Chapter Nine
"Celia? Celia, are you all right?"
Tom's voice seemed very far away. "Celia?"
Gasping, Celia wrenched her attention from the column that would never be printed in the newspaper and looked straight into Tom's eyes. He stared at her over the top of the computer, looking concerned.
"I'm fine," she said faintly. She looked back down at the screen and panicked. Crap, she thought. I'm not supposed to be reading this. She tried to close the window without appearing too obvious, but she knew Tom was watching her.
"Been reading anything interesting?" Tom's voice was nonchalant, but when she glanced at him he was still staring at her intently. There was a strange mixture of emotions on his face – as though he couldn't decide whether he was happy he had caught her reading his column or afraid of what she would say. His knuckles were white around the bag he was holding, forgotten, at his side.
"I -- " Celia didn't know what to say. If his column had even a shred of truth to it, Tom still had feelings for her. Wouldn't it be better just to find out? "I was just -- "
"There you are, Tom!"
Both of them jumped at the sound of Lauren's voice. Celia's sudden movement knocked several pens off the table and she bent over to retrieve them, glad for an excuse to hide her face. She was sure she looked guilty, although she didn't know why she felt that way.
Lauren appeared behind him and placed her arm around his waist. The hand holding the bag stiffened even further and a few seconds later it popped from the pressure, spilling bagels all over the floor. Sesame seed scattered across the floor, crunching under people's feet as they walked past.
Tom swore under his breath and bent down to pick up the mess. He glanced up at her from his position at her feet. "We'll have to finish this discussion later," he said quietly. His eyes were full of anticipation.
Tearing her gaze from him, Celia re-opened the document, hit the print button, and closed it again. She stood up and grabbed the column as it came out of the printer and then left the building as quickly as she could without running. When she got to the sidewalk she tripped in her haste. Before she could hit the ground, a pair of strong hands grabbed her arms. Locke laughed at her expression and put his arm around her to keep her steady. "Where are you going in such a rush?" he asked, giving the top of her head an affectionate kiss. "We don't have to be anywhere until three this afternoon."
Celia handed him the sheet of paper she had crumpled in her haste and leaned against him, trying to calm her breathing. Locke smoothed it out and scanned the column. He stuffed it in his pocket when Tom and Lauren came outside.
"I was wondering where everyone had gone," Locke said easily. "The house was empty when I got up. I should have known you could only live without the internet for so long."
Tom's gaze was fixed on Celia. "You can find all sorts of information online," he said. "It can be very . . . enlightening."
Celia tried to keep her face bland.
"We'll talk about it on the way back to the house," Locke whispered in her ear.
"I'm so hungry," Lauren complained suddenly from her perch on Tom's arm. "Can't we go somewhere?"
"That's an excellent idea," Locke agreed. "Let go back to the house. I'll make everyone an omelet." He motioned for Lauren and Tom to precede him. When they were out of earshot he pulled the column out of his pocket and gave it back to Celia.
"What do you make of it?" he asked.
"He caught me reading it. Well, kind of. I think he suspects that I was, but . . . "
Locke stopped and turned her so they could look at each other. "You're not making any sense. Do you mean to tell me that Tom doesn't know you've been reading his column all along?"
Celia shrugged. "He never asked. What am I going to do, Locke? He can't love me anymore, not after the way I treated him. And he has a girlfriend."
"He doesn't have a girlfriend," Locke argued. "Have you been paying attention to them? He rolls his eyes every time Lauren opens her mouth."
"That's not the point. Even if he doesn't want her, Lauren assumes they're a couple. Tom just sits back and lets her think that."
"That's true," Locke conceded, "but I happen to know he's doing that because he's jealous and doesn't want you to know it."
Celia snorted and started to walk down the street again. "That's ridiculous."
Locke looked at her for a moment and sighed. "Think whatever you want," he said, "but I know I'm right."
All through breakfast Celia watched Lauren and Tom interact. They were sitting next to each other, and Lauren seemed to go out of her way to touch him -- a bump on the arm, a brush of the hand as she reached for the orange juice. Tom ignored everything and focused all his attention on his plate. He glanced up once and caught Celia's eye. They stared at each other for a moment, and then he flashed her a grin. He was still smiling when he looked back down at his breakfast.
Celia didn't know what to think. Maybe Locke was right. She thought back to their first interactions at Cassie's apartment and her eyes widened in shock. Maybe all those stupid assumptions he had been making over the past few weeks were driven by jealousy, not stupidity. She glanced up at him again. Tom was listening to Lauren, his head cocked to one side. He was leaning toward her a little too closely, a half-smile on his face. Then again, maybe not.
"So what are the plans for this morning?" Locke asked, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair. "Does anyone want a tour of the island?"
"Sounds good to me," Cassie said from the doorway. "I'm ready to get out of the house."
Locke laughed. "Let's take the bikes. It won't take so long that way."
Cassie yawned. "Do you have somewhere you need to be later on?"
"Yeah. Celia and I are going dancing this afternoon."
"Dancing?" Tom interrupted, his voice dangerous. Locke gave Celia a significant look.
