House on the Beach Page 18

  He whirled around. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

  She stood next to the bed, looking like a Roman goddess wearing the sheet as a toga. Her chin was raised and she regarded him unflinchingly. “Because, until now, it wasn’t any of your business!”

  Was she nuts or what? “You want to explain that?”

  Silence resonated as she watched him pull on his pants. He looked at her in time to catch the changes in her expression. Sadness and disappointment replaced the strength. She was blinking rapidly. The corner of his heart tore, but then he patched it. What had she expected? That he’d jump for joy over her news?

  “When would have been the right time, Matthew?” Laura asked in a steady voice. “I’ve been in Pilgrim Cove about six weeks. Should I have announced it upon my arrival? When we went to the Lobster Pot? Maybe in The Diner with the ROMEOs in attendance? When, Matt? When was the right time?”

  That was easy to answer. He stepped toward her with leaden feet. “Anytime would have been the right time, Laura. Anytime, before my kids and I fell in love with you.”

  Her eyes widened. A tear dropped and trickled down her beautiful face. He’d scored a hit, but it didn’t make him feel victorious. There were no winners tonight.

  He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’ll call you.”

  She nodded.

  He turned and didn’t look back. Didn’t draw breath until he was outside. And then he wanted to howl.

  LAURA REMAINED STANDING in the same spot long after she heard the door close. She felt the tears roll down her face but couldn’t brush them away. She was numb. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think and couldn’t feel. Yet.

  She knew herself well; her defense mechanisms were hard at work. Either that or she was in shock. She caught a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror, her complexion as white as the sheet around her, her large blue eyes burning in their sockets. If she could maintain her frozen state, she’d postpone the pain and desolation that were sure to follow.

  But with that thought came a kaleidoscope of mental snapshots—Matt laughing with her, Matt kissing her, Matt’s eyes filled with desire for her as they made love. Matt cheering for Casey and Brian at their baseball games. The ice began to crack, and she gulped hard to hold back a sob. She couldn’t. And soon deep sobs racked her body, and she crumpled to the floor like a broken doll.

  Matt would never call her. “I’ll call you” was the line men used as a brush-off. That line plus a peck on the cheek. The oldest one-two punch in the dating game. She’d have to accept it and live with it. She’d have to adjust.

  She took a corner of the sheet and scrubbed her face. Where were the tissues? Slowly she looked around and spotted the box on her dresser across the room. So far away. She carefully unfurled herself, stood up and took a step. The “toga” started to unwind and she allowed the sheet to fall away as she retrieved the tissues. She caught her reflection in the mirror and shrugged. She knew what she looked like. Finally Matt knew, too.

  She’d gambled and lost, but it had been the only thing to do. At this point, Matt had a right to know. She could never have continued their relationship without revealing the truth. Love had to be based on truth and trust, or it was worth nothing.

  The thought comforted her. She’d had no choice but to be honest. She searched a dresser drawer for flannel pajamas and wool socks, and then retrieved her bathrobe. She’d thought Matt would be warming her that night. A tear trickled down her cheek again, and this time she impatiently brushed it away.

  No more crying. She could handle this situation. Hadn’t she been down this road once before? Wasn’t that why her sister was expecting a phone call in the morning? Why Norman had shown some concern?

  Well, Laura McCloud was a survivor. She had a fabulous career ahead of her. She had friends and family who cared about her. And, ironically, she had her health. Ninety-six percent was nothing to sneeze at!

  She’d call Alison in the morning. And she’d be calm. But right now, she needed a cup of tea. Very, very strong tea.

  “WHAT’S WRONG, MATT?”

  His dad’s voice jarred Matt’s concentration, but the interruption didn’t really matter. He’d become used to running into brick walls. Since leaving Laura, his thoughts either went around in circles or hit dead ends. Not that he hadn’t tried to understand Laura’s particular condition. But his experience and Internet exploration hadn’t helped. The Internet had loads of information about breast cancer, but in practical terms, he couldn’t learn anything specific because he didn’t know the details of Laura’s case. Size of tumor. Location. Type. Stage. Grade. He’d run away from Laura before asking any questions. So, all he managed to do while online was scare himself into a stupor.

