The Abalone Shell Read online

  “Find me some sea glass and shells and an interesting piece of driftwood, and I’ll help you make a wind chime for your mom tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Dad, can you help me?” Liam asked.

  The look on Gideon’s face said he’d rather do anything but help make something nice for his ex. It passed quickly, and he bent his head to search the shore for treasures with his son, throwing the stick for Shadow to keep the dog out of their way, out of the water, and occupied.

  Hope slipped her hand around Owen’s offered elbow, and they strolled lazily after her cousins.

  He wondered what it felt like when love turned to loathing. Because he couldn’t imagine it. He hadn’t ever felt a strong enough connection to any of the women he’d dated before Sam to have developed that kind of anger or whatever it was Gideon held for his ex-girlfriend. Did Hope feel the same about her ex-husband? Not that he could recall. The man set her on edge, but he hadn’t ever seen the same disgust on her face as had shadowed Gideon’s just now.

  “You frown any harder, and your eyes are going to disappear beneath your eyebrows,” Hope remarked. “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?”

  “Gideon despises Hannah,” he replied slowly. “I can’t imagine hating someone I loved like that. Is that how you feel about your ex?”

  “I don’t think he hates her. Not in such a black and white way. He hates that she let him down. Love is supposed to be a partnership, right? And you and Sam were either lucky enough to find such a partnership or you worked to make one.”

  “Right.”

  “Gideon didn’t have that with Hannah. He was willing to put in the effort to make it a partnership, but she wasn’t.”

  “And… was it the same with you and Dan?”

  “Yes. But also much more complicated.”

  “How so?”

  “He tried to be a partner. He just… couldn’t do it.”

  Owen waited almost a minute, but she didn’t elaborate. Her expression now was different than it had been this morning when she’d shown up at his store. There was no irritation or panic. Instead, he saw sadness and contemplation.

  “Why couldn’t he?” he finally asked when it became clear she wasn’t going to continue. He didn’t like pressing her, fearing maybe it was too uncomfortable for her to discuss, but his curiosity got the best of him. They were at a point that he needed to know more of the details so he knew what he was up against… and how he could be the partner she needed.

  “He didn’t know how. His parents divorced when he was young, and he was bounced back and forth between them—unwanted and a burden—until he finally left home at sixteen. His father was abusive, and his mother is certifiably nuts. How was he supposed to learn how to love or what a marriage should be from them?”

  “Sounds like he didn’t have much of a chance.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t make a choice. We can only blame our parents so long. After a certain point, we have to make a choice to either be like them or to be different.”

  “That’s a fine sentiment,” she murmured, “and I agree. But it’s not that easy.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “Those habits that were beaten into him…. They just run too deep. There are things—thought processes, empathy—that come naturally to most people that he has no idea about.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how he didn’t see the need for him to go to parent-teacher conferences or pick Daphne up from school with me. He figured as long as she had one parent going and doing all that, that was all she needed. And because I was the one who came from the normal home, he trusted me to know and do what was best for her. He couldn’t see that I wanted him to be present, that she needed him to be. That’s not how his mind works. He’s never been taught to think like that. When I asked him to look at it like she would—that she wanted him to be there but he wasn’t and that she was too young to understand that he wasn’t because he trusted my instincts—that was last chance I gave him. I asked him how he’d felt when his parents didn’t show up for his school things, and I think it was the first time he’d ever looked at it like that.”

  “How could he not? It’s obvious.”

  “For you and for me, yes, it is. It’s not for him.”

  “Obviously he didn’t do what you needed him to with that last chance, or you’d still be married.”

  “He tried for a while, but those habits were just too strong for him to break. And I couldn’t do it anymore. I was losing my mind trying to do everything for all of us, and Daphne was beginning to suffer for it. I think when my sweet little girl started getting sent to the principal’s office two, three times a week for hitting other kids or spitting in their faces—acting out at school because she couldn’t fix what was wrong at home—that was my wakeup call. I was willing to put up with how he treated me because I could see a good heart buried beneath the lifetime of abuse and neglect, but when it came to Daph….”

  Owen bristled. “He was abusive?”

  “Never physically. He was actually very conscious to not perpetuate that part of the cycle. But verbally, yes. He spoke the way he’d always been spoken to. I’m not defending him, because you’re right. We reach a point when we make a choice to act as we do. But I understand why he is the way he is. I guess that’s why I stayed so long. I kept hoping he’d make the choice and start taking the steps to be better.”

  The fine mist that had begun when they’d stood out on her deck began to thicken into a drizzle, and the droplets glittered in her hair. Beneath the gloomy sky with those liquid gems gracing her features, she was more beautiful than ever, with her soul on full display. It took a remarkably strong woman to endure what she had and still be able to see the good in the man who’d put her through it. Suddenly, he didn’t want to hear anymore. Didn’t want the anguish and regret to shadow her face for even a second more.

  He clasped her face and drew her against him, kissing her hard and deep. It took only a moment for her to overcome her surprise, and then she was kissing him back with her arms locked around his neck.

