Chapter 6
Six
March 9
Her inattentive husband aside, I envy Suzanne. Staying in St. John indefinitely would be the fulfillment of a dream I didn’t know I had but for two things. Well, three. First, I’d lose any chances to run into the boys in town or even to get them back. Two, I’d have to find a job. Island life isn’t cheap. And third? I shrink against the rock wall adjacent to the road as another vehicle roars past. Driving on the wrong side of the road.
Habit has me walking on the left side of the road, and back in Kennebunk, I’d be facing oncoming traffic. Here, though, I’m always surprised by a vehicle approaching from behind. Once they’re safely past me, I scurry across to the other side so I’m traveling against traffic. I’m in constant fear of being hit by a Jeep while I walk, yet I can’t seem to break my habit.
St. John has been occupied for centuries, and the roads expanded for motor vehicles have eaten up sidewalks and shoulders. When I walk into town, I press against thick brush or stone walls to make myself as small as possible. There is no room for error. Nowhere for me to go if I realize at the last minute that I’m in the wrong and need to get out of the way.
This morning, a rumbling stomach woke me up, interrupting a wonderful dream of eating waffles. I stumbled over to the fridge to see if there might be anything to eat. But when I opened the door, it contained the same juice and soda it had yesterday. I grabbed a bottle of a juice blend, hoping the sugar and light pulp would quiet my stomach temporarily.
I changed into a T-shirt and cutoffs and slid into my flip-flops and headed out to a little café just a short walk away.
I’m nearing the café when I hear a horn blast.
Beep, beep, be-ep, be-ep.
I flatten myself against the wall so I won’t get hit by a driver traveling the narrow road. As the vehicle nears, I recognize the deafening sound of a missing exhaust. When it stops next to me, I’m relieved to see Jack behind the wheel, his body vibrating with the rough engine. He waves a hand and smiles, but it’s not the sun-rivaling brilliance I’ve seen from him before. Jack checks that no one is behind him or ahead, then turns off the engine.
“These roads aren’t safe for you, Isa,” he calls. “Jump in! I’ll take ya where you need to go.” He swallows. Looks down, then back up at me. “That is, if you forgive me.”
I made up my mind that I wouldn’t spend more time with Jack, but he seems contrite, and until he sang that song, I’d felt more like myself than I had in years. So maybe the safest decision is to accept the offer of a ride. I survived our previous trips together, though his Jeep looks like it’s falling apart.
Peeling myself off the stone, I brush myself off and carefully cross the road and round the front of the Jeep. I climb inside, then snap on my seat belt before I do anything else.
“I’m so glad to see you! These roads scare me.”
“I wasn’t expecting you would ever talk to me again,” he says.
“I forgive you,” I blurt out. Jack’s face brightens. “Thank you for leaving me alone last night.”
His eyebrows knit in confusion.
“You didn’t blow up my phone begging for forgiveness,” I say. “Well, after you blew up my phone earlier in the evening, I mean.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I know you are. Your song was really nice. It was just awful of you to read my private thoughts.”
“I apologize, and I won’t sing it again until you say it’s okay for me to sing.”
My heart swells. This is how it’s supposed to be. Jack is remorseful. Ben never showed remorse.
Jack’s eyes crease in the corners as he squints against the morning sun. “Where are we going?”
“Well, I had a dream about waffles. I’m so hungry.” I sit back in my seat and grab the oh shit handle as Jack puts his hand on the key. I don’t want to think I’m going to die every time a vehicle passes us, but I know it’s a high likelihood I will. “I was headed somewhere to get breakfast.”
“Just waffles?”
“Yep, but I don’t have the budget for Snorkels, so I was hoping the café up the road would have some more in my price range.”
“I know just the place.”
Jack turns the key and puts the Jeep in gear. As we drive, I can’t hear anything else he says. I just smile and nod and hold on for the ride. When an oncoming Jeep passes us, Jack beeps and waves, returning the beep and wave from the other driver.
Minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of a cute little shack-type eatery that overlooks Galge Cove. Jack turns off the ignition and takes my hand. His hand is warm and strong, and the calluses on his fingers, which I now know are from playing guitar, are rough against my skin. Butterflies spring to life in my stomach, and I realize I’m nervous, but also incredibly excited. We made it through our first disagreement. See Suzanne , I imagine saying to her. He’s just a respectful, helpful gentleman. Nothing else to see here.
“I’m so glad I ran into you this morning,” he says with a squeeze of my hand.
“I’m glad you didn’t run into me.” I pull my hand from his. “But I’m happy to see you. I’m starving!”
