Vicki Hinze - [Seascape 01] Read online

  Some sadness, but mostly joy and love had flowed in this room. T.J. liked to think that some of it remained. It was possible. If when we make a sound, it carries on and on, then the love we feel surely carries on and on, as well. Love is much stronger than sound.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Maggie’s hushed whisper slid over him like heated honey.

  He reveled in it. “I was thinking that this room is big enough to echo.” True, though she couldn’t possibly realize he meant to echo the emotions felt and not the words spoken within its tall, paneled walls.

  “I think the rugs and furniture absorb the sound, so it doesn’t. But if it were empty, it might.”

  Stripped bare of furnishings, this room could never be empty. It’d taken him nine months of enforced exposure to understand that. Maggie would see it much quicker. Sitting on the plush, blue-cushioned window seat inside the turret, knees-to-knees with Maggie, T.J. smiled. Her subtle perfume filled the intimate space, reminding him again of soft summer breezes, of fresh air and spring, and of the sea. Always the sea. As tempting and alluring as Bill at his poetic best had described it.

  She’d taken off her shoes and left them on the round woven rug in front of the window seats. The little tulip lamp beside the bed lifted a blue-tinged light from the coverlet and pooled on the floor, leaving her shoes in shadows. Comfortable, at ease, together and, finally, alone. He sighed contentedly and let his gaze drift past the window to the star-studded sky. A man could want for little more than sharing a quiet moment of peace with a beautiful woman in a room where so much love had been shared.

  “You were going to tell me the legend.”

  “In a second. I’m soaking up some of your serenity.” Amazing, but true. It’d been so long since he’d felt at peace and, until he’d sat down here and let all his anger and frustration seep away, he’d glimpsed serenity only once here on this lengthy visit—on the stairs, and then only a brief flicker.

  He lowered his gaze to the ocean. Absorbing moonbeams, it sparkled like a thousand diamonds reflecting light. Romantic, intimate, and mysterious. Perfect for telling Maggie the legend.

  She shifted around, leaned back against the narrow wall, and put her feet in his lap. “Okay, you’re serene enough.”

  “Maggie.”

  “Seriously, MacGregor. Five more minutes and you’ll be snoring.”

  He chuckled. She was likely right.

  “So what’s this legend that’s worth ten points and a bath that you sold for seven without one?”

  “Care to renegotiate?”

  “Welshing, are we?”

  “No.”

  “Trying to play weasel, then.” She feigned a sigh. “The deal’s been made, sweetheart. Now let’s hear it.”

  She’d used an endearment, talking to him. His heart skipped a full beat and that tender hitch her dragging him conjured knotted in his chest. That was the first time ever she’d used an endearment when talking to him. He glanced down, watched her rub the arch of her left foot with the instep of her right. He moved her right foot onto his thigh, then rubbed the left for her. “You know Cecelia had the touch for healing.”

  “Right there. Oh, that feels good.” Maggie grunted. “You told me she was a nurse and midwife.”

  “Right.” He rubbed harder, working his fingers down her arch to her heel, then up to her instep. “Well, the legend goes that Cecelia and Collin were nearly newlyweds when they first came here. The Stanfords owned all the village land and the villagers had been trying to buy some for years.”

  “Stanfords. Wasn’t that Miss Millie’s name—before she married Lance Thomas?”

  “Yes, it was. It was her family.” T.J. let his hand drift up, under the hem of her slacks to her warm calf, and worked the knots from its muscle. Her skin felt whisper soft, silky smooth. Had she used his razor? That she might have had warm heat pooling in his belly. “When Stanford—the old man—saw how much in love Cecelia and Collin were, and how much they loved it here, he agreed to sell them this property.”

  “Ah, so they bought it and built—”

  “Not yet. It was too expensive. They couldn’t afford both the land and the house.”

  Maggie closed her eyes and rubbed her toes against his stomach. “So how’d they end up with it, then?”