"Dancing?" Lauren squealed. "We're going dancing? How romantic!" She put her arm through Tom's and beamed at him.
"I invited Celia to come to dance class back on the mainland," Locke explained. "She was kind enough to agree. You're all welcome to come along."
Tom glanced at Lauren and sighed almost inaudibly. Then, his gaze resting on Celia, he said, "We'd love to come."
"Great," Locke said easily. "We should probably get going if we want to be back in time to change. Who's up for an eight mile bike ride?"
Lauren looked distinctly displeased until Locke mentioned casually, "We still have the tandems in the shed. It might be kind of fun to pedal together."
Her face brightening, Lauren agreed. "Let's, Tom. I'll let you steer!"
"Great," he muttered.
Locke tilted his head close to Celia's and whispered, with what appeared to be mischievous glee, "This should be fun to watch."
***
Locke produced two tandem and two single bicycles. He grinned ruefully at Celia as he handed her one of the singles. "I'm afraid that's all I have," he said. "We could see if Tom and Lauren would swap with us."
"That's all right," Celia answered, holding the other bike for him as he wheeled a tandem to Cassie and Michael. She watched as they mounted the bike, counted to three, and took off down the road, Cassie waving as they rounded the corner.
"Have they done this before?" Locke asked, staring after them. "It usually takes a few tries before people get the hang of tandem riding."
Celia shook her head, bemused. "Not that I know of," she answered. "But Cassie has all sorts of hidden talents. Maybe this is one of them."
Shrugging, Locke handed the second tandem to Tom. "Enjoy," he said, and stood back to watch with Celia.
Tom and Lauren managed to get the bike going without too much trouble. They started to turn down the lane when Lauren, who was in back as promised, gave a sudden wrench at the steering wheel. Her sudden movement surprised Tom and they both lost their balance, falling onto the grass.
Locke and Celia tried to muffle their laughter as they disentangled themselves from the bike. "What were you doing?" Tom said in an incredulous voice. "Your handlebars don't actually turn. They're just there so you have something to hold on to."
"I'm sorry, Tom," Lauren said in a meek voice. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I'll try to do better next time."
Tom was understanding when she did the same thing again, but by the third spill from the bike Celia could tell that his patience had reached its limit. "That's it," he said. "Maybe you should trade with Celia. That way you can steer all you want and no one will get hurt."
Locke gave Celia a significant look. "Don't start," she warned in a low voice.
Lauren looked at Celia and back at the tandem bike. "Maybe it would work better if Lauren was in front," Locke offered. Tom glared at him. "It's just an idea," Locke said defensively.
"Let's try it, Tom," Lauren said, sounding excited. "I'm sure you'd much rather ride with me than with Celia." She gave Celia a pitying look.
"Let's try it," Tom sighed. A minute later they were wobbling down the street, Lauren crying out in triumph as she narrowly missed a tree. Tom winced and looked back at Celia and Locke, who were both trying to appear as though nothing was humorous.
"Shall we?" Locke said.
Celia grinned and set off after the tandem riders. "That was almost as good as the horse incident yesterday," she said as they rode along.
Locke started to laugh. "That's why you brought her, isn't it? For comic relief."
Celia couldn't help laughing with him. "I wish," she said.
"You're jealous." Locke sounded like this was old news.
"No, I'm not."
Locke raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "You two are hopeless," he said. "You're jealous of Lauren, Tom's jealous of me, and you're both wishing for something you already have. Just tell the boy you like him and get on with it."
"That's easy for you to say," Celia retorted. "Maybe you should go after Lauren and spare us both the trouble."
"Fat chance of that happening," Locke said. "When I choose to fall in love again, it will be with a woman who has more sense than Lauren Tanner."
***
Halfway around the island, Locke started wondering what had happened to their pair of mismatched lovebirds. "We should have caught up with them by now," he said in a worried voice, checking his cell phone for messages. "I hope something hasn't happened to them."
"I'm sure they're fine," Celia said lightly, trying to banish the image of Lauren and Tom embracing on the beach from her mind. "Why don't you just call Tom if you're still concerned?"
"That's not a bad idea." He slowed to a stop and flipped open his phone, and then paused before dialing. "Unless you think I could be interrupting something."
Celia tried not to look bothered. "Not at all," she said.
Locke laughed and ruffled her hair. "I'm just giving you a hard time," he said. A few seconds later he was on the phone with Tom. "Where are you, man? Have you fallen into the lake?"
He listened for a moment and then started to laugh. "You're kidding. Do you want some help? No problem. I'll be there in a few minutes." He stuffed the phone in his pocket and shook his head in disbelief. "Evidently Lauren steered them down a path to the beach, against Tom's better judgment. She wasn't paying attention to where they were going and guided them right into the lake."
Celia tried not to smile. "I'm sure Tom was thrilled about that."
"Oh, he sounded thrilled, that's for sure. Thrilled that I was going to take Lauren back to the house and get her out of his hair. Do you want to go back to the house?" He turned the bike around and looked at her expectantly.
