Dream Lake (Friday Harbor 3)

“Yes.”

He sank his hand into her hair and tilted her head back. He looked into her eyes with a sober intensity that she couldn’t doubt. “I want those things, too.”

She had been shaking with nerves and fear before, but she felt shaky in a new way now, because she understood that he meant it.

His mouth caressed hers, a searing pressure that lingered until her knees went weak. “We’ll take it at your pace,” he said. “As fast or slow as you want.”

“I don’t want to wait,” she told him, her hands creeping up his warm, hard back. “I don’t want to spend a night without you ever again. I want to move in together right away, and get engaged, and set a wedding date, and …” She stopped and gave him a sheepish glance. “Is that too fast?”

Alex laughed quietly. “I can keep up,” he assured her, and took her to bed.

Alex awakened in a wash of morning light. He lay still, relishing the feeling of waking up in Zoë’s bed, his head half buried in lavender-scented pillows. His arm swept across the white sheets, reaching for her, but all his hand encountered was empty space.

“Zoë’s in the kitchen,” he heard Tom say.

Opening his eyes, Alex did a double take as he saw that Tom wasn’t alone. A slender young woman stood beside him, their hands clasped. Her blond hair was arranged in smooth curls and parted on the side. She had a lovely, slightly angular face, her eyes bright with intelligence.

Alex sat up slowly, keeping the sheet pulled up to his waist. “Good morning,” he said, dazed.

She gave him a familiar smile of mischief. It was more than a little disconcerting to see Emma’s smile in this drastically younger version of herself. “Good morning, Alex.”

His wondering gaze slid over the two of them. The air was luminous with happiness, emotion translated to light. Tom had lost the ever-present shadow of loneliness, his dark eyes snapping with joyful vitality.

“Everything’s okay, then,” Alex said, giving them both a questioning glance.

“Glorious,” Emma said. “Everything is the way it should be.”

Tom’s gaze lingered on Emma before returning to Alex. “We came to say good-bye,” he said. “We’ve got places to go.”

“Do you?” It hit Alex that the ghost was finally leaving him. They were both free. What Alex had never expected was that he would feel so forlorn at the prospect. “I’ve never been so damn glad to get rid of anyone,” he managed to say.

Tom grinned. “I’ll miss you, too.”

There were things Alex needed to say … I will never forget you and your obnoxious singing and smartass comments, and the way you saved my life. You became the friend I didn’t even know I needed. And you made me realize that the worst thing isn’t dying, but dying without ever having loved someone. However, it didn’t seem that they would have the time or opportunity to talk. And he saw from Tom’s gaze that he understood all of that, and more.

“Will I see you again?” Alex asked simply.

“Yeah,” Tom said, “but not for a while. You and Zoë have a long life ahead of you. And a big family to start on—two boys and a girl. And one of them is going to grow up to be—”

Emma interrupted hastily. “Alex, pretend you didn’t hear any of that.” Turning to Tom, she clicked her tongue reprovingly. “Still a troublemaker. You know you weren’t supposed to tell him anything.”

“It’s your job to keep me in line,” Tom told her.

“I’m not sure anyone could manage that,” she retorted. “You’re a tough case.”

Tom lowered his head to hers until their foreheads touched. “Not for you,” he murmured.

They were silent for a moment, their pleasure in each other’s company almost palpable.

“Let’s get going,” Tom murmured. “We’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

“About sixty-seven years,” she told him.

He smiled into her eyes. “We’d better get started, then.” Sliding an arm around Emma’s shoulders, he guided her to the doorway. Stopping at the threshold, they turned to look back at Alex.

He saw them through a sudden blur. He had to clear his throat roughly before he could speak. “Thanks. For everything.”

The other man smiled in understanding. “You and I both got it wrong, Alex: love does last. In fact … it’s the only thing that does.”

“Take care of Zoë,” Emma told him gently.

“I’ll make her happy,” Alex said in a gravelly voice. “I swear it.”

“I know you will.” She held his gaze for a long, affectionate moment. “Work on that foxtrot,” she eventually said, and gave him a wink.

The next moment, they were gone.