  “Collin took a leap of faith. A big one. He told Mr. Stanford that he was risking everything to buy the land because Cecelia loved it and—”

  “He loved Cecelia.” Maggie pointed to her other foot. “It’s feeling neglected.”

  T.J. switched feet and began massaging the neglected one, grinning inside. “Right, because he loved her.”

  “Have you ever loved anyone that much—to take a leap of faith for them that might cost you everything?”

  Wasn’t that what he was doing here right now with her? Or was it? “I’m not sure.” He gave her the only answer he could. “Have you?”

  “Not, yet. Well, maybe almost.” She shifted as if uneasy. “Get back to the legend that’s costing me seven points.”

  She was teetering on loving him, if she didn’t. And that had warm satisfaction mingling with cold, hard fear in his stomach. He agreed. The legend was much, much safer to discuss. “Well, Collin bought the land, and a couple months later he inherited a fortune—totally unexpectedly—and that’s when he and Cecelia built Seascape.”

  Maggie smiled. “They were very happy here. I felt it the moment I walked in, though I didn’t know then it was them, of course. I remember walking up the stairs for the first time and feeling as if I’d stepped into a warm cocoon where I’d always be safe. Then the entity started...”

  He didn’t want to talk about the entity. He wanted to enjoy this serenity for as long as possible. Reality would intrude soon enough. “They were very happy here, to hear Miss Hattie tell it. And if it has anything to do with Seascape, she knows about it.”

  “So why doesn’t she know what’s happening to you here?”

  “Because that’s about me, not about Seascape.”

  “Mmm, a fine line there, but I won’t disagree. I see the difference.” Maggie worked a kink out of her neck, rotating it. “Did Cecelia and Collin have a lot of children?”

  “Only two. Their son died, but their daughter, Mary Elizabeth, is the mother of the man who owns Seascape now.”

  “Jonathan Nelson—the Atlanta judge.”

  T.J. stopped rubbing. “Have you heard this story before?”

  “No, he called to check on Miss Hattie yesterday and we chatted for a minute or two. Very nice man, though when I was talking to him, I kept getting the feeling he was lonely.”

  “Probably your imagination. I’m sure he’s very well adjusted.” T.J. pressed circles on her arch.

  “You can be well adjusted and still be lonely, MacGregor.”

  “Okay, you’re right. Don’t get into a snit. I wasn’t thinking it through.”

  “So what’s the legend?”

  “Mary Elizabeth grew up and went to college. She fell in love there, married, and drifted off to live her own life. Cecelia and Collin stayed here and grew old together: her with her healing, and him with his carving.”

  Maggie frowned and shifted on the cushions. “This is one sorely-lacking legend, MacGregor. No offense, but where’s the magic?”

  “You don’t see any magic in a man and woman loving each other through an entire lifetime?”

  “Well, yes, of course. But—but... Heck, you know what I mean.”

  He did. “It’s coming, honey. Patience.” He set her foot down and let his hand rest on her thigh. “Collin got cancer.”

  “Geez, MacGregor.” Maggie sat straight up. “That’s magic?”

  “It—”

  “It better get a whole lot sweeter than this, or you’re never gonna see the inside of that tub
with me in it.”

  Not a mite’s worth of intimidation. Shoot, not an atom’s worth. “That Cecelia kept Collin alive far longer than modern medicine deemed possible was magic.” T.J. clasped their hands and laced their fingers together. “Some of the villagers suspected Cecelia resorted to dabbling in her Haitian grandmother’s habit.”

  “Which was?”

  “Voodoo.”

  Maggie drew in a sharp breath, and her eyes stretched wide. “I saw a book on that—out in the landing bookshelves.” She scooted closer, swung one foot down to the floor. “MacGregor, you don’t think our entity—”

  “No, I don’t. There wasn’t any proof, Maggie. That was just gossip, and we know all about gossip, don’t we? Remember the condoms?”

  “Yeah.” Maggie frowned. “Then that’s it? That’s the legend?”

  “I’m getting to it. Lord, woman, you’re trying my patience. This is supposed to be a romantic tale.”

