Author: Kristan Higgins

* * *

WHEN THE SUN HAD FINALLY risen and a decent-enough hour approached, James got dressed. Dockers, blue oxford with the sleeves rolled up. His carpentry work was finished.

He looked in the window; Lavinia was already here, playing cards with Nicky on the floor of the kitchen. James knocked.

“Hey there, Jamie,” Lavinia said. “Come on in, sweetheart.”

“I’m looking for Parker, if she has a minute,” he answered. “Hi, Nick.”

Nicky didn’t answer. Refused to even look at him.

At that moment, Parker came into the kitchen, and the sight of her hit him like a truck.

“James. Hi,” she said warily.

“Hi. Sorry it’s so early.” It was after nine, not really early at all. “Got a sec?”

“Sure. Um, Nicky, I’ll be right back. Vin, you don’t mind keeping an eye on him, do you?”

“Not a bit,” Lavinia answered. “See you, James.”

So Lavinia already knew he was toast.

Parker came out and walked around the house to the street side. Not down on the dock, thank God. She stopped and folded her arms.

“Parker, I’m so sorry,” James began.

“It’s okay. Nicky hides all the time. All’s well that ends well. It wasn’t your fault.”

Sure it was. He could feel it.

“Thank you for trying to find him,” she added, finally meeting his eyes. “It must’ve been horrible for you.”

“No. I mean, it was… I thought he—” The thought was too unspeakable to finish. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Yes.” She looked at the yellow and orange lilies along the fence, which she’d liberated from a bank of weeds a couple of weeks ago. “I heard you took a job in Manhattan.”

Harry must’ve told her. “Yeah.”

“It sounds perfect for you. Congratulations.”

And there it was. “Thanks. They just called. Last week.”

She nodded, glancing at him, then away again. “James, I’m sorry about the conversation the other night. I was…I don’t know. Caught up in the whole summer-romance thing. Sorry if I seemed like another desperate single woman talking babies. The truth is, I don’t want any more kids. One’s enough, right?”

“Yeah. Sure, he’s a great kid.” He glanced at the house. “Anything else you need me to do here?” he asked.

“No. Thank you. You were so helpful, James.”

He nodded. “Well, I’ll probably see you before you head back for Rhode Island. I have to help Dewey with a couple things, so I’ll be around. I’ll…I’ll pick up Apollo before I go.”

“Thank you.”

And with that, he went back to his truck and backed out of the driveway.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

IT DIDN’T FEEL RIGHT, having the summer end like this.

Three days after Nicky’s incident, and Parker was still tense. She hadn’t seen James, though he’d come by when she was out and taken Apollo, leaving her a note that only said to call if she needed anything. On the house front, there’d been only one solid offer, so she supposed she’d have to take it, though it wasn’t a heck of a lot. Another couple had made a higher offer, but they had to sell their own place first, and time was of the essence for this sale. She and Nicky needed to get back to Rhode Island, settle into the new place. Two college friends said they could hook her up with a job—insurance or technical writing.

She really couldn’t picture doing either one. Then again, she hadn’t been able to picture fixing a leaky toilet before this summer, and she’d managed to do that.

They were leaving on Monday; today was Saturday. There’d be less traffic—more time to pack, not that there was much to pack up. Maybe she was stalling. She didn’t know.

Nicky, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to go. He’d been sullen since the night he hid, kept asking when he could go back to Daddy, and was generally rubbing Parker’s last nerve to a bloody nub. She found herself counting the hours till bedtime, then feeling like a horrible parent because she was so eager for her child to go to sleep.

It was Parker’s last day at the shop. There was a funeral in the next town, and she and Vin were making huge, somber arrangements. Well, Parker was; Vin was having a smoke, watching Nicky draw on the sidewalk with chalk through the window while Beauty kept him company.

“You gonna forgive that boy?” Lavinia asked abruptly.

“Nicky?”

“No, Parker. Jamie Cahill.”

“Oh.” She paused. “There was nothing to forgive. It really wasn’t his fault.”

“Well, he sure looks miserable. Saw him at Dewey’s last night. You dumped him, didn’t you?”

Parker glanced up, then resumed stripping the leaves from a stalk of gladiola. “No. It ended. He took a job in New York. I’m going back to Rhode Island. That’s all.”

Vin took a deep drag on her cigarette. “Coulda fooled me. The kid looks like what’s-his-name. Spartacus?”

“Spartacus?”

“What’s-his-name. The guy who turned in Jesus.”

“Judas.”

“Ayuh. That one. Guilty.”

“Well, he has nothing to feel guilty about. Here. I’m done.”

Lavinia turned her attention to the arrangement. “Shit, that’s real nice.” She frowned, her face creasing like a shar-pei’s. “I’ll miss you, Parker. Nicky, too.”

Parker’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I’ll miss you, too, Vin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you this summer.”

“Ah, you would’ve figured something out. Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

Parker hugged her, trying not to breathe in the scent of smoke. “Will you come visit me? Maybe for Thanksgiving?”

Lavinia tilted her head. “That’d be great, Parker. You mean it?”

“Absolutely. Please come.”

