Ashlyn felt off-balance, too, registering both regret and relief as she looked up at him. “Are you sorry?”
“No. But I don’t want you to be either.”
She touched her fingers to her lips, recalling the delicious warmth of his mouth on hers. She wasn’t sorry, but she wasn’t sure that what had just happened was a good idea for either of them.
“Ethan . . .”
He dropped his arms, stepping back. “I know.”
She nearly reached for him, then decided she’d only be sending mixed signals. “I’m not sorry about what just happened. In fact, part of me wonders what took us so long, but I’m not sure—”
He held up a hand. “It’s okay. I get it.”
“No. You don’t. I feel what you do. But there’s a reason there hasn’t been anyone since Daniel. A lot of reasons, actually. I’m better off by myself.”
“You don’t know that. If there hasn’t been anyone, you can’t know it.”
“But I do, Ethan. I have too much baggage to bring to a relationship. And when I say baggage, I’m talking whole steamer trunks full. You deserve better than that.”
Ethan stared down at the railing, shoulders bunched tightly. “I’m not proposing, Ashlyn. I’m just asking you to keep the door open—and to let me help you carry those bags now and then. No pressure. No strings.” He reached for her hand. “You don’t even have to give me an answer. Just stick around long enough to give me a chance.”
The muffled ring of the house phone suddenly interrupted the quiet. Ethan relinquished her hand with a groan. “I need to get that. One of the professors is on baby watch and I told him I’d cover his classes for a few days if he needed me to. He said he’d call tonight.”
“Go,” Ashlyn told him, relieved to be spared a response. “I’ll be in in a minute.”
“You’re not going to sneak down the deck stairs and take off while I’m inside, right? You’ll be here when I get back?”
Ashlyn shot him a grin. “I’ll be in in a minute. Get the phone.”
She watched as he disappeared through the french doors, then saw the kitchen light go on. She took her time gathering their empty bottles and straightening the deck chairs. She needed a few minutes before she went in, to digest what had just happened.
Was she ready to let Ethan into her life? To risk loving and losing—again? It would be lying to say she hadn’t imagined it. She’d been imagining it since that first awkward moment in his study, the first uneasy inkling that something was happening between them. But nothing had come of it. They’d fallen into a kind of partnership after that—collaboration rather than courtship—and she’d convinced herself that it was for the best.
Now, suddenly, things had escalated. She had opened the door and let him in, shared a part of herself that she hadn’t even shared with Daniel. Because she trusted him. But trust was a dangerous thing. So was love. And that was where this was headed if she didn’t put the brakes on. Was she willing to take that kind of leap again? To give someone the power to shatter the small but careful life she’d managed to rebuild for herself?
And there was something else to consider. The possibility that what they felt was merely a by-product of their involvement with the books. What if they’d simply gotten caught up in Belle and Hemi’s story, feeling things that were likely to fade as quickly as they had ignited?
She had no answers, but the sun was nearly down and the temperature was dropping fast, the breeze off the harbor sharp against her cheeks. She had just stepped away from the railing when she heard the patio door open. She turned to find Ethan silhouetted in the doorway. She waited a moment, expecting an announcement, but he just stood there, his face in shadow.
“Well, is it a boy or a girl?”
“Neither. It was Zachary.”
Her stomach did a little flip at the mention of the name. “And?”
“And Marian is alive and well and living in Massachusetts, of all places.”
FOURTEEN
ASHLYN
In the happiest times of my life, I have reached for my books. In the saddest times of my life, my books have reached back.
—Ashlyn Greer, The Care & Feeding of Old Books
October 25, 1984
Rye, New Hampshire
Ethan opened two beers while Ashlyn unpacked the lobster rolls and fries she had picked up on the way over. She’d been more than a little surprised when he called to suggest they get some dinner. They’d spoken twice during the week. Baby watch had finally resulted in an actual baby, which meant he’d been teaching double classes. And when he wasn’t teaching, he was chained to his desk, polishing the chapters he’d promised his editor.
Or maybe after their conversation on Sunday, he’d decided to give her a little space. To her relief, the kiss hadn’t come up during either phone call. Instead, they’d focused on the fact that it had been days since Zachary had agreed to call Marian and pass along a message from her great-nephew.
Four days.
It wasn’t a good sign. Apparently, Marian had little interest in reconnecting. In fairness, Zachary had warned Ethan that a return call was unlikely, as his mother was an extremely private person. Still, she had hoped Marian’s affection for Richard Hillard might have tipped the scales in their favor. She’d clearly been too optimistic. They had agreed to wait a full week, then try once more before throwing in the towel. After that—short of stalking the woman—they were out of options.
Ethan handed her a beer, then snuck around her to grab a fry from one of the takeout containers. “How’s the newsletter coming?”
Ashlyn raised her beer triumphantly. “Done. And off to the printer as of this morning. I had to beg a little, but I should have it back before Thanksgiving. How about your new classes? Is it weird stepping in midsemester?”
Ethan grabbed another fry, followed by an onion ring. “A little weird, yeah. You’d think college students would be over the whole ‘slack when there’s a substitute’ thing, but they’re not.” He paused, eyeing the lobster rolls Ashlyn had just pulled from the bag. “Hey, they look good. I’ve got a fire going if you want to eat in the great room. Or we can just sit at the counter.”
“The fire sounds nice.”
“Good. You grab the beers and some napkins. I’ll bring the food.”
He was sliding the Styrofoam containers from the counter when the phone rang. They both went still, looked at the phone, then each other. Ashlyn held her breath as Ethan lifted the receiver, waiting for some sign that the call was what they hoped it was.
“Yes. Thank you. This is Ethan.”
He was quiet a moment, listening, then slid his eyes to Ashlyn’s, nodding. After another moment, he clicked the speakerphone button and laid the handset on the counter. Ashlyn covered her mouth with both hands, smothering a gasp as a women’s voice suddenly filled the kitchen, low and smoky, just the way Hemi had described it.
“My son said you have some letters and cards. Things I sent your father over the years.”
“Yes,” Ethan replied. “I also came across a few photos while clearing out his study. I thought you might like to have them back.”