Barefoot Season Part 21

"No, you didn't."

He was right. Sam was one of the few people she trusted absolutely. Having him around would mean someone had her back.

"If you don't want to talk about your emotional health-"

"I don't," she interrupted.

"How's the hip?"

"Better. It still hurts and I get tired, but I'm off the prescription painkillers. I use over-the-counter stuff now." And her new BFF in a bottle, but he didn't need to know that. "There are-"

She stopped and frowned at him. "Wait a minute. If you've been on the island for a couple of days, where have you been staying? Not here."

"They said you were full when I called."

"You should have asked for me. I could have thrown someone out for you."

He chuckled. "While the sentiment touches my heart, there's no need. I'm at the Tidewater Inn down the road."

"We have a better breakfast."

"I'll try it in the morning."

"You'd better. I'll check the reservations. We should have something."

"Not to worry. I'm fine where I am."

"I might insist."

"If it's important to you."

She smiled. "It's good to see you."

"It's because I'm so good-looking, right? I have that problem all the time. Women can't let go of me."

She leaned back in her chair and laughed. The sound came from deep in her belly, vibrating in her chest. It filled her, spilling out and making the constant pain in her hip fade. She laughed until she had to gasp and catch her breath.

"Thank you," she managed, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Part of my charm."

"You are charming."

She asked about his parents, who'd retired to Austin, and his sister. As they spoke, she noticed his attention drifting past her to something outside the window.

"What?" she asked, turning in her seat. "We have three couples here in some kind of therapy program. Are they out there doing those strange exercises?"

But none of her guests were in view. The only thing she could see was Carly and Gabby picking daisies.

Mich.e.l.le looked back at Sam. "No."

"What? She's cute."

"Cute? What are we? In high school?"

"I didn't think you'd want me saying anything else in front of you."

"What do I care?"

"Then why are you glaring?"

She consciously relaxed her face. "I'm not glaring."

"Yeah, right. What's the problem? Is she married?"

"No. But as you can see, she has a child."

"I like kids."

"Since when? You stay away from her."

"I don't think I have to listen to you."

"You'll be sorry if you don't."

"Why?"

A question she couldn't answer. Even more disconcerting, she wasn't sure who she was trying to protect-Sam, Carly or herself.

"I know I'm a fool," the woman said, her voice shaking as tears spilled down her cheeks. "I tell myself to be strong. That I should leave him. That's what you're thinking, aren't you? That I'm an idiot?"

"No. Of course not."

Carly patted the other woman's shoulder sympathetically, hoping she looked more comfortable than she felt. She'd come into the lounge area to make sure there was fresh wood in the fireplace. Seth and Pauline wanted to use the s.p.a.ce that evening and it was going to be cool. Carly had thought a crackling fire might both warm the guests and give them a little nudge in the romance department.

What she'd found in addition to plenty of wood was one of her guests curled up in the window seat, sobbing. Even worse, Carly couldn't remember her name. It was an M name. Mary? Marti? No, there were more syllables than that. Martina? Now Carly searched for a polite way to ask.

The woman, maybe in her mid-to-late thirties, dabbed at her face. "He cheats. That's why we're here. My mom says I need to pack up and go but I have two kids. They love him and I don't want to be a single mother. Besides, the rest of the relationship isn't so bad. I just keep hoping one day I'll be enough."

The tears began again. Carly sat there knowing she couldn't possibly ask the woman's name now. Nor did she have any advice to give.

"I'm such a loser," the other woman said.

"No, you're not. You're in a difficult situation. You have to make the right decision for you and your children. But it's your decision. Not anyone else's."

The woman nodded. "He loves me. I know he does."

"I'm sure he does."

The woman looked at her. "You think I'm fooling myself. That if he loved me, he wouldn't cheat."

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to. I can see it in your eyes."

"Then you're seeing the wrong thing. Only you can know what's going on between you and your husband. No one else."

The woman covered her face with her hands. "I'm such a fool. Why can't I stop loving him? Why do I have to be stupid?"

"You're not stupid and you're not alone. We all do things that don't make sense to other people."

She dropped her hands and stared at Carly. "You don't look like you'd ever make a mistake like this."

"I've made dozens. More than that. My husband cheated on me two days before the wedding. With my best friend." She shrugged. "I married him, anyway."

