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قديم 26-01-11, 01:54 AM   #21

Dalyia

إدارية ومشرفة سابقة وكاتبة بمكتبة روايتي وعضوة بفريق التصميم والترجمة و الافلام والسينما ومعطاء التسالي ونجمة الحصريات الفنية ومميز بالقسم الطبى

 
الصورة الرمزية Dalyia

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¬» مشروبك   pepsi
¬» قناتك mbc4
?? ??? ~
My Mms ~
افتراضي


CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NOAH LAY IN BED THE NEXTmorning, trying to make sense of it all. Sophie may not have
answered his question last night at the lighthouse, but the fact remained that she’d loved Isaac enough to
marry him. She wouldn’t have married Noah. He’d asked and she’d turned him down.
Now what?
When the answers didn’t miraculously pop into his mind, he threw back the covers and took a shower.
As he came down the stairs his gaze caught on his camera equipment, including several digital units,
different lenses and filters, a tripod, light meters and various flashes. The whole lot remained exactly
where he’d thrown it upon arriving on Mirabelle.
He picked up one of the digitals that had needed a new battery, replaced it and then framed a shot of
angles and shadows playing against the photos his grandmother had hung on the wall. Then out the
window he zoomed up to the Rousseau inn silhouetted against Lake Superior. Sunset would make it
more interesting, but early morning would have to do. He shifted his focus to Main Street downtown. He
could get a pretty good shot of the Mirabelle Inn’s gazebo out near the shoreline, but the angle was
wrong. The chapel on the hill looked interesting from this vantage point, but there was no doubt it would
look more inspiring from the pier.
That’s it. He might not know what to do about Kurt and Lauren, or Sophie for that matter, but one thing
was certain. He wasn’t going to sink back into that self-pity hole Sophie had helped draw him out of in
the nick of time. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.
After doing some mirror therapy, he summoned every ounce of courage he could muster and opened the
box with his new leg. Tentatively, he picked it up. It was light, surprisingly so. He ran his fingers over the
silicone sleeve, pressed the foot onto the floor and watched it move with the shifting weight. It sure
looked like an improvement, but was he ready? There was only one way to find out.
He took off his old prosthetic and without giving it another thought, rolled the brand-new silicone sleeve
over his stump. Now all he had to do was stand. Walk.
He was sick of feeling sorry for himself. Sick of hiding out. Sick of excuses.Do it.
He stood and tested his weight. He bent his knee and marveled at how light this new leg felt. He walked
across the room and almost sighed at the absence of pain. That old leg had felt like a log with a brick
attached to the end of it. This foot, made of arched carbon fiber, flexed and moved with every step, more
like a real foot.
He couldn’t believe that it had taken him so long to do this, but now there was no going back.
Resolutely, he went upstairs and was about to pack his old leg away out of sight and out of mind in his
bedroom closet when the Beretta handgun on the bedside table caught his eye. That was something else
he no longer needed.
He tossed it into the box and hid the whole lot in the far back of the top shelf in his closet. He’d deal
with the gun later, but for now, it was out of the way. That done, he felt lighter than he had since the
explosion.
Time to test his new foot. He grabbed his camera and walked out of the house, stopping at the bottom
of the hill and snapping off several dozen shots of the tree-lined road. He couldn’t have planned it better
when Arlo Duffy pulled onto the road with his horse-drawn carriage.
“Good morning, Arlo. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Ayep. Got that right.” Arlo nodded as he passed, but seemed more reserved with Noah than he
might’ve been with another islander, or tourist for that matter.
On reaching the outskirts of town, Noah peered through the drugstore windows to find Bob Henderson
with his wife, Marsha, sitting at the front cash registers. A modern day Ma and Pa Kettle if there ever
was one—him, skinny and drawn, and her in a checkered dress with her hair piled on top of her head.
Noah snapped off a few pictures of the couple talking and laughing with each other.
Farther down the street, Ron Setterberg, with his weathered face and hands, stood on a ladder outside
the equipment-rental building painting the trim on the second-floor windows. It seemed an appropriate
picture of Ron, being that in Noah’s every memory of the man he was holding some kind of tool.
“Hey there, Ron,” Noah said.
Ron glanced behind him. “Noah.”
“Mind if I snap a couple pictures?”
“What for?” Ron asked, looking rather suspicious. The man likely shared his wife Jan’s opinions about
Noah.
“Just goofing around. Do you mind?”
“Naw. Go ahead.”
Noah walked another block and found Charlotte Day, a quintessential spinster if there was such a thing
these days, unlocking the front door to the library. He snapped a few shots. Man, could he put together a
photo layout with the characters on this island.
He wandered aimlessly around town, taking in favorite old haunts and finding a few surprises, things he
wouldn’t have been interested in as a kid, but as an adult could appreciate. Like Mrs. Gilbert’s
bed-and-breakfast inn. With a yard surrounded by a black wrought-iron fence and filled with every
imaginable color of flower, her cotton-candy-pink Victorian was right out of a dream.
After a couple hours, his stomach grumbled loudly. The Bayside Cafe, a bright blue one-story building
with a cedar shake roof and white shutters glistening in the late-morning sun, was down the block. He
remembered them as having had the best cheeseburgers on the island.
He opened the door, and a bell, secured overhead, chimed his entrance. There were two men at the
counter, neither of whom he recognized, and a couple in a booth by the windows. As he took the nearest
seat at the counter, Delores Kowalski came out of the kitchen. Other than a little salt mixed in with her
short pepper hair, she’d barely changed. “Well, if it isn’t Noah Bennett.”
“Morning, Delores.” He righted his blue-and-white coffee mug. She’d always liked Noah. Might’ve had
to do with the fact that he was the only kid who ever tipped her.
“Let me see if I can remember after all these years.” She poured steaming black coffee into the cup.
“Cheeseburger. Onions, mustard, no ketchup. Fries. Strawberry shake.”
“That’s pretty good.” He chuckled. “Today, though, I thought I’d give breakfast a shot.”
“Sounds good. What’ll it be?”
All that fresh air had spurred his appetite. “Two eggs, hash browns, a short stack.” He nodded at one of
the other men’s plates down the counter. “And an order of those famous sausage patties.” He could pick
at whatever tickled his taste buds, and, these days, he could count on it staying down.
The doorbell chimed behind him and the blue vinyl stool next to him swiveled as Lauren sat down.
“Hey.”
Once again, he was taken aback by the color of her eyes. Was she his daughter? A baby was one thing,
but this…this teenager…this fully formed being…Could she be a part of him? He couldn’t seem to make
sense of it. “Hey, Lauren. What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” she said. “You?”
“Breakfast.” He’d no sooner said the word than Delores delivered the plates of food she’d likely made
herself.
“Want some?”
“Maybe.” Lauren’s face scrunched with indecision. “I’ll take one of those pancakes. If you really don’t
want it.”
He forked one, plopped it over his eggs and slid the other pancake toward her. “Take it and one of
these.” He dropped a sausage patty onto the plate. “There’s no way I’ll eat four of them. You want some
juice or milk?”
“Sure.”
He motioned for Delores while Lauren slathered butter and blueberry syrup over her pancake and
gulped it down in about four bites, no easy feat given the golden cake spanned the diameter of a full-sized
plate.
“You’re looking pretty hungry to me.” He tossed her another sausage.
“Don’t tell Josie I said this, but Delores makes the best pancakes on the island.”
He laughed, and they talked about her favorite meals at each one of the island restaurants. The
lighthearted company and conversation seemed to help the food settle comfortably in his stomach. Ten
minutes later, he nearly licked his plates clean, it’d all tasted so wonderful, and his stomach wasn’t the
slightest bit queasy.
“More coffee?” Delores dropped the check off.
“No, thank you. Would you mind if I take some pictures out front?”
“Go right ahead.”
“Can I come with you?” Lauren asked.
“Sure.” He paid the bill and followed Lauren outside into the warm, bright sunshine.
“What are you taking pictures for?” she asked as they crossed the street.
“Just passing time.”
“I read most of your book.”
“Which one?”
“About Sarajevo.”
“The sad one.” The one that had jump-started his career.
“We had to do a report in school on a recent war,” she explained.
He’d written a series of articles on the Bosnian war that had been picked up by international news
networks. Later, he’d combined everything in a book, comprehensively detailing his experience. After
years of freelancing in vain, his career had finally taken off. He’d become the go-to reporter on war
throughout the world. The depressing thing was he was never lacking for material.
“That’s a pretty heavy topic for someone your age.”
“Mom had to explain some of it to me.” She paused. “Did you see all those people die?”
“Some of them.” Some had been friends. His stomach flipped. Maybe that last sausage wasn’t sitting as
well as he’d thought. “What did you think of the pictures of the countryside?” he asked, changing topics.
“It looked beautiful.”
It was. Before the fighting. “Did you have a favorite photo?” he asked, keeping her attention off the war
and his stomach from tossing breakfast.
She seemed to think about it. “The bridge. I guess.”
“Which one? Mostar? Visegrad?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What do you think of Delores’s restaurant?” He tilted his head and considered how to frame it.
“I think it’s boring.”
Was she his daughter? Did he have a right to find out? More importantly, should he exercise that right?
“Everything on this island is boring,” she added.
“You think?” There was a time and place for boring, a sentiment Noah had never before appreciated.
He snapped off a picture or two. “What’s your favorite building on the island?”
“The Duffys’ old barn on the other side of the stables.”
“Good one!” He slung his camera pack over his shoulder. “I’ll race you.” It was about time he
discovered what this new foot could do.
They’d no sooner taken a step than a voice yelled from behind them. “Lauren!” It was Kurt.
“Come on,” Lauren called back. “We’re racing to the stables. Ready, set, go!” Lauren took off without
giving Kurt a chance to prepare.
“That’s not fair!” Kurt yelled. He took off after her anyway. No doubt he’d cry foul if she beat him.
Noah gave them a good run for their money, but he was no match for sibling rivalry. Out of breath, he
slowed up a short distance from them.
“What are you doing hanging out with him, anyway?” he heard Kurt whisper to his sister.
“He’s our uncle, and he’s nice,” Lauren said.
“Whatever.” Kurt glared at Noah as he approached them. “I didn’t think you could run with a fake leg.”
Lauren swatted his arm.
“Yeah, it’s a little awkward.” Noah sensed Kurt’s protectiveness toward Lauren and Sophie and
couldn’t blame him. What would Kurt think if he found out Noah was his real father? How would that
news affect Lauren? Not knowing a damned thing about kids, other than having been one himself, he
didn’t have a clue.
That was his first step. He had to get to know Lauren and Kurt. Maybe then he’d have his answer.
THE FIRST THINGNOAH DIDwas to buy a camera for Lauren. For a somewhat suspicious Kurt, he
installed a TV and gaming system in the living room of his grandmother’s house. They also kayaked,
hiked and fished. Noah lapped up as much time as the kids were willing and able to give him, and he
counted himself lucky that they—Lauren more so than Kurt—seemed almost as interested in getting to
know their uncle as he was in getting to know them. Over the next several weeks, he taught Lauren some
rudimentary techniques on framing and lighting, and Kurt, gradually losing some of his guardedness,
updated Noah on the most recent video games.
One afternoon, when Sophie was sure to be busy with staff meetings, Noah hung out in the Rousseau
apartment and looked through every photo album in the place, lingering on the ones when Kurt and
Lauren had been little. There were videos, too. He took some tapes back to his house and watched
them, Christmases and birthdays, sporting events and school musicals, watching the kids grow and
change and become who they were today.
There were lots of scenes with Isaac and the kids. Seeing his brother again and listening to his voice was
difficult, but watching his brother interacting with the kids and Sophie gave him the perspective he
needed. Though Sophie and Isaac often seemed more like brother and sister to each other than husband
and wife, the four had gotten along well. Noah was glad he hadn’t been around to witness firsthand the
happy family.
The most recent video had been taken less than a month or two before Isaac had died. He was packing
camping gear and Sophie was taping the three loading gear into the car. His brother looked into the
camera and grinned. There he was, the Isaac from Noah’s memories. His older brother, his comrade in
crime, his opposite in so many ways.
“Thank you, Isaac,” Noah whispered. “For taking care of Sophie and the kids.”
TOO MANY TOURISTS.NO SPACE.No room to breathe. Same running paths. Same food. Same
stores. Sophie glanced around her office.Same four walls. She understood how Noah must have felt all
those years ago, how he was likely feeling right now.
A full month had passed since Marty’s wedding and, although her kids had been spending a lot of time
with Noah, Sophie had barely spoken with him. After the lighthouse, after explaining to Noah how
everything had started between her and Isaac and he’d asked her point-blank whether or not she’d loved
his brother, she knew she had to keep her distance. She’d been a hair’s breadth from explaining that
what she’d felt for Isaac had been only a shadow of what she felt for Noah.to the ground and show him just how much. It was killing her, not being close to him, but she had to give
him time to get to know Lauren and Kurt.
Although a part of her felt extremely protective of her children, she trusted Noah to do what was right
for Lauren and Kurt. The more she thought about it, the more she accepted that any kind of relationship
with Noah would benefit them. He was their uncle, Isaac’s brother, the closest connection they could
have to their father.
“Sophie?” Jan’s voice sent a ripple through the stream of Sophie’s disconnected thoughts.
“Huh?” She spun her chair away from the window and back toward her office desk. “I’m sorry. I’m…”
Jan looked worried and Sophie hated being the cause of concern.
“I’m just tired.”
“We’ve got a problem with one of our bookings.” Jan sighed. “The Fultons insist they reserved the
Champlain suite again when they were here last year, but that room’s occupied and won’t be vacant
again until tomorrow.”
“Is the Marquette suite open?” she asked, weary of the same problems cropping up, year after year.
“Yes.”
“Set them up there for the night at no charge, and make sure they know it’s our best available room.”
“Will do and Josie wanted you to approve the Bastille Day menu.” Jan put a list of traditional French
foodstuffs on her desk.
For as long as Sophie could remember, Mirabelle Island marked France’s national holiday with a
parade, a wine and beer fest, a small art fair and, of course, fireworks. Before she looked at Josie’s
suggestions, Sophie knew what she would find. Crepes, quiche Lorraine, vichyssoise, French onion
soup,salade nicoise, coq au vin, and so on and so on. They were the same recipes that had been passed
down from Sophie’s great-grandmother.
“Tell Josie I want her to do something different this year.” Sophie handed the menu back to Jan.
“Different?” Jan looked at her as if she had sprouted hair from her ears.
“Yes. As in French with a twist. She’s been wanting to do that for years. Tell her I said go for it.”
“You’re sure.”
“Positive.” At least the food she could change.
As Jan left her office, Sophie looked out her window to see Lauren walking slowly across the lawn with
a tourist boy about her age and was surprised her daughter wasn’t with Noah and Kurt. Lauren and the
boy were talking, laughing, flirting.
Oh, God.Sophie swallowed, remembering all too well those summer months when an influx of families
would flock to Mirabelle. Families with kids, both young and old. Cute boys from big cities. Coming on
and going off the island. All summer long. A constant flow of possible romantic entanglements.
She’d looked, she’d talked, heck, she’d flirted a time or two, but she’d never really been interested.
None of those boys with all their experience and big-city flash had held the promise of a candle to what
she’d felt for Noah.
Lauren? She was an entirely different story. Knowing from experience there were plenty of places on
this island a boy and girl could go to be alone, Sophie knew she was going to have to keep a closer
watch on her daughter.
Suddenly, the boy shook his head and laughed. Lauren’s brows drew together. She crossed her arms
over her chest and said something to the boy. He shrugged and walked away as Lauren marched in the
other direction toward the woods. That didn’t look good.
Let the kid figure it out for herself, or butt in? That always seemed to be the tightrope the parent of a
teenager walked. There’d been a lot going on these past weeks and she and Lauren hadn’t had a good
heart-to-heart in a long while. The decision made, Sophie went outside and found Lauren sitting high in a
tree about twenty feet in from the clearing. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Come down, would you?”
“No.”
“Lauren, honey, come on. It’s hurting my neck looking up at you.”
“Then don’t look.”
That’s it.Sophie reached and grabbed the lowest branch. She swung her foot over the top and pulled
herself up. It’d been a long time since she’d climbed a tree, but, as it turned out, trees were something a
person never forgot how to scale. Without too much trouble, she was in the canopy, sitting on a branch
opposite Lauren.
“Okay,” she said. “After what I went through to get up here, you have to tell me.”
“I hate this place!”
So what else was new?“Why? What happened?”
“That’s the problem.Nothing happens here. This island is dead. There’s no mall to hang in. No cool
stores or restaurants. No movie theaters. Did you know that Chicago has everything we have here,
including a marina. Matt goes to Six Flags three times every summer.”
Oh, Matt.So the boy was from Chicago. Figures. A lot of Mirabelle’s visitors came from northern
Illinois.
“He’s been to the Sears Tower. The Field Museum. The aquarium. Zoos. He says there are more
shopping malls in the Chicago area than anyone could ever count. Arcades. Parks. You name it, he says
you can find it there.”
And smog, noise, crime, gridlocked traffic and a higher cost of living. For every benefit, Sophie could
name a drawback, but that wasn’t what Lauren needed to hear.
“What are you saying? That you want to move to Chicago? All because of a boy?”
“It’s not because of him, Mom. I’ve always hated this place.”
“Mirabelle has some shortcomings. Every place does.”
“We have no soccer team, dance studio or gymnastics classes. If I wanted to learn piano, French or
woodworking, I’d be fine. I happen to want to learn guitar, Spanish and yoga, so online is my only
option. This place is so…like, limiting.”
“Some day you can move anyplace you want.”
“What am I supposed to do for the next four years?”
“Maybe we need to get away more often. I haven’t done a very good job of that, have I?”
“You’re doing the best you can, Mom. I know that. When I’m out of school in the summer, you have to
work. When you have more free time, I’m in school. It’s not your fault that I feel like I’m suffocating.”
Where had Sophie heard that before?
“You should marry Noah, so we can get off this island.”
Sophie almost fell out of the tree. “So you think getting married is the only way a woman can leave this
island?”
“No. But it’s probably the only way you’ll leave.”
Sophie couldn’t argue with that. “Why Noah?”
“What? You think I’m that lame that I couldn’t figure it out?” Lauren rolled her eyes in that
sanctimonious teenage-girl way. “Gawd, Mom. So you and Noah had a thing when you were kids.
What’s the big deal? He left, you married Dad, and now Dad’s gone.”
Kids always had a way of boiling things down to their barest elements. Sophie couldn’t believe it. How
blind and deaf of a mother was she? She looked away, gathering herself and then asked, “Have you and
Kurt talked about this?”
“A little.”
“And?”
“He’s not too sure about Noah, and he misses Dad.” Lauren’s expression turned serious. “I miss him,
too, but I want you to be happy. And before…Noah came, I knew you weren’t.”
“What do you mean?”
Lauren grabbed at a branch and tugged off a big green leaf. “Every once in a while, you have this look
on your face. Sad. Like you want something and can’t find it. And then you try to cover it up. For us.”
Sophie didn’t know what to say. Her daughter was so perceptive and so right.
“I used to think it was because you missed Dad, too, but then I remembered. You sometimes looked
like that when he was alive.”
Shit. The mirror was smack-dab in front of Sophie’s face and to turn away would’ve been cowardly.
“You still love Noah, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“But you won’t leave the island and he won’t stay?”
Won’t or can’t? That was the question. She nodded.
“So that’s it? End of story?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“If you say so,” Lauren said, clearly unconvinced.