  “You are an incredible woman,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m sorry Dan couldn’t see it.”

  “I think he did. He just didn’t know how to show his appreciation.”

  “I’m complimenting you, and you’re still justifying his behavior.”

  “Habit. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize for having one of the most amazing hearts I’ve ever encountered.”

  “Fine.” Sass sparked in her eyes, a brilliant light that sliced through the murk. “I’m not sorry.”

  He kissed her again, drunk on the radiance of her spirit.

  “Get a room, you two!” Gideon called.

  “We plan to!” Hope replied with a sexy giggle. “A whole house, in fact!”

  And just like that, the darkness had passed, and the same relaxed, go-with-it sense of adventure that had dictated the whole of their relationship so far was firmly back in place. Owen rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, smiling. If it weren’t for her ex, he’d have no doubts at all about where they were heading.

  Twelve

  The heart of the storm had arrived, and it lashed the coast with gale-force winds and sheets of driving rain that endlessly pattered the windows. The violence of it was, in its own way, as beautiful as any sunny day. Hope watched the waves crash as she chopped the ingredients for a hearty beef stew while the boys worked out in Owen’s garage finishing the wind chime for Hannah. Not only was stew just the kind of comforting, hearty meal to warm the body on a cold, blustery night, it was also quick and easy to make and even quicker and easier to clean up.

  Gideon and Liam had to leave early in the morning, so they would need to pack their bags tonight, and Hope fully planned to put the quiet evening to good use. She’d asked Owen to pick up condoms on his way home from work, and while they’d decided to let things happen as they would, that was something sh
e was going to make happen. Sleeping beside him last night, snuggled close to his side, had awakened a voracious desire. At this point, there was only one thing that would scratch that itch, and tonight was the last night they’d have alone together.

  Now or never, she affirmed, tossing the stew meat in flour and dropping the chunks in the pan with the butter and onions she’d already set on the heat. Her lips twisted in amusement. Well, it’s either now or we’ll have to wait for who knows how long.

  When the stew was simmering away on the stove, she sat at his dining room table to watch the storm hurl wind, rain, and waves at the coast. She’d brought her laptop with her, but she didn’t think it was a good idea to try to write right now; she was likely to get lost in the story again like she had yesterday and this morning and forget to stir the stew. Since she was trying to do something nice for Owen and Gideon and Liam, burning dinner wouldn’t do. As soon as it became clear that it was going to be a choice between writing and wondering what Daphne and her father had done together today—which then turned her focus to how much she missed her daughter—she rose and brought her laptop into the kitchen. Maybe if she set her computer on the counter near the stove, she’d remember to stop periodically to stir.

  It seemed like only a few minutes later that the boys returned noisily from the garage, but when she glanced at the clock on her laptop, nearly twenty minutes had passed. Crap. Quickly, before they noticed she’d neglected her duty, she stirred the stew. Fortunately, she had the heat low enough that the stew wasn’t yet sticking to the bottom of the pot.

  “That smells amazing, Hope,” Owen said, sliding his hand around her waist as he joined her at the stove. He kissed her neck. “How about I take over so you can get back to your writing?”

  She swiveled in his arms, tilting her head.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

  She shook her head and started to say she wanted to do something nice for him, but she knew him well enough to know he’d say she already had, so she just smiled, grateful he understood that she needed to write. Figuring he and her cousin would want a taste to hold them over until the stew was done, she pulled two spoons out of the silverware drawer and held them out.

  Gideon snatched the spoon before Owen had a chance to comprehend what she was offering. He dipped it in the stew and groaned with delight as he slurped his first taste. “Oh, God, this is good, Hope. It’s even better than Nana used to make.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I don’t,” Owen said after he’d tasted it. “It’s delicious.”

  More than a little pleased with herself, Hope grinned. “Just wait until the flavors have had more time to simmer together.”

  Grabbing her laptop, Hope retreated to the living room. At some point, Owen came in and started a fire in his fireplace, but she was only vaguely aware of the saturating heat of it and the occasional crackle and pop, too entrenched in her work to notice her surroundings. She surfaced from it long enough to enjoy dinner with Owen and Gideon and Liam and accept the praise they lavished on her, but as soon as they got up to clear the remnants of the meal and wash the dishes, she dove right back into her book.

  Finally, it was time to say goodbye to Gideon and Liam, and it was harder than she’d thought it would be. They’d had such a great visit, and it reminded her of all the fun they’d had here as kids and of how much she missed them both. It had been far too long since they’d gotten together like this.

  “Come back out again this summer if you can make it,” she whispered as she hugged her cousin.

  “I think I will, even if I have to turn down a job or two to make it happen. This was the best visit you and I have had in years, Hope.”

  “I agree.”

  “Divorcing Dan was the right decision,” he said. “I know it doesn’t always feel like it, but I can see it was.”

  “Thank you. You two drive safe tomorrow. And call me when you get home so we can plan your next trip.”

