Wedding Day Baby, page 8
“Uh...no...well... Could you pour me a glass of milk?” she asked, sure he must hear the thunderous roar of her heart. “Help yourself to a beer, if you’d like one, or you’re welcome to open a bottle of wine.”
“Milk is fine,” he said, moving away to the fridge.
Maggie drew a steadying breath and turned her attention to cooking the ham steaks.
“This coleslaw is delicious,” Dylan said a little later as they sat at the table. “Do you serve your bed-and-breakfast customers evening meals, too?” he asked.
“Sometimes. But only for repeat or regular customers, like Richard and Bev,” Maggie said. “More often than not, I recommend one of the local restaurants.”
“So Grace Harbor is a busy place in the summer,” Dylan said.
“Yes. It’s always been a popular spot with tourists,” Maggie said. “There’s lots to do, especially if you have kids, and even if you don’t,” she added, as she watched Dylan push his empty plate aside.
“Did you spend your childhood here?” Dylan asked.
“Yes,” Maggie replied.
“Then you must have lots of friends around town,” he commented.
“I do and I don’t,” she answered. “Strangely enough, most of the kids I went to high school or college with have either married and moved away or moved to the big city to pursue a career.”
“Why did you stay?”
“Because I like it here and I wanted to be close to my father. He’d been talking about opening up Fairwinds as a bed-and-breakfast before he retired, but after he met Rosemary he told me I’d have to run it for him. And that’s what I did,” she said.
“What about—” She’d been going to ask Dylan a question about his youth, his past...a past he didn’t remember.
“What about me? Is that what you were going to ask?” Dylan finished for her, his smile rueful. “I wish I could tell you....”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” she said.
“Hey...it’s all right.” He pushed back his chair and stood up. Gathering up their plates, he carried them to the sink.
Maggie was silent as she watched Dylan rinse the plates then stack them in the dishwasher. She found herself thinking she could quite easily grow accustomed to having him around, permanently.
Her heart slammed against her rib cage at the thought It was a pipe dream, nothing more. Dylan was the father of her baby and had every right to be a part of the baby’s life, but unlike most couples whose relationship had gone through the various stages of development, from mutual attraction to courtship to marriage, theirs had been a brief encounter. They really hardly even knew each other, and she wondered if, when his memory returned, he would withdraw once again behind the protective wall he’d built around himself, and it would only be a matter of time before he walked away a second time.
“Maggie? Maggie...”
The sound of Dylan’s voice penetrated her wayward thoughts. “Uh...sorry...I was miles away,” she muttered.
“I was wondering if you had any aspirin,” he said.
“Yes, in the medicine cabinet in the main bathroom,” she told him. “Headache?” she asked.
Dylan smiled and shook his head. “Not exactly... my muscles are aching. Not surprising after the workout I put them through today.”
“Oh...I see,” Maggie responded, as Dylan disappeared down the hall to the bathroom.
Maggie folded the linen place mats and napkins and put them away in the hutch. As she opened the drawer, a napkin slid from her grasp and fell to the floor.
“I’ll get it,” Dylan said, coming up behind her. And before Maggie could move out of his way, he quickly retrieved the fallen napkin and dropped it into the drawer.
“Thanks,” she said. “Picking things up off the floor is becoming something of a problem these days,” she added with a smile.
“What if you’d fallen?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.
“Then I probably would have lain there until Richard and Bev came back,” she joked, but she could see no answering humor in Dylan’s eyes.
“Could a fall start your labor?” he asked.
“Yes, I suppose it’s possible,” she acknowledged. “But I didn’t fall,” she said.
“Not this time,” he agreed. “But accidents do happen, especially in the home, and often with disastrous effects,” he added.
Maggie couldn’t quite meet his gaze. He was right. Yesterday Dr. Whitney had asked her if she’d thought about inviting a friend or relative to stay with her until the baby was born, for just that reason.
“I didn’t fall,” she repeated, keeping her tone light, wishing he’d move away. “And besides, if I had fallen, you were here.”