Celia hesitated. She really didn't want to deal with a shrieking Lauren if she didn't have to. "No, I think I'll sit here for a while and then finish the circuit. I'll see you in a while."
Locke grimaced. "You'll be missing all the fun." He started back the way they had come. "Think of me while you're enjoying the quiet," he called as he pedaled away.
Celia didn't mind being left alone. She loved the time she was spending with Cassie and Michael, and appreciated all they were doing for her, but once in a while it was nice to be by herself for a change. She let her mind focus on the view in front of her, watching the waves break on the shore and listening to the sounds of the birds and the wind soughing through the trees. It was so calm and peaceful. She felt like she was the only person on the island.
After a long time she roused herself and got back on the bike. If she was late Locke would tease her unmercifully, she thought as she started back down the road. She'd better hurry. She had been pedaling for only a few minutes when the quiet was suddenly broken by a loud popping sound, and without warning Celia found herself on the pavement with the bike on top of her, her hands and knees stinging. She sat there for a minute, trying to figure out what had happened. Had she hit something? Had the wheel fallen off? She winced when she tried to move.
"Are you all right, miss?"
Celia looked up to see the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall, taller even than Tom, and his face showed concern as he bent over to help her to her feet. "Miss?"
"I'm fine," Celia said faintly. She was sure she looked ridiculous and tried to stop staring. Her eyes refused to obey. The man's eyes crinkled with laugh lines as he pulled her to her feet and inspected her bike. "Looks like you've got a flat tire," he said matter-of-factly, and started rummaging through a bag strapped to the back of his own bike. "You're lucky I came along when I did," he said, flashing a brilliant smile at her. "I happen to be an expert at tire repair."
"Thank you," Celia managed. Was she in some sort of crazy dream? Charming men never came to her rescue. Usually she was the one doing the rescuing. It was strange to be on the other end.
The man looked at her for a long moment, his eyes trailing down her body slowly. "I'm sorry," he said as he dusted his hands on his shorts. "I haven't introduced myself. My name is Alex."
He held out his hand to shake hers. She could feel herself blushing at his look of admiration. "I'm Celia Fuller."
Alex's eyebrows raised in astonishment. "You wouldn't happen to be Cecelia Anne Fuller from Chicago, would you?"
How did this gorgeous man know her full name? She was sure she'd remember if they had ever met before. "Yes, I am," she said. "Do we know each other?"
Alex threw his head back and laughed. "You know of me," he said, gripping her hand tighter. She tried not to wince at the burn in her palms. "I'm Alex Stanfield. May McCrady is my mother's best friend."
This was Alex Stanfield? The guy she'd been avoiding like the plague for at least ten years? What had she been thinking? "I've heard a lot about you," she said, smiling up at him. "I have to confess I've been trying to dodge this meeting since I was in middle school."
Alex grinned back at her. "I have, too," he admitted, "although I can't see why I would do that to myself. You look much more – " his eyes swept down her body again – "palatable than I was expecting."
Celia blushed and looked down. "Thanks for the rescue," she said.
"I'm not finished yet. Let me fix that tire for you so you can get back to wherever you're staying. They should refund your money, you know. You're lucky you weren't hurt."
Celia hoped he hadn't noticed her skinned hands and knees. He was just starting to fix the tire when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Jen's number was flashing on the screen. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I need to get this. Do you mind?"
"Not at all," Alex said easily. "Take your time. This may take a few minutes, anyway."
Giving him a grateful smile Celia flipped open her phone. "Hey, Jen," she said as she walked away. "You'll never guess who I just ran into."
"Hey, Celia." To her surprise Scott's voice sounded in her ear.
"Scott! What's up? Is Jen all right?"
"Don't get your knickers all bunched up," Scott said, laughter in his voice. "I'm borrowing her phone because it's the only one that has your number on it. I have news for you."
Celia sat down on a rock by the side of the road, keeping Alex in her view. She was having a hard time focusing on Scott's words. This was not the same sort of man May had set her up with, she thought. If she had agreed to go out with him when they were younger she could have saved herself years of ridiculous blind dates. "What news?" she asked absently, watching Alex as he bent over the bike.
"About your father. What kind of news did you think I'd have?"
Celia jerked to attention. "What have you discovered?"
"I don't have a lot of time to talk right now. Jen's lost her charger again, and the phone's almost out of battery. But you were right; someone has been tampering with his accounts."
"Do you know who it is?"
"Not yet. I'm going to have to dig a lot deeper to get that figured out. I don't suppose you'd hire a private investigator?"
Celia put her head in her hands. A detective would cost her entire first years' salary and then some. "I don't have the money to do that," she said. A hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up to see Alex standing over her, his face a mask of concern.
"Is there a problem?" he whispered.
She shook her head and tried to smile. "I didn't think so," Scott said. He sighed heavily. "I guess it's all up to me then. I may have to involve the police at some point, though. That could make things uncomfortable for Henry. But you never know; I could come up with nothing. So there's no point in worrying about it."
Celia took a deep breath. "No, don't get the police involved unless you absolutely have no other choice. Henry is difficult enough without added stress. He'd go ballistic if a police officer showed up at his door."
