“I’m not sure I understand myself?!” she cried. “I’m overwhelmed. Stop pushing me, okay?”
Bo took a deep breath. He was scaring her, and she was retreating into her shell like a frightened turtle. Heather had a hard time with change. He had to remember her reaction to his first date offer. Her inner voices were probably screaming at her right now.
“I’m sorry, Heather,” he said, making an effort to soften his tone. “Just . . . just tell me what’s going on, and we’ll figure it out together.”
She took several deep breaths, calming herself down. “I’m sorry, too. I-I don’t feel myself right now.” She reached out for his hand and he took hers. “I’m not saying no,” she ventured to explain. At last she looked up, and he saw the tears in her eyes. “If I say I might not be ready for us to move in together, you won’t take it as another rejection? You won’t get angry? Because I’m not saying no. I’m saying I don’t know.”
He swallowed his disappointment. “I understand that.”
“I just need time to think about it.”
He breathed out a long sigh. “That’s fair.” He played a moment with her fingers. “But promise me something.”
“Okay.”
“Promise me that whatever decision you make, you’ll do it for you.” He looked up to catch her gaze. “I know you, Heather Wyatt. You always try to make everyone else happy. Your father. Cara. Me,” he admitted. “Without giving thought to what you really want.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
He had to admit he was disappointed. He’d expected her to jump up and down with excitement at the prospect of living here with him. It had seemed a dream come true for both of them, and he’d thought she would be overjoyed at the timing, take it as a sign that it was the right thing for them to do. But when did Heather ever do the expected?
She looked forlorn sitting across from him draped in the white sheet. He stretched his long arms across the bed to clasp her waist and slide her into his lap. She slid her arms around his shoulders and nestled her head into his neck.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Whatever you decide, I still love you, Heather Wyatt.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING they rose early to catch the first ferry. They were both quiet, even subdued. The previous night they’d feasted on shrimp that Bo had caught off the dock, then returned to the great teak bed and made love again. Heather lay in Bo’s arms and they’d talked for hours about so many different topics. But they each were careful not to bring up again the one subject at the forefront of their minds. They’d fallen asleep as the sun lowered and risen with it at dawn.
The island’s winged inhabitants were awake. The dawn chorus was raucous as unseen birds sang to one another as the sun broke the darkness. Already humidity moistened the air, hinting at the scorcher the day would become. They rode in silence on the trip to the ferry, bumping along the rutted road. Heather held the cart’s frame to steady herself as she looked out at the waterway speckled with white ibis, willets, and other wading birds searching for their morning meal. As they rounded a bend in the road, Heather’s eyes widened and her heart rose in her throat.
“Bo, stop!” she shouted, and almost leaped from the golf cart.
He veered to the side embankment and parked. Heather stepped gingerly through the tall grass.
The small lake mirrored the dawn, awash in its rosy hues. A faint fog hovered above the stillness, shrouding the scene with an otherworldly aura. Among the grasses were wading birds. One group was taller than the rest, walking on long red legs in a regal procession. Pastel pink and crimson, their feathers were the color of the dawn. Heather brought her fingers to her mouth to silence her gasps of delight.
“Roseate spoonbills!”
Bo came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. “I thought they were flamingos.”
“A lot of people think that. But look at that spoonbill and you’ll never make that mistake again. They’re usually found in Florida.” She sighed and said with awe, “And yet . . . here they are.”
Bo tapped her shoulder. “We have to go if we’re going to catch the ferry.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Heather groaned.
“Hey, that can be arranged.”
Glancing up at him, she saw the hope on his face. She turned to take one last look at the almost magical sight of pink birds standing against a background of summer green. As she watched, one roseate spoonbill stretched out its wings and seemingly stepped across the water and took flight. Heather put her hand to her heart as the long wings angled, giving the bird the appearance of a pink arrow piercing the gray-blue sky.
Chapter Twenty-Four
HEATHER RETURNED TO the beach house from Dewees with a renewed sense of urgency to complete her final painting. As predicted, the morning had heated up and was now downright steamy. Yet she felt rested after her mini break, freed from the shackles of Natalie’s imposed doubts. Although she had a new worry to contend with now—Bo’s request that they move in together, and what she planned to do about it.
The beach house was blissfully cool upon entering, and from the sunroom she heard her canaries singing. Pulling the key from the lock, she swiftly closed the door behind her, eager to see them. Last night was her first away since she’d arrived in May—it felt like ages ago. It filled her with pleasure that, crossing the threshold of Primrose Cottage, she felt as though she’d truly come home.
“You’re back!” Cara called, stepping out from the kitchen, smiling with obvious pleasure. Cara was dressed in uniform. Her ISLAND TURTLE TEAM shirt, this one aqua, still had bits of sand and moisture. “I didn’t expect you for hours.”
“We both had to work. And that sure wasn’t going to happen with us together,” she explained, blushing. “He’s just finished the tree house, and cleanup must be done before he begins his next project.”
“A tree house?”
“Not just any tree house.” Heather launched into an exuberant description of Bo’s masterpiece, sharing photos from her phone, feeling pride at Cara’s impressed expression.
“He sure is talented, our Bo,” Cara remarked, returning to the kitchen. “And so are you. You two make a great couple. Hey, listen, I’m parched. Just finished moving what we think is our last nest of the season. I made a batch of sweet tea. Want some?”
“Love some.”
“I made some raisin pecan toast, too. It’s organic whole wheat,” she added, and Heather smiled, knowing that extra bit of information was for her benefit.
They poured sweet tea into tall glasses filled with ice and carried them along with a plate of toast to the table.
“I know you were gone just a short while but somehow you look better than when you left,” Cara observed.
Heather laughed and picked up a piece of toast. It was still warm with melted butter dripping down its sides. “I feel better,” she acknowledged. “I needed to get away. It’s amazing how a little distance can give so much perspective. Sometimes a day can feel so much longer.”