“Let’s get ya fed.” He leads me around to the back of the building. Its large, covered deck high up on the hill has a beautiful view of the bay.
“Are there any restaurants here that don’t have a perfect view of the water?” I don’t think I could ever get used to how beautiful this island is.
“Would you like to sit over here?” Jack guides me to the high top at the far edge of the deck, away from the few diners who are enjoying a late breakfast of their own. “Is this OK?” I nod, and he pulls my chair out for me.
“Thank you.” He helps me climb up on the tall chair, then sits down across from me.
A server approaches immediately. “Hello, Mr. Kendall.” This man knows Jack too? He turns to me. “May I bring you some coffee?”
“Yes, that sounds perfect. Thank you.”
“Make that two,” Jack adds. The waiter sets menus on the table and hurries away.
“Is there anywhere on the island that people don’t know you?” I look at him with curiosity and a little bit of amazement. This is Jack Kendall, performer of some of my favorite songs, but I had no idea who he was. And for some reason, he likes spending time with me.
“It’s a small island, like I told ya, so everyone who lives here knows everyone else.”
“I know. But like when we were driving and the guy beeped, and you beeped back.”
“That’s what everyone does here regardless of whether you know the person or not. Besides, it’s not just an island thing. It’s a Jeep thing.”
“Well, you should stop it.”
Jack chuckles as the server sets down coffees, an assortment of sweeteners, and an insulated pitcher of cream. “Why?” I indicate the pitcher, and Jack proceeds to add cream to my coffee before handing it to me.
“Well, it’s dangerous. Beeping your horn all the time could set your airbag off.” At least, that’s what I’ve been told. All I can think of is him beeping the horn for some frivolous reason and the steering wheel exploding in his face, breaking his beautiful nose and front teeth.
Jack is outright laughing at me. “That’s not how airbags work, but even if they did, ya don’t have to worry. My Jeep doesn’t have airbags.”
“What? It doesn’t have any airbags?” My brow lowers and my voice flattens. “It’s more dangerous than I thought.”
“Don’t worry. I’m a good driver. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not your driving that worries me, it’s your vehicle.”
I can’t believe I’m arguing with a country music star about his car, or that he’s being so nice about it. Ben would have never allowed it.
For something to do, I look through the menu, and I’m glad I did. This kitchen offers waffles with mango syrup and mango-glazed bacon. I’ve learned on my trip that I like mango, so I’m all in on those two items. Our server comes back to take our order, and I sip my coffee while Jack orders for us. My stomach grumbles with the words “waffles” and “bacon.”
“May I bring you anything else? Perhaps one of our morning cocktails?” The server is almost too polite and professional for this casual restaurant.
Jack and I look at each other. “Isa, would you like anything? You are on vacation.”
“I will if you will.” I shrug and set my coffee down. It appears I set a precedent at Snorkels.
“Let’s make it a trifecta for my guest. Two mimosas, mango if you have it. Thank you.” The server confirms mango mimosas are indeed available, then walks off, leaving us to stare at each other.
This is now the fifth time I’ve seen Jack, and every time, I’ve noticed something new about him. Today, his hair has caught my attention. It’s a silly thing to focus on, but he really does have nice hair. I’m glad he doesn’t wear a hat like some men do.
“So.” Jack reaches both hands across the table, palms up. I’ve also noticed he likes to touch. I think of what Suzanne said about Jack always having a different woman on his arm. He’s spent time with me—even wrote me a song, misguided as he was—and treated me to breakfast twice now. I’m sure my time with him is up soon, so I’ll enjoy the royal treatment while I can. I slip my hands into his and grin. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?”
“I was just gonna get something to eat and then go back to the beach.” My thumbs stroke his knuckles. “I picked up a notebook, an actual journal, at the stationery store near the library. Also bought a glue stick and pasted those sheets in it so I don’t lose them. I’m going to do some more journaling this afternoon when the sun gets too hot.”
“Why don’t ya hang out with me today?” Jack smiles warmly at me. “I want to show ya the island.”
“You don’t have anything better to do than show some tourist around?” I laugh at the word “tourist” because I’m enjoying my new identity.
“I would like nothing else. I can’t think of a more perfect way to spend my day.”
The server returns with our mimosas. “Your meals should not be long.”
“Thank you,” I say, realizing how hungry I am as he leaves.
“Sounds like fun. I’d love to go,” I say to Jack. “But what about your dog. Bingo, was it?”
He smiles, and my heart skips a beat. His smiles make me feel special. They’re real smiles, not the practiced, professional one he used with Suzanne.
“Thank ya kindly for asking after my pup. His name’s Ringo, and he’s well cared for.”