"You got it. Now, I hope you're enjoying your vacation. Don't worry your pretty little head about all this mess. I've got you covered. Ouch!" Scott suddenly yelped. "What did you do that for, you nasty woman?"
"What are you talking about?" Celia asked, baffled.
"Oh, sorry. I was talking to Jen. She pinched me when I said that part about your pretty little head." Celia could hear pages turning in the background. "Hey, I almost forgot. Does the name – "
The line went dead, leaving Celia repeating, "Scott? Scott?" She snapped the phone shut with a sigh when there was no answer. There was no use calling back; she'd have to hope he'd leave her an email.
She stood to put the phone back in her pocket and observed Alex, who seemed deep in thought. "I couldn't help overhearing part of your conversation," he said slowly, as if he were trying to figure something out. "Is everything all right at home? Do you need to call someone back?"
"Even if I did I can't," she said. "His wife's cell phone is dead and the charger has gone missing. Thanks for offering to help, though. I appreciate it."
"Well, we are old acquaintances of sorts. If May found out that I hadn't helped you she'd have my hide. Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I can try to track down this . . . who were you talking to again?"
"Scott Tennant. He's my best friend's husband; he's been looking into something at home for me. Don't worry; I'll catch up to him at home. It's nothing that can't wait a few more days." She lapsed into silence. She sensed that he wanted to hear more details, but her father's financial woes were hardly something you discussed with a man you met just minutes before, no matter how charming. Even if your aunt had tried to set you up on a blind date with him. After a few seconds Alex lifted her chin with his finger. "Thanks for saving my bike," she said faintly without really thinking about what she was saying.
From this close Celia could see the flecks of green in his blue eyes. His gaze focused on her lips and he smiled. "I often aid damsels in distress," he said softly. "It was my pleasure."
"Celia is no damsel in distress." Tom's voice came from behind them. Alex's hand fell from her face when she turned in surprise. Tom was leaning against Locke's bike. He looked wet, sandy, and extremely irritated -- like he had been in a fight with a sea serpent and had been soundly beaten.
"What happened to you?" she exclaimed. "And what are you doing here? I thought you'd be back at the house."
"Lauren happened. Never, ever get on a bicycle with her. Lauren shouldn't be allowed to steer anything with wheels. She wondered how she had passed her driving test." Noticing he had ignored her second question, Celia looked at him closely. He looked furious.
"Who's your friend?" Tom jerked his head in Alex's direction.
Celia stepped closer to Tom without thinking about it. "Tom Elliot, this is Alex Stanfield. Alex, Tom. Tom was a friend of mine back in high school," she explained to Alex. "We're here with my sister and some of her husband's family."
Tom stiffened when she said Alex's name, and he shook Alex's offered hand as quickly as possible. Alex winced at the strength of Tom's grip. "Stanfield," Tom said shortly before turning his attention to Celia.
"Locke took Lauren back to the house on the tandem. She was frantic enough about the state of her hair not to notice that she wasn't in charge of steering anymore. We should probably get going so we're not late for our dance lesson."
Celia raised her eyebrows at his word choice but let it pass when she saw his expression. He had evidently had a very trying morning.
"That must be my cue to leave," Alex said. He took her hand in his and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll call you when we both return to Chicago," he promised. "I'm sure May won't object to giving me your number again." His eyes flicked to Tom before resting on her face.
"That would be nice." She avoided Tom's gaze. "It was great to finally meet you."
Alex grinned. "The pleasure was all mine." Then he got back on his bike and rode away, pulling out his cell phone as he went.
Tom stared at him for a long moment before he spoke. "So that's the famous Alex Stanfield," he finally muttered. "He's not at all what I imagined."
Celia thought about Alex's good looks and charm and couldn't help but agree. "Me neither," she sighed. "I was picturing something more along the lines of Elmer Fudd. Definitely not that." Her eyes followed Alex down the road until he disappeared around a corner.
Tom started to move past her when he stopped and grabbed her hand. "What happened to you?" he demanded, looking at her skinned hands and knees. "I can't leave you alone for five minutes before you're hurt and some strange guy is fawning all over you." He pushed her down on the rock and knelt down to inspect her bloody knees. He made a sound of disgust and tried to wipe it clean with his dirty shirt. "What happened?" he repeated.
Celia was starting to get irritated by his attitude. "I had a flat tire and Alex rode by just after I fell over. I can take care of myself, you know," she snapped, seeing the incredulous look on his face. "Alex fixed my tire for me, we chatted for a few minutes, and that was all. You don't need to get all bothered."
"Very coincidental, him coming along just when you needed help. And he was going to kiss you. I could tell by the way he was looking at you."
Celia wasn't so sure she would have minded it if Alex had kissed her but chose to keep that information to herself. "We'd better be going," she said, pushing him away. "Like you said before, we don't want to be late for the dance lesson." She got on her bike and rode back the way she had come, not looking to see if Tom was following her.
***
Cassie stuck her head out of her bedroom door as Celia trudged up the stairs. "You're finally back! Come in here and tell me what you think of this dress." She disappeared before Celia had a chance to say anything.
