Читать книгу The Way Back To Erin - Cerella Sechrist - Страница 16

CHAPTER FIVE

THE FIGHT WITH Burke stayed with Erin for days. She spent Sunday night tossing and turning, following their heated exchange, and after running a few errands the next morning, she spent the entire drive back to the B&B voicing her frustration to her car’s empty interior. She cleaned the inn’s bedrooms with unnecessary force, carefully checking the hall before moving on to another room so she didn’t run into Burke as he emerged from the Galway Room.

When she was finally forced to face him as they all sat down to dinner on Monday evening, she kept her tone polite but cool and didn’t engage him in conversation. Aunt Lenora carried the dinnertime dialogue anyway, chattering more than she had in months, about the weather, the influx of summer tourists, local news and the repairs Burke had undertaken on the inn. She praised her great-nephew for the work he’d done, and while Erin knew she should have added her appreciation, she couldn’t bring herself to speak up. She was too busy fuming.

It bothered her that she was still so angry, especially by Wednesday when she didn’t understand why she couldn’t let go of her frustration with her brother-in-law. Why did she care what Burke thought? True, they had once been friends...more perhaps...but those days were long past, and she had convinced herself years ago that none of it had mattered.

Then why did Burke’s presence unnerve her so? And why was she reliving their argument, at least a dozen times a day?

The Moontide had guests arriving on Thursday, and Erin was putting final touches on the upstairs bedrooms when she ran into Burke in the hall.

He’d been working tirelessly all week, doing minor repairs and updates to the house. The Moontide had been around for a long time, and while it had undergone extensive renovations over the years, it had been too long since some necessary upkeep had been done. Erin was impressed with how much Burke had accomplished over the last five days since he’d come to stay. She suspected he was keeping busy to take his mind off his failed wedding, but a small part of her wondered if he was working to avoid her as much as she was trying to avoid him.

When they stumbled across each other in the hall—quite literally, since Erin tripped over the edge of a loose piece of carpet—she fell right into his arms, as he tried to keep her from falling.

“Hey, sorry, I was just getting ready to fix that carpet.”

She was too aware of his arms around her, one hand on her back, the heat of his palm seeping through her shirt and into her skin. She pulled away and righted herself.

“It’s fine.”

She turned to go, and she might have pretended not to hear him calling her name, if his voice hadn’t taken on such a pleading tone.

“Erin.”

She paused, willing herself to keep moving forward. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. And yet...she did.

“Can we talk?”

She should have told him no. She should have said they had nothing to talk about. He would move on soon enough—there was no point in putting her faith in Burke. He’d already proven it was a lost cause.

But no matter the reasons, she couldn’t convince herself to walk away from him. She turned.

“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

Her agreement must have surprised him because he looked unexpectedly flustered. A small smile stole its way onto her mouth. It was gratifying to put Burke off his guard. Her tiny grin must have soothed his uneasiness because his shoulders relaxed.

“I thought we could talk about what happened on Sunday night.”

“All right,” she agreed. “So talk.”

He drew a deep breath, some of the tension stealing back into his shoulders.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said, “for the funeral. And I’m sorry for how long it took me to come back, after Gavin died. It was self-serving and wrong and...” He sighed. “I just couldn’t deal. I couldn’t come back here. As long as I stayed away, nothing had changed. Gavin was still alive. I knew that the minute I set foot in Findlay Roads, I’d know he was really gone. I’d sense it. And then, I’d have to learn to accept it.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “It took you six months. Six months. I needed you here.”

Saying those words triggered some sort of release. Months of pent-up emotion suddenly found their way to the surface, and she began to weep.

“I was alone, Burke. You were the only one—” her breath hitched on a sob “—who could have understood what losing him did to me.”

He didn’t say anything, and she feared she’d pushed him too far. But she couldn’t see through the blur of her own tears. She wouldn’t blame him if he thought her selfish. It had been nearly two years since Gavin’s death, while it had been less than a week since Tessa had left him at the altar. Not the same in terms of grief, but she knew he still had to be smarting from the rejection.

Before she could open her mouth to apologize, she found herself back in his arms. He wrapped them so tightly around her that for a minute, she lost her concentration and couldn’t remember what had set her crying in the first place.

Within seconds, it came back to her and the stability of Burke’s embrace released another flood of tears. This was what she had needed, two years ago. Someone to hold her, to remind her she was not as alone in the world as she felt. She needed some essence of Gavin, some small thread to cling to. It was why she had often gone into Kitt’s room at night, long after he’d fallen into a restless sleep, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Kitt was a piece of Gavin, an anchor to keep her tethered to this life, no matter how much she might want to drift away.