  “Romantic, eh?” She grinned, looking anything but repentant. “Well, you should’ve told me. I didn’t know you were getting romantic on me.”

  “It doesn’t seem likely I’ll be able to with all your interruptions.”

  “Keep your attitude from taking a chunk out of my hide. I can’t read your mind, you know. But now that you’ve told me, I promise I’ll be an absolute angel.” She crossed her heart with her forefinger, looking all too pleased with herself for his liking but, he had to admit, extremely angelic.

  Still, his ego took a severe stomping. He was losing his touch. Since when had he had to tell a woman he was being romantic? “Remember me telling you about Cecelia dying and how the villagers held a candlelight vigil on the front lawn?”

  “Yes.” Maggie stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips.

  Did she realize she was doing it? Or was this yet another unconscious touch? “Well, Mary Elizabeth was with her mother and, until the day she died, she swore that at the moment Cecelia passed away, Collin’s ghost came down out of nowhere and carried Cecelia’s spirit away.”

  Maggie went statue still. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. And there’s more.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” T.J. nodded to reinforce his words. “Jonathan, Mary Elizabeth’s son, can’t bear to part with Seascape but he can’t bring himself to live here, either.”

  “Why not? You’d think that with his mother experiencing what she had here, he’d want to be here—unless... Is Collin haunting Seascape? Is he our entity?”

  “No, our entity has nothing to do with this, Maggie. You’ve got a one-track mind—and you aren’t being very cooperative—or very angelic.”

  “Sorry.”

  She wasn’t sorry. The sweet little liar. “Jonathan won’t sell Seascape or live in it because of what he saw here.”

  “Are you saying he saw something, too?” She frowned and her fingers gripped his hand hard. “You know, I wouldn’t buy any of this for a second if it had happened anywhere else. But strange things do happen here, and we both know it.”

  “Yeah, well, living those strange things has a way of dispelling doubt.”

  “So what did Jonathan see?”

  “The legend.” Seeing her perplexed look, he explained. “On the anniversary of his grandmother’s death, he saw her spirit lying in her bed. Collin came and lifted her into his arms—just as Jonathan had heard at his mother’s knee that it had happened all those years ago.”

  “Good grief! Everyone in the village must have thought he was nuts.”

  “They didn’t know about it. They still don’t know about it. One of those rare incidents where everyone in a small town doesn’t know everything about everyone in that town.”

  “Well, that’s hard to believe. There’s quite a network around here. How did Jonathan manage to keep it quiet?”

  “He only spoke of it once—to Miss Hattie—and he described it as the most awesome experience of his life.”

  “I guess he did. Seeing two spirits like that, well, it’s not the kind of thing you experience every day.”

  “No, Maggie. Not the ghosts. Lots of people see ghosts and that didn’t impress Jonathan at all. It was the love between them that struck him as awesome. It had transcended time. They’d gone on, yet their love had remained.”

  She stilled, blinked, and then blinked again. “Jonathan witnessed personified love.”

  “Exactly.” Why was she staring at him so strangely? As if she, too, were witnessing something she never dreamed or thought or considered she would.

  Maggie sighed. “It must have changed him forever.”

  A shiver slid up T.J.’s backbone. What had Maggie said? That she feared what was happening to them with the entity because she sensed those experiences life-altering. Changed forever. Life-altering. “I expect it did. It would change me forever.” Was that what was supposed to happen here? Change? For him and Maggie to alter their lives? Maybe the entity wasn’t playing games with them after all. Maybe its purpose was much more noble. Maybe—

  “What does he say about the experience now that he’s an adult? Does he see it differently now than he did then?”

  “He doesn’t discuss it—ever. But he returns here once a year on the anniversary date, stays overnight, then he goes home.”

  “What does Miss Hattie say, then?”

  “That Cecelia’s healing magic lingers in the house. That theirs was the kind of magic that lives on forever and gifts with miracles those who believe in it.”

