“So who is our mystery guest this weekend, Terri?”
Terri turned in the direction of her boss’s voice. “A Desiree Armstrong.” She handed the reservation card to him.
It took a moment for the name and the reality to register, and when it did his breath stopped in his chest.
Lincoln blindly handed the card back to her.
“Are you all right, Mr. Davenport?”
“Uh, yes. I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “See to it that Ms. Armstrong has whatever she needs.” He turned and walked away.
Lincoln stepped outside and stood on the porch of the main house, gazing out toward the sun that was slowly descending over the still waters. Orange and gold sunbeams streamed out across the slight ripples like pathways leading to eternity. For an instant, Lincoln wished he could simply put one foot in front of the other, step onto the guiding beams of light and walk off into the horizon. It seemed possible, almost preferable to having to confront the unimaginable.
Desiree. Even now, five years later, the mere thought of her made his heart race and desire heat his blood. Was this some cruel joke, some twist of fate that was bringing her here of all places? In three days he would know. But what then? What could they possibly say to each other to make what had gone so wrong right again?
Chapter 5
“I don’t know how to thank you, Rae.”
“You can thank me by relaxing and getting your head and spirit clear,” Rachel said as she sped along Route 79 en route to Sag Harbor.
Desiree sat back against the plush beige leather of the Volvo and took in the sights as they unfolded along the highway.
Everything was in bloom, alive. Had this been any other time in her life she’d be reaching for her sketchbook and pencils to begin detailing all that her eyes could see or imagine. But this wasn’t any of those other times. As much as she’d tried to put on a good face for Rachel and Cynthia, the truth was—she’d lost it. She’d lost her desire to paint. The inspiration that drove her to sit long, agonizing hours to bring her vision to the canvas or to a piece of clay was gone. And that realization saddened her as only one other thing ever had.
She hoped that this time away would somehow revive her passion, or at the very least give her a reason to pick up the fragments of her life.
Each time she closed her eyes she had nightmares, terrifying visions of that night, and she’d wake up shaking and soaking wet. She was afraid to be alone and ashamed to be around anyone. Now instead of the scents of turpentine and paint revitalizing her as they once did, they only evoked twisted memories, making her stomach revolt.
Everyone thought of her as “so together,” strong, resilient, able to handle anything. But she was none of those things. Maybe at one time, but now she felt as if she were only a shell of the woman she once was. Would she ever be all right again? Ever? Would the constant fear that hung in the center of her chest ever go away?
Inadvertently a shuddering sigh rushed up from her chest and escaped across her lips.
“Desi? Are you okay?” Rachel quickly glanced in her mirrors, then eased the car onto the shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Rae, I…feel so lost, like I’m drifting. I have nightmares every night. I can’t paint, I can’t think…” She covered her mouth with her hand.
“Desi.” She clasped her left shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. You just need some time. You’ve been through a trying ordeal. Anyone who’d been in your place would feel the same way.”
Desiree sniffed hard and reached in the glove compartment for a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes. “I know. I keep telling myself that,” she said and wiped her nose. “Some days it helps and other days it doesn’t.”
“Are you sure you want to go to the shore? You know you can stay with me. Maybe it’s too early for you to be alone.”
“I’ll be okay. I have to be. I know I can’t keep living like this every day.” She turned and looked at Rachel. “I just can’t, Rae.” She tugged in a deep breath and forced herself to smile. “I didn’t let you come all this way for nothing. Let’s go.”
* * *
Lincoln strolled across the grounds behind his property, gravel and sand crunching beneath his sneakered feet, and walked toward the water. From his vantage on the hill, he could see for miles across the cloudless sky. The water was a soothing blue and moved in gentle ripples along the shoreline, seeming to meet the deeper blue of the heavens in a seamless line along the horizon. In the distance the white sails of the private boats could be seen flapping in the late summer breeze.
When he’d stumbled across the abandoned site four years earlier, he immediately saw its potential.
The eight cabins were nestled among manicured bushes, imposing gray rocks and a brook that ran in a crisscross pattern throughout the two-mile stretch of grass and sand. The main house was a stone’s throw away from the water, and from its vantage point on the high hill it was a fairy-tale view at night.
But all that potential took work to be realized. What were now luxury cabins with all of the latest amenities had been shaped from a series of eight shacks in desperate need of repair. Everything from new plumbing to walls and new roofs were part of the renovations.
Yet with all the extras, the cabins still maintained an intimate, homey feel to them that his guests loved.
The Port had become his balm, a place to soothe his soul, a place to immerse himself in his efforts to get over Desiree. He poured all of his energies into creating this haven, praying that at the end of the day he would be too damned exhausted to think or feel. Some days his efforts paid off. Many times it did not, and she would creep into his thoughts, beneath his skin.
Lincoln inhaled deeply the salt-filled air and he could almost feel her fill him as she had always done. But he knew how empty he truly was inside. When would the emptiness be filled? He closed his eyes for a moment as the images came rushing back.
The sounds of laughter floated upward from the shore and pulled him from the thoughts that constantly engulfed him. He opened his eyes, turned and slowly walked back to the main house.
* * *
“Terri, I’m going into town,” Lincoln said as he approached the front desk. “I should be back in an hour or so. Is there anything we need—you need?”
Terri put the guest register aside. “We’re pretty well stocked with everything. We had a shipment of supplies on Friday.”
Lincoln nodded.
“Are you okay, Mr. D.? You seem so out of it lately.”
He chuckled. “Naw, I’m okay. Didn’t know it was that obvious.”
She tipped her head to the side and smiled. “You’re pretty lousy at hiding your feelings, Mr. D.”
“Guess I have to work on that.” He tapped the desk and walked toward the door. “See you later.”