Clothes were strewn everywhere in Cassie's room. Picking up a shirt from the floor so she'd have somewhere to stand, Celia looked at Cassie. She was dressed in a shirt and skirt that didn't match, even to her. "What's happened to Rachel?" she asked. "I haven't seen her all day."
"Oh, she's on the phone with Ben."
"Still? Why did she bother coming on vacation if she's spending it all talking on the phone?"
Cassie made a dismissive sound. "She was probably worried she'd be bored at home with Lauren here and Ben on the road. Leave her alone. She's newly engaged, and you have to make allowances for that sort of thing."
"I guess you're right. Didn't you need help with a dress," she said.
"This one, on the bed." Cassie plucked a red dress from its spot on a pillow and held it up to herself. "What do you think?"
Celia shrugged. "It looks great," she said. "But isn't all of this a little fancy for a dance lesson? Most people will be in jeans and sneakers."
Cassie shook a finger in Celia's direction. "That's where you're wrong. Locke told us to get dressed up when he and Lauren got back from their bike ride." Cassie paused to hold the dress up to Celia. "Hey, weren't Lauren and Tom on the tandem when we left? What happened?"
Celia grinned in spite of herself. "Lauren steered them into the lake somehow, and Locke went back to rescue them."
Cassie laughed. "Trust Lauren to ruin a perfectly 'romantic' setting. I bet Tom was thrilled."
Celia thought about the look on Tom's face when he saw her with Alex. "Not so much," she said.
Cassie looked at her closely. "I think there's more to the story than that," she said. She cleared off a space on the bed and sat down. "What happened?"
Shaking her head, Celia sat next to her. She wasn't in the mood to talk about Tom. "You'll never guess who I met," she said, trying to deflect Cassie. "Alex Stanfield."
"Isn't he the guy May's been trying to set you up with?"
"One and the same. And I should have listened to May all those years ago. The man is gorgeous."
Cassie looked at her shrewdly. "Let me guess. Tom came across you when you were flirting with Alex and he got mad."
Celia looked at her in surprise. "How did you guess that? And I wasn't flirting, exactly," she added hastily.
Waving her hand in the air, Cassie made a face. "Come on, Celia," she said, standing back up. She started to take off her mismatched shirt. "You and Tom have some sort of bad karma. If he had come across you two minutes earlier, would he have seen anything that would have irritated him?"
"Probably not," Celia admitted grudgingly.
"You should just marry the poor guy and put him out of his misery," Cassie said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Then you wouldn't flirt, and he would sleep better at night instead of worrying about who you're with." She laughed at Celia's shocked expression. "Never mind," she went on, throwing the red dress in Celia's direction. "You're not ready to hear that. Go get cleaned up and put that dress on. I think it'll look fantastic on you." She propelled Celia into the hall and shut the door behind her.
Celia stared at the door for a minute, thinking about what Cassie had said. Everyone seemed to think she and Tom were meant for each other. Well, we might have been, she told herself fiercely, but not anymore. Especially not after his ridiculous outburst on the road. She turned on her heel and walked to her room, clutching the dress to her chest.
***
Celia had half-hoped the dress would look terrible on her, but as she inspected herself in the mirror she had to admit, grudgingly, that Cassie knew what she was doing when it came to clothes. It was really too bad that gift didn't extend to other things, like the kitchen, she thought ruefully. It would make Michael's life a little easier. She smoothed the dress over her hips and put on the shoes that had appeared on her bed while she was in the shower. How did Cassie do it? She had only brought one suitcase, after all. Maybe Michael's bag was filled with Cassie's clothes. Poor guy.
Faint sounds of music drifted up the stairs as she left her room. Rachel was alone in the foyer, talking quietly into the phone tucked under her ear. She waved at Celia before going back to her conversation. Knowing her sister and Lauren, it was likely to be a while before they were ready to leave, so she followed the music down the hall and into the library. She opened the door and had opened her mouth to greet Locke when she stopped in confusion.
Tom was sitting at the piano, playing a quiet song that she had never heard before. She turned to leave but in her haste she knocked her elbow on the door. The music halted and she froze when Tom's voice sounded behind her.
"Please don't leave."
She turned slowly to him, keeping one hand on the doorknob. "I didn't mean to interrupt," she said quietly.
He looked at her steadily. "Can we talk for a minute before it's time to go?"
Celia breathed in the smells of the library, letting the scent of books and sunshine wash over her. "Sure," she said in resignation, and entered the room. Tom patted the space on the bench beside him and she sat next to him, aware of how close his body was to hers.
"You look very nice," he said after a long pause.
Celia risked a glance up at him and saw a strange expression flit across his face. It was not one she could place. "Thanks," she said. "Cassie picked it out."
A ghost of a smile on his lips, Tom said, "She certainly has a talent for dressing you. You can tell her I said that."
"I will." They lapsed back into silence.
Celia was beginning to wonder if he had anything to say – after all, this had been his idea – when he spoke. "I'm sorry I overreacted this morning," he said, running a hand through his carefully combed hair. "I seem to have a habit of walking in on you at inopportune times."