“That’s not the point, Maggie...” He spoke softly, his breath fanning her face. Touched by his show of concern, she felt her heart skip a beat.
“Excuse me,” she said abruptly, suddenly needing to put some space between them. Dylan didn’t budge.
“Stubborn little soul, aren’t you?” His tone was tender and amused rather than angry, sending Maggie’s blood racing through her veins. “I suppose in a small town like Grace Harbor, being pregnant and unmarried must have raised a few eyebrows.”
Surprised by his change of topic, Maggie met his gaze.
“A few,” she said warily.
“You haven’t had an easy time of it, have you?” Dylan asked.
Seeing the compassion and understanding in his eyes, Maggie felt a lump of emotion lodge in her throat. She swallowed convulsively. “Waking up from a coma to discover you’ve lost your memory must have been a hundred times worse than anything I’ve had to deal with,” she replied, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.
Dylan held her gaze for a long moment before stepping aside.
Maggie bit back her sigh of relief. “How long were you in the coma?” she asked, determined now to keep the focus on Dylan and away from herself.
“Well...the accident happened back in October,” Dylan said as he crossed to the French doors. “I was in a coma for four months...”
“October?” Maggie had been under the assumption his accident had happened only a few months ago.
“Yeah...around the fifteenth. I think that’s what they said,” Dylan responded as he stood gazing out onto the deck.
Maggie couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. October fifteenth was the day after her father and his aunt’s funeral, the day after she and Dylan had made love, the day Dylan had driven back to San Diego.
Chapter Seven
Before Maggie could comment on Dylan’s stunning revelation, a commotion in the hallway distracted her, and a few moments later Richard and Beverly Chason appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Hi. I hope we’re not interrupting.” Beverly Chason’s smile was tentative as her gaze darted between Maggie and Dylan.
Maggie responded with a smile of her own. “Of course not, Bev. Come on in. How was your day?” she asked politely, while her mind tried to assimilate the knowledge that Dylan’s accident had to have happened the day he’d made the return trip to San Diego.
“We had a great day,” Richard said. “We drove along the coast to Seaside and spent the morning watching the seabirds. After lunch we wandered around the stores and had dinner overlooking the water.”
“Sounds wonderful. Can I interest you in a glass of iced tea?” Maggie asked.
“That would be lovely,” Beverly responded. “Let me help you.”
“No... really, I can manage,” Maggie said. “Have a seat.”
Dylan pulled out a chair for Beverly, and Richard sat down next to his wife. Maggie brought the jug of iced tea from the fridge and flashed Dylan a grateful smile when he set down four glasses.
“So... are you on holiday?” Richard’s question was directed at Dylan.
“Darling,” Bev interrupted. “Dylan is Maggie’s business partner.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t on holiday,” Richard replied.
“He’s actually on leave from the navy,” Maggie piped up.
“Really,” Richard said. “Oh, of course. You’re Rosemary’s nephew.”
“That’s right,” Dylan replied.
“Thank you,” Bev said, as Maggie slid a glass of iced tea toward her. “Richard and I were shocked and saddened when we read about Bill and Rosemary,” Bev continued. “Such a tragedy...for you both.”
“Thank you,” Dylan said.
Maggie glanced over at Dylan as she filled the two remaining glasses.
“You know, I once gave serious thought to joining the navy,” Richard said, and laughed at the astonished look on his wife’s face. He reached over to cover her hand with his. “That was right after I lost track of you, my love.”
“The navy? Richard, darling...you never told me that,” Bev’s surprise echoed through her voice.
“It was a fleeting notion at best,” he quickly assured her as he glanced at Dylan leaning against the counter. “Where are you stationed?” he asked.
“Point Loma, San Diego,” Dylan said, after a brief hesitation.
“That’s the submarine base, isn’t it?” Richard asked.
