The Return of Luke McGuire. Justine Davis

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СКАЧАТЬ He seemed to consider that. Then, handing her the book, added, “I guess I shouldn’t argue with success. They left, after all.”

      Amelia blinked. She hadn’t thought about that. It might have been a desperate ploy on her part, but it had worked. “Yes. Yes, they did.”

      “And you look like you could use a stiff drink. But since it’s not even noon, how about another cup of coffee?”

      “I…yes. That sounds good. But I’ll have to make fresh.”

      “Don’t bother. How about next door? They have something you like? Can you take a break?”

      She hesitated, although the coffee bar next to the store made a latte she was fond of. Finally she gave in; she could afford a short break, and from the right table next door she could see any customers who might arrive anyway.

      Moments later she was cradling the rich drink, thankful for the warmth despite the fact that it wasn’t the slightest bit cold out.

      She looked across the table at him, intending to thank him, but her breath caught in her throat. He was leaning back in his chair, out of the cover of the table’s umbrella, and his hair gleamed almost blue-black in the sun. The glint of gold she’d seen that night—and had barely noticed in their first encounter—turned out to be an earring in the shape of a tiny boat paddle, although she supposed it must have some other significance she wasn’t aware of; she couldn’t quite picture him doing anything as mundane as rowing a boat around, or paddling a canoe. She found she liked it, although her mother had always decried the trend of men wearing earrings. Amelia found it rather rakishly attractive…if the man wearing it could carry it off.

      Luke could definitely carry it off.

      He was dressed today in jeans and a T-shirt with the logo of what seemed to be an outdoor equipment company. But the simple clothing did little to lessen his impact, and she realized the black leather had only emphasized what was already there. No matter what he wore, this man would never look quite…tame.

      He was staring down Main Street, and she was thankful that he’d left off the concealing sunglasses, so she could see where he was looking. And so that she could quickly avert her gaze when he turned his attention back to her.

      “David says you moved here when your folks bought the store,” he said conversationally. It seemed odd to her, sort of anticlimactic after the high drama she’d imbued the last few minutes with, to have a normal conversation. It took her a moment to gather her wits and answer.

      “Yes. My father was a university professor. He retired to write a book and ended up owning a bookstore instead.” She smiled. “Which, not coincidentally, was what my mother had always wanted.”

      “So she pushed him into it?”

      Amelia laughed. “No. Neither one of my parents ever pushed the other one to do anything. They never had to. All either one had to do was say they wanted something, and the other one would move mountains to make it happen. They were crazy about each other.”

      Luke didn’t react for a minute, and Amelia realized he was absorbing what she’d said as if he had to translate it into a language he understood.

      “That must have been…nice,” he said at last, but she could see he was floundering, unable to relate this to anything he understood. And Amelia felt a sudden, sharp tug of sympathy for him, that something so basic and normal and necessary to her was so foreign to him.

      “It was,” she said softly. “And sometimes I forget how special and rare.”

      “Was?”

      “My mother died four years ago. My father was lost without her, and within six months he was gone, too.”

      “I’m sorry,” he said, and there was no floundering this time; he might not know what it was like to live with such love, but he understood grief. “That must have been tough, losing them both like that.”

      “I loved them dearly, but they would have wanted to be together. And they’d had very good lives.” She took a sip of her latte. “They were a bit too protective, I suppose. I was pretty sheltered. But I think that comes with being the only child of older parents.”

      “So you were a late arrival?”

      “Sort of. They adopted me when they were in their forties and realized they weren’t going to be able to have a biological child.”

      He blinked, setting down his own cup of simple black coffee. “You were adopted?”

      She nodded. “But they were the best parents I could ever have had. The always made me feel special. Chosen. I can’t imagine a biological child feeling any more loved than I was.”

      “You were lucky.” His voice was a little tight.

      “Yes, I was. Whoever my birth mother was, she did the best thing for me she could ever have done.”

      “Gave you to parents who could love you.”

      “Yes.”

      There was no denying the taut emotion in his words. It struck her suddenly that she had indeed been lucky, luckier than some children who stayed with their natural parents. She wondered if Luke had ever wished his mother had given him up, given him a chance at loving parents. And then she wondered how could he not; it would almost have to be better than living with a mother who, to judge by her speeches, blamed his existence for ruining her life.

      “I think,” she said softly, “I was even luckier than I realized.”

      He looked at her for a long, silent moment. He didn’t pretend not to understand what she meant. “My mother had her reasons.”

      “But none of them were your fault.”

      His eyes narrowed. “Just how much do you know?”

      She wished she hadn’t said it; the way he was looking at her, it was all she could do not to dodge his gaze. “I’ve heard your mother speak about the disaster teenage pregnancy can make of a life. I’ve seen you both, close enough to guess at ages. And—” she took a breath before finishing “—I can do math.”

      He sat back. His mouth twisted up at one corner, and the opposite dark brow rose. “Clever girl.”

      She bit her lip; she knew she should have kept quiet.

      She’d meant to express compassion and had only antagonized him.

      “I only meant that…she’s wrong to blame you. It’s not like you had a choice.”

      “When I’d been away long enough, I realized she probably didn’t have much choice, either.”

      “But she could have given you up to someone—” She stopped as he lifted a hand.

      “She couldn’t. Her mother wouldn’t allow it.”

      “Your grandmother?”

      He laughed. “Not if you asked her. She died when I was thirteen, and she never once acknowledged I was connected to her in any way. I wasn’t her grandson, I was her daughter’s punishment.”

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