"Cassie says it's bad karma," Celia said. Her fingers itched to pat his hair back in place.
"She does, does she?" Tom looked bemused. "I guess it does sort of feel that way. Anyway, I'm sorry. I hope your knees are better."
Celia smiled down at the piano keys. "I'll be fine."
Tom shifted uneasily on his side of the bench and cleared his throat. "I had a question for you, actually," he said, taking a deep breath. He ran his hand through his hair again, and then looked her in the eye. "Have you been reading my columns?"
The question hung in the air. Celia stared back at him, not knowing what to say. Just tell him, her inner voice scolded. What's the worst that can happen?
"Tom!"
His head jerked up so quickly she could hear his bones creak. "Lauren," he said in a resigned voice. "What do you want?"
Lauren looked from Tom to Celia and back again. "Am I interrupting something?" she said. Her tone was casual, but there was a glint in her eye.
"No, that's all right," Celia said hurriedly as she stood up. "I was just . . . " She floundered for a word that wouldn't sound bad.
"Talking," Tom said smoothly. "We were just waiting for everyone to get ready to leave."
"We're ready now," Lauren said sweetly. Tom stood to follow Celia out of the room and caught hold of her hand when Lauren flounced away. "Don't think you're off the hook," he warned. "I still want an answer to my question." He smiled at her briefly. "I've learned to be very persistent."
***
When they got to the Beryl's house there was just enough time to greet Locke's parents and thank them for letting so many people intrude on their lesson. "Our pleasure," Mr. Beryl said. "We're always glad to have more students. Go into the dance studio; we're about ready to start."
The Beryls stood them in a ling along the mirrors. Celia knew most of the basic moves but it was a good refresher, and she concentrated on staying away from Tom and his questions. What should she tell him? She had no doubt that the question would come up again; Tom seemed very intent on getting her answer. She glanced up and caught his eye in the mirror. He smiled faintly before turning his attention back to the class. He was a good ballroom dancer, Celia noted absently. Maybe he had taken lessons here before.
After a while the Beryls told everyone to find a partner. Tom looked at Celia before allowing Lauren to lead him to the center of the room, leaving her with an older, slightly bald man who appeared delighted to dance with her. He chattered throughout the dance, not noticing when he stepped on her toes. He only stopped talking when Locke rescued her at the end of the song after putting a CD in the player.
She smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks," she said. "He was a pleasant guy, but I don't think my feet will be the same tomorrow."
Locke grimaced in sympathy. "That's a risk you run in these classes," he said. "It's worse when you know what you're doing and your partner doesn't. When did you learn the waltz?"
Celia laughed softly. "My mother made me take lessons in junior high," she said. "She wasn't a very proper person but she felt it was important for us girls to know a few of the dances. Cassie was a pretty good dancer," she added, looking at her sister try to show Michael how to execute a turn without causing bodily harm. "How she ended up with Mick, who has two left feet, is beyond me."
Locke turned his head to watch the other dancers as they spun around. "Rachel looks like she's having fun," he commented, cocking his head to where Rachel and a teenage boy were dancing. The young man was quite obviously thrilled to have his arms around an older, attractive woman. "But I don't think Lauren knows how to waltz," he added, trying not to laugh. "Tom's a good sport, and he's not a bad waltzer, but Lauren is giving him a run for his money. Maybe I should rescue him." He twirled her around one more time before taking his hand off her waist and sliding through the throng of enthusiastic dancers. A moment later Tom was at her side.
"May I have this dance?" he asked, holding out his hand.
Without saying a word Celia placed her hand in his and he pulled her close. Tom gazed down at her as they started the familiar steps. "I didn't know you danced," she said in a bemused tone.
"I don't," he said and then laughed. "You mean this? I can get by, but I'm no Fred Astaire. Locke brought me here one summer and convinced me to help lead the classes."
"You're a very good dancer," she said.
"So are you." Tom stopped them by the large picture windows at the end of the room. They were far enough away from everyone that they could speak in relative privacy. "I never got an answer to my question," he said softly.
Celia just looked up at him.
He cleared his throat and tightened his grip around her. "Have you been reading my columns?"
You knew this was coming, Celia told herself. Just get it over with and tell him. She opened her mouth. "I – "
"Tom! Look! I haven't stepped on Locke's toes for at least three minutes!"
Tom swore under his breath but didn't let Celia go. "That's great, Lauren," he said absently.
"That's the end of our lesson for today," Mr. Beryl called from the center of the room. "Thank you all very much for coming. Next week we'll focus on the foxtrot."
Tom's gaze didn't waver from Celia's face, even when Lauren pulled him away to show him her new dance moves. Locke sauntered over to Celia and gazed out the window with her.
"You and Tom seemed to be having a very intense conversation," he said. "Is everything all right?"
Celia put her hands behind her back to keep herself from fiddling with the hem of her dress. "Yes, everything's fine."
Locke looked at her, curious. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Celia shook her head to clear it. "He wants to know if I've been reading his columns."