Our meals arrive and I dig in, drowning my waffles in mango syrup and spreading around the real whipped cream before I take a massive bite.
“Mmph-mm,” I say, my mouth too full to speak.
Jack laughs. “I take it you like them?”
I nod emphatically, and swallow. “Oh my gosh, they’re so goooood! Crispy and fluffy and the sweet-tart sauce?” I groan. “I could eat these every day.”
“I like a woman who likes to eat. I’m enjoying watching you enjoy yourself.” His words finish on a growl and heat flares low in my belly. My heart thumps. “I like a woman who appreciates good… food.”
My mimosa is in my hand and I’ve swallowed a huge gulp before I know it. Did I say I was feeling heat? I didn’t know I could incinerate this quickly. Maybe Suzanne was right about Jack. “Oh, well, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” My voice is light and floaty, almost as if it’s coming from outside my body.
Jack shifts in his chair, stretching out his legs, then asks, “How’s your bacon?”
I snap a piece of the caramelized meat between my teeth and savor its layers of flavors. “So good.”
Our meal finished, we head out to the Jeep. “Please, don’t beep the horn,” I beg before Jack turns the key and won’t be able to hear me.
“If it makes ya feel safer, I won’t.”
I’m reaching for my seat belt when, “Isa Lane,” Jack says solemnly. A peal of laughter erupts from me, and I turn toward Jack.
“Silly goo—” His expression is more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “What? What’s the matter?” Now I’m worried. Is he upset about my fear of an overused car horn? I know now it’s irrational—I don’t think Jack would’ve lied to me about how an airbag, of all things, works—but I can’t help my fear.
But no, he gently lays a hand on my knee and cradles my face with the other. I can’t move. Is this really happening? Is Jack Kendall about to kiss me?
“Is this OK?”
I nod, knowing what’s coming but not able to stop it. I don’t want to stop it. Oh God, I’ve been divorced just a month and now?—
His lips cover mine. Softly. Tenderly. I allow my eyes to close as I savor this kind connection. It’s warm. And safe. That thought thrills me even more than the arousal that floods my body. My heart races, and I reach for his neck to hold him close. I’ve just begun to open my mouth to deepen the kiss when a Jeep pulls into the spot next to us, destroying our moment.
“You’re so sweet,” Jack murmurs in a low voice as he backs off.
“That’s the mango syrup,” I reply, breathless.
We settle into our respective seats and Jack turns the ignition, the biggest grin on his face. The cacophony of a mufflerless combustion engine starts right up. “Buckle up!” I shout, and we pull onto the narrow road where he found me earlier this morning.
Jack drives us along the scenic island loop that follows the perimeter of St. John. Every time we arrive at a beautiful beach or an overlook with a breathtaking view, Jack stops the Jeep and we get out to gaze at the view or explore. Signs posted around the island remind us not to leave trash or take shells or coral as souvenirs. I focus on collecting memories instead.
Jack tells me facts he’s collected over the years he’s stayed on St. John, punctuating the trivia with kisses on my cheeks, my forehead, and once even my nose. I wonder what he’s thinking, why he won’t kiss me for real like he did back at the breakfast shack. Is he finally realizing I’m too young and naive?
Jack pulls over near a group of imposing buildings and athletic fields and turns off the noise. “What’s this place?” I ask.
“It’s the Gifft Hill School.” Jack puts on his tour guide voice. “It’s a private school. Preschool to twelfth grade. If I had kids and lived here full time, they would attend here.”
That last bit sounded wistful. The jovial Jack that was here a minute ago is gone.
“Do you want kids?”
“I don’t have any that I’m aware of anyway. Besides, it wouldn’t have been fair with my lifestyle and all. I do have regrets.”
“There’s still time. You can still have a family.”
“Oh, I wish I could.” He looks at me. “I have a confession, but I don’t want ya to run.”
Sound ominous. “What?”
“You’re young. A lot younger than me.” I nod. “And you must know I’m enjoying our time together. What I’m going to say might make ya think bad of me.” He pounds his fists on his muscular thighs as he heaves a breath. “I had a vasectomy early on in my career. I didn’t want to risk fathering a child with someone who…”
“I can fill in the blanks.” I’m torn between excitement that Jack enjoys my company and sympathy for him.
“I led a fast life, never settled down.”
“And now?”
“And now, I’m tired. I missed out on a lot. Don’t get me wrong—I’ve had a great life. I love singing, but I’ve missed out on having a family. So, I had a revision.”
“A revision? They can do that?”