  And now Sam had come downstairs at half past midnight to find out why Matt hadn’t gone to bed. For the third night in a row, Matt sat in front of the wood-burning stove, staring at the flames and saying nothing. Last night, he’d fallen asleep on the couch in the small hours of the morning.

  “I’m fine, Dad. Go back to sleep.”

  But Sam entered the family room and eased himself into his rocking chair. “You’re my son. I’ve known you for thirty-four years. And you’re not fine.”

  Matt grunted and looked away, back into the fire that reminded him of the night of the storm. Laura had enjoyed being part of the family that night. She’d loved cuddling in front of the stove, toasting marshmallows with the boys.

  “Seems to me,” said Sam, “that the weather’s too warm for all the fires you’ve been lighting.”

  His father’s words rolled over him.

  “It must be that the cold is coming from inside of you.” Sam’s chair squeaked as he rocked. “And that’s all I’ve got to say.”

  His dad was a man of few words. Sam’s friend, Bart Quinn, even with a case of acute laryngitis, could outtalk Sam Parker. But Sam Parker slammed in home runs with his pithy statements.

  “Cold? Like a block of ice,” said Matt, leaning forward.

  “Laura?” asked Sam.

  Matt faced his dad. The lines on his face seemed deeper tonight, the brown eyes filled with worry. “Yeah,” Matt finally replied. “It’s Laura. She’s been sick.”

  The rocking chair stopped. “She’s all alone in Sea View House, sick?” Sam’s voice reflected horror at the idea. “Why didn’t you bring her over? Get her to a doctor? Or ask Max Rosen. Doc wouldn’t mind coming out of retirement for Laura.”

  “Slow down a minute. It’s not like that. She was sick…a while back…before she came to Pilgrim Cove.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Matt looked at his confused father, his loving father, the man who’d suffered some awful knocks himself, and now only wanted Matt to find happiness. The man who was allowing Laura into his own heart. He owed his dad the truth.

  “You won’t believe this, Pop. I still can’t. But Laura’s had breast cancer.”

  Sam’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and the rocking chair began to squeak again. “Tell me about it.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. We’ve been down this road before.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Sam. “That road splits in many directions. We’ve only been down one of the paths.” He rocked quietly for a moment. “Look at you. Your fear is bottled up. And you’re wound so tight you can barely function. The boys are wondering what’s going on. I’m not a doctor, but I know some things about living. I know that the more you talk about a problem, the less power it has.”

  Matt shrugged his shoulders and told Sam what little he knew. Surprisingly, he felt himself relax a degree or two as he spoke.

  “Women survive this, Matt,” said Sam quietly. “Take Doc’s wife, Marsha, for example. She had breast cancer some fifteen years ago. Why don’t you talk to Doc about this?”

  Matt was startled. “What? Mrs. Rosen? She just came into the store yesterday.” He’d known Marsha Rosen forever and never knew about that problem. But now he wanted to know. He want
ed to know more about the early stages of the disease.

  Fifteen years ago! For the first time in three days, Matt started to feel something shake loose inside of him. It wasn’t talk that shed the fear. It was information laced with hope.

  The tiny fragment of hope pierced his despair. He’d go on an information quest. He’d talk with Doc first. And then he’d return to the source. To the only one who could answer all the questions that really mattered.

  Laura.

  DR. MAX ROSEN and his wife lived on the beach side of the peninsula, almost two miles west of Sea View House on a large corner lot. Once Doc Rosen and his family had used the house only as a summer place, and Doc had wanted to be right on the water. But now the Rosens lived in Pilgrim Cove full-time, and the house had become a structure of beauty inside and out. Their married children lived in Boston, but spent lots of time at the beach with them. “We have the best of both worlds,” Doc was fond of saying.