Locke whistled under his breath. "He's not messing around, is he? What did you tell him?"
"Nothing," she said. "He's asked twice now, and both times Lauren has saved me from saying anything."
"You're going to tell him the truth, aren't you?"
Celia sighed. "Yes, I am. I think I just need to get it over with."
Locke nodded in agreement. "You're right," he said. "You've both dragged this on way too long. We'd better get going," he said in a louder voice. "If we wait much longer we'll miss the light." He gave Celia a significant look and led her out of the studio, Lauren and Tom trailing behind them.
The wind was starting to pick up when they got back to the boat. "I'll see you in a few days," Locke told his parents. Mrs. Beryl pulled Celia aside before she left. "Thanks for talking to Locke," she whispered in Celia's ear. "I think the worst is finally behind him. Tom tells me all the credit belongs to you."
Celia glanced over at Tom, who was studiously avoiding her gaze. He seemed to be waiting for her. "I don't think I've done all that much," she said, "but you're welcome anyway." Mrs. Beryl caught her in a quick embrace before handing her to Tom. "I'll see you later," she said and wiped her eye on her sleeve. Celia smiled at her and let Tom help her aboard.
Everyone was engrossed in their own activities; Rachel was on the phone, Michael and Cassie were talking quietly in a corner, paying no attention to anyone else, and Locke was focused on the waves steadily building around them. Celia headed for her spot next to Locke but was stopped when Tom grabbed her arm. "Sit back here with me," he said. "We still need to finish our discussion." Celia sighed and turned to follow him, but not before she caught the look on Locke's face. It said, quite clearly, 'don't mess this up.'
She sat in the back of the boat, Tom at her side. They were both silent until the mainland had disappeared from view. Then Tom started to talk.
"You know, I never really planned on being a newspaper columnist. When I graduated from Northwestern I was going to be a news writer. Then I got hired by the paper in Joliet and a week later their columnist quit out of the blue."
"What happened then?" Celia asked when he stopped talking.
"He asked all of the newest employees to submit a personal essay – no more than three hundred words, to see if we could work under a word limit – and the next day I was reassigned." Tom laughed softly to himself. "I haven't actually ever done any investigative reporting," he confided.
"Do you regret it?"
Tom stopped to think. "No, I don't think so. I'm not so sure I have what it takes to make it as a real-life reporter. The softer stuffsuits me just fine."
Celia wondered if she was the "softer stuff" he was referring to, and contemplated being angry. She wasn't soft. Was she?
"Celia, I have to know." Tom had turned very serious. He took her hand in his and breathed in deeply. "Have you been reading my columns?"
This is it, Celia thought. No one can interrupt us. She looked him steadily in the eye. "Yes, I have. Every one since you started at the Tribune."
A look of tentative hope crossed Tom's face and he grabbed her other hand, pulling her close to him. "Then you know. You know how – "
"Tom! Look! I'm that guy from that movie!"
"That's nice, Lauren," Tom said with a touch of irritation.
"No, look! I'm that guy in Titanic!" Lauren's voice was desperate and shrill.
Tom slowly swiveled his head around and then froze, his mouth hanging open in shock. Then he let go of Celia and sprang to his feet. "Lauren! Get down from there!"
"I'm queen of the world!" Lauren crowed. She was standing on the side of the boat, her arms held wide and her hair flying in the wind. "Come on, Tom," she said. "Come and hold my hand now!" She turned slightly to grab Tom's offered hand.
He was almost to her when she lost her balance. To Celia, watching horrified from the back, it all seemed to happen in slow motion – Tom's hand held out, Lauren's look of panic when she realized something bad was going to happen, and then the sickening thud Lauren's head made on the side of the boat before she fell into the water.
For a split second everyone stared at the empty spot where she had been. Then, with the exception of Locke, who hadn't noticed anything, they all started yelling at once.
Celia jumped to her feet. "Tom, take off your shoes."
He looked at her blankly. "What?"
"Take off your shoes! Are you still a good swimmer?"
Comprehension dawned on his face and he jumped over the side of the boat almost before she finished speaking, his shoes sitting abandoned next to her feet. "Rachel! Call 911. Tell them to meet us at the dock." Rachel, white with panic, pulled her phone from her bag and started dialing.
Leaning over Locke's shoulder, she placed her hands on his shoulders before speaking quietly in his ear. "Lauren's in the water. Can you turn the boat around?"
Locke's head jerked up and she could see the fear in his eyes. "It's not as bad as you think," she added hurriedly, tightening her grip on him. "Tom's already jumped in; she might be unconscious. We should get her to the hospital."
Locke nodded once and swallowed hard before he steered the boat around to where Tom held Lauren in the water. Her head lolled to one side and Celia grasped the side of the boat, fearing the worst. Tom caught her eye and mouthed, "She's breathing." Celia sank onto a seat before her knees could sag in relief. Everything would be all right, she told herself. It had to be.