Dalyia غير متواجد حالياً  
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رد مع اقتباس
قديم 26-01-11, 01:56 AM   #22

Dalyia

إدارية ومشرفة سابقة وكاتبة بمكتبة روايتي وعضوة بفريق التصميم والترجمة و الافلام والسينما ومعطاء التسالي ونجمة الحصريات الفنية ومميز بالقسم الطبى

 
الصورة الرمزية Dalyia

? العضوٌ??? » 130321
?  التسِجيلٌ » Jul 2010
? مشَارَ?اتْي » 49,796
? الًجنِس »
? دولتي » دولتي Egypt
? مزاجي » مزاجي
?  نُقآطِيْ » Dalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond repute
¬» مشروبك   pepsi
¬» قناتك mbc4
?? ??? ~
My Mms ~
افتراضي

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NOAH ROLLED HIS GRANDMOTHER’Sold lawn mower into the storage shed and wiped the
sweat from his brow. Weeks had passed since the first time he’d trimmed the bushes and weeded the
gardens, so the whole yard had needed a cleanup.
He turned around, taking a long swig from a water bottle and stopped short. His dad, dressed casually
in shorts, T-shirt and baseball cap, was walking toward Noah, carrying something bulky. When he got to
the yard, he bent over and took a long breath.
Though Noah was still royally pissed, the man was his own flesh and blood. “You all right?” Noah
asked, probably a bit more gruffly than he’d intended. He recapped the water bottle and tossed it onto
the porch for a later pickup.
“When I was a kid, I could run up that hill ten times without stopping. Getting old, I guess.” He held out
a long box. “I got something for you.”
Noah didn’t move.
“It’s not from me.”
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
Noah flipped open the box. Two pairs of old snowshoes lay inside. The sight of the leather bindings,
worn and tattered, drilled a hole in his heart that old memories quickly rushed to fill.
“Isaac wanted you to have those,” his dad said. “It was in his will.” His dad moved into the shade of a
large ash tree, took off his hat and brushed back his thinning gray hair. “I think if he’d known he was
going to die before seeing you again, he’d have had a few things to say.”
Noah looked away.
“He tried to do what was right with Sophie, and he never wanted to hurt you. He loved you. He was
proud of you. He missed you.”
Emotion clogged the words in Noah’s throat. Why did his brother have to go and get in the way of that
bullet? So much violence in this world.
“He would’ve wanted you and me to talk. To settle things between us.”
Noah closed the box and set it on the porch. “I said everything I needed to say back in your office. I’ve
got nothing left.”
“Oh, yes, you do. I know that look on your face.” His dad leaned against the tree and fanned himself
with his hat. “When’s the last time you went fishing?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Well, I ain’t getting any younger.” His dad put his hat back on his head. “It’s time, don’t you think?”
“All right. You asked for it.”
For as far back as Noah could remember, his dad had docked a boat in the marina. This recent one was
bigger than any of the earlier ones and set up for deepwater charter fishing excursions. Well-stocked with
food, beverages, first aid and with a head and sleeping quarters below, Jim could easily spend a week or
two out on Lake Superior without docking.
While Noah had been growing up, if his dad wasn’t at work, he was out on the water. And as far as
Noah was concerned, there’d been nothing more fun than fishing with his dad, until he’d turned thirteen
and had noticed Sophie growing into a young woman. By the time fifteen rolled around, Jim couldn’t pay
Noah enough to get him out on the water. Funny how things had a way of going full circle. Today, Noah
was actually looking forward to seeing if he could catch one of those big Lake Superior salmon.
It didn’t take long before they were cruising on the open water. They hadn’t gone far when Jim cut the
engine and prepped his downriggers for trolling.
“Want something to drink?” Noah headed below deck.
“Grab me a beer.”
He rejoined his dad topside and handed him a frosty can. “How’s fishing been?”
“Terrible. If you know where to go, it’s not too bad. This lake’s overharvested, and I told Isaac that on
more than one occasion.”
At the mention of Isaac again, they both grew quiet.
“Did he like being a game warden?”
“Loved it. Almost as much as he loved being a dad.”
That topic still felt a bit too raw. Noah glanced around. He could see the faint outline of Mirabelle’s
shore. “You’re not catching anything this close in, are you?”
“We’re just messing around. You want to catch some real fish we’ll need the whole day.”
Noah took a swig of ice-cold beer as he watched his dad work. The man had always been methodical
and efficient in everything, including this hobby. Today, though, he seemed troubled. It took him longer
than normal to find the right tackle and he was moving slowly. “You feeling okay?”
“I must be catching something. Headache. Stomach’s upset.” He wasn’t even smoking his pipe.
“Why are we out here then?”
“Can’t pass up a day like today.”
The sun was bright and the water was about as smooth as a big expanse like Lake Superior ever got.
“Sit down. Let me do it.”
“Hah.” Jim stepped back. “You remember after all these years?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Jim sat in the shade under cover of the boat’s canopy and sipped on his beer. “How’s your leg doing?”
“Better.”
“You sleeping and eating?”
“Yeah, actually. I feel pretty good these days.”
“Good.”
“You going to tell me it’s time to leave the island?”
“No, son. I want to tell you I’m sorry.”
Noah glanced up.
“You and Sophie are right. I’ve wronged you—and her—in more ways than I can count.”
Andher? What had he done to Sophie?
“Your brother was a good man—”
“That’s what I keep hearing.”
“He was stable. Loved Mirabelle. Loved those kids. And he loved Sophie.”
“Not as much as I did.”
“I’m realizing that now.” Jim nodded. “I thought what you and Sophie had was puppy love, Noah. That
it’d pass once you were gone. For both of you. Isaac wanted to stay on Mirabelle and he wanted a
family, but I didn’t want to see him go through what I went through with your mother.
“The couple of other single women the right age on Mirabelle weren’t well-suited to Isaac. God help me,
I not only steered him toward Sophie I made him see that she’d be the perfect wife. And when he
insisted Sophie belonged to you, I convinced him that Sophie belonged to herself. She could make her
own choice.”
Noah couldn’t look at his father.
So many years. Gone.
“I was wrong, Noah. Can you forgive me?”
“For that I can,” Noah whispered. “What happened between me and Sophie wasn’t your fault. It was
mine. For leaving.” He paused and turned around. “But why didn’t you tell me about the kids right
away?”
His dad looked wary. “That’s a little harder to explain.”
“That’s what you brought me out here for, isn’t it?”
His dad nodded. “It has to do with your mother leaving.”
“Mom? How?”
“She hated Mirabelle. Couldn’t stand being on an island.”
“So she left.”
“That’s the easy answer. There’s more to it than that.”
“Did I do something to make her go away? Is that why you were angry with me after she left?”
“No, son. You and I…We’re just different.”
“Did you do something to make her go away?”
His dad shook his head. “You blamed me, though, didn’t you, for her leaving?”
“I suppose in a way,” Noah said.
“Wasn’t very long after she left that you and I started fighting, left and right. Remember?”
“I remember you were always angry.”
“I was angry with everyone after she left.” His dad took a deep breath. “But you’re right, Noah. Every
time I look at you, I see your mother. It’s in your eyes, in the way you talk, in the way you live your life.
You’re a lot like her.”
“But you loved her, married her, brought her here with you.”
“I did. I loved her very much.” He focused on the deck. “That first winter was hard. She was lonely. We
didn’t have e-mail and cell phones back then, making it difficult for her to keep in touch with her family.
She asked for us to move back to San Diego. I wouldn’t go.
“Once she had you and Isaac, things got better for a while. Then you were both in school and things
went downhill real fast. She started saying that if she stayed on the island, she was going to shrivel up and
die.”
Noah understood the feeling.
“Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and asked for a divorce. She wanted you and Isaac to spend the
school years with her in California, the summers with me. No way, I said. Then she asked for the
summers. I wouldn’t give an inch. Mirabelle was your home. I told her the only way she was going to get
her divorce, was by giving up both of you.”
“She could have fought you in court.”
“Fought against a police chief? A man who knows the Wisconsin court system, the judges and lawyers
inside and out? I would’ve raked her over the coals. I was as unbending as that hundred-year-old oak in
Shirley Gilbert’s backyard.”
As if the conversation was too much for him, his dad got up and checked on the downriggers at the
back of the boat. He stood astern and turned. “I was wrong. I made your mother choose between
herself and her children.”
“You wouldn’t even let her see us?”
“I knew if she came to Mirabelle, it’d be moans and groans and tears every time she left.” Suddenly
looking so tired, he sat back on the port side of the boat. “If you two had gone to San Diego, you’d
never have wanted to come back to Mirabelle. I’d have lost you both.”
“I always thought she didn’t want me.”
“I don’t blame you for being mad at me, Noah.” His dad leaned back as if he couldn’t catch his breath.
“Strangely, I’m more relieved than anything. I think I need to find her.”
“When you do, tell her I’m sorry.”
“That’s something you’re going to have to tell her yourself.”
“I doubt an apology will cut it. A mother—or a father—should never have to choose between herself
and her children.”
Understanding dawned in Noah. “So when you found out Sophie was pregnant, you didn’t want me to
have to make the same choice Mom had to make.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing at the time, but I desperately needed to set the past right. I wanted you
to be able to live your life without guilt or regret. Free. I wanted you to be free.”
“Free.” Noah shook his head. “How can a man be free when his heart’s—”
“Oh, damn.” His dad groaned. “My arm…” He tried to stand, couldn’t, and lost his balance. His feet
went out from under him and he started to fall backward.
“Dad!” Noah shot forward. Reached. Caught a handful of shirt, but his tenuous grip wasn’t enough to
stop the momentum. With a loud splash, his father fell into the water. “Dad!”
“Noah…I’m having a heart att—” He went under and was sinking like an anchor.
Frantic, Noah dove after him and grabbed him under the arms. His dad’s eyes were closed, his mouth
slack. He was out, deadweight. Noah kicked, but he’d never been in the water before with his
prosthetic. His left leg seemed totally ineffective.
He kicked, kicked and kicked toward the surface, and instead of getting closer they seemed to be
moving farther away from the boat. As long as he held on to his dad he’d have only one arm and one
good leg. It wasn’t enough to move the water. His lungs felt as if they might explode. They were sinking.
He couldn’t let his dad go. No way. If one of them sank, then they were both going to sink. That was all
there was to it.
Sophie! Oh, God, Sophie.He didn’t want to leave her again. Not like this. Not ever.Kurt. Lauren.
Dammit! You can do this. Bum leg or not. Move, Noah! Now!
He made one last surge toward the surface. This time, he made headway, could tell he was closing in on
the surface.Kick, kick, kick! He shot up out of the water, sucked in a breath, and lunged for the boat.
He floated his dad to the stern, yanked on the ladder and managed to get his good leg up on the first
rung.
As soon as he pulled himself partially out of the water, his father’s weight, no longer buoyant, dragged
him back. Noah was running on adrenaline and didn’t have much time.
With everything in him, he heaved himself up, dragging his dad after him and into the boat. It was a
damned good thing he’d been working out, or they would both be dead. They fell onto the deck in a
heap. Noah prayed there was a defibrillator on the boat.
He hopped up. His dad wasn’t breathing. First his airway needed to be cleared of water. Noah lifted his
father’s limp figure, grabbed him low on his diaphragm and pressed, once, twice. Harder. Water flowed
from his dad’s mouth. He pressed again and again and more water spilled through his lips. After several
more compressing thrusts, all the water seemed expelled.
Noah laid him back on the deck of the boat and frantically searched through the cabinets. Fire
extinguisher. First-aid kit.Yes! An automated external defibrillator. An AED. His dad must have kept it
on board for his charter fishing operation. Noah had used them before. Too many times.
He unzipped the bag, ripped off his dad’s shirt, grabbed a nearby towel to dry off the exposed skin, and
applied the electrical pads to his dad’s chest. Then he sat back and waited for the thing to charge.Go, go,
go!
Finally, it was ready and Noah hit the button. The machine zapped his dad and then automatically
monitored the response. Three times it zapped his dad before his heart started and his rhythms stabilized,
but he wasn’t breathing. Noah administered mouth-to-mouth, inflating his dad’s chest. Minutes seemed
to pass before his father began breathing on his own.
“Dad!” Noah shook him. “Dad!”
Nothing. He was unconscious, but alive.
Noah raced to the radio, revved the engine and ran the boat at full speed toward Mirabelle. “Herman!”
he yelled over the line to the deputy chief. “Herman!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“MOM!”
“Mom!”
Focused as Sophie was in attempting to calm a guest, the frantic calls barely penetrated her
consciousness. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said, facing the woman, doing her best to sound sympathetic.
“Unfortunately bee stings do sometimes happen, especially if a child is traipsing through the gardens.”
“Traipsing?” The woman’s eyebrows rose and she put her hands on her hips. “What are you
suggesting?”
“Only that the bees tend to gravitate toward the flowers.”And soda cans. And kids with sticky fingers.
The little twerp had all but sent out invitations.
“Well, shouldn’t you spray, or something?” the woman yelled.
“Mom!”
“Mom!”
That time, the two distinct voices registered loud and clear. Sophie spun around to find Kurt and Lauren
running toward her from the direction of the marina. They nearly knocked her to the ground as they slid
to a stop.
“Grandpa…had…heart attack!” The words spilling from Lauren’s mouth were interrupted by choking
sobs.
“A helicopter just took him to the hospital!” Kurt added in a rush.
“Slow down,” Sophie said, not sure she’d heard correctly. “Start over.”
Jan came racing out of the inn. “Sophie!” she yelled. “Jim had a heart attack out on his boat. He’s being
airlifted to the Ashland hospital.”
