Rainshadow Road

“It’s your life.”

Lucy gave him an impish grin. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll let you come over for a quickie every now and then.”

He scowled at her. “That’s great. Because sexual convenience was my main concern.”

Although Lucy was rather sorry to leave the house at Rainshadow, she felt it was better for both of them. Another few days of proximity, and she was fairly certain that Sam would have started to feel claustrophobic. And most important, Lucy was happy to be able to return to her studio.

She missed her glass desperately, could almost feel it calling to her.

On her first morning back at Swing on a Star, Lucy was filled with creative fire. She set out to produce a cartoon, or a full-sized design, of the tree window for the Rainshadow Vineyard house. Using a combination of hand sketching and computer software, she detailed the cut lines and numbering sections for color shading. When it was finished to her satisfaction, she would make three copies of the pattern, one for reference, one to cut apart with shears, and one on which to assemble the window. Then the meticulous process of glass scoring and breaking would begin, accompanied by reshaping and grinding the edges of pieces as needed.

Lucy was still working on the cartoon when Sam came to the studio at lunchtime. He brought in two crisp white paper bags from the Market Chef, both of which looked satisfyingly weighty. “Sandwiches,” he said.

“I didn’t expect you,” Lucy exclaimed. A teasing grin spread across her face. “You just can’t stay away from me.”

Sam glanced at the pile of sketches on the table. “Is this preferable to the life of leisure you had with me?”

Lucy laughed. “Well, being waited on hand and foot was very nice … but it’s good to be productive again.”

Sam set the bags on the worktable and came around to view the cartoon. He stared intently at the design. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s going to be stunning,” Lucy said. “You have no idea what the glass will add.”

The corners of his mouth quirked. “Knowing you, I’ll be prepared for anything.” After studying the design for a minute, he said, “I brought you a housewarming present. I thought you’d probably want to keep it here.”

“You didn’t have to get me a present.”

“You won’t be able to use it for a while.”

“Where is it?”

“Sit still. I’ll bring it in.”

Lucy waited with an expectant grin as Sam went outside. Her eyes widened as he wheeled in a bicycle with a huge bow adorning the center of the handlebars. “I don’t believe it. Oh, Sam. You are the sweetest, sweetest—” She broke off with a crow of delight as she looked at the fabulous vintage restored bike, painted a rich forest green with crisp white ballooner fenders.

“It’s a 1954 Ladies Schwinn Hornet,” Sam said, rolling it over to her.

Lucy ran her fingers over the rich patina, the thick black wall tires, the white leather seat. “It’s perfect,” she said, surprised to discover that her voice was scratchy and her eyes were blurring. Because a present like this could only have come from someone who understood her, who got her. And it was a sign that Sam truly felt something for her, whether or not he’d intended it that way. She was surprised by the realization of how much that meant to her, how much she had wanted him to care for her on some level.

“Thank you. I…” She stood and threw her arms around him, and pressed her face against his shoulder.

“It’s nothing.” Sam patted her back uncomfortably. “No need to get all girly.”

Feeling how tense he’d gotten, understanding the reason why, Lucy said in a muffled voice, “It is incredibly sweet, and probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me.” She forced a laugh and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Relax. I still don’t love you.”

“Thank God.” He grinned at her, relaxing visibly.

* * *

For the next two months, Lucy occupied herself with her work. Sam often dropped by on the pretext of checking on her, but his visits usually resulted in the two of them having dinner together. Although there had been countless romantic interludes at the condo afterward, sex was not something that Sam demanded or automatically expected. He seemed to enjoy talking with her, just being with her, whether or not they ended up sleeping together. One afternoon he brought Holly to Lucy’s studio, and Lucy helped her to make a simple suncatcher with glass and copper foil. On another day they took Holly to the sculpture park, where Sam was quickly surrounded by at least a half-dozen children, all of them giggling wildly as he led them in attempts to pose like statues.

Lucy found Sam’s behavior more than a little perplexing. For a man who was so determined to avoid emotional involvement, his actions were those of a man who desired closeness. Their discussions frequently strayed into personal territory, as they shared their thoughts and childhood memories. The more Lucy gleaned about the Nolans’ background, the more compassion she felt for Sam. Children of alcoholics often grew up to be suspicious of intense emotion. They usually tried to isolate themselves, to defend against being hurt or manipulated, or worst of all, abandoned. As a result, intimacy was the most dangerous thing of all, something to be avoided at all cost. And yet Sam was drawing closer, gradually learning to trust her without seeming to be aware of it.

You’re more than you think you are, Lucy longed to tell him. It wasn’t impossible to believe that Sam might someday reach the point of being able to love someone and be loved in return. On the other hand, that kind of momentous change, of self-realization, might take a very long time. Perhaps a lifetime. Or it might never happen at all. The woman who pinned all of her hopes on Sam would almost certainly end up with a broken heart.

And only to herself, Lucy acknowledged that she was dangerously close to becoming that woman. It would be so easy to let herself love Sam. She was so irresistibly drawn to him, so happy when they were together, that she understood there was a fast-approaching time limit for their relationship. If she waited too long to break it off, she would be seriously hurt. Far more hurt, in fact, than she had been by Kevin.

In the meantime, she resolved to enjoy every moment she could with Sam. Stolen moments, filled with the bittersweet knowledge that happiness was as ephemeral as moonlight.

* * *

Although Lucy wasn’t in direct contact with Alice, her mother had kept her informed about the progressing wedding plans. The ceremony would be held at the Our Lady of Good Voyage chapel at Roche Harbor, on the west side of the island. The tiny white chapel, more than a century old, was poised on the shoreline overlooking the harbor. Afterward a reception would be held in the courtyard of McMillin’s, a historic waterfront restaurant.

It galled Lucy that even though her mother was lukewarm about Kevin, she was becoming enthused about the wedding itself. Once again, it seemed, Alice could do whatever she wanted and get away with it.

On the day the invitation arrived, Lucy put it on the corner of the kitchen counter and felt bitter and annoyed every time she looked at it.

When Sam arrived to have dinner with her, he noticed the sealed envelope right away.

“What’s that?”

Lucy made a face. “The wedding invitation.”

“Aren’t you going to open it?”