Summer on Lovers' Island (Jewell Cove 3)

“When I was deployed, I used to love looking at the stars. It kind of linked me to back home, you know? Because I’d look up into the darkness and know that back here, the people I loved could see the stars, too. It doesn’t make much sense, with time and hemisphere differences, but there you go.”

She imagined him doing that and once more realized that there was far more to Josh than met the eye. “Josh?”

“Hmmm?”

“When I’m nervous or unsure I tend to get … officious. That morning when I first arrived, and I thought you were the janitor? I was embarrassed. I know sometimes people think I’m stuck-up. I’m really not.”

Josh turned his head and looked at her. “A few weeks here has started to thaw you out,” he replied, and it was hard to tell in the darkness, but she thought he winked at her. “I’m glad you’re here, Lizzie. Now, are you ready to go home?”

“I think so.” She sat up, pulled her knees into her chest. “This was really nice, though. Maybe I have been wound a little too tight.”

“Ya think?” he joked, hopping down from the tailgate. He extended his hand to help her, but she sent him a grin instead and jumped down herself.

They were soon back in the truck, slowly descending the hill. Lizzie looked closer at Abby’s house and shook her head. “Wow, that really is a showpiece, isn’t it?”

“Yup. Years ago, her great-aunt Marian ran a home for unwed mothers there. She left it to Abby when she died, but it needed a lot of work. Last year, we had our Fourth of July celebrations there, a real garden party with servants in period dress and everything.”

“She seems nice.”

“She is.”

Lizzie looked over, and a shadow had come over Josh’s face. “Hmm. Bit of a story there?”

He perked up. “A long story, and a fairly convoluted one. The most important thing is that she and Tom are really happy. “

And Josh wasn’t. He didn’t have to say the words for her to know. This whole side trip tonight hadn’t just been for her, she realized. He’d needed the space, too. Josh was more complicated than she had originally thought. Maybe it was the death of his wife. That had to be a terrible thing to try to get over, but she wasn’t going to ask him. That would be prying into something incredibly personal. Even if they were becoming friends, they’d bared enough of their souls for one night.

She could still barely believe that she’d told him about the baby … but then, he’d already known, hadn’t he?

He turned back onto the main road, and it was only a few minutes and they were at her cottage. It was dark inside and out, as she’d never thought to turn on the outside light before she left this morning. For a quick moment she considered asking him in for a drink, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea and they’d already spent a fair bit of time together tonight. “Thanks for the lift,” she said, injecting her voice with false enthusiasm.

“Anytime,” he replied, leaving the truck running. “I’ll see you at work.”

“Yes, boss,” she joked, but the silence turned uncomfortable. For a while tonight they’d both forgotten that he was her boss. The whole situation seemed so strange, so foreign. So very far away from what her life had become.

He waited until she got inside before backing out of her driveway and heading back to town.

CHAPTER 7

The hallway was cool and clean and Lizzie knew she should feel comfortable in this, a medical setting. But she didn’t. The facility her mom now called home wasn’t like a regular hospital. Sure, there were doctors and nursing staff, and Lizzie would meet with them after and discuss dosages and progress and all the other factual elements of her mother’s illness.

But the truth was, Lizzie’s mom lived here. She lived in a room and had her meals provided and her needs catered to. As a doctor, Lizzie knew this had been the right decision for her mom’s day-to-day care.

As a daughter, she felt guilty as hell.

Lizzie paused outside the doorway, then poked her head around the corner. She never really knew if she’d find her mother at home in her room or a stranger who didn’t recognize her. Today Rosemary was sitting in a chair by the window, staring outside while a skein of yarn and a crochet needle sat abandoned on her lap.

“Hello!” Lizzie called lightly, stepping to the doorway.

Rosemary Howard turned her head and a smile lit her face. “Elizabeth. Hello, dear.”

Relief rushed through Lizzie. Her mom’s eyes seemed clear and sharp, her smile genuine and not confused. “Hi, Mom.” Lizzie held up a little vase. “I brought you some lilacs.”

“Oh, they’re beautiful. Let me smell.” Rosemary was only sixty-five, but when she got up Lizzie could tell her hips and knees were stiff. Lizzie held out the vase and watched with bittersweet pleasure as her mom took the flowers and buried her nose in the fragrant blossoms. “I love lilacs. Where did you get them?”

Rosemary put them on her windowsill and Lizzie put down her purse. “Actually, I snipped them from the bush at the cottage where I’m staying. It’s the last of them, I’m afraid. Next time I’ll bring some roses from the bushes there.”

“Lizzie, are you gardening?” Her mom’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and they both moved to the seating area provided in the room, a little cozy spot with a television, a small bookshelf, and a side table that currently held a few puzzle books Lizzie kept bringing to help keep her mom’s mind sharp. Sudoku was her favorite.