“Quick!” Lauren said.
“We have to go there. Now!” Kurt grabbed her arm and tugged.
“Okay, okay.”
“I already called a water taxi. He’ll meet you in the marina,” Jan said, holding out her purse, a small
black wallet with an attached shoulder strap.
“What about Noah?” Sophie called over her shoulder as the kids tugged her toward town.
“He was with Jim on the boat and went along in the helicopter. Josie’s already left for the mainland.”
“Hey!” the guest with the stung kid shouted. “What about me?”
Sophie nearly turned back again to give the woman a piece of her mind.Selfish little —
“I’ll handle this,” Jan said. “You go!”
In the short time it took to run to the marina, Sophie’s insecurities about leaving the island raced to the
forefront. She followed the kids along the docks to the taxi station. Their boat was waiting, and the
moment the driver saw them he started his engine. “All aboard.” The man helped Lauren and Kurt climb
into his boat. When he held out his hand for Sophie, she faltered.
“Come on, Mom,” Lauren said.
“Hurry,” Kurt added.
Sophie swallowed.You can do this. Jim needs us. Pretend it’s like any other trip. You need to be there
for Noah.
She reached out and climbed into the boat. Her stomach flipped and flopped the entire ride to the
mainland. When they stepped on shore, strangers were walking this way and that, but being on the
mainland wasn’t so bad. Except for the cars. They were zipping by on the road.
“Mom, come on!” The kids were running down the pier.
Sophie paid the water taxi and ran after the kids toward the garage where she stored her vehicle, a
ten-year-old economy car with only fifteen thousand miles logged on the odometer. After unlocking the
storage garage, she put the key in the ignition, keeping her fingers crossed that the couple she paid to
service the car had upheld their end of the bargain. The engine turned over without a problem and in no
time they were on the road.
She only used the car, at the most, once a year, so there was usually a bit of relearning involved once
she got behind the wheel, and knowing Jim was in the E.R. didn’t help matters. She felt like a frantic
teenager, jerking her way out of the parking lot, and like an incompetent grandmother, cruising the
highway.
For the first ten minutes, about how long it took her to get the vehicle moving the posted speed of
fifty-five miles an hour, other drivers passed her with either honks or glares, sometimes both. It was
always a strange sensation being off the island. Strange people, strange buildings, strange happenings. As
if she were on another planet. Planet Not-Mirabelle. Jim’s heart attack magnified everything.
By the time she drove into the hospital parking lot about an hour later, she was a mass of nerves. This
was where they’d brought Isaac, where she’d first seen his lifeless body. She’d been able
to—barely—maintain her calm for the kids’ sake the entire drive. The moment she turned the corner to
the waiting room and saw Josie sitting in a chair holding a balled-up tissue in her hand and Noah looking
out the window, she burst into tears. His head came up and his eyes watered, and she sobbed all the
more.
He turned and held out his arms. Relief cooled the anxiety that had been building inside her since she’d
set out from Mirabelle. She practically fell into him. His clothes were cold and damp.
“He’s not going to die, Soph.” He squeezed her tight, resting his head on top of hers. “At least not
today. He’ll be okay.”
“You’re sure?”
“He and I have too much left to say to each other.” He relaxed his hold and Sophie felt Kurt and Lauren
being drawn by Noah into a group hug. Lauren sniffled and Kurt’s fingers dug into Sophie’s back. “I’m
telling you guys,” Noah whispered, “he’s going to be okay.”
“You’re wet,” she whispered.
“We were on the boat. Dad fell into the lake when his heart attack hit.”
“You got him back onto the boat?” Sophie stared at him. “By yourself?”
“Guess all that time I’ve spent with the military was good for something.”
Sophie turned to Josie and hugged her tightly. While they sat and waited together, Sophie grabbed
Noah’s hand and wouldn’t let go. Some time later, a doctor came out of surgery to explain that they’d
performed a triple bypass on Jim, that the heart attack had been relatively minor and there’d been no
permanent damage. Jim would be in the hospital for a week, give or take, and would have to rest for at
least another month.
“Noah,” the doctor said. “If it wasn’t for you, your dad wouldn’t be alive right now. Whatever training
you’ve had, it came in handy today.”
As Sophie felt tears spill onto her cheeks, Noah held his emotions in check; only his red-rimmed eyes
gave him away. Josie sobbed and Noah tried to calm her down.
“When I think of all the times,” she said through her tears, “he’s been out on that boat alone—”
“It’s okay, Josie.” Noah hugged her. “He’s going to be all right.”
Soon after the doctor left, a nurse came to let them know Jim was in intensive care and they could see
him. “Family only,” she cautioned when all five of them stood.
Noah grabbed Josie’s hand and tugged her along. “We are family. All of us.”
Lauren grabbed Noah’s other hand and Kurt’s worried features softened. All five of them walked into
the room together. The equipment hummed and beeped, and Jim had tubes coming out of him every
which way but Sunday.
When Lauren took his hand, he opened his eyes. “Hey there, Miss Mirabelle,” he whispered. “Where’s
Kurt?”
“Here, Grandpa.” He moved up the other side of the bed and loosely took Jim’s other hand.
Noah pushed Josie a little closer. Jim smiled weakly up at her. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a while
longer,” he mumbled.
“I guess so,” Josie whispered.
“How do you feel?” Noah asked.
“Like shit.” He glanced at Sophie. “Excuse my French, Mom.”
The kids chuckled nervously.
“I hope they have a lot of opportunities to hear worse from you.” Sophie smiled.
“Noah?” Jim searched for Noah’s hand. “You saved my life, son.”
Noah gripped his dad’s fingers and squeezed. “Guess that means I’m stuck with you, too.”
MONITORS BEEPED AND EQUIPMENTbuzzed in the hospital room. Noah sat in a chair with his
good foot resting on the rollout cot he’d slept in the previous three nights and his laptop propped open on
his lap. He was getting some writing done, but it wasn’t amounting to much.
Over the top of the screen he studied his dad’s face. The past several days hanging in the hospital and
keeping an eye on his dad had brought back a host of bad memories for Noah of his own internment not
all that long ago. Constant pain and frustration. Surgeries and physical therapy. Pills, shots and blood
being drawn. The smells of antiseptic mixed with flowers and cafeteria food. Hard beds and lumpy
pillows. The air temperature in a hospital room seemed to forever be either too cold or too hot. No
wonder Noah’s nightmares had come back.
Still, Noah had barely left his dad’s side. Josie had come every day to give Noah a few hours off here
and there, but he refused to leave his dad for more than the time it took to eat a meal in the cafeteria. He
remembered all too well what it was like waking up alone in a sterile room with nothing more for
company than a TV mounted on the wall.
His dad stirred, moving his head back and forth. “Noah?”
Noah set his computer on the table, stood and moved to the side of the bed. “I’m here, Dad.” He
squeezed his hand.
“What day is it?” he asked, trying to swallow.
“Wednesday.” Noah grabbed a cup of water and positioned the straw near his dad’s mouth.
“Thanks.” He took a sip. “When am I gettin’ outta here?”
“Not until this weekend.”
“Dammit,” he murmured, his eyelids fluttering from open to closed and back again. “Guess I’ll be missing
tomorrow night’s council meeting.”
“They’ll manage without you.”
Although his dad cracked open his eyes, he was clearly still very tired and groggy from pain meds.
“They’re voting on whether or not Marty should get bids.”
Noah was trying very hard not to care.
“I need you to…go for me,” his dad said, closing his eyes again. “A Bennett…” he said, his words
barely audible, “should be there.” The last word had barely left his mouth before his fingers went
completely lax.
“Dad?”
No response. He’d fallen back to sleep. Noah was adjusting the blanket over his dad’s bare feet when
his laptop dinged with incoming mail.
He glanced at the screen and noticed e-mail messages with a Pick Up The Phone subject heading from
Liz, his editor, flying left and right into his mailbox. She’d called no less than ten times in the past week
and he’d ignored her messages. He might have a few more paragraphs written in his book, but that level
of progress was more pathetic than hopeful, so there didn’t seem any point in talking with her. Now, it
appeared, he didn’t have a choice.
He stalked into the waiting area and called her on his cell. “All right. All right. Stop, already.”
“So that’s how I get your attention,” Liz said, triumphantly.
“What do you want?” He paced outside the door.
“I want to know how you’re doing.”
“You mean you want to know how the book is doing.” The answering silence caused regret to slice
through him. After the way she’d gone out of her way to visit him in the hospital, Liz hadn’t deserved
that. “I’m sorry.” He set off down the hall, passing other open doors, nurse’s carts and food trays.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Part of why I’m calling is about the book. It’s my job.”
“I know.” He took a left and headed into another wing of the small hospital. It felt good to stretch his
legs. “My dad had a heart attack.”
Her heavy sigh was audible. “When it rains, it pours. Is he expected to recover?”
“Fully.”
“What about you? Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“Sleeping?”
“I’ve been staying with him at the hospital. I’m doing okay.”
“Then the book will come.” She sighed again. “Word came out yesterday that our competitor bought an
Iraqi book and slated it for publication the same month as yours. I’m getting pressure to move up your
pub date.”
“Liz, I can’t—”
“I know. We’ll get down to the wire on this one, but we’ll get it done, Noah. Okay? I’m not giving up
on you.”
“I hear ya.”
“Do me a favor and answer my calls?”
“Yeah, all right.”
She hung up.
He stretched out his neck and let his shoulders relax on the way back to the room. After confirming his
dad was still sound asleep, Noah sat back in the chair and deleted Liz’s rapid-fire e-mails.
A Bennett should be there.
Noah didn’t want to get involved in tomorrow night’s council meeting. He shouldn’t have an opinion one
way or another. But he did. Mirabelle needed a shot in the arm, and while Marty’s new hotel didn’t fit
the bill, Noah didn’t have an alternative.
Lacking the motivation for anything more productive, he grabbed his laptop and flipped through the
pictures he’d taken of Mirabelle these past weeks. They were the usual tourist-type shots, including the
view of Mirabelle Island Inn from the marina, the quaint chapel on the hill. The carriages, the horses.
Although he’d framed all of them well, getting the most out of the colors and lighting, the photos with the
people in them captured and held his attention.
One by one, he scrolled through the photos, selecting several and lining them up on his desktop. The
silhouette of Sophie, Lauren and Kurt on the shore against the backdrop of a glorious sunset. Mrs.
Gilbert with a floppy sun hat, tending to her gardens in front of her pink Victorian bed-and-breakfast.
Ron Setterberg carrying kayaks to the shore, the colorful sails of the boats docked in the marina behind
him. What a story they told.
A story. That was it. His story of Mirabelle Island. Forget Iraq. He was sick of war and violence and
death. For once he was going to write something about all that was peaceful and right in the world. The
prodigal son had returned and could finally see the good in his childhood home.
He started typing and the words flew off his fingertips. Sentences became paragraphs, paragraphs
became pages. For hours, he worked on the article. Writing, rewriting, revising. Finally, he was done and
satisfied with the result. It wasn’t just fun and fluff. It was Mirabelle, his all-grown-up vision of the place,
warm and touching, a place for making memories.
That was it. He e-mailed the completed article and a batch of his favorite photos off to an editor he’d
worked with for years at a popular, high-profile magazine.
It wasn’t a book. It was a beginning.
MARTY ANDBRITTANY HAD NOsooner arrived back on Mirabelle, home from their extended
honeymoon, than Marty had met with his contractors to discuss the feasibility of his plans. He wasn’t
merely satisfied with the results, he was ecstatic. Initial estimates were that the entire project could be
completed within his budget and the preliminary marketing analysis supported his proposal on all fronts.
All he had to do now was convince the Mirabelle town council this was best for the island and he could
begin getting detailed, formal bids. After that, all he needed was the board’s unanimous approval to start
construction.
While Marty was floating on cloud nine, Sophie found herself annoyed with her brother. He had the
money to do virtually anything he wanted. Why couldn’t he find another island to destroy?
She sat next to Brittany, at the front of the large auditorium, waiting for Marty’s second council meeting
to begin. This time, in contrast to the first meeting, there was standing room only. Nearly the entire island
had decided to attend. The room was buzzing with conversation, some of it positive, some negative, very
little neutral, and all of it revolving around Marty’s plans.
The council members, all except Jim Bennett, came into the room, took their seats and brought the
meeting to order. Carl Andersen got the ball rolling and invited Marty to come forward to present his
detailed proposal.
Marty had enough booklets to pass out to everyone in the room and a video presentation outlining his
idea. He shut off the video and looked out over the audience.
“All of you have your opinions on what’s right and wrong here,” Marty said. “So let’s look at the facts.
Tourist season is in full swing. Two of your three busiest months are nearly over.” He cleared his throat.
“Who on this island is at full capacity? Who on this island has reached sales comparable to the first tourist
month last year? The year before that? The one before that?”
Some looked worriedly around the room. Many bowed their heads in concentration. He was right.
Everyone in the room knew it.
“There is no one in this room who hasn’t been affected by a drop in tourism. The world is changing and
we have to change with it or risk getting left behind. That’s all there is to it. The initial conclusion of the
feasibility study is that my plan will work.”
Marty stepped down and that’s when all politeness left the room. It was neighbor against neighbor,
business owner against business owner. The sound was deafening. Sophie ached for her brother, for the