“The doctors reversed the vasectomy. Well, they tried, at least. They don’t think they were successful. There was a lot of scar tissue.” Jack’s blue eyes dull as he stares down at his empty hands. “I was hoping to meet someone and…”
How does he know that the revision didn’t work? Is there some sort of test? Or did he try to start a family with someone and it didn’t work out? I have so many questions, but it’s not the right time to ask.
“Why can’t you still have both?” I meet his eyes. From what I’ve seen, he could be a wonderful husband. He’d treat his wife miles better than Ben treated me on his best day.
“It wouldn’t be fair.” Jack shrugs and looks out at the school. “A wife and babies now? Men my age are becoming grandparents, not first-time dads.” Jack sighs. “I don’t want to be selfish.”
“Then don’t be.” For a man with the resources I assume he has, parenting would be a breeze. “Jack, there are plenty of things you can do.”
Funny that I’m the one giving advice. But what I’ve gone through has made me stronger,
“What do you mean?” he asks, his voice small.
“Do you want kids? I’m sure you could get a second opinion. Or adopt. Marry someone who already has kids.” I deliberately don't think about how I resemble that last option. “You could retire, write songs, write a book, open restaurants.” I make my voice light and teasing when I add, “You should be writing my ideas down.”
“I should be; you’re right.” Jack laughs. “It’s getting late, and we missed lunch. Wanna hit up our place for an early dinner on the beach?”
“Sounds delightful.”
As we busy ourselves with refastening our seat belts, I say, “You’re right, by the way. This is a nice school. If the teachers are as nice as the outside, I’d love to send my boys here. It’s so pretty and peaceful.” Although, with a tropical beach so close, how can the students get any studying done?
Jack grins at me before he starts up the Jeep and we head back to what I’m beginning to think of as home.
Sarah waves when we walk in. “Hi, guys!” We sit down in my usual spot, and she comes around from behind the bar to give me a hug. What a sweet person. Friend hugs feel good. “You got some sun on your cheeks.”
I check, and she’s right—the skin on my face is feeling toasty. I’ve been good about avoiding sunburn so far, but my luck might have just run out. “Jack took me on an impromptu tour of the coast road. I didn’t expect to be out so long, so I didn’t apply sunscreen. It’s worth it, though. The shoreline is so pretty.” I lean over and bump Jack’s shoulder with mine. “And this guy could have a second career as a tour guy.”
“Usual?” Sarah asks Jack, but it’s not really a question.
“Please.” There’s a stillness to him that worries me. What he told me must still be weighing on him. But as if he’s reading my mind, he sits back and says, “Enough about me. I’m depressing. Let’s talk about you.”
“You aren’t nearly as depressing as me,” I say. “I’m on vacation, so I hide it better.”
“Indefinite vacation?”
“I like to think of it as an ‘open-ended’ vacation.”
“Like an open-ended airline ticket?”
“Exactly.” I take a big sip of my drink and enjoy the warmth of the rum. “When I’m close to running out of money and if I still don’t have a plan, then it’s time to go back to Maine. But I don’t want to go back, so that should help me make a decision before then.”
“So we need to work on you too.” We smile like fools at each other, and as if by mutual agreement, set aside talk of serious things and just enjoy each other’s company. “Thanks for today.”
“What do you mean? You’re the one who drove me around. Thank you !” I reach over and give his hand a little squeeze.
We order spicy peel-and-eat shrimp for dinner. Eventually, the day catches up to me, and I’m ready for a nap.
“Walk me back to my villa?” I ask after returning from washing my hands.
“Sure. Let me make sure Sarah puts both our meals on my tab.”
My instinct is to protest—I don’t want Jack to think I’m spending time with him because he’s wealthy—but prudence wins out. Allowing Jack to pay allows me to conserve my cash, which means I can stay longer on the island.
“Thanks, Jack. See you tomorrow, Sarah?”
“I’ll be here.” Giving her a wave, we step out from under the thatch of the bar’s tiki-style roof and onto the beach.
Jack wraps his arm around me, and although the late afternoon sun is bright, I snuggle in. It’s been an emotional day. At my door, Jack turns toward me and looks deep into my eyes. This close, I can see dark flecks in his clear blue irises. There’s a bump on his nose; I wonder whether he broke it as a child.
“Thanks again, Isa.” I nod as he adds, “You don’t know how nice it is to have someone I can talk to, but vulnerable with. Your treatment of me hasn’t changed now that ya know who I am. You push back.” He grins, and the skin beside his eyes crinkles inro rays of happiness. “Give me hell about vehicle safety.” Then he sobers. “You’re someone who doesn’t have something to gain from me. You’re not angling for me to get your demo to my label, wear your latest Western fashion on tour, or have me sign fifteen T-shirts. Heck, I don’t even know whether ya like country music.”