Her cousin smiled. “Then sure. Being as we’re family and all. Okay, gotta get this over to the church. I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow. I’m making clam hash. Don’t make that face—you’ll love it.”

That afternoon, as Parker was reading David Gets in Trouble to Nicky, he suddenly pulled on her sleeve. “Mommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

Her son’s face was somber, his hands clenching his Obi-Wan and Darth Maul figurines. “I heard James calling me, and I didn’t want him to find me.”

She closed the book. “Why not?”

“Because I dunno.” Nicky looked at his lap and made Darth Maul take a stab at Obi-Wan.

“You must know a little. Weren’t you having fun together?”

“Sort of. Not really. He told me I couldn’t use the nail gun. And I already did use it, and I know how.”

“Well, if James said no, that was the end of it, Nicky. You don’t run away and hide because you didn’t get your way! Daddy and I have both talked to you about this.”

“He’s not you or Daddy. So he’s not the boss of me.” Nicky slammed the figurines together, his mouth obstinate.

Ah. “No, he’s not Mommy or Daddy,” she said, gently turning his face so he had to look at her. “But he was the grown-up in charge, and, Nicky, you scared him! Did you know he thought you were in the ocean? He went swimming to look for you, honey. In the cold, cold water.”

Nicky’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to scare him. I wanted to hide and have him be sorry he bossed me. I took the nail gun, but I didn’t even use it. I listened. And then I felled asleep. It was hot under there.” His mouth wobbled and two tears slipped down his chubby cheeks.

Parker took a deep breath. “Okay, honey. Thank you for telling me. Will you tell James you’re sorry?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

She didn’t think that was true, but it was a moot point. He was heading for New York. The end. “You still have to apologize. You can write him a note and draw a picture if you’d rather do that.”

“Okay.” Nicky scrambled off the couch and ran into his room, slamming the door. “Sorry!” he yelled.

Parker sat for a moment, stroking Beauty’s head. Maybe Lavinia would babysit for an hour or two after dinner. Because despite the job in Manhattan, despite the fact that she’d made a fool of herself with talk of babies to a man who clearly didn’t want any, Parker didn’t want James to think that Nicky’s disappearance had been in any way his fault.

Vin came over for dinner and was more than happy to babysit. Parker smiled, watching the two of them; Vin was teaching her son poker. Her cousin was definitely an unexpected benefit of this summer.

She decided to walk into town, realizing abruptly how much she’d miss Gideon’s Cove, the constantly changing sounds of the ocean, the rush of wind through the sea grass, the sweet smells of Maggie’s baking that drifted from Joe’s Diner each morning. She’d miss the cries of seagulls and the rumble of the small fleet coming in each night.

She’d miss the people, who’d welcomed her without a second thought, without judgment.

Mostly, she’d miss James.

She never thought she could be that type of woman, who blushed when a man smiled at her. Who felt a man’s presence before she could see him.

That moment at the lake when he’d said he loved her…that was one of the happiest moments of her life. It was shocking, the impact of those words.

Well, hell. She seemed to be crying a little bit.

She wiped her eyes and peeked inside the window of Dewey’s. James might be there, after all. Apparently not. Seemed as if the rest of the town was, though. Parker could see Maggie talking animatedly, her hands flying, as Malone looked at her, a faint smile on his face, radiating Satisfied Alpha Male. Chantal and Jonah were there, cuddled against one another, and Christy and her husband. The waitress from the diner who never seemed to wait tables. Beth Seymour, who’d tricked her into taking Beauty. She owed Beth a drink, that was for sure. There was Dewey, squeezing between tables, pausing at the table to talk to Rolly, Ben and Stuart. Collier Rhodes was with them, no doubt getting his fill of local color, schmoozing with—and probably boring—the working class.

Was that how she’d been in Mackerly? Gracing the masses with her presence, swooping in from Grayhurst occasionally to buy a round at Lenny’s? That wasn’t how it felt, but it might’ve been how it seemed. She’d always been grateful to live in Mackerly; grateful to have an in via Ethan and Lucy and their families. She lived in Grayhurst because it was there, and it held some happy memories. Some bad memories, too, but more of the happy variety. She hoped she hadn’t seemed like a snob, or worse, an idiot.

Well. Time to see James and say goodbye.

The thought hurt so much it pushed the air from her lungs. She didn’t want to say goodbye to James. She didn’t want him to go to Manhattan and become a Harry. He was better than that.

Besides, she loved him. The incident with Nicky—she was past that. They could both get past that, hopefully. In her pocket was Nicky’s note: a drawing of Beauty holding Apollo in her mouth—it looked as if Beauty was eating the python, but no, Nicky had informed her Apollo was simply getting a ride—and the words I’m sorry James from Nicholas Giacomo Mirabelli.

She went onto the porch of the two-family house where he was staying and paused, looking in the window of the first floor; the little old lady who lived on the bottom floor of the house was sleeping in front of her huge TV, where a slasher flick was playing in gruesome detail. Parker smiled a little, then went up the stairs to James’s apartment.

She knocked, albeit very quietly. Her heart was pounding rather erratically in her chest. Crikey, it was terrifying, this…this vulnerability. But he’d said he loved her. That had to count for something.