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islanders. If they didn’t come together, this would tear the island apart.
“Okay, okay!” Carl said, quieting the room. “Let’s open this discussion. In an orderly fashion.”
Sophie glanced behind her to see residents line up at a microphone and begin asking questions,
presenting issues, raising concerns. One after another, Marty fielded them. She couldn’t help feeling
proud of her brother. She didn’t agree with everything he said, but he was articulate, passionate and well
informed.
Sally McGregor, the island’s postmaster and first-class crank, stepped to the podium. She adjusted the
microphone. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what everyone else has had to say. All of it’s neither here nor
there.”
Tsking, chuckles and outright laughter erupted in various directions in the room.
“Laugh all you want. Here’s the bottom line. Call it a community pool and a municipal golf course all you
want, but put ’em on Rousseau property, and the Rousseaus will be the only ones benefiting. Period.”
“She’s got a point.”
“What about the rest of us?”
“Ain’t that the truth?”
“Well, who’s going to pay for it, Sally? You?”
“Hold on. Hold on,” Marty said. “Guests won’t have to be staying at my new hotel or Sophie’s inn to
use the facilities.”
“The Rousseau property is on the west side of the island,” someone shouted.
“Yeah,” another person added. “Who’s going to want to trudge all that way with their clubs and their
swimming stuff?”
“Well, for heaven’s sake.” This was a third person. “There isn’t room to put a pool, let alone a golf
course, in the center of town.”
The hubbub picked up again, and Sophie watched Marty’s confidence falter for the first time. Brittany
grabbed Sophie’s hand and squeezed. Sophie had never felt quite so conflicted.
Suddenly, the room turned quiet and all eyes turned to the podium. Sophie spun around to see Noah
standing at the microphone. Instantly, she was hit by a skin-tingling awareness of him. He glanced at her,
but his expression was impossible to read.
“I know most of you think I don’t have a say on this, and you’d be right,” he said, loud and clear. “My
dad asked me to be here, so here I am. Besides, this isn’t an opinion. This is a suggestion.” He paused to
take a look around. “You want every business on the island to benefit from these developments, then you
have to put the developments in a central location.”
Some in the audience nodded their assent.
“The only way you’ll get equal access for all guests, is if you put the pool and the golf course on state
land just north of the town center in the middle of the island. Problem solved.”
More murmurs, these quieter, more thoughtful. With a golf course and pools, traffic on the island would
increase to the point they would need a new hotel.
“That’s a good idea, Noah,” Marty said, nodding. “I’ll check into it with the state.”
Sophie could’ve kissed Noah. She couldn’t believe no one else had thought of this ideal compromise.
Sometimes it took an outsider to see what insiders couldn’t.
A short while later, the board agreed to consider Marty’s final proposal, but only if the state would allow
the sale of some centrally located parkland to be used for the pools and golf course. They would then
take Marty’s proposal under advisement. All islanders were encouraged to make their views known to
the council members. A final vote was expected before the end of summer.
The room cleared, and Sophie noticed Noah heading for the door. “Brittany, I’ll see you and Marty
later. I need to talk to Noah.” She squeezed through the crowd and once outside the town hall, ran to
catch up with him. “Noah.”
He stopped and turned, but didn’t say anything.
“Thank you,” she said. “For Marty’s sake.”
He studied her for a moment. “What about for your sake, Sophie? What about what you want?” His
gaze was serious, penetrating. “For so many years you’ve been doing for others. First your parents and
your brothers and sisters. Then your kids. Isaac. The islanders. What about you, Sophie? Do you even
know what you want anymore?”
She stared at him, silent, speechless.
He turned and walked away.
Well, I know what I don’t want, all right. I don’t want you to leave Mirabelle. I don’t want you to leave
me. Again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“GRANDPA!”
“You’re home!”
Noah glanced up and grinned at the sight of Kurt and Lauren standing at the pier and waving at the ferry
as they approached Mirabelle. He wondered how long they’d been waiting for them to get back from the
hospital, but was so glad they’d been patient. “Looks like they really missed you, Dad.”
His father waved back. “At least I’ve done one thing right in my life.”
Noah and Josie both reached at the same time to help his dad off the ferry. “I can do it myself.” Jim
shooed them both away and stepped onto the pier holding the rail with one hand and a cane with the
other. “And I can make it to Arlo’s carriage on my own, too. All this hovering. You two are gonna make
me wish I was back in the hospital.”
Though Josie let go of his arm, she walked slowly by his side. Noah grabbed his dad’s bag and followed
as Kurt and Lauren joined their group. Everyone except Lauren climbed onto Arlo’s carriage.
“I’m going to Nikki’s,” Lauren said. “I’ll see you later, Grandpa.”
“All right, Miss Mirabelle. You have a good time.”
Noah threw his dad’s bag in the back. “Take us to Josie’s, would you, Arlo?”
“Ayep.” Arlo nodded. “Sure thing.”
Noah climbed into the back and watched Kurt interact with his grandfather. In profile, the boy reminded
Noah so much of Isaac, and an ache of warring emotions slowly weaved through him. Why couldn’t
Noah be more like his brother, Isaac? Why couldn’t he stay on Mirabelle?
Then he remembered the winters.
Summer time had never been much of a problem for Noah, but then fall would hit, the tourists left, kids
went back to school, a somber quiet fell over the town, and a part of Noah would shrivel up and die like
the leaves on the trees. Snow would fall and Chequamegon Bay would freeze over, like always,
encircling Mirabelle in icy isolation. There were months when the only way off the island was by
helicopter or plane. Noah couldn’t live like that. He guessed he really was like his mother.
Arlo pulled up alongside Josie’s house. Noah hopped to the ground and held out a hand for Josie.
“Come on, Dad. This is your stop, too.”
“Oh, no.” Jim shook his head. “I’m going home.”
“The doctors said you can’t stay at home alone.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m not worried, and I don’t want to start worrying. You’re either staying with Josie or me. Take your
pick.”
His dad glanced at Kurt and the young boy only shrugged. “Don’t look at me.”
“Jim Bennett.” Josie put her hands on her hips. “You’re staying here. Whether you like it or not. And if
you’re worried about appearances, get over it. Everyone on this island knows you’re here most nights,
anyway.”
Jim glanced at Arlo.
Arlo grinned. “You ain’t fooling anyone ’cept yourself, Jim. Haven’t for years.”
“Damned island,” Noah’s dad muttered as he eased himself off the carriage. “Everyone always butting
into everyone else’s business.”
While Arlo turned his carriage back to town Josie opened her front door. Noah dropped the bags inside
and helped his dad get settled in an easy chair in the living room.
“Anyone want lemonade?” Josie asked on her way into the kitchen.
“Sounds great,” his dad said.
“Noah?”
“No, thanks, Josie. I need to take off in a few minutes.”
“I don’t want any,” Kurt said. “Thanks, Josie.”
“You going to be okay?” Noah asked his dad.
“I’ll be fine.” Jim released a slow breath. “Did you know she threw away all my pipes, tobacco, filters,
ashtrays,” he whispered, pointing to the kitchen. “Everything. Gone.”
“The doctor said you had to quit.”
“Yeah, I know.” Worry creased his brow. “I guess along with quitting smoking, I’d better look into
quitting work.”
“You don’t have to do that, Dad. The doctor is expecting a full recovery.”
“What would you do if you’re not chief of police?” Kurt asked.
“Retire.”
“Just cause you had a heart attack?”
“I hate admitting it, but I’m actually ready for winters some place a little warmer. A lot warmer. Every
winter, twenty below feels just a little colder than the year before.”
“You?” Noah laughed. “Leaving Mirabelle?”
“Only for the winters, mind you. I asked Josie to come with me.” Suddenly, he reached for Noah’s and
Kurt’s hands. “You know that no matter what happens…I love you two, right?”
“I know, Grandpa.”
“Dad, you’re going to be fine. But, yeah, I know.” Noah tightened his grip and then let go. “I love you,
too.”
Jim nodded. “I know.”
Josie brought in two glasses of icy lemonade and handed one to Noah’s dad.
“Well, I need to get going.” Noah kissed Josie on the cheek and whispered, “Thanks for taking care of
the old coot.”
“Hey!”
Noah was happy to see color had returned to his father’s cheeks. “Well, let me know if you need
anything, Josie.” He glanced at Kurt. “You hanging out here for a while?”
“Yeah,” Kurt said. “I want to stay with Grandpa.”
Noah watched the two, side by side. Kurt had the kind of bond with Jim Bennett that Noah had always
wished for. Maybe if he’d stayed on Mirabelle, that close relationship may have come to pass, but he’d
made his choice with regard to so many things when he’d left Mirabelle. Noah headed for the door.
“You know what, Kurt?” his dad said. “I’m pretty tired after all that cashushing from the hospital. I think
I’m ready for a nap. Why don’t you take a walk with Noah and ask him about the time he
karate-chopped your dad and ended up breaking his own wrist.”
Noah turned around and laughed.
“No one knew your dad better than Noah,” Jim said, winking at Kurt.
Noah shook his head. “See you later, Dad.” He stepped out onto the porch and held the door open.
“You coming, Kurt?”
Kurt followed him outside.
“That was nice of you and Lauren to meet the ferry today,” Noah said, hoping to break the ice.
“Mom told us you were bringing Grandpa home. She would’ve come to the pier, too, but she was too
busy with work.” Kurt picked up a stick and started breaking it in pieces as they walked down the hill.
“Did you really break your wrist in a fight with Dad?”
“Well, I’m not sure I’d call it a fight.” Noah laughed again, remembering that day. “Your dad was older
and bigger than me. Our fights were more like Isaac holding me off while I tried to inflict as much damage
as possible. Generally speaking, I ended up doing more damage to myself.”
They walked in silence to the bottom of the hill. When they turned toward the inn, Kurt said, “Did you
really know him better than anyone?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe.”
“What was my dad like? I mean, as a brother?”
Noah smiled. “Calm. What I remember most about Isaac is that he was always relaxed. Confident.
Content. I remember pestering him, trying to get a rise out of him and it never seemed to work. No
matter what I did. I could change the TV channel. Chuck a pencil at him from across the room. Whistle
while he was doing homework. Tap my fingers on a tabletop. He’d either completely ignore me or laugh
at me.
“Your grandpa would take us fishing and the two of them would sit there for hours, as quiet as could be,
not saying a word, enjoying the day, sunshine or clouds, wind or rain. They didn’t care. They were just
happy being out on the water. Drove me absolutely crazy. I could never sit still.”
Kurt laughed. “And he never cared if he caught any fish, either.”
“Exactly!” Noah laughed, too. “I could never seem to catch up to him, either, in strength or height. He
was five years older, so he always, always, beat me at arm wrestling. And, man, could he throw a
football.”
“He used to play catch with me and Lauren. Football, baseball, Frisbee.”
Noah wished his brother were alive, so he could hug him, yell at him, laugh with him. “He was a good
older brother, so I’ll bet he was a good dad.”
“You were mad at him, weren’t you? For marrying Mom?”
Whoa.Noah stopped. “Who told you that?”
“No one.” Kurt turned and held Noah’s gaze. “You’ve never been around before, and I’ve heard
people talking. I might be only fourteen, but I’m not stupid.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I was mad at him. And your mom.” Noah picked up a rock at the edge of the road
and tossed it toward the water. “I was in Afghanistan in the mountains when he was killed. If I’d known,
I would’ve come back for the funeral.”
Kurt’s eyes watered. “Did Dad steal Mom from you? Is that why you left Mirabelle?”
“No, Kurt.” It was time Noah fessed up to himself, to the world. “I left Mirabelle before your mom and
dad started dating. No one made me go. No one made me stay away. It’s what I chose to do.”
Isaac had taken care of Sophie and the kids. Noah had no right to be resentful, jealous or angry with his
brother.I’m sorry, Isaac. I should’ve let it go years ago. Noah smiled at Kurt and started walking again.
“So tell me some of your favorite memories of your dad.”
Kurt walked alongside. “He liked to play video games with me, but he wasn’t very good at it. He was
goofy. Made us laugh. He used to take me and Lauren camping to lots of different places. Every year, he
took each one of us on a solo trip with him and at least another one with both of us.”
“Your mom never went?”
“She doesn’t like to camp.”
That didn’t sound like the Sophie Noah remembered.
“I liked snowshoeing in the winter with him,” Kurt said.
“He used to take me out, too, when I was little.”
“It was cold.”
“And quiet. You could hear the snow landing on the tree branches. And, early in the morning, you could
sometimes hear a deer walking through the woods or cardinals calling to each other so loud and clear.”
“Yeah. I remember.”
Those memories of Isaac had to be so near and dear to Kurt’s heart. Isaac was the only father Kurt and
Lauren had ever known. Did Noah have a right to mess with that?
“Sometimes you sound like him,” Kurt said.
Noah didn’t know what to say.
“He’d have to be gone sometimes for work and every day, he’d call to say good-night. Sometimes, I
just wish I could hear his voice again.”
“Does it bother you when you hear my voice?”
“At first, it did. Now, I think it’s kinda nice.”
Noah squeezed Kurt’s shoulder. “I miss him, too,” he whispered.