  Gideon shook Owen’s offered hand and then pulled him in for a hug. “It was great to see you again.”

  “Likewise. Good luck with the custody battle, and be sure to call me if there’s any way I can help.”

  “I will. Thanks, man.”

  Hope gave Liam a big squeeze, and then Owen did. Then the boy and his father were walking out the door into the storm.

  She tucked her arms around Owen’s waist and watched out the window as her cousin and his son raced out to their car and disappeared into it. She missed them already. “I think if Gideon and Liam and Christian and his family lived here full time, I’d never want to leave Sea Glass Cove again. I love Montana, but there’s something here I’ve either never found there or lost sometime in the last fifteen years.”

  “It was good to see them again. And easier than I thought it would be.”

  “Is that why you hadn’t seen him since before Sam and Sean died?”

  She expected him to deny it, but he nodded.

  “I never meant to, but I avoided him whenever he came out these last three years.” He turned away from the front door and wandered into the living room. Flopping on the couch, he said, “Now I wish I hadn’t.”

  She plopped beside him with her feet tucked under her and her knees resting on his thighs. With a hand against his far cheek, she turned his face toward her. “No thinking like that tonight.”

  “I’m not thinking like that. I promise. I was actually thinking that I could’ve gotten to know him better and that it would’ve been nice to have a male friend through everything. Even a part-time one.” He chuckled. “I love my mother and my sister dearly, but sometimes their attempts to help did the opposite. Red was great, and honestly, I don’t know where I would’ve been without him, but he’s a dad. It’s not quite the same. And his sons were still in that stage of carefree youthful stupidity, and they had no idea how to help.”

  She regarded him with a pointed look and one brow raised. “Uh, hate to break it to you, but yeah, you are thinking like that. So knock it off.”

  “Sorry. It’s the storm. Days like this, it’s hard not to think of those days after….” His voice trailed off when he met her stern gaze, and then he laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll knock it off.”

  “Thank you.”

  He leaned in and kissed her, and seeing her opportunity, she took it. She slid onto his lap and threaded herself around him, deepening the kiss and combing her fingers through his hair. When he groaned, she smiled against his lips and dared to take it a step farther. She slid her hands down his neck, chest, and belly, slipped them under his lightweight fleece pullover and T-shirt, and then pushed her hands back up to his neck slowly, tantalizingly. His eyes closed, and a frown drew his brows together. The way the muscle in his jaw twitched made her pause.

  “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah….”

  “But…?”

  “It’s been a while, remember?”

  “So?”

  “I don’t want to rush it. I want to savor it.”

  “Well, even if we rush it the first time—it’s been a while for me, too, you know—we have all night to slow down and savor it.” She rocked forward to kiss his lips. “Besides, I don’t want to slow down enough to start thinking about it. It’s been a long time since I’ve really wanted to make love. For years, it’s been one more chore.”

  “How on earth did you manage to stay in that marriage as long as you did?”

  “A combination of stubbornness, empathy, and hope.”

  “Sounds about right. Wait here.”

  He lifted her off his lap and settled her on the couch, then left her alone in the living room. Minutes ticked by, and the only sounds in the room were the occasional pops from the fire and the opening and closing of closet doors drifting down from upstairs. What was he doing?

  Moments later, her question was answered when he returned to the living room with an armload of pillows and blankets and dropped them on the floor.

  “My m
ama always said there’s no substitute for romance,” he said. “So if you’re sure this is what you want, I figure there isn’t much that’s more romantic we can do on a night like tonight than make love in front of the fire.”

  “Your mama’s a wise woman.”

  She helped him make their nest in front of the fire—close enough to enjoy the heat of it but far enough away that they weren’t in danger of a spark igniting their bedding. There was only one kind of heat she wanted burning the sheets, and it wasn’t the literal kind of fire. When they’d arranged their blankets and pillows to their liking, she turned to him, resting her hand against his cheek. Then she leaned forward and kissed his lips.

  “In answer to your question a moment ago, yes, I’m sure I want to do this.” She threaded her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. “There are few things recently that I’ve been more sure of.”

  With a speed and intensity that took her breath away, he claimed her mouth, digging strong fingers into her back and pinning her to him. Desire thrummed through her, and as he trailed kisses from her jaw to her shoulder, she quivered and gave in to the desire in a way she hadn’t in years. If ever. In this moment, she was his and he was hers, and there was nothing else in the world but the surge of sensations melding with emotion. She arched back and let her body do the begging, and a wholly different sensation enveloped her—a deep, rejuvenating bliss that felt a lot like love.

  Thirteen

  Hope’s mother had offered her a piece of advice shortly after she’d first started showing an interest in boys, and she had thought she was following it when she married Dan. Last night, Owen had proved her wrong in the most incredible way possible—thoroughly, with a physical attentiveness that matched his instinctive emotional generosity.

  Some men can turn you into a puddle of mush, and some will make you feel like the strongest, most desirable woman in the world. Find one who can do both… at the same time.