“Yes,” Dylan replied, keeping his tone casual, all the while wondering how to redirect the conversation away from himself. A thought suddenly struck him. “Bev. You mentioned this morning that you and Richard met in Grace Harbor fifty years ago,” Dylan said. “But Maggie told me there’s more to the story.”
“She’s right,” Bev acknowledged, flashing a tender smile at her husband.
“I’ve heard that story a hundred times,” Richard said in a teasing voice. “I’m sure Dylan could tell a more exciting tale about the places he’s seen.”
“No...please,” Dylan was quick to add. “I’d really like to hear it,” he said with a smile.
Maggie felt her heart shudder in her breast in response to Dylan’s smile, which she thought would have charmed the trunk off an elephant.
Bev’s eyes glazed over and her cheeks turned a bright pink. “I was only sixteen when I met Richard,” Bev began. “My family and I came to Grace Harbor for two weeks that summer...the best summer of my life.”
“I was twenty-one,” Richard said, jumping in, “and driving a beat-up jalopy to Phoenix, where my uncle had promised to help me find a job.”
“Tired of the freeway, he’d followed the signs to Grace Harbor and stopped for a bite to eat,” Bev picked up the tale. “He was walking on the sand—”
“Minding my own business,” Richard chimed in.
“And I was running down the beach trying to get a kite to fly, when I ran right into him, knocking us both down,” she explained. “It was all my fault,” Beverly admitted, smiling at the memory. “But Richard apologized to me. Then he asked if he could buy me a soda.”
“I knew right then and there she was the only girl for me,” Richard said.
“We spent the afternoon together.” Bev said. “Then he walked me back to the motel where I was staying with my parents. Richard wanted to meet them, but I knew they wouldn’t approve, so I told him they were out.”
“I couldn’t leave,” Richard explained. “So I found a cheap motel on the edge of town, and for the next two weeks we spent every moment we could together.”
“I knew my folks would forbid me to see Richard, if they found out,” Bev continued. “But by the end of the two weeks, Richard insisted on telling them. And so we did.”
“That was my first mistake,” Richard admitted with a sigh. “My second was letting her father talk me into agreeing not to see Beverly for six whole months. He said it would be a test of my love for her.” Richard stopped and slowly shook his head.
“What I didn’t realize,” he went on, “was the lengths to which they were prepared to go to keep us apart.” He reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand. “Beverly and her parents lived in Seattle then, and though I was tempted to forget about Phoenix and my uncle, I needed the job. I didn’t think six months was too long a time. Besides, her father told me I could write to her...and I did write, every day.”
“I never got his letters,” Beverly said. “My father never gave them to me. He destroyed them. My parents lied to us both, just to keep us apart.” There was a sadness in her voice that tugged at Maggie’s heart.
“Richard told me later that he’d tried to call me several times,” Bev said, “but they fielded his calls and didn’t pass on the messages he left.”
“I went to Phoenix and got a job and kept telling myself everything would work out. When the six months were up I took some time off and drove to Seattle. But I was too late. They’d moved. I made some inquiries, but no one could tell me where they’d gone.”
“My mother had worked on me, too, of course,” Beverly said. “She told me holiday romances never lasted. Time went by, and I didn’t hear from Richard, and I became convinced she was right, that he’d forgotten all about me. Three months later we moved to Dallas.”
“So how did you meet each other again?” Dylan asked, his gaze intent, obviously caught up in the story.
“Do you believe in fate?” Richard asked, then smiled. “We do! Because it was fate that brought us back together,” he stated. “Unfortunately for us, it took ten years.”
“I threw myself into my studies and became a teacher.” Beverly picked up the thread once more. “I tried to forget Richard, but I couldn’t. I’m not sure what prompted me that summer, ten years later, to come back to Grace Harbor.”
“I, on the other hand, had been coming back every summer, just in case,” Richard unabashedly confessed.
“It’s a wonderful story,” Maggie said on a sigh. “Just like the plot from a romance novel. You are both so lucky to find each other again. True-life happy-ever-after tales are rare.”