Dalyia غير متواجد حالياً  
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قديم 26-01-11, 01:59 AM   #24

Dalyia

إدارية ومشرفة سابقة وكاتبة بمكتبة روايتي وعضوة بفريق التصميم والترجمة و الافلام والسينما ومعطاء التسالي ونجمة الحصريات الفنية ومميز بالقسم الطبى

 
الصورة الرمزية Dalyia

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?  نُقآطِيْ » Dalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond repute
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?? ??? ~
My Mms ~
افتراضي

CHAPTER NINETEEN
SOPHIE TURNED AWAY FROMlistening to Marty discuss the state land near the Duffy stables with
various contractors and a golf course designer to find Noah, his camera in hand, coming up the hill. He
looked so good, lightly tanned, his dark hair highlighted from time in the sun, and healthy, having put back
some of the muscle he’d likely lost from his hospital stay.
Wouldn’t it be fun to grab his hand and take off in a kayak for the day? Be gone. With each other.
There was a reason people called them fantasies.
“So did the state approve the sale of the land?”
She nodded. Marty had jumped one more hurdle.
“Looks like a good spot for a golf course,” Noah said, slowing as he reached her side.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never golfed. How are you doing?” she asked.
Since Jim’s heart attack, they’d established a tentative truce, but much was still unsettled between them.
“I’m okay.”
“No, I mean how are you feeling about what’s happened with your dad?”
“It’s a lot to digest. I’ve wasted—we’ve wasted—a lot of years. There’s hope for us to rebuild a good
relationship. We’ll keep in touch, no matter where we both end up.” He picked some grass and, for a
moment, she was mesmerized with watching his fingers deftly tear the blades down the middle.Touch me.
Me. “Dad told me that Mom had wanted custody of us boys,” he said, “but he refused to let us leave
Mirabelle. He apologized.”
She looked up and focused on his face. “So now what?”
“I’m going to try and find her. I don’t have any illusions that everything will be all sunny and rosy, but
seeing her again will help to put some pieces back together. For me. I’ll take it from there.” He spun
away from her as if he suddenly became aware of the current between them. “Look at that view,” he
said, doing his own abrupt changing of subject. “You can see it all from up here.”
“This is where Marty’s thinking of putting the main clubhouse.”
“Good choice. Rolling hills. Plenty of trees. Seems to me, the right designer could carve a damned good
course out of this land.” He turned to look at Sophie. “If this is done right, it could mean a lot for
Mirabelle.”
“It’s a small island, Noah.” The sun felt hot on her head. She moved to the shade under a craggy old
oak and Noah followed. “We can only handle so many visitors without destroying the place.”
“That’s the marvelous thing about this place. You can control how many people visit based on the ferry
schedule, and you can control how many people stay here by the number of available hotel rooms.”
“Everyone wants something different.”
“They’ll come to a compromise.”
“I’m not so sure.”
He shook his head. “Sophie, all change isn’t necessarily bad.”
“When something is already perfect, change is bad.”
“This island is far from perfect.”
“It’s perfect for me.”
“You think so?” He glanced at her hands, and she was struck with the sense that he’d almost reached
out for her. She stepped back, out of his reach. “What about when you want to see a concert or a play?”
he asked. “Go out to a restaurant that has more than burgers, fries and beer on the menu?”
“That doesn’t happen very often.”
“Ever get sick of shopping on the Internet? Say you’re looking for that perfect gift for one of the kids
and have no ideas, so you can’t search for anything. Wouldn’t it be nice to go to an actual store and
browse? Feel the sweaters. Smell the cologne. Match colors.”
“We go into Minneapolis about once a year. Been to Chicago once or twice, too.”
“What about when Lauren grows up and wants to leave Mirabelle because there’s nothing here for her?
You know that day is going to come. Probably sooner rather than later.”
“Okay, so it’s not perfect.”
“That’s all I’m saying.” He picked some more grass. “By the way, I heard back from several of the
galleries where I sent your photographs.”
She held her breath.
“All of them like your stuff. One in L.A. has a showing scheduled for October with some well-known
photographers. She said your work would integrate quite nicely—herwords not mine—with the others.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever you want it to mean.”
“Noah—”
“Don’t say anything yet. Okay? Just think about it. Nothing needs to change. This doesn’t need to be
anything more than a creative outlet for you during the winter. Then again, it could be a new beginning.”
The beginning of what? The whole idea of her photographs being displayed in a gallery left her feeling
unsettled, as if a door stood open before her, but she had no concept of what was on the other side.
“Enough of that.” Something else was on his mind and he was having a hard time voicing it. No doubt it
had to do with Kurt and Lauren. “Thanks for helping with my dad.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Sophie said.
“You were there. It made a difference to him. To me.” He tossed the blades of grass aside and looked
into her face. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Kurt and Lauren. I wanted you to know that I understand.”
His gaze penetrated hers. “You made the right decision.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“There’ve been days these last fifteen years that I wasn’t so sure. But once a big, heavy ball is rolling in
one direction, it’s hard to change course.”
“Boy, don’t I know that.” He nodded. “The other day, Lauren showed me the collection you have of my
books and articles.”
Sophie looked away, embarrassed.
“It’s cool that she’s read some of them.”
“She’s so hungry for the world.”
“So was I. I was selfish and driven. If it had turned out that I was Lauren and Kurt’s father, I’m not sure
I would’ve been able to put yours and the kids’ needs ahead of mine. I probably would’ve resented not
being able to travel or write the way I wanted to—”
“That’s not—”
“I know.” This time, he did reach out and grab her hand, quieting her. “Whether you realized it or not,
Soph, I had a lot of growing up to do, and I couldn’t do that here. If I’d have stayed, I’d have made
everyone, including myself, miserable.”
She wasn’t so sure about that, but what was done was done. “So now what? What are you going to
do?”
“About Lauren and Kurt?”
She nodded.
“I’m not sure yet, but for now I’m enjoying getting to know them. You raised a couple of great kids.”
He rubbed her fingers in a motion meant to comfort, but, at the moment, that was the last thing she
wanted from him. She imagined intertwining her fingers with his, bringing his hand to her lips. She yanked
her hand away and turned toward the inn. “I wish you’d just make up your mind, Noah. About
everything.”
“MOM SAID SHE WANTED AN ADULTwith us,” Lauren explained, a little breathless after having
run all the way up the hill.
“I don’t get why,” Kurt muttered, looking a little put out. “We went out by ourselves lots of times this
summer.”
Noah stepped out onto the porch and glanced at Kurt and Lauren. Finally, after all the time he’d been
spending with them, he was feeling like an uncle. Only the big question remained. Was he father material?
“She suggested we ask you,” Lauren explained. “Wanna come sailing with us?”
“Oh, man,” he said, “I’m not sure I remember how.”
“We can teach you,” Kurt offered.
“You can, huh?” Summer was over. They’d be heading back to school soon and Noah was already
missing them. What did that say about him eventually leaving the island? “Is your mom coming?” He was
hoping she would.
“She has to work.”
Figures. It was her way of trying to disconnect from him, and he could hardly blame her. His stomach
rumbled from hunger. “Have you guys had lunch yet?”
“No.”
“Then come on in for a sec.” He threw some sodas, water, bread and lunch meat into a cooler, grabbed
a bag of chips and rejoined them in the living room. “Okay, let’s go.” Noah reached for his camera, a
baseball cap and sunglasses and followed the kids out the door.
“Are you two fighting?” Lauren asked.
“Who two?”
“You and Mom.”
Noah looked at her. “It’s…complicated.”
“Right.” Lauren and Kurt exchanged looks.
Thankfully, on reaching the marina, they became preoccupied with tying and untying knots, and the
uncomfortable subject was forgotten. A short while later, they were out on the glittering, relatively smooth
waters of Lake Superior. Noah couldn’t have asked for a better day for sailing. With winds strong
enough to build speed, but light enough to keep heavy whitecaps from forming, the weather was perfect.
“How much longer are you staying on the island?” Lauren asked once they were out on the water.
“I don’t know.”
“Can I see your fake leg?” Kurt asked.
Lauren whacked his shoulder. “Geez, Kurt!”
“It’s all right. I get it.” Noah pulled up the leg of his jeans and let Kurt touch his prosthetic. “I remember
once asking Mr. McGregor to see his fake eye.”
“Is that the old guy who used to live by the stables?” Kurt asked.
Noah nodded. “Used to? Where is he now?”
“He died last year,” Lauren said.
“That’s too bad.”
“Are you kidding?” Kurt trimmed the sail. “He was scary.”
“Especially with a rifle in his hands.” Noah laughed, leaning back and letting the kids do the work.
“He shot at you?” Kurt’s eyes bulged.
“He threatened to if I didn’t quit running through his yard and raiding his apple tree. One day, his wife,
Sally—”
“The mean woman who works in the post office?”
“Yeah, that’s her. Well, she invited me in for cookies.”
“Cookies?” Lauren asked, her mouth gaping. “You’re kidding.”
“And you lived to talk about it?” Kurt asked.
Noah laughed, remembering all the rumors about the McGregors. “Believe it or not, she was nice. Even
sat at the kitchen table with me. That’s when I asked to see the old man’s eye.”
“What did he say?” For the first time since he’d met the boy, he noticed something damned close to
respect in those young eyes.
“He popped it out right there and held it in his hand.”
“Gross!” Lauren exclaimed.
“Bomb,” Kurt said, smiling. “You can’t make this stuff up.”
Noah laughed.
“Yes, you can,” Lauren said.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“What?” Kurt said. “You gonna put that in one of your books?”
“You seem awfully interested in writing, Lauren,” Noah said, breaking things up. “Aspirations?”
“Yeah. I’ve started a couple stories and already finished one. Will you read it? Tell me what you think?”
“Don’t,” Kurt warned. “It’s a romance.”
“Sure,” Noah said. “I’ll read it.” He regretted all those years he’d missed spending time with these kids.
“Not to make things heavy here or anything, but I want to apologize for something.”
They both glanced at him.
“I’m not quite sure how to say this, but I wasn’t much of an uncle all those years you guys were growing
up. I’m sorry. It was me. My problem. It didn’t have anything to do with you guys.”
“That’s okay,” Lauren said.
“No, it’s not, but I’d like to keep in touch. From now on.”
“Whatever,” Kurt said, looking away.
His apology may not have meant much to them, but it lifted a weight off Noah’s shoulders. They were on
the water for hours, snapping off pictures of each other, talking, eating and exploring one of the smaller,
unpopulated, nearby Apostle Islands. He’d never spent much time around kids, but he enjoyed Kurt and
Lauren’s company. There was only one person missing from the picture.
“Let’s go see if your mom can break from work to get ice cream with us.”
FROM HER OPEN OFFICE WINDOW, Sophie watched her children coming back from sailing with
Noah. While Lauren was all for spending time with Noah, Kurt had taken some convincing, so she was
glad they’d been out for a nice long time.
Instead of going directly to the marina, they landed the dinghy on the beach in front of the inn. If she
quickly glanced at them, she could almost imagine that it was Isaac with them, rather than Noah, but
anyone who had known the brothers at all would’ve immediately noticed their differences. Noah’s hair
was much darker than Isaac’s, but it was the way he held himself that marked him. Noah was shorter
and more muscular, whereas Isaac had always been taller and more slender.
Integrate quite nicely.The words Noah had relayed from the L.A. gallery owner about Sophie’s
photographs popped in her mind. She pushed them back. She had too many other things to worry about.
The three sun-kissed sailors walked toward the inn. Noah saw her standing in front of her office window
and waved. Kurt and Lauren ran toward her.
“Come with us for ice cream,” Lauren said, standing outside.
“Yeah, Mom, come.”
Not sure if she should intrude on his time alone with the kids, she glanced at Noah.
“How can you resistthe finest homemade ice cream in the entire Midwest? ” His imitation of Mrs. Miller
was perfect, and Sophie laughed. “Please,” he added.
“I’ll meet you around front.” She turned, walked down the hall and through the lobby.
Jan looked up from the reception desk.
“I’m going to get some ice cream with the kids.”
“Sounds nummy.” Jan smiled. Then she noticed Noah waiting with Lauren and Kurt. “I almost forgot.
Josie…”
Not again.“You know what, Jan?” Sophie said, interrupting her. “I need to set the record straight on
something, and I’d appreciate it if you’d quietly pass it around to all the islanders.”
Jan flattened her lips as if it took everything in her to keep quiet.
“All those years ago, when Noah left the island?”
Jan waited.
“He was gone long before I found out I was pregnant,” Sophie said. “I never told him, and neither did
his dad. Noah never knew I was pregnant. I should be so lucky that he forgives me for what I did. And
didn’t do.”
Sophie walked out the front entrance feeling a little lighter. She and Noah walked side by side, following
Kurt and Lauren across the lawn toward the shops in the main part of town. “How was the water?” she
asked, breaking the ice.
“Perfect,” Noah said. “Sailing’s not all that different than riding a bike.”
“You haven’t been since you left Mirabelle?”
“Nope.”
His leg didn’t seem to be bothering him at all today. “Are you wearing your new leg?”
He nodded. “The mirror therapy is working.”
“Before you know it,” she said, swallowing, “you’ll be ready to leave the island.”
He didn’t say anything. What could he say? She was right. He’d be leaving.
“So where are you off to after…you heal up?” Sophie asked.
“They’re expecting me in Iraq, but I’m not sure I’ll be going back.”
“What would you do instead?”
His gaze was completely unreadable. “I don’t know.”
“You should stay here,” Lauren said.
“You think?” Noah smiled.
“If you want,” Kurt said, throwing in his somewhat reluctant two cents.
Noah glanced at Sophie.Stay, she wanted to say.Please.
“Actually, I have a beachfront house in Rhode Island,” he said. “Bought it a few years back. Kind of
reminds me of Mirabelle with the ocean out the back door and a little town nearby. Only there’s a
decent-sized city nearby and Boston and Manhattan are a stone’s throw away.”
The thought of such big cities made her skin crawl.
“You think you wouldn’t like living in a city,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “You’d be surprised.
Whether you live in a big city or a small town, you can live your life however you choose. Isolate
yourself, or explore every nook and cranny. Get to know only your immediate neighbors or involve
yourself in the larger community. A city gives a person options. Your lifestyle isn’t defined by nature, like
what happens when you live on an island.”
Sophie had never thought of it that way. As they hit Main Street, his gaze was intensely focused on her.
What was he saying?
Somehow the kids had gotten ahead of them. “Come on!” Kurt called out.
“We’ll catch up to you,” Noah yelled back. He turned back and touched her cheek. “Think about it.
That’s all I’m asking.”
About leaving Mirabelle? About going anywhere, anytime with him? She already had, more times than
she could count. The days of her envisioning herself anywhere except on this island were long gone. She
was a Rousseau with an obligation to carry on tradition at the inn. She could not uproot her children. This
was their home.
The kids were standing outside the ice cream shop. “Come on, you guys!” Lauren was almost jumping
up and down with impatience.
Noah turned around and jogged backward. “Yeah, come on, Mom!” Suddenly, he tossed her his
camera. “Why don’t you take some pictures, huh?”
She hadn’t held a camera since last winter and the cool metal felt good in her hands. She followed Noah
as he ducked inside the ice cream parlor, turned on the digital and immediately started framing shots.
“So what’s good here?” Noah asked Lauren.
Lauren pointed at the far case. “They have the best chocolate caramel fudge brownie in the world.”
“Sounds like your mom’s favorite.”
“Get the Bubble Gum Bomb,” Kurt said, taking a lick off his own double-dipped cone of bright pink ice
cream.
“Maybe another day.” Noah cringed.
“He’ll take chocolate chip,” Sophie said, coming up beside Lauren.
“She’s got that right.” Noah grinned and went on talking about ice cream options with Lauren.
Sophie only half listened. She was more interested in taking pictures of them. She studied the three of
them through the lens and suddenly, with everything in her, she wanted Kurt and Lauren to be Noah’s
children. Maybe then he would stay.
But if they weren’t? Then what?


Dalyia غير متواجد حالياً  
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قديم 26-01-11, 01:59 AM   #25

Dalyia

إدارية ومشرفة سابقة وكاتبة بمكتبة روايتي وعضوة بفريق التصميم والترجمة و الافلام والسينما ومعطاء التسالي ونجمة الحصريات الفنية ومميز بالقسم الطبى

 
الصورة الرمزية Dalyia

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¬» مشروبك   pepsi
¬» قناتك mbc4
?? ??? ~
My Mms ~
افتراضي