  As Matt parked his van in front of the Rosens’ remodeled house the next afternoon, he prayed that despite Doc’s new state of retirement, he still read all the medical journals. Matt slammed the vehicle door closed, grateful that the afternoon had finally arrived. The morning had seemed to crawl by especially since he’d purposely avoided having breakfast at The Diner earlier. The ROMEOs knew him too well and would detect his unease. And there was no way in hell he was going to discuss Laura’s situation in front of them.

  He rang the bell, hoping that Doc hadn’t made plans with his cronies and was home. The door opened and Marsha Rosen looked up at him, her warm brown eyes smiling as she greeted him.

  “Lucky guy! I hear life is going well for you recently,” she said.

  Ouch. Matt tried to smile back. “Is Doc around?”

  Suddenly Mrs. Rosen’s eyes became sharp and assessing. She squeezed his arm. “In the kitchen. Come on.”

  As he followed her, Matt remembered that this was the woman who’d survived Laura’s illness fifteen years ago. He looked at her in awe, trying to find evidence. She looked like an ordinary, regular woman. Very pretty and stylish. And discreet, Matt mentally added as she left him alone with Doc.

  “I’m scared, Doc.”

  And Max Rosen listened. “You fight fear with knowledge and action,” he finally said. “Seems to me that Laura’s already done both. She learned what she had to learn and took the action she needed to take. She didn’t pull her statistics out of a hat!”

  “They are good numbers, aren’t they?” asked Matt.

  Doc nodded. “My wife…” He looked toward the hallway where Mrs. Rosen had disappeared.

  Matt nodded. “Yeah. I know. My dad told me.”

  “She leads a support group. She’s been doing it for years in Boston and goes back every week. A few years ago, she became involved with a group right here in Pilgrim Cove. You can tell that to Laura.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Rosen should call her. I’m not sure…” Matt stood up and started pacing.

  Doc leaned back in his chair, his eyes following Matt’s movements. “A lot of men can’t take it, and you’ve been through it once.” The doctor’s quiet words jelled with Matt’s thoughts. “And you’re not even married. In fact, you’ve only known her for a couple of months.”

  Matt whirled. “That’s right, I’m not married. Why should I subject myself to all this? Why is it tearing me apart?” In horror, Matt heard his voice break, felt tears run down his face. He dashed them away, but more flowed when he blinked.

  Doc Rosen didn’t answer for a moment, just stared at Matt with the intensity of a judge searching for the truth. “I cried, too, when we got the news,” he finally said.

  Matt studied the doctor as though seeing him for the first time, picturing him as a younger man with a growing family and busy career. Picturing his tears.

  “Do you know why you’re crying, Matthew?” Doc Rosen’s gentle voice grabbed Matt’s heart.

  “Because I’m a coward?”

  “No, son. We’re all cowards in the beginning. That’s normal. I was scared witless, too.” He paused. “You’re crying, Matthew, because you love her. You love her so much you can’t think straight.” The doctor cleared his throat. “I know how it feels. You’re not alone.”

  BUT DOC HAD BUILT a life with Marsha before they got the bad news. Matt and Laura hadn’t spent years together. He would not be in love with Laura anymore. That’s all there was to it. He’d talk himself out of love before it was too late.

  However, Matt found himself heading toward Sea View House. He’d call Laura when he was a block away. He stared ahead, driving on automatic pilot, when suddenly Valerie’s sweet image appeared in his mind followed immediately by Laura’s beautiful face. Valerie, with her big dark eyes. Laura, her blue eyes filled with disappointment. The two portraits alternated in a picture frame, one over the other. Valerie. A rich, dark mane of hair to her shoulders. Laura. Short blond curls blowing in the wind. Valerie. Laura. Valerie. Laura.

  He shook his head and pulled to the side of the road. Then Valerie’s dark eyes pleaded, and pity filled his heart for the death of such a young woman. A woman he’d loved.

  And now there was Laura. Laura! Always on his mind. Thinking about her made Matt smile. Made him grin. Doc was right. Of course it was too late to turn his back. Of course he loved her. He loved her with all his heart, and for some crazy reason, she loved him. If she got sick again, would he want her to be alone?