Putting on his jeans, Alex went barefoot to the kitchen, where a pot of coffee was brewing. But Zoë wasn’t there.

Seeing that the door to Emma’s room was ajar, he realized she had gone to check on her grandmother. He found Zoë sitting on the edge of the bed with her head bent. Although he couldn’t see her face, he could hardly miss the glitter of tears falling into her lap.

“Alex—” she said in a suffocated voice. “My grandmother—”

“I know, sweetheart.” He held out his arms, and she went to him at once. He wrapped her in his arms and murmured against her hair, telling her that he loved her, he would always be there for her. She buried her face against him and breathed in shuddering sighs, until her tears finally slowed.

After a while, Alex eased Zoë from the bedroom and closed the door. “She’s happy now,” he said, keeping an arm around her. “She wanted me to tell you that.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, looking bewildered.

“Very sure,” he replied firmly. “She’s with Tom.”

Zoë pondered that for a moment. “I don’t know anything about Tom.” She wiped a last smudge of moisture from her cheek. “I don’t know if I like the idea of her going off with a man I don’t know.”

Alex smiled down at her. “I can tell you a few things about him …”

Epilogue

A week after Emma’s funeral, Zoë went back to work at the inn. It was a beautiful September morning, sunny and clear. The farmers’ markets had begun to feature dazzling varieties of apples, along with squash, eggplant, carrots, and fennel. The orca pods had begun to travel farther away from the island as the salmon had finished their runs and reached the mainland spawning rivers. Wintering loons and ducks had begun island-hopping to feast on marine life, and bald eagles busied themselves with adding sticks to their massive nests.

As Zoë made breakfast, she wondered why it was so quiet at the inn. Justine had dashed in and out of the kitchen with barely a word to her. And although Alex had promised to stop by for breakfast after running a couple of errands, he still hadn’t shown up. The guests, for that matter, were oddly silent, with none of the usual conversation and clinking of coffee cups.

Before Zoë could venture out of the kitchen to find out what was going on, Justine appeared.

“Is breakfast ready?” Justine asked without preamble.

“It will be in about fifteen minutes.” Zoë gave her a quizzical smile. “What’s happening? Why is everyone so quiet?”

“Never mind that. Someone’s at the front door, asking for you.”

“Who is it?”

“Can’t tell you. Take off your apron and come with me.”

“Couldn’t you just send them back here?”

Justine shook her head and tugged Zoë along with her. They went through the hallways and into the empty dining room.

“Where are all the guests?” Zoë asked, mystified. “What did you do with them?”

Her question was answered by the sight of a crowd in the entrance hall. And they were all grinning at her. Zoë flushed as she realized they had gathered as a part of some surprise intended for her. “It’s not my birthday,“ she protested. Laughter rippled through the group. They parted, and the front door opened. Cautiously Zoë went out to the front porch.

Her eyes widened as a five-piece swing band began to play.

Alex emerged, handing her a small bouquet. He smiled down at her. “I arranged for us to have a dance.”

“I can see that.” Zoë took the bouquet, inhaled the fragrance of fresh flowers, and looked up at him with shining eyes. “Any particular reason?”

“Just wanted to practice my foxtrot.”

“All right.” Laughing, Zoë set the bouquet on a porch rail and went into his arms, letting him draw her into a smooth, easy dance. Other couples joined in, young and old, and passersby stopped to listen. A few children began to hop and swirl in time to the ebullient music. “Why this particular morning?” Zoë asked Alex. “And why on the front porch of the inn?”

“I’m in the mood to make a public declaration.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Leaning closer, Alex murmured in a confidential tone, “I have a present for you.”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket.”

Her brows lifted. “I hope it’s not a brooch. You could hurt yourself.”

Alex grinned. “It’s not a brooch. But before I give it to you, I need to know something. If I got down on one knee in front of all these people and asked you a yes-or-no question … what would you say?”

Zoë looked up into his warm blue eyes. They were eyes a woman could gaze into for a lifetime. She stopped dancing and stood on her toes to kiss him. “Try it and find out,” she whispered against his mouth.

And he did.