CHAPTER TWENTY
“HAVE YOU HEARD THE NEWS?”Sally McGregor asked.
Was she talking to him?Startled, Jim glanced over his shoulder. Sally never small-talked while on duty.
Seeing that he was alone in the post office and she couldn’t possibly be talking to anyone else, he turned
back around. “What news?”
“A flood of calls and e-mails have been coming in the last few weeks,” she said. “I hear every hotel and
B and B on the entire island’s booked up for the rest of this summer and half of next. It’s all because of
your son.”
Oh, shit.“What did Noah do?”
“He wrote an article for some big magazine that came out last week.”
“No kidding.”
“Just to set the record straight. I’ve always liked that boy.”
Jim paid for the roll of stamps and walked outside. His doctors had wanted him to get some exercise in
every day, and he was feeling pretty good, all things considered, so he headed toward the drugstore to
see if anyone there knew about this magazine business.
Marsha Henderson practically assaulted him the moment he walked through the door. “Chief, did you
see it?”
“Noah’s article? No.”
“I saved the last one for you.” Marsha slapped a copy in Jim’s hands. “Who would’ve thought that boy
had it in him. Your son’s a hero.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Jim bought some shampoo along with the magazine and wandered back out into
the street, staring at the glossy cover. Below the picture of some movie star was the title of a feature
article, Mirabelle Island, Where Past Meets Present.
“That’s a damned nice article,” Ron Setterberg said as he passed by on his way back to the island
equipment-rental office.
As he continued walking, Jim flipped through the pages and located the piece. Sure enough, Noah had
written it. His pictures were plastered across several pages. There was one with Sophie and the kids.
“Jim!” Doc Welinsky was coming toward him. “How are you feeling?”
“Doing good.”
“You need anything, you let me know.” Doc gave Jim two thumbs-up. “The next time you see that son
of yours, you tell him I said good job.”
“I think you should tell him yourself.”
Doc shrugged. “Maybe I will.”
Jim sat on the nearest bench. All that walking had taken it out of him.
“You look like you’re not sure how you’ll get back to Josie’s.” That was Noah’s voice. His son was
coming out of Newman’s carrying a bag of groceries.
“Yeah, I probably got myself out a little too far.”
Noah sat, putting the bag on the sidewalk.
“How’d you manage this?” Jim asked, pointing at the magazine in his lap.
“Right place at the right time. They had something else scheduled and the writer bailed on them.”
“Looks like it took a lot of time.”
“It was nothing. What was I supposed to do all these weeks?”
“I can think of a lot of things. Instead, you stepped out of line to help your old neighbors and friends.”
“Don’t read too much into it, Dad.”
“Noah, son, that’s been my problem all along. Not reading you at all.”
“Dad, don’t—”
“I know we’ve cleared the air a bit. There’s one more thing that needs to be said.”
Noah fell quiet, listening.
“I don’t always understand you. You’re different than me. But I know you’re a good man. Just as good
a man as Isaac.” He paused. “I’m okay with you leaving Mirabelle again. Just don’t stay away so long
next time.”
Noah nodded.
“As for Sophie—”
“I don’t think you’d better go there.”
Maybe his son was right. Maybe this tentative truce between them was too fragile to withstand a volatile
topic like Sophie.
“She’s always been like flesh and blood to me, and well…” Jim said, pausing.
“Don’t ruin it, okay? The less said, the better.”
“This needs saying, too.”
Noah looked as if he was holding his breath.
“I know it sounds silly, me saying this, but you’ve got my permission—no,my wholehearted blessing
—to take her and the kids off the island, too.”
“That isn’t going to happen.” Noah looked up into the clouds and sighed. “Not in this lifetime.”
“I never offered your mother a single compromise. Not one. I stuck to my guns like the stubborn son of
a bitch I am, and look what it got me. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
“There is no compromise, Dad.”
“Don’t lose her again, Noah. You’ll regret it the rest of your life.”
AFTER HELPING HIS DAD BACK TOJosie’s, Noah went to his house and poured some iced tea
into one of his grandma’s orange-and-yellow flowered glasses. On his way to the porch, he stopped and
looked at the photographs from Iraq he’d printed out and had scattered across the coffee table. Although
he’d gotten a good start on the photo layout for the book, there was one file he’d yet to open. He’d
never looked at the photos of the explosion and his subsequent stay in the hospital.
Setting his iced tea on the table, he flipped up his laptop, opened the folder and looked through the
pictures, one after another. In an instant, he was transported back to Iraq where the unrelenting heat and
sun, the wind, the sand and dirt were more than a memory. He was there. In the moment.
The explosion.Damn . He studied the pictures of the aftermath. Half of the truck was gone. No wonder
everyone else had died. Then there was the hospital. He’d had to practically beg a nurse to snap off a
couple shots for him, and now he understood why she’d been so hesitant. He looked like shit. Pale,
haggard. Depressed. The other amputees didn’t look much better.
This book had to be finished. Not because he was under contract, but because he finally had something
to say. This time it was their story. This time he wanted to write about life not death. Explosion.
Recovery. Survival.
He opened his manuscript file, began typing, and typing and typing and typing. For the next several days,
his fingers flew over the keyboard and the last of the book practically wrote itself.
As he keyed in the last line, he realized that he may have lost a part of his leg, but his soul felt more
complete than ever. He was whole, at least in spirit, and he was finished traveling the world documenting
unrest and war. He’d keep writing, of course. It was his job, what he loved doing, but he was all done
running away. There was no longer anything, or anyone, nipping at his heels. Not anymore.
As for truth? It was staring him in the face.
SOPHIE WALKED THROUGH HALLSof the Mirabelle Inn taking mental notes. Everything was
green and blue and white. She stopped in the lobby. Suddenly she was sick of the monotonous color
schemes.
“Soph?” Marty was coming down the wide circular staircase. “Do you have some time for a walk?”
“Sure.” She set her notebook behind the front desk. “Do you think this foyer needs more color?”
He glanced around. “I don’t know. It looks like it’s always looked, right?”
“Yeah. That’s the problem.” She was going to talk to Jan when they got back. Changes at the inn were
long overdue.
She and Marty went outside and automatically headed toward the Rousseau forest. “You’re worried
about the council meeting, aren’t you?” she asked.
He nodded. Tonight they were going to take a final vote. “Have you talked to Carl or Jim? Do you have
any idea how they’re leaning?”
“No, but if I were to guess, I’d say Carl’s a go for it and Jim’s on the fence. The council’s probably
fairly evenly split.” They walked on in silence for a while.
“What about you?” he asked. “Have you decided whether or not you’ll approve the use of the trust
land?”
“I don’t know, Marty. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I still haven’t decided. Tell me, why
do you want to move back to Mirabelle?”
“I miss it.”
“That’s all? You sure you won’t get bored here?”
“Positive. I’ve lived here before. I know what it’s like and I know what I want. This is it.”
“What about Brittany? You sure she won’t get bored?”
“She’s from a speck of a town in Oregon. She knows small and isolated and she knows how to make
her own fun. She doesn’t need malls or theaters. She needs good people, people who’ll accept her and
treat her kindly. She can’t wait to run her own spa. And we want kids, Sophie.
“I’m not getting any younger and Brittany’s ready now. We don’t want to raise them in a big city. Both
of us want our kids to be able to run out the back door and not have to worry about who they’re with or
where they’re going. There aren’t many places in the world still like that. Then when you get to the
teenaged years? You wouldn’t believe what’s out there. The kind of trouble they can get in.”
Yes, she would. She well understood the mines her kids had sidestepped by living on Mirabelle. All she
had to do was watch and listen to some of the families who visited during the summer months.
“Is there a reason you don’t want us to live here?”
“I’d love for you and Brittany to live on Mirabelle.” She shook her head. “That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is it? What’s the bottom line?”
She stopped and spread her arms out wide. “These woods. I don’t want to lose them.”
“There’s plenty of undeveloped land on the island.”
“It’s not Rousseau land. This ground, right here, under our feet, belonged to our ancestors. You develop
this and part of our family’s history is gone. Forever.”
Marty looked around. “We’ll be putting the pools and golf course on state land, but the hotel? That I’d
have to put here. They’re just trees, Sophie.”
“Don’t you remember playing in these woods? Don’t you want your kids to have these woods to play
in?”
She could see his wheels turning.
“I need something to do on this island. I can’t retire and raise kids here, and I don’t want to raise kids in
a place that’s dying. I want my kids to have other kids their ages growing up here. When’s the last time
someone moved to Mirabelle? We lose residents. We don’t gain. It won’t be long before there aren’t
any kids left on this island at all.”
He had a valid point. “Maybe the pools and golf course are good ideas. Could you manage those?”
“I’m not sure they’d keep me busy enough.” He picked up a stick and threw it into the woods. “There is
a possibility we could add on to the inn. Build a spa facility and an entertainment complex on the west
lawn.”
when they came over on the ferry was the inn and its expansive green lawns, topiaries and rose gardens.
“Take that away, and you take away Mirabelle’s image.”
“With good architects and landscape designers, the additions could be an improvement on the image.
The woods would stay intact. It could work.” He stopped. “Sophie, nothing ever stays the same. Life is
change.”
“I know.”
“You’ve dealt with a lot of change in your own life. Mom and Dad dying. Noah leaving. Getting married,
losing a husband, having kids.”
“I know.”
“You’ve adapted. Grown. Changed.”
“I know.”
She understood everything he wanted for Mirabelle and it all made sense. It sounded good for the island
and the residents.
“Sophie, I know you feel like it’s your responsibility to keep the faith. When Dad died, he passed on to
you the responsibility for keeping the Rousseau traditions alive. I get it. But as wonderful a job as you’ve
done, I’m not so sure that was fair. Maybe it’s time for you to take a break. While I can’t guarantee that
things won’t change, I can promise you I’m home to stay.”
As he hugged her, Sophie couldn’t decide whether the past fifteen years had been a burden or a gift.
“There’s something else you’re holding on to, isn’t there?” Marty asked. “Something you can’t let go.
What is it?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.


Dalyia غير متواجد حالياً  
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أنْت يـَـــا اللَّـه 【 تَكْفِينِي 】ツ

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قديم 26-01-11, 02:01 AM   #26

Dalyia

إدارية ومشرفة سابقة وكاتبة بمكتبة روايتي وعضوة بفريق التصميم والترجمة و الافلام والسينما ومعطاء التسالي ونجمة الحصريات الفنية ومميز بالقسم الطبى

 
الصورة الرمزية Dalyia

? العضوٌ??? » 130321
?  التسِجيلٌ » Jul 2010
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?  نُقآطِيْ » Dalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond repute
¬» مشروبك   pepsi
¬» قناتك mbc4
?? ??? ~
My Mms ~
افتراضي

