, but I wanted to give the illusion of privacy. I put clean white flannel sheets on the bed and grabbed the bottle of champagne I’d been keeping downstairs in the fridge for the past few months. I’d been hoping that one of these days we’d get to the point where I could actually propose to her in some supremely romantic moment, probably on horseback on the beach, at sunset.

At least that’s how I’d imagined it.

I hadn’t pictured blurting it out while she cried in the cove on the beach or dropping to one knee in the barn. I’d really botched it up tonight, but the answer was what mattered.

She’d said
yes.
I slid my grandmother’s ring on her finger just before she left to shower. Tasteful, antique, and a perfect fit, she’d oohed and ahhed over the color of the diamond and had hugged it to her chest, then threw her arms around me. “I love it!” she’d cried.

With two fluted glasses on the bedside table, I set the champagne in a decanter with ice, and arranged a small vase of pink roses I’d hurriedly clipped from the stone wall by the barn. I found a collection of romantic tunes sung by Ella Fitzgerald in my brother’s stack of CDs near the player, and put it on softly in the background.

The sun shone in the windows, the air smelled of the sea, and the timing was perfect. I was ready for her.

Wearing only boxers, I sucked in my gut and checked it in the mirror.
Not too bad for a guy over thirty.

I grabbed some cinnamon mints from the drawer and sucked on one. I’d brushed my teeth ‘til they hurt, but I wanted to keep that fresh breath feeling. I needed this to be perfect. We’d waited so long, and had enjoyed such a brief time together before Ian returned to dash our hopes.

But now…
now it’s our turn to be happy.

Wondering what was taking so long, I rapped on the bathroom door. “Libby? Everything okay in there?”

“Yup. Just a few more minutes.”

 I heard her clanking around inside. The hairdryer came on and shut off ten minutes later. Drawers opened and closed.

“There’s a new toothbrush in the bottom of the cabinet,” I said.

“Found it,” she mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Water ran. Time passed. I glanced at my watch. It had been thirty long minutes, and I could barely contain myself. I was just about ready to push inside, lift her onto the sink counter, and take her with no more fussing around, when the door finally opened.

She stood with her hair loose on her shoulders, dressed in one of my white tee shirts, backlit by the sunlight streaming in the windows. I reached for her, but she shooed me toward the bed. “Sit,” she said. “Please?”

I backed up and sat on the edge of the bed. “Okay.”

“Pretty roses. Thank you.” She leaned down to smell them, then cocked her head at the sound of the music. “Ella. Old velvet voice herself. Very nice touch, Finn.”

She approached me slowly, a mischievous smile playing around her lips. Her dark eyes burned with desire, which made my own longing more difficult to control.