“It’s OK.” I shrug, then laugh at his glum face. “Yes, silly, I like country music. I like your music. And I like spending time with you too.”
Then I prepare to do something I haven’t done in at least seven years. “Stay.”
“You want me to?” Jack asks, surprised.
“Yes, take a nap with me.”
I lead him into the villa, where I busy myself getting each of us a bottle of water. Jack undresses down to his boxers, and I shimmy out of my shorts and unhook my bra, letting it fall from under my T-shirt. We climb into my bed and lie facing each other.
“Hi.” I giggle.
“Hi,” he says and runs a finger over my eyebrow. “I like the way your pillows smell. Like you.”
“Is this pillow talk? I haven’t slept with anyone other than my ex.”
“Ever?”
I nod, shy, my senses on high alert. He likes my smell? Right back atcha. His scent is all that fills my nostrils.
Jack encourages me to roll over, then pulls me to himself, his arm solid and secure. “I’m just gonna hold ya.”
Our bodies fit perfectly together. His body aligns with my curves, leaving no space between us. Some people might find this claustrophobic, but not me, not today. I need to be touched, and I think Jack does too.
“You’re wrong,” I say with my eyes closed, half asleep.
“I am?”
Yawning, I mumble, “I do want something from you.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you make the Jeep a little safer, maybe put a door or two on.”
Jack chuckles. “I’ll see what I can do.” He squeezes me gently, and I can feel his breath on my shoulder as he speaks. “Now sleep, Isa Diane Cushing.”
“Nope, still not it.” And I drift to sleep.
“You’re perfect,” Jack whispers in my ear.
“Hmm?” I stretch, and he leans in to kiss my shoulder.
“Are you awake?”
“No.” I clench my eyes tight. “Go back to sleep.”
He props himself up on his elbow to lean over me. “Well, I’m wide awake.”
“What time is it?”
“Six-fifteen.” He runs his fingers down the length of my exposed arm to the tip of my index finger, my skin pebbling in his wake.
“That was the best nap I’ve ever had. I refuse to let it end,” I protest.
Jack snorts softly as he laces his fingers with mine. While we slept, my T-shirt scrunched up, exposing my back to Jack’s hard, naked chest. His body blazes with heat, and his heart beats steadily against my back.
“Sorry, but I need to go. A conference call with my producer.” He grimaces.
I roll to face him instead of continuing to strain to see him. “Have you told them you’re thinking of retiring?”
“Not yet. I’m still thinking about it.” He tugs on a lock of my hair. “But I’m thinking about something else now.”
“Oh, yeah?”
His fingers wake my nerves, sending pulses of electricity through my body as they travel down my side, tracing a path to my hip. He pauses when he comes to my white cotton panties. They’re more gray than white, having aged along with me. I’d splurged on sexy lingerie when Ben and I were dating, but after we married, there wasn’t any room in the budget to replace pieces as they wore out.
When I don’t resist Jack’s touch, he plays with the waistband. Running his teasing finger along the inside, sparks trailing his fingertips. My head might not be fully awake, but my nerve endings are making up for it.
Finally, his fingers move away from my waist, and I think I’ll finally get some relief from the electricity of his touch, but the ache that’s building low in my belly grows as he drapes his arm over me again and drags his hand up my back. The calluses from years of playing the guitar catch on each bump and hollow of my spine. He combs through my hair, stroking it before he brushes it away, exposing the side of my neck.
Jack leans down and kisses my sensitive skin, and my gasps push my breasts against his firm chest. The temperature in the room is warm, but I have chills. No chance of falling back to sleep now.
Jack’s arm muscles flex as hugs me, and I can feel that he’s hard, pressing against my thigh.
“I wasn’t expecting this,” I say softly, not wanting to spoil the mood. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’ve wanted you since I bumped into you that day in the water.”
“Really?” I’m sure I looked a mess next to his spectacular good looks.
“When I saw you later, I knew I had to get to know you better.” He kisses behind my ear, his breath stirring my hair. More chills. “When I saw you, my heart raced. I didn’t know what to say. I felt like an awkward school boy.”
I giggle and relax into his hold. “I thought you were an Olympic swimmer.” Feeling brave, I place my hand on his side, and the soft skin twitches under my palm. “A hot Olympic swimmer.”
Jack moves his hand to my belly just above my panties. I release his body—his hard, muscular body—and guide his hand beneath the cotton, letting him feel how wet he’s made me.
“I guess you like hot Olympic swimmers.”