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“FIRST, WE RUN OUT OFtoilet paper and it takes your housekeeping staff an hour to get it to our
room,” the woman said, shaking her head animatedly. “Then we asked for fresh towels and…”
Sophie stood behind the front desk and tuned out the disgruntled guest. As if it hadn’t been a rough
enough day with the upcoming council meeting hanging over her head. She could tell within thirty seconds
of coming out of her office on Jan’s request to deal with this mess that all the woman was after was
monetary compensation. She didn’t care about any of the accidental inconveniences. She was an
opportunist. Even the woman’s husband, standing behind her, looked embarrassed.
Jan stood silently next to Sophie. She knew the drill.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Campbell,” Sophie forced the words out, all the while wishing she could give this
woman a piece of her mind. “I trust a coupon for twenty percent off your next bill at our restaurant will
ease your troubles.” She tried to smile while holding out the offering.
“Well, all right, but—”
“Please feel free to call me at any time for the duration of your stay.” She handed the woman her card. “I
hope this inconvenience doesn’t keep you from coming back next year.”
“Oh, we won’t be staying here next year.” The woman snapped up the card.
Of all the nerve.“Well, in that case—” Sophie snatched the discount coupon out of the woman’s hand
“—I’ll be taking that back.”
“Wa—but—I—” While the woman stammered and sputtered away, her husband hid a smile behind his
hand and Jan’s mouth dropped open.
“I’d suggest you enjoy the rest of your stay,” Sophie said, unable to stop the outpouring now that the
dam had burst, “but I doubt you enjoy life in gen—”
Jan stepped in front of Sophie. “I think what Ms. Rousseau means is that twenty percent off isn’t nearly
enough. Here.” She handed the woman a different coupon. “You and your husband enjoy an entirely free
meal. Okay?” she said politely and scuttled Sophie off into her office. “What the heck was that all
about?”
Sophie crossed her arms and stood looking out her window over the sun-kissed water, feeling unsettled
and antsy.
“Look, you haven’t had a day off since Marty and Brittany’s wedding,” Jan said. “Go. Get out of here.
It’s not much, but an afternoon is better than nothing.”
The kids were going fishing with Jim and Josie after school. Sophie was free until the council meeting.
Mounds of paperwork sat on her desk, but Jan was right. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t go to
Noah’s. That would be trouble. She couldn’t go downtown. All the tourists looking for fall colors would
drive her crazy. There was no point in isolating herself in the small room off her office. She’d only stare at
the pictures of her and Noah.
In the end, she settled for lunch and a book at the lighthouse. Along with picnic fare, she brought a bottle
of wine and blankets. She sat back under the shade of a white pine to read and heard footsteps
crunching across the rocks.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
She should’ve known Noah would come. “Why?”
“I saw you walking this way with that look on your face.”
“What look is that?”
“The one that says, ‘If I have to spend one more minute with a brainless tourist I’m going to shoot
myself.’”
She laughed.
He sat next to her. Immediately, the heat emanating from his skin warmed her side and she felt an urge tosnuggle into him. Trouble. “Want a glass of wine?” More trouble.
“Sure.”
She reached behind her for a plastic cup from her stash hidden in the bushes, poured him some
cabernet, and held it out. Her fingers brushed against his as the cup exchanged hands, and the reckless
need to fall into him passed through her.Do not do this.
“So,” she said, trying to redirect her thoughts, “have you figured out what you want to do about the
kids?”
“That’s not why I came here.” He looked away. “We’ve been getting along fine. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“We have to talk about it. Eventually.”
“Not now.”
“Then whydid you come here?”
“There’s something else, something more important.”
She took a sip of wine and waited.
Noah stood and paced. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you and Isaac. You and me. The kids. Trying to
find a solution. I know this is going to sound as though it’s coming out of nowhere, but…” Suddenly, he
stopped in front of her. “Could you…Do you think you could ever love me…as much as you loved
Isaac?”
“How could you really believe all these years that I loved Isaac more than you?”
“What was I supposed to think? You married him. You never would’ve married me.”
“Damn you, Noah.” She stood, tears springing to her eyes. “If my dad hadn’t died, we’d have gotten
married. How can you not know that?” She turned to walk away.
“Wait a minute.” He grabbed her arm. “Sophie?”
She swallowed. Though the words felt stuck in her throat, she forced them out. “I learned to love Isaac,”
she whispered. “Like a good friend. I never loved him, the way I loved you.”
Her answer took him back. He looked as if he didn’t know what to say. “Could you ever love me
again?”
She felt as if she might burst from holding herself back. She had to let everything out. “I’m not sure I
ever stopped loving you, Noah. Every day of my life, you’ve been there, in my heart. Front and center.”
He stepped toward her and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck. “Then come with me.”
“My life is here.”
“Make a new life. With me.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” He studied her face, and his eyes slowly closed as if he could barely contain himself.
“The islanders have been right in trying to keep us apart. Because all I want to do, right or wrong, is
make love to you.”
“Right or wrong.” She leaned forward, and his gaze focused on her mouth. His short, fast breaths hit her
cheek. “It’s what we both want.”
“That won’t solve a thing.”
“I don’t care,” she whispered.
Suddenly, with a yearning that made her chest ache, she wanted back what she and Noah had shared so
long ago. She didn’t care what the consequences might be. Noah had been right. Most of her life she’d
been doing for others. Her parents, her children, Isaac, the inn, the island. This timeshe wanted.She
needed.
“I want you. Wherever this goes, Noah, I don’t care. I need you.” She reached up, put a hand at the
back of his neck and drew him toward her. His eyes slowly closed as she pressed her mouth to his.
She cupped his rough, whiskered cheek in her hand and tilted her head, to deepen the kiss. He was
holding himself back, but God help her, she wanted him to let go. She wanted to experience once again
the abandon she’d felt in his arms so long ago. She ran her tongue along the inside of his lips and
explored his mouth, wanting, needing to taste him.
His chest heaved with restraint, and he jerked away. “No. I’m sorry.” He set her away from him and
stood. “We can’t do this.”
Sophie watched him walking away, a mixture of anger and emptiness draining her, and then the
recklessness hovering on the fringes of her consciousness took charge. “Oh, yes, Noah, we can.”
NOAH DIDN’T LOOK BACKand he sure as hell didn’t stop until he’d reached his grandmother’s
front porch. What they’d had together had been real. She had loved him. All these years, he’d been
telling himself a lie to get by. She’d loved him then. She loved him now.
He couldn’t believe he’d summoned the willpower to walk away and leave her at the lighthouse. In truth,
though, that willpower had been hanging by the barest of threads. His honorable intentions had been
close enough to flying into the bright blue sky that the hazy overhead clouds wouldn’t have known what
hit them.
He reached for the knob and rested his forehead on the smooth wooden surface of the front door.Oh,
hell. He smelled her on the warm air. She was in him. On his skin. Burning him up. He could go back.
She might still be there. If not, this was a small island. He could find her. Then what?
He’d been down this road before. Not a damned thing had changed. Resolutely, he turned the knob
and, at the sound on the porch steps creaking behind him, he froze, his heart racing all over again.
“Sophie, don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t come closer. Don’t touch me.”
Her arms came around his waist and her fingers wasted no time unbuttoning his shirt. “I know,” she
whispered. “You’re trying to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t.” Her lips were on his back, her breath burning his skin. “I don’t want anyone deciding things for
me. Not anymore.”
He threw his hands up and rested his palms against the door, refusing to turn, refusing to take her in his
arms. “For the love of God, Sophie,” he bit out, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You already have. If I have to endure pain tomorrow, I want the pleasure due me today.”
No mercy. None. She drew his shirt off and stepped closer, pressing against him. Her fingertips dipped
beneath the waistband of his jeans and his gut tightened. His movement created space, allowed her easier
access. She took advantage and moved lower, touched him, ran her hand roughly against him.
That was it. This was too much. He flung open the door and spun around. Angry and frustrated. “So this
is what you want?”
“You. I want you. More than any—”
He kissed her, lifted her into his arms, and kicked the door closed behind them. He glanced at the steps,
unsure if his leg would support them both, but he’d be damned if he was going to take her on the couch
like a randy teenager. He took one step, then two, and his leg miraculously held, fueling him, making him
feel complete. He felt strong, whole.
“Put me down. I’ll walk.”
“No.” Quickly, he carried her the rest of the way upstairs and laid her back onto the bed. “Now that
I’ve got you, I’m not letting you go.”
By the time he finished stripping off her shorts and underwear, she’d already worked the fly on his jeans
and was cupping him. Frantic movements. Haggard breaths. Hands searching, needing, possessing. Her
mouth was on him, loving him. “Sophie. Slow down.”
“No.” She dragged her shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra. “I don’t know how long I’ve got you
and I want to make every minute count.” She was naked in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the
window.
The air left his chest, the angry wind left his sail. “You are so, so perfect.” He touched her cheek, trailed
his finger down her neck and circled the nipple of one full and beautifully peaked breast. All at once, he
felt like an ogre next to her in his own scarred, battered and hacked-up body.
Then she kissed him sweetly and whispered, “I can’t believe I have you back.” Her lips trembled against
his. “My Noah.”
He was stillher Noah, all hers. His misgivings dissipated, and he couldn’t get his prosthetic off fast
enough. Once it was gone, she tugged off his jeans and boxers and dragged him back with her onto the
bed.
It took him a moment to get his balance with only one foot, but then he was over her, kissing her mouth,
deeply, as if they’d never been apart. He drew her knee up and found her so slick with need, he almost
lost it right there. He was inside her in one swift movement.
“Noah!” she cried out, taking him in, moving with him.
He couldn’t stop. A grown man and he felt as if he were seventeen all over again. He pulled away.
“Slow dow—”
“No!” She rolled over on top of him and took him back inside her, took him back in time. It was the
Bayfield motel all over again. The rest of the world ceased to exist. There was this room and the two of
them, their bodies, their lips, their skin. They came together. She was his. He was hers.