On some level, she had known it was wrong to wish for Burke during those dark days. Her emotions had been a torment of guilt for wanting him there and anger that he hadn’t come back.

Even now, the sharp claws of shame dug into her, but she couldn’t pull away. His hand stroked her back in slow, soothing movements, and she felt some tension drain out of her. It felt good to be held like this, to feel so safe and secure. She let her head rest against his chest, counting the steady beats of his heart as the crown of her head brushed against his jaw.

She didn’t know how long they stood like that. Far longer than what was appropriate, she knew, but she didn’t want him to let her go. She finally shifted, trying to turn her head to look at him, and her lips came in perilously close contact to his. He froze, and so did she, only a breath apart.

She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to remember what it was like to be loved, wanted. Her eyes slid closed, and she willed herself to walk away from him. But she couldn’t.

“Erin?”

The sound of Aunt Lenora’s voice broke the spell. Erin and Burke jumped apart at the same time.

“Erin, where did you put the welcome packets for the guests?”

She couldn’t look at Burke. “They’re in the bottom right desk drawer in the foyer,” she called down the stairs.

Aunt Lenora didn’t respond, and Erin presumed she’d shuffled off to search the desk for the preassembled packets Erin kept on hand for new arrivals.

“Thank you,” she finally managed.

Burke’s tone was puzzled. “For what?”

She finally looked at him. He was stone-cold serious, his blue eyes almost gray. His T-shirt was damp with her tears, dark smudges marring the pale blue color. He had Gavin’s lips. When she realized that’s where her gaze had wandered, she jerked her eyes away from his mouth.

“For being here.”

“You don’t think I’m too late?” he asked, his voice soft.

She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. Too late for what? To say goodbye to Gavin? To be here for her, Aunt Lenora and Kitt? Or was there something even deeper to his question?

“You’re here now. That’s what counts.”

She was torn between wanting to hear what he might say next and avoiding questions that she couldn’t answer. She turned to go and then stopped.

“Gavin would be glad.”

And then she hurried down the stairs to see if Aunt Lenora needed any help.

* * *

ERIN WAS KNEE-DEEP in a stack of invoices and receipts that needed filing but had been unable to maintain her focus that entire Friday morning. After the roller coaster of emotions from the last week, she had yet to regain her equilibrium. First, her fight with Burke, her outrage over the next several days and then yesterday, his apology where she’d ended up in his arms...

She shook her head, realizing she’d been staring at the same sheet of paper for...six minutes, a quick glance at the clock confirmed. She had tried to make excuses to herself, reasons why she had experienced the insane desire to be kissed by Burke the day before. It was just a reflex, a reminder of the past, a call to her youth.

She and Burke had been so close that summer Gavin had been away, and they’d shared one unbelievable kiss. Her body had reacted in similar fashion to what she had experienced back then. That was all. She was not attracted to Burke.

She could not be attracted to Burke. He was recovering from a failed wedding, a lost fiancée. And she was—or had been—married to his brother. It didn’t matter that she was a widow now. Falling for Burke felt like a betrayal of Gavin.

She was simply thankful, she decided, relieved that she and Burke had made some sort of amends and grateful for how he’d managed to draw Kitt out over the last week. As a result of her gratitude, she’d felt...something. That was only natural...wasn’t it?

She forced herself to file a few invoices, making a conscious effort to clear her mind from thoughts of Burke. But within minutes, she was staring blankly at her desk once more, remembering the feel of his hand stroking her back as she’d cried. When was the last time she’d been held by someone, been comforted? For so long now, she’d tried to be the strong one—for Aunt Lenora, for Kitt, trying to keep the inn afloat and stick to routines. Kitt’s counselor had said routines were important.

But since Burke had come to stay at the inn, their routines had been shattered, and Kitt was happier than she’d seen him in a very long time. Maybe routines weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Maybe she needed to shake things up once in a while.

Or maybe it wasn’t the routines or lack thereof. Maybe it was just Burke. She’d missed him, all these years, she realized. She’d missed having him as her friend, the person she’d always been able to share her deepest, darkest secrets with. She’d missed that. She’d missed him.

“Trying to stare a hole through that desk?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, turning her attention from the paperwork to see him leaning against the doorframe to the inn’s office. His hair fell across his forehead, and her heart gave a little jerk in response. There was nothing particularly inappropriate in the way he grinned at her, but the feel of his eyes on her caused her to flame in embarrassment just the same. With a considerable amount of effort, she forced her gaze away from Burke and down to the paperwork in front of her.