  “Love,” Maggie said. “Her love for him, and his for her. That’s what kept Collin alive, wasn’t it? That’s the magic.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “Or so says Miss Hattie.”

  “She never lies.”

  “No, she doesn’t—not intentionally.”

  Maggie sighed wistfully. “There it is again, MacGregor. That rare kind of love like Miss Hattie had for her soldier.”

  “Yeah, though I think Cecelia and Collin had it first.” T.J. leaned back against the wall. “Seems to happen a lot around here.”

  Maggie scooted around and fitted herself between T.J.’s thighs, then leaned back against his chest. “It’s not fair, you know? I’ve never even seen love like that and it floats around here, touching people, left and right.” She grunted. “Where’s the justice? The best I find is Sam Grayson—and he dumped me for a kiss and an all-day sucker.”

  T.J. smiled above her head and twined his arms around her. Grayson. Sam Grayson. Why did that name ring a bell? He’d definitely heard it—somewhere. “Was this recently?”

  “Yeah. I was twelve.” Grinning, she rubbed her cheek against his shirt.

  “Mmm, was the sucker grape?”

  She rested her hands atop his. They were clasped together at her middle, just under her ribs. “What’s the difference?”

  “Grape is irresistible, honey. A guy just can’t hold out against grape.”

  She grunted. “Or against a Judas kiss.” She tapped a forefinger to his shoulder. “You realize that if you take Grayson’s side in this, subtle revenge is inevitable.”

  “I figured it likely.” T.J. smiled again. “Who was the Judas?”

  “Supposedly, my best friend.” Maggie sighed. “She dated him all through high school just to spite me.”

  And that betrayal had hurt Maggie deeply. “Pretty vindictive behavior for a friend.” He inhaled her shampoo. Coconut. Enticing. “Maybe she just liked the guy.”

  “She didn’t. He got zits in tenth grade. She hated zits—hated anything that rated less than perfect—but she stuck with him because she knew I was still crazy about him.”

  “First love?” T.J. stroked her silky hair, jealous, pure and simple.

  “Only love.” Maggie snuggled closer, pressing her side fully against
him, shoulder to hip. “My dad didn’t exactly inspire enthusiasm for even the prospect of loving someone.”

  Or instill much trust in it either, T.J. imagined. “I guess it’s pretty normal that you’d figure all guys were like him.”

  “Aren’t they?”

  “No, and you know it.”

  “I do. Sam Grayson wasn’t.”

  “Why was he so special?” Maybe a little insight would help T.J.’s cause.

  “He believed in me.”

  He waited for her to go on, but she didn’t. When it became apparent she wasn’t going to, he frowned. “That’s it?”

  “Someone believing in you is nothing to sneeze at, MacGregor. You had it with your parents, but I didn’t. My mother was too self-absorbed trying to survive living with and loving my father, and he was too busy making her miserable to worry about me.” She ground her teeth as if sorry she’d lost her temper and disclosed that. “When you’ve never had it, belief in you is more than enough. It’s... special.”

  “I expect it is.” He rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand.”

  “How could you?” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound nasty. It’s just that unless you experience that firsthand, you really can’t understand it.”

  “Still, all men aren’t like your father. Sam Grayson wasn’t, and I’m not either.”

  “True. But, as you so eloquently put it, old habits are hard to break. It’s like I know it in my head, but my heart just isn’t convinced.”

  “Well”—he ran his fingers through her hair, loving the feel of it against his palm—“if you want my opinion, Sam Grayson was a fool.”

  “He was, wasn’t he?” Maggie looked up at him. “You’re not just saying this to save yourself a stint of subtle revenge, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She smiled. “As it turned out, things happened for the best. Sam Grayson turned into a jerk. At the senior prom, he got wasted on vodka and drove his motorcycle into the school swimming pool and had to be fished out. Wrecked everything, including the turf on the football field. Cut donuts in it until it was as messed up as if circus elephants had trampled it for a week. His parents were mortified. Judas dumped him, and I refused to take him back.”