As she spoke, Maggie’s gaze drifted to where Dylan sat across the table. His smile seemed wistful, and Maggie felt her heart trip over. For a split second she found herself wishing there could be a happy-ever-after ending for her, too.
It was a pipe dream, of course. Dylan didn’t remember making love to her, didn’t remember anything about the night they’d shared. And even if his memory returned, there was little hope for a future together as a family.
He was a career man through and through, a man who didn’t believe in marriage, a man afraid to love and who kept his heart and his emotions hidden behind a thick protective wall.
“Enough about us,” Richard was saying. “I’m curious to know why you joined the navy, Dylan.”
Dylan’s gaze flew to Maggie’s, and she could see the look of panic that flashed into his eyes.
“To see the world,” Maggie supplied. “Isn’t that the reason most young men join up?” she joked.
Richard laughed. “From what I’ve heard, after you sign up, it’s quite some time before you even see a ship. Is that true, Dylan?”
“For the most part,” Dylan replied, though in truth he couldn’t remember.
“I’ve always wanted to buy my own sailboat,” Richard said, a wistful note in his voice. “But we’re not anywhere near a lake or seaway, so there’s little point.”
“Oh...that reminds me,” Maggie quickly jumped in. “How much damage was done to your house? You mentioned you had to move out, didn’t you?” she asked, diverting the conversation once more.
“Lightning struck a tree near the house, and a branch fell through the roof,” Beverly said, quick to take the bait. “Luckily we weren’t home at the time, but it did considerable damage.”
“It was quite a mess,” Richard said. “That’s why we decided to renovate,” he added, and proceeded to describe the extent of the renovations, together with the many run-ins they’d had with various tradespeople hired to do the work.
Maggie noted the relief in Dylan’s eyes, and for the next half hour, conversation flowed.
A little later Maggie covered her mouth with her hand, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.
“Maggie, my dear. Why didn’t you say you were tired,” Beverly scolded gently. “How are you sleeping these days?”
“Fitfully,” Maggie replied honestly. “Around nine at night I start to fade,” she said, and as if to give truth to her words she yawned again. “Oh, dear. Excuse me.”
Richard laughed. “We can take a hint,” he teased. Pushing back his chair he rose from the table. “It’s time we turned in, too. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night, Maggie, Dylan. It’s been lovely chatting with you,” Beverly said as she followed her husband from the kitchen.
“Good night,” Maggie and Dylan chorused.
“I’m bushed. I think I’ll turn in, too,” Dylan said. “Oh... by the way, I just wanted to say thanks.”
“I’m sorry?” Maggie frowned.
“For managing to sidetrack the conversation away from me,” Dylan explained.
“I imagine you get fed up having to explain to people about your loss of memory,” Maggie said, warmed by his words.
“Since coming out of the coma, I haven’t spoken to many people, other than the doctors and nurses who were treating me...oh, and my superior officers, of course,” he said. “I’ve been keeping pretty much to myself. But from what I’ve been told, that isn’t unusual for me.... I’ve always been a bit of a loner.”
Maggie’s heart twisted at the bleakness she could hear in his voice. She wished there was something she could say, but Dylan was already moving away.
“Good night,” he said, and with a wave was gone.
Maggie added soap powder to the dishwasher and turned it on before making her way to her bedroom. A faint breeze wafted in through the open window, bringing with it the sweet scent of the roses from the flower bed outside.
With a tired sigh, Maggie undressed and crawled beneath the lightweight duvet cover. But sleep eluded her. Each time she closed her eyes, Dylan’s familiar features would appear, the little-boy-lost look in his eyes.
What he’d said was true. He was a man who preferred to keep to himself, to stand on the sidelines and watch and listen.
Maggie remembered Rosemary telling her that she hadn’t even known her sister was pregnant, hadn’t known of Dylan’s existence until she’d returned to the States after spending fifteen years living in Australia where she’d moved after she’d married a businessman from Melbourne.
