“No, not dead. Just not interested. My father’s with his new wife in Florida and my mother is anywhere she can have a good time. If I hadn’t had my grandmother to give me a stable life, I don’t know what I’d have done.”
“Tell me more,” Clive asked as he spread jam on his toast.
Darcy sat down at the table and talked. About her beautiful butterfly mother, about her cold, emotionless father. About her gaggle of well-intentioned but irresponsible relatives in Chicago, about her years on the island with Penny. It was comforting, talking like this in a warm kitchen. It was ordinary, domestic, peaceful.
When Clive finished eating, he heaved a deep sigh. “That was manna from heaven, Darcy, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Consider me your surrogate grandmother of the day.” She meant only to imply that Mimi would be up and around as soon as tomorrow, that she was doing what their grandmothers did, listening, caring, helping.
“I don’t think of you as a grandmother in any way,” Clive said. And he fixed her with a steady stare that took Darcy’s breath away.
“Well.” She couldn’t think of any other single intelligent word.
His look was full of need and desire, heat and lust. Embarrassed and completely unsure of herself, Darcy pushed back her chair and rose.
“I’ll put your dish in the dishwasher—” she said.
She reached for the plate. Clive caught her wrist with his hand. He stood up, and keeping her caught by one hand, he pulled her to him with the other. He cupped her head in his hand and kissed her, a long, hard, ferocious kiss that swept over Darcy like a tidal wave. This was wrong, Darcy thought—wasn’t it? She’d made no commitment to Nash. If he could plan to buy a house without mentioning it to her, she could certainly kiss another man.
Except she realized this was not going to be a simple kiss. Clive wanted her now. She understood that urgency, it wasn’t wrong, it was natural, it was right, it was celebrating life in the midst of old age and illness and so many kinds of defeat. It was like finding a bubble of lifesaving air when you’re helplessly sinking into the dark, fathomless ocean of death. It was the triumph of lust over loss. For a few moments, Darcy could help Clive forget the shadow of death hanging over his grandmother. For a few moments, they could both take their pleasure in being young and alive.
And yet…
Darcy pulled away from his kiss. “Clive, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
He frowned. “Because of that carpenter guy?”
She started to protest that Nash wasn’t a simple carpenter guy, he was a lawyer, or had been. At the same time, she realized that it was Nash she loved, whatever his profession. It was Nash’s gentleness and his humor, his lack of snobbery, his love of reading, the dark memories that made him who he was, and his unspoken determination to turn toward the light.
“Yes, actually, it’s because of that carpenter guy.”
Moving briskly, she headed down the hall to the front door. Clive followed.
“If there’s any change in Mimi, call me, okay?” She picked up her book bag and opened the door.
“I want to walk you home,” Clive said, catching her by the wrist.
She laughed again, trying to lighten the situation. “Clive, I live next door.”
His grip tightened on her wrist. “I’m well aware of that. Still, it’s what I want to do. Indulge me.” He reached for her book bag and shouldered it.
“Fine.” She allowed her hand to lie clasped in his and stepped out onto the small porch that led six steps down to the brick sidewalk.
“Ahh.” Clive sighed, breathing in the fresh air. “I’m glad you stopped by today, Darcy. I mean, for Mimi. And the open windows, the fresh air, the clean sheets and nightgown. I didn’t have a clue about all that.”
They stopped at Darcy’s doorstep, still holding hands. “She should see a doctor. Or, maybe, you could hire a private nurse. A professional caregiver.”
“I’ll talk to Mimi about it.” In one silky move, Clive gave Darcy her book bag and brought his hands up to frame Darcy’s face. He tilted her head toward his. “Darcy, thank you. For everything. And don’t think that I’m confusing gratitude with honest personal desire. I’d like a chance to prove my point.”
“You’re welcome, Clive,” Darcy replied, ignoring his words about desire. She remembered how she’d felt when Penny was ill, how confused, how much she’d needed someone to help her realize she had her own future ahead of her. She tried to turn from him.
Clive pulled her against him and kissed her again, hotly, possessively. Her hands were caught against his chest and she tried to push him away but his kiss continued. He was not a man who liked to take no for an answer. Finally she wrenched herself from his embrace.
“Clive, you shouldn’t leave Mimi alone.”
“You’re right. I’m going.” He gave her a deep look. “But I’ll be back.”
A vehicle shrieked, laying rubber right in front of her house. She turned.
She saw Nash’s red pickup truck tearing away from her house as if Nash had slammed the gas pedal to the floor.
“Nash!” she called.
She didn’t know how long he’d been parked there. Not long, she was sure, she hadn’t seen his truck when they walked over from Clive’s.
But long enough to see their kiss.
“Clive, I’ve got to go in now.” She unlocked her front door and hurried inside, reaching for her cellphone as she went.
19
Darcy punched Nash’s button on her direct dial. It went to voicemail.
“Nash, I need to talk to you. Please come back. I’ll be here all evening. Nash, I—please call me.”
Muffler strolled into the room, waving his beautiful tail.
Darcy paced the floor. “Damn! This is crazy!” Snatching up her phone, she hit Jordan’s number. The moment Jordan answered, Darcy cried, “Jordan! Nash saw Clive kissing me at my front door!”
“Clive kissed you?” Jordan repeated.
“It was only a kind of thank-you kiss because I’d just helped Mimi, who has a cold, and then he walked me home—”
“You live next door and he walked you home?” Before Darcy could respond, Jordan said, “Hold her. Play with her. Watch TV with her. I’ve got to talk to Darcy.” Shuffling noises and a few baby squawks reached Darcy’s ears, then Jordan added, “Sorry, Darcy. Had to give Kiks to her daddy.”
Darcy heard Jordan’s breath change and she knew Jordan was climbing the stairs to the privacy of her bedroom. This was calming, unambiguous. Jordan was there for her. Darcy sank into a corner of her sofa.
A door slammed. “Now. Start over,” Jordan demanded.
“I stopped by to see Mimi, because I wanted her advice about…” Good grief, was it only this afternoon she’d been worrying about Willow knowing about her mother and Otto? What was happening to this neighborhood? Had she been beamed up to an alien triangle of triangles? “Wait. Let me start over.” Darcy tried to regain her composure. “I stopped by to see Mimi. She’s quite ill with a summer cold. Clive was doing his best, but I helped her clean up a little, I changed the sheets, and I made her scrambled eggs—”