***
Waiting room chairs should be more comfortable, Celia thought hours later from the Mackinac Straits Hospital in St. Ignace. Surely I can't be the only person to want to sleep in one. She glanced at Locke sitting ramrod straight next to her. He hadn't said much since the accident, and she knew he was thinking about Emily.
"It's not the same," she said to him in a low voice. "Lauren will be fine. The doctors didn't seem too worried; surely if they were they would have sent Michael or Rachel out here by now."
Locke nodded. "How's Tom doing?" he asked.
Celia glanced over and sighed. "He still hasn't changed out of his wet things," she said.
"He won't leave the room in case he misses something. Try again for me, will you? He might be convinced if you ask him."
Celia got to her feet and walked over to where Tom was sitting in the corner. "Tom," she said, touching his face to get his attention. His cheek was rough; his five o'clock shadow was not a shadow any more. "You need to get out of your wet clothes or you'll make yourself sick."
Tom raised his eyes slowly to look at her. "It's all right," he said listlessly. "Why don't you let Locke take you back to his parents' house? There's no use in everyone being miserable."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "I'm not leaving you here alone."
He tried to smile at her. "Thanks," he said.
She pushed the clothes the Beryls had brought with them into his arms. "Please, go. I'll come and find you if we hear anything."
Tom stood up. "I'll be back in a minute," he promised before walking slowly out of the room.
Celia stared after him. It seemed as though he had aged thirty years in the past few hours. "He'll be all right," Locke said from his chair across the room. "He just feels terribly, horribly guilty."
"Guilty? What for? It wasn't his fault she stood up on the side of a moving boat."
"No, it's not," Locke agreed. "But he thinks if he had been paying more attention to her she wouldn't have been desperate enough to do something crazy."
Celia tried to formulate an argument to that but couldn't. Lauren had seemed a little possessive lately. "If that's what he's thinking then the fault is just as much mine as it is his," she said after a long pause.
"Don't be stupid." Locke snorted. "It was her own fault, plain and simple. Tom just needs to realize that, and there's nothing you can do to help that."
"I guess you're right," Celia said. She glanced at him. "That's kind of ironic," she told him.
"What's ironic?"
"You're saying it wasn't Tom's fault that Lauren had her accident. How is that any different from what happened to Emily?"
Locke froze. Then, slowly, he buried his face in his hands. "You're right," was his muffled answer. "There's no difference at all."
Celia walked over and put her arm around him. "It's okay," she said softly, running her hand through his hair. "These things take time. Just think about it, will you?" Locke nodded and she let go of him. She shivered, wishing she hadn't let Cassie convince her to wear such a flimsy dress. Why were hospitals always so cold?
Sit down," Locke ordered. "You can borrow my jacket."
She sank gratefully into the seat next to him and tried once more to get comfortable. It had been one of the longest days she had ever experienced and she couldn't keep her eyes from closing.
Someone sat on her other side and pulled her head down to his shoulder. "Do you feel better now?" Locke said, obviously amused.
"Infinitely." Tom's voice rumbled in her ear.
***
The next morning Celia awoke feeling groggy, uncomfortable, and alone. She stretched her legs out and sighed. Then she remembered why her muscles felt as though they had been tied in knots and sat up.
Locke was slouched next to her, gently snoring. There was no one else in the room. In the seat that Tom had occupied in her dreams was a piece of paper with her name written on it.
"Celia: Thanks for everything yesterday. I hope you enjoy this. T."
She flipped it over. That day's date was on the top left, directly above Tom's by now familiar byline.
Courage
By Thomas Elliot
How does it start? The proverbial saying is that you get up on the wrong side of the bed. Then you miss your mouth and jab your toothbrush up your nose, you spill your morning coffee all over your white shirt that should really have been washed before you put it on your body that wasn't so clean because you forgot to set your alarm . . . the list goes on and on, and suddenly you have the makings of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. (If you don't know what I'm talking about read the book by Judith Viorst.)
Now, if you're like me, you have one of these days on a fairly regular basis. Or more often, if you're really unlucky. They say the true test of a man is the way he treats his bad day. All right, I'm the one that said that. But it's still true. It takes all sorts of courage to make it through a bad day, and I saw plenty of courage today. Unfortunately, little of it was displayed by me.
But it might be useful to some of you to see what a truly courageous person does. This afternoon a group of friends and I were journeying across a fairly large lake when one of the members of our group hit her head and fell unconscious into the water. I must confess that almost everyone in that boat stood around like idiots for way too long – everyone except the one girl that no one expected to rise to the occasion. No one but me, that is.
She took charge, barking out assignments like a drill sergeant, and within minutes the situation was under control. I floated there, treading water and wondering why she had been calm enough to remember that I had been a swimmer in high school, even reminding me to take off my shoes.
Afterward she melted, a little, and I now sit in the ER waiting room watching her sleep on my shoulder while I try to type as quietly as I can with one hand. She was composed enough to save a person's life. Can I be courageous enough to save my own heart?
For my sake I can only hope I can.
Many, many thanks to Linnea for kindly looking this over for me during Christmas. She saved you all from being bored by redundant phrases! And, as always, reviews are welcome. I'd love to hear what you think of the chapter!