  No way!

  He dialed his cell phone…and heard her beautiful voice.

  His heart squeezed, his throat closed. “I’m miserable without you,” he managed to say. “Can I come over?”

  “The door’s open.”

  He disconnected the call and sat in the truck, shaking with relief, just trying to breathe. So much for withholding emotion. The four days without her seemed like a lifetime. He could hardly believe how much their separation was affecting him. He gunned the engine.

  Two minutes later, he parked in Laura’s driveway and got out of the car. She stood on the front porch, framed in the doorway, waiting for him.

  He walked to the steps and examined her. A wide blue band held her hair back. Her pale complexion was void of makeup, and her shadowed eyes held questions that belied the assertive thrust of her chin. Oh, she was a fighter! His heart began to race, his hands began to tingle. And he felt himself smile.

  He climbed the five steps, never taking his eyes from her. His legs felt heavy, as though he were fighting his way through quicksand, until finally he was level with her. His heart filled. He couldn’t speak.

  He opened his arms.

  And she walked into them.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his embrace. She belonged there, close to him. Always. “I love you, Laura McCloud.”

  He felt her arms tighten around him, felt her head nodding against his chest. Felt her shoulders shake and heard her quick sobs.

  “Oh, please don’t cry, sweetheart.” But her sobs continued. “Let’s go inside,” he said, and still holding her, followed his words with action. But he got no farther with her than the entrance hall. Laura was crying too hard.

  Matt cradled her, rocked her, and finally carried her to the sofa and held her on his lap.

  “Lord, I’ve put you through hell,” he said as he kissed the tears away.

  She nodded and snuggled into him. “Four days or forty years. Didn’t seem to be any difference to me. But I sure wasn’t this emotional after the first night. While you were running away, I was training myself to be numb.”

  Matt shook his head from side to side. “The numbness would have worn off, baby. Love’s an emotional sort of thing. Powerful. In fact, it’s got to be the strongest feeling of all. You can’t run from it!”

  Her big blue eyes studied every inch of his face. “And when did you get to be so smart?”

  “When I realized it was too late to run from you. But, baby, I’ve been through this before, and I’m scared stiff.”
>
  She reached up and kissed him on the mouth. “Your imagination’s running riot now…so, why don’t we concentrate on something else, then I’ll allay your fears.” She kissed him again, her tongue tracing the outline of his lips. “Hmm,” she whispered, “it’s awfully nice being cuddled on your lap.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” Matt replied under his breath as he moved his mouth over hers, exploring every corner. Having Laura in his arms again was a lot more than nice. It was wonderful.

  “Hadn’t noticed?” repeated Laura. “Is…that…right?” She drew out the words as she wiggled her bottom against him.

  Matt shut his eyes, feeling the heat travel to every part of his body, feeling beads of sweat building everywhere. He took a deep breath. “Laura? Sweetheart…don’t start what you don’t want to finish.”

  Laura rolled her eyes. “I always finish what I start,” she replied in a throaty whisper. Her fingers traced the outline of his ear and she felt him shiver. Good.

  “Come here,” she whispered. He lowered his head and she gently snagged his lobe with her teeth and bit lightly. “Hmm…” she murmured. “I’m thinking of…an afternoon delight…do you…?”

  She never got to finish her question. Suddenly Matt stood up, still carrying her, and strode toward the bedroom.

  “Afternoon delight?” he said. “I swear, there’s not another woman like you in the whole world!” He kissed her in mid-stride. “And sweetheart, you’ll never have to ask twice.”

  He paused in the bedroom doorway. “But this time, Laura, we use the brightest lights. I want to see all of you. Every square centimeter—silky or smooth or scarred.”

  She’d thought she was through with tears, but now she had to blink them back. She looped her arms around his neck. “All right, Matt. Every square centimeter.”

  She had nothing to hide anymore. Nothing to be afraid of. She’d gambled again on life, and this time, she’d won. The relief was indescribable. She felt weak, she felt strong. But mostly, she wanted to shout her happiness from the rooftops and share it with the world.