Carly had felt trapped. She was pregnant. At the time she'd felt she didn't have a choice. That marrying Allen was better than being alone.

There'd been so much screaming, she thought, not wanting to remember but unable to stop herself. First she'd walked in on them. Allen had stood there, naked, swearing it wasn't his fault. That Mich.e.l.le had seduced him. He'd been drunk and hadn't realized what he was doing.

Carly had accepted his story, even as she suspected he was lying. But confronting him and finding out the truth-well, she hadn't been sure she wanted that.

"Did he explain what had happened?" the woman asked.

"He had a story. I was pretty sure he was lying, but..."

"You had a wedding planned. You couldn't walk away from that."

"Isn't it more important to marry the right guy than one who cheats, though? Having to cancel a wedding would have been easier than getting divorced."

She would still have her father's house. If she hadn't married Allen, he wouldn't have had the chance to steal from her.

"It's done," she said. "Would I do it differently now? I'm not sure."

The woman bit her lower lip. "You finally left him?"

"Oh, no. He left me. He took everything." No point in going into details, she thought. She'd shared enough humiliation for one morning.

"John will never leave me," the woman said. "I know that. It's not his way."

Carly managed a smile. "Then you don't have to worry about that."

"I know. I guess I should be grateful for what I have and stop expecting him to be faithful."

Carly didn't think that should be the lesson learned, but wasn't sure she should say that.

"Pauline tells me that before I can make any decisions, I have to learn to respect myself," the woman admitted. "Like I know what that means."

Carly hadn't spent much time with Pauline, but her respect for the woman climbed a couple of notches. Self-respect was a hard one. Something she still wrestled with. Telling Robert they couldn't use each other to hide anymore had gone a long way to getting her closer to achieving what she wanted.

The woman looked at her. "Is it hard? Being alone?"

"Sometimes."

"Would you take him back?"

"No."

"That's the thing," the other woman admitted. "I don't want to lose him."

"Then don't."

She smiled. "I guess you're right. I'm not brave like you. I don't want to do it all alone. What I have is better than nothing. Thanks for listening."

She stood and walked back toward the inn.

Carly watched her go.

She'd never been overly successful in the relationship department but "better than nothing" didn't seem like a goal that would make anyone happy.

Sat.u.r.day Mich.e.l.le walked through the garden. The afternoon had turned sunny and the temperatures were in the low sixties. Practically a heat wave, she thought, eyeing the flowers swaying in the gentle breeze.

Was it her or were the daisies even brighter than usual? The reds and yellows, the pinks, practically glowed against the dark brown of the earth and the green lawn. No doubt the guests found them beautiful, but something about the d.a.m.n daisies got on her nerves. She wanted to kick them all into submission or, at the very least, rip them up by the roots.

Not that she would. Doing something like that would mean she would move from getting pressured to join a support group to being committed.

The back door to the inn opened and Gabby danced out. There was no other word to describe her happy movements as she turned and dipped and pranced barefoot across the patio, toward the lawn.

The girl held a thick book under one arm. Even from across the lawn, Mich.e.l.le recognized the cover of a Harry Potter novel, although she couldn't say which one.

Gabby spotted her and waved, then hurried across the gra.s.s toward her.

Mich.e.l.le watched her, envying the easy movements and remembering when she'd been about that age. Life had been a whole lot less complicated.

"Guess what?" Gabby called as she approached. The girl raced toward her, skidding to a stop on the gra.s.s. "I've been out three times reading and I haven't had food and the cranes aren't bothering me." She grinned. "They still come look, but then when they see I don't have a snack, they go away. I talked to Leonard about it." She wrinkled her nose. "He says they've somehow communicated I'm not a food source."

She giggled. "I guess that's like a bird grocery store. And then we talked about the cranes. Leonard knows a lot of interesting stuff, like how the birds have these lives with eggs and babies and he said I could go with him to see the chicks, only it's on this small boat and I'm scared of the water, but I used to be scared of the cranes, so maybe I don't have to be scared of the water."

She paused and drew in a breath.

Mich.e.l.le stared at the girl, remembering the fearful child she'd met less than a month ago.

She wanted to say they were just cranes and not being afraid of them wasn't a big deal, but she was in no position to be critical of anyone's issues. Besides, she envied the child's ability to put aside terrors so quickly and easily. If only she could do the same.

Her gaze dropped to Gabby's bare feet. Or be that innocent again.