The first time she’d seen John Peterson was when she was prepubescent and he briefly made an appearance at Cara and Grandmama Lovie’s Fourth of July party. He and his brother, James, Emmi’s sons, had made a command appearance. All she remembered was some cute, tall, and very rude teenager who had stayed long enough to do family service, wolf down food, and make a hasty exit.
When she’d spied him on the beach some ten years later, she was a woman, and he was a man. A handsome surfer, all tanned muscles and salt-stiffed hair. He’d grabbed her wayward surfboard, offered her one of his signature crooked smiles, and she was done for. It had been a long time since she’d met someone who sparked an immediate attraction. She’d spent the rest of the summer reeling him in. He was a tough fish to angle, too. She knew from the start that John was heading back to California, that he was, as Cara liked to say, a lone swimmer. But there’d always been a line between them—indefinable but very real… very strong. She’d thought she’d at last severed it, but seeing him standing in front of her she felt the strong tug again and was furious at her traitorous body for the response. Her mind screamed for her to cut and run.
“How long have you been standing there?” Linnea demanded.
“Not long. Just long enough to hear that you’ve gotten over me.” His forced smile was sad.
His voice, so familiar, reverberated through her. She’d recognize it in a crowded room. The faint Southern accent was still there despite his years on the West Coast. She lifted her chin, bolstering her confidence. “Then I think you’ve heard all I have to say.”
“Linnea…” John began, taking one step forward with his arm extended. Then he stopped, keeping his distance. They both knew it was because of the virus. He dropped his arm. “Hear me out.”
She looked away and shrugged as though to say no big deal.
Emmi awkwardly cleared her throat and said, “I’m going inside.” She passed them with her eyes downward, making a hasty exit.
“Will you talk to me?” John asked. “Please.”
Linnea looked at him again. His forehead was creased over pleading eyes. She put her arms around herself in a protective gesture, took a deep breath.
“Just a few minutes,” John said. When she didn’t reply, he added, “You can give me a few minutes, can’t you?”
She waited, saw his hands clench at his thighs—then said, “Let’s go out to the driveway.” She gave a barely perceptible nod toward Emmi.
John followed her out of the garden into the driveway so they could talk in private. When they stopped, he said, “Linnea, it’s been a hard year. I’ve missed you.” He lifted his shoulders. “I could stand here for hours and tell you all the ways I’ve missed you.”
“John…” she said on a breath. “Just don’t.” Hearing all this pained her. Linnea had worked so hard to forget. She shook her head. “It’s too late.”
“I tried calling you. Writing you. Texting.” He paused, then cracked a half-smile. “Didn’t you get my paper airplane?”
She wasn’t in the mood to laugh.
He paused and raised his eyes to the brilliant blue sky. “Look, I know I messed things up. Big-time. It’s like that old saying, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” He paused then said, “I’m sorry, Linnea.”
He fell quiet and looked at her, waiting for some reply.
Linnea considered her words. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how he’d devastated her. “I appreciate you telling me all this. It helps, oddly enough. For what it’s worth, I had a pretty tough year myself.” She looked at her nails. “But there’s another old saying. Time heals all wounds. I’m okay now. Really.” She looked at him squarely. “I’m fine.”
She began walking toward her door. She was eager to leave. Needed to leave. She stopped when she felt his hand on her arm. She swung her head around to glare at him.
John raised his hands and stepped farther back. “I’m six feet away. You’re safe.”
She looked into his eyes and wondered if he’d intended the double entendre. Did she ever feel safe with him?
“So… Are we friends at least?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she replied without returning his smile.
“Hey, I’ll take it,” John said, smiling. “It’s a start.”
“Don’t misunderstand,” Linnea said coolly. “I’m with someone else.”
Her words wiped the smile from his face, replaced by stunned surprise. As she turned and walked back to the cottage, she couldn’t deny she was glad to see it.
* * *
“TIME TO SAY good-bye to Daddy.”
Cara stood at her bedroom door with Hope. She rested her hand upon the wood. “Honey, are you there?”
“I’m here,” came the familiar voice of her husband.
“Daddy!” exclaimed Hope. “I’m going to stay with Linnea for a few days.”
“Oh, that’s a treat,” came David’s voice through the door.
Cara imagined him standing there, hand on the wood like hers, feeling the same mixed emotions about this farewell. Seeing her daughter’s enthusiasm, she knew the child didn’t understand what was really going on.
“Open the door, Daddy.”
“He can’t, sweetheart,” Cara said. “It’s the germs, remember?”
Hope nodded, but her face revealed both puzzlement and frustration.
“Good-bye Hope,” David called out. “I’ll call you every day. We can FaceTime. You’re going to have a lot of fun with Linnea.”
“Okay,” Hope said in a wavering voice. Suddenly she began to grasp she was leaving home.
“Time to go!” Cara exclaimed cheerily. “I’ll be back soon,” she told David. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m good.” He cleared his throat. “Just take care of Hope.”
She leaned forward, her gold band catching the light against the wood, and kissed the door. “I will.”
* * *
LINNEA WALKED FROM room to room of the beach house, turning on lights. The sky was overcast, making the day seem gloomy. She wanted the house to look cheery when Hope arrived.
As she bent to turn on the lamp in the living room, she caught the scent of Murphy Oil Soap and lemony furniture wax. She’d scrubbed and polished every inch of the cottage so it would be spanking clean for Hope. No germs welcome here. Cara was Linnea’s landlord as well as her aunt. She’d been so generous, and Linnea was glad to have this opportunity to do something for her.
On the coffee table she spied the new games she’d purchased to play with Hope: Monopoly Junior, Zingo!, Simon, Candy Land, and Chutes and Ladders. She and Cooper had loved board games growing up, and she had to admit she looked forward to playing again. She walked down the hall to Hope’s bedroom.
What a history this one room had, she thought, entering. This had originally been Cara’s bedroom, where she’d spent summers growing up. When Cara had returned at forty years of age to stay with her mother, she’d slept once again in this room. Then after her mother died, Cara moved into the master bedroom and in time, this became Hope’s room—all pink with white nursery furnishings. Now they lived across the street in their large home on Ocean Boulevard, but the pink walls of this room remained. Instead of nursery furniture, Cara’s old black-iron double bed was back. And now Hope was returning to visit. Cara had bought a new coverlet with a ruffled hem and shams covered with pink kisses and hearts.