“Just trying to make ends meet,” she said and then immediately regretted her choice of words. The inn’s struggle wasn’t something she wanted to burden him with. He’d made it clear, in the years of his absence, that he wanted nothing to do with the inn. A part of her feared that if she troubled him with the inn’s situation, it would cause him to flee. Which was strange because she had told herself repeatedly that she didn’t care whether Burke stayed in Findlay Roads or left again.

“You spend too much time scowling over those accounts,” he said, stepping fully into the room.

Her frown only deepened at his words. When had Burke noticed the amount of time she spent reviewing the inn’s financial statements? The idea that he’d been observing her made her feel a little uneasy but mostly, secretly thrilled. She quashed the emotion.

“Well, you know what they say—it’s a dirty job and all that.”

Burke arched an eyebrow. “But why are you the one doing it?”

The tone of his voice, somehow disapproving, made her raise her head.

“What do you mean? Who else is going to do it?”

Again, she’d voiced more than she intended. Burke didn’t need to know just how much of the inn’s responsibilities she’d taken on in the last few years, nor did she want him aware of just how deeply the business was sinking into the red.

“Well, can’t you hire someone to take care of the office stuff?”

She snorted, a gut reaction she failed to check in time. “Um, no.” She looked back at her desk and straightened her spine. “I mean, it’s fine. I don’t mind doing it.”

Not entirely the truth—the details of office work had never been her thing, but she loved the inn and was determined to bring things back on an even keel. With Aunt Lenora getting older and Gavin gone, it was up to her to keep the business afloat. It had been her and Gavin’s dream—to run the B&B, make it their home, raise their children there together and grow old surrounded by its walls.

The inn had a rich history of families who had lived in it—from the time it was first built after the Revolutionary War, surviving the attack by the British on Findlay Roads during the War of 1812, serving as a spot on the Underground Railroad before the Civil War and sheltering generations of families up until the present day. The inn was old, but it was still alive with voices from the past.

Erin ran a hand across the worn, wooden surface of her desk. She couldn’t remember its provenance, but she knew Gavin had told her it had belonged to a great-great-great-someone-or-other. Erin might have preferred to be in the kitchen of the B&B instead of the office, but she loved every square inch of this place.

Her attention shifted from the desk’s surface to its edge as Burke came over and leaned against it.

“It’s past lunchtime. When was the last time you took a break?”

She glanced at the clock and felt a stab of shock. How had it gotten so late? She swept a glance across her desk. And how had she gotten so little accomplished in that amount of time?

“I ate this morning, after the guests did.”

Burke arched an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that at like seven or eight o’clock?”

As if in reply, Erin’s stomach issued an audible growl. Burke laughed.

“I guess that answers that. Come on. It’s time you ate something.”

Erin hesitated. “I have too much to do. I’ll just make a sandwich and eat at my desk.”

“I don’t think so.” His tone was playful but also firm. “You need a break.”

“I’ll be fine,” she hedged.

Burke shook his head. “Erin, you do know you’re not good to any of us if you don’t take care of yourself first, don’t you?”

The words warmed her, a feeling of belonging settling on her spirit. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had tried to take care of her. In the months after Gavin’s death, there had been plenty of phone calls, cards, flowers and visits... But it had been almost two long years since his passing. In that time, everyone else had moved on, even if she still felt stuck in limbo. For so much of her marriage, Gavin had been deployed overseas. There were still some days when she woke up and started her day, not even thinking about the fact that Gavin wasn’t just away—that he was never coming back.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Burke pressed. “Kitt and I packed a picnic lunch, but it’s way too much food for just the two of us.”

She felt the tug of temptation. “What about Aunt Lenora?”

“Kitt and I took her to the community center for the afternoon. Then we ran errands, picked up some stuff for the picnic.”

Erin checked the clock again. Maybe if she stepped away she could clear her head. Although that seemed unlikely given that Burke was a large part of her mental distraction, and here she was, thinking of joining him for a picnic.

“Come on,” Burke coaxed. “I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

She pretended to narrow her eyes with suspicion. “I’m not sure what your game is, Daniels, but I’ll play along.” She pushed back from the desk and ignored a stab of guilt. She was only taking a quick lunch break. She’d make up the hours later tonight, after she put Kitt to bed and prepped the morning’s breakfast.

Besides, she was starving, and she remembered that Burke always packed the most creative picnic baskets. A surge of giddiness swept away any lingering doubts. It had been years since she’d been on a picnic. What could an hour away from the inn hurt?