THEY STAYED IN BED FOR HOURS, talked and laughed, whispered and snuggled, made love
again and again. Dozed off as if they had all the time in the world. Sophie awoke hours later, muscles she
never knew she had tight and stiff. She smiled, feeling Noah’s arms draped possessively around her.
The afternoon had been heaven. She turned and studied his sleeping face. How she’d longed for a
moment like this. Noah. Back. In her arms, in her bed, in her life. For how long? She’d given herself to
him wholly and completely, knowing their time together would be so limited. Knowing he’d be leaving.
Heavenand hell, all wrapped into one.
And she was going to do it all over again, and again, and again, willingly, for as long as she could, for as
long as he’d let her. Holding back the tears, she kissed his neck, his cheek, the corner of his mouth,
gently waking him. His eyes opened and the fire burning there made her forget all about the heartbreak to
come. She’d take heaven now. Hell would come soon enough.
NOAH HAD NEVER BEFORE WANTEDto stop the night from coming the way he did at this
moment. In a very short while, Sophie would be leaving for the council meeting to vote on Marty’s
proposal, and once she climbed out of this bed, their private bubble would pop. Everything would
change.
The first puff of cool evening air passed through the screen of the open window and Noah wished for a
few more minutes, an hour, maybe two. Who was he kidding? He wanted a lifetime, and he wasn’t going
to get it. He wanted to be a father. He wanted a wife, children, a home. A life. He wanted Kurt and
Lauren to be his children. And he wanted Sophie by his side for the rest of his life.
With Sophie in his arms, her head on his chest, he put his face to her hair and breathed her in. True love
always found a way. How wrong could one man be? How could he have been so totally ignorant of his
denial?
He still loved her. She still loved him. If anything, what he felt today was stronger. Adult. Mature. More
complete. There was no childish idealism, no infatuation. He loved her.
But this time there would be no walking away for him while telling himself real love would find a way.
Real love didn’t find a way all the time, every day. People had coined a name for such an occurrence. It
was called a broken heart, and Noah had barreled full steam ahead, causing his own monumentally
jagged fracture.
Did they have any kind of a chance?
“Sophie,” he whispered. “You awake?”
“Mmm,” she murmured, trailing her fingers lightly through his chest hair. “Barely.”
“I’m not going back to Iraq. I’m done traveling to war zones.”
Abruptly, she sat up, dragging the sheet with her and focused on him.
“I can’t go back to that life. Not anymore.”
Her relief was visible. “That’s it? You’re really done?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be satisfied, happy with that decision?”
“I want to settle down. Dig in. Make a home.” Feeling raw and uncertain, he had to go one step further.
He had to lay his heart on the line and hope like hell she picked it up. “Come with me?”
“You said you were done traveling.”
“Done going outside the States, but I can’t stay here. It’s still a damned small island. I’d be fine for a few
years, but the winters here are brutal. Summer ends. Tourists stop coming. Snow falls, people huddle in
their homes, and this place turns into a graveyard. You know that.” He paced. “Have you thought about
Rhode Island? You and the kids. Making a life with me there. You’ll like it. I know you will.” He
grabbed her hand and held it to his heart. “Marry me, Sophie. Put the past right once and for all.”
“Leave Mirabelle?” She stood, wrapping the sheet around her. “That’s what you’re asking me to do?”
“We could come back in the summers. When the kids are out of school.” He hopped up and yanked on
his boxers. “It would work. We could make it work. Split our time between two homes. People do it all
the time.”
“What about the inn?” She stepped back, away from him.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Quickly he put on his prosthetic, so he could be ready if she dashed out the door.
“Maybe Marty could take it over? You could hire a general manager? I don’t know. It doesn’t
matter—”
“Doesn’t matter? Maybe it doesn’t to you, but this business has been in my family for hundreds of
years.” She tugged her T-shirt over her head and stepped into her shorts. “I can’t just…just…leave.”
“Yes, Sophie, you can.” He stepped toward her and stopped. “You can let someone else in your family
take charge and carry the burden, so you can live your life. You deserve it. You deserve to be happy.”
“I like Mirabelle. I am happy here.”“That’s what you’ve told yourself all these years, so you could get by. But this isn’t the life you wanted.”
“What I wanted changed. Just because you can’t live here doesn’t mean other people don’t want to.
People sometimes move here to stay. People who are happy, content, say it’s the best thing that ever
happened to them and their families.”
“They’ve chosen Mirabelle. They weren’t born here.”
“I’ve chosen Mirabelle.” She put her hands out at her sides. “That’s what you can’t accept. I ended up
choosing an island over you.”
“There’s a difference between choosing this island life and hiding away from the rest of the world.
Somewhere along the way youwanting to stay on Mirabelle changed tohiding on Mirabelle.”
She didn’t say anything.
“You can’t see it.” Frustration burned in his gut. He felt her slipping away and was helpless to stop it.
“You hide behind your life here, behind your ancestors’ expectations. Rousseaus have to live on
Mirabelle. The Rousseau forest has to stay completely intact. A Rousseau has to run the Mirabelle Island
Inn. That’s bullshit!” He laid it out, risking everything, knowing he had no choice. “You use all that as an
excuse to keep yourself locked away. You’ve been hiding for years.”
“What am I supposed to be hiding from?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know everything else.”
He studied her, debated. “Pain. You’re hiding from pain.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Everyone has pain in their life.”
“And everyone copes differently. While you’re on this island, you can pretend everything is okay. That
one day will flow smoothly into the next and you’ll be able to handle anything that’s coming. You can
contain your pain. Like the shores of this island.
“Your father dies and you compensate by making his life’s work yours. You keep him alive every time
you keep that inn exactly the way he made it. Your mother dies, and you redouble your efforts. I leave,
break your heart, and you find someone who…won’t ask too much of you. My brother.”
Her eyes turned red as tears pooled. She looked away and swallowed.
Had he gone too far? Maybe. Maybe not far enough. Some of what he was saying seemed to be hitting
its mark. “You pretend everything is the way it’s supposed to be, Sophie,” he continued, softening the
tone of his voice. “Because it’s Mirabelle. Because life on Mirabelle is supposed to be picture-perfect.
So you tell yourself you have everything you’ve ever wanted. You lie to yourself. Every day.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is, Soph. I know it is. Because I’ve lied to myself for fifteen years.” He ran his hands through his hair.
“You were right. All the while you’ve been hiding, I’ve been running away. From you. From my dad.
From Isaac. Well, I’m done.” He reached for her, and she backed away. “If I can be done running, you
can be done hiding.”
“You’re wrong.”
But she wasn’t sure. “I can see it in your face, right now. You wondering if I could be right. Think about
it, Sophie. Your actions through the years. Even your photographs…tell a different story. You’ve given
up fifteen years of your life. For the kids. For your dad and mom. For the inn. For Mirabelle. Don’t you
think it’s time you start living for yourself?”
She moved toward the doorway. “You’d say anything to get me to go with you, wouldn’t you?”
“This isn’t about me, Sophie. It’s about you making your own life, not letting this island make your life
for you. Don’t let fear run your life.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Yes, you are. When you step off this island everything shifts. You don’t know the people. The people
don’t know you. Strangers won’t take care of you. You’d be on your own, making your own way. You
can’t handle that, can you?”
She didn’t say anything.
“I hurt you and I’m so, so sorry. And if you leave this island and come with me, I’m bound to hurt you
again. I’m not perfect, but I promise I will never, ever stop loving you. Marry me, Sophie. Come with
me.”
“You need to leave.” She backed into the hall. “So go.”
“What?”
“Get…off…my…island.” She turned and ran down the hallway.
“Sophie!” He followed as fast as he could. This was it, his last chance to make her see. “Is this the
message you want to send Lauren and Kurt?” he asked, pulling out all the stops.
“Don’t you dare bring them into this!” She was at the front door before he’d made it down a few steps.
“They’ll follow your lead. Lauren will hesitate. Kurt won’t ever leave.”
“Get off!” she yelled. “Don’t ever come back. Ever. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’re wrong.
So, so wrong.” She ran out the front door. He watched her disappear down the hill. Out of his sight, out
of his life


Dalyia غير متواجد حالياً  
التوقيع
أنْت يـَـــا اللَّـه 【 تَكْفِينِي 】ツ

رد مع اقتباس
قديم 26-01-11, 02:02 AM   #27

Dalyia

إدارية ومشرفة سابقة وكاتبة بمكتبة روايتي وعضوة بفريق التصميم والترجمة و الافلام والسينما ومعطاء التسالي ونجمة الحصريات الفنية ومميز بالقسم الطبى

 
الصورة الرمزية Dalyia

? العضوٌ??? » 130321
?  التسِجيلٌ » Jul 2010
? مشَارَ?اتْي » 49,796
? الًجنِس »
? دولتي » دولتي Egypt
? مزاجي » مزاجي
?  نُقآطِيْ » Dalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond repute
¬» مشروبك   pepsi
¬» قناتك mbc4
?? ??? ~
My Mms ~
افتراضي

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

محتوى مخفي يجب عليك الرد لرؤية النص المخفي



التعديل الأخير تم بواسطة soul-of-life ; 27-01-11 الساعة 01:01 PM
Dalyia غير متواجد حالياً  
التوقيع
أنْت يـَـــا اللَّـه 【 تَكْفِينِي 】ツ

رد مع اقتباس
قديم 26-01-11, 02:03 AM   #28

Dalyia

إدارية ومشرفة سابقة وكاتبة بمكتبة روايتي وعضوة بفريق التصميم والترجمة و الافلام والسينما ومعطاء التسالي ونجمة الحصريات الفنية ومميز بالقسم الطبى

 
الصورة الرمزية Dalyia

? العضوٌ??? » 130321
?  التسِجيلٌ » Jul 2010
? مشَارَ?اتْي » 49,796
? الًجنِس »
? دولتي » دولتي Egypt
? مزاجي » مزاجي
?  نُقآطِيْ » Dalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond reputeDalyia has a reputation beyond repute
¬» مشروبك   pepsi
¬» قناتك mbc4
?? ??? ~
My Mms ~
افتراضي

EPILOGUE

محتوى مخفي يجب عليك الرد لرؤية النص المخفي



التعديل الأخير تم بواسطة soul-of-life ; 27-01-11 الساعة 01:00 PM
Dalyia غير متواجد حالياً  
التوقيع
أنْت يـَـــا اللَّـه 【 تَكْفِينِي 】ツ

رد مع اقتباس
قديم 27-01-11, 01:02 PM   #29

soul-of-life

نجم روايتي وعضوة في فريق الترجمة

 
الصورة الرمزية soul-of-life

? العضوٌ??? » 79748
?  التسِجيلٌ » Feb 2009
? مشَارَ?اتْي » 7,585
?  نُقآطِيْ » soul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond reputesoul-of-life has a reputation beyond repute
افتراضي

thanks a million dody
really great work

thanks a lot dear


soul-of-life غير متواجد حالياً  
التوقيع

Never get into an argument with an idiot. He will drag you down to his level, and beat you senseless with his
expertise
رد مع اقتباس
قديم 26-12-11, 02:19 AM   #30

fatma hamdy

? العضوٌ??? » 59964
?  التسِجيلٌ » Nov 2008
? مشَارَ?اتْي » 6
?  نُقآطِيْ » fatma hamdy is on a distinguished road
Mh04

:heeheeh::heeheeh:

fatma hamdy غير متواجد حالياً   رد مع اقتباس
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