Just The Way You Are Part 20

"Not yet."

"They will," she said to rea.s.sure herself.

"Maybe they shouldn't," he told her. "You need to hold on to this life, Phoebe, and let go of the one you had with John."

William was right, but Phoebe was torn between them, the past and the future. And what did either matter when her present was so uncertain? She closed her eyes again, and this time she fell into a dreamless sleep.

Tessa sat on the bench seat, clinging to the rail as Sam powered the boat over the waves that made the floor beneath her feet roll with each bounce. The ocean was more turbulent than she had antic.i.p.ated, especially since Sam had said the water was expected to be smooth and calm. Not that he seemed to be bothered at all by the sudden jerks and pitches.

"Isn't this great?" He turned to her from his position at the wheel. "Don't you love it?"

She drummed up a smile for him. "How far out are we going?"

"Wherever you want."

"This seems far enough."

He sent her a quizzical look, then cut the motors, and she felt their speed decrease until they were simply rocking on the water.

Sam came to sit next to her. "Are you all right?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

"You look a little..." He paused as he peeled her tight fingers off the railing. "White-knuckled."

"Oh, I haven't been sailing in a while. There's so much water, isn't there?"

"It's a big ocean."

"I thought we'd still be able to see Tucker's Landing, but there's nothing around but water. Are there a lot of sharks out here?"

"I don't see your friend Jimmy anywhere."

"That was a joke, ha-ha."

"We're okay, Tessa. You have to relax. I don't remember you being this nervous on a boat. I guess sailing around the world is probably not one of your dreams anymore," he said lightly.

"It would take far too long. Jets are much more efficient."

"There's nothing wrong with a little time on your hands, a little s.p.a.ce," he said.

"There's nothing wrong with getting to your destination as quickly as you can."

"What if you have nowhere to go?"

"I always have somewhere to go. I keep myself pretty busy."

"Do you like it?"

"The modeling?"

"All of it."

"Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. It's like any job. I have to say that modeling opened up the world to me." She uttered a little laugh, realizing she'd just repeated something her mother had always said to her.

"What's so funny?"

"My mom used to tell me that when I balked at entering another beauty pageant. She'd say that modeling would open up the world for me, that I'd be able to see and do everything, to have more money than I ever imagined and meet incredibly fascinating people and live a life of constant wonder."

Sam didn't say anything.

"Aren't you going to ask me if she was right?"

"I know she was," he said, with a familiar quirk of his eyebrow that set her nerves on edge.

"She didn't tell me that it would be lonely, that people who didn't even know me would hate me for no other reason than that my hair was blond."

"Sounds like you're tired of the business."

"I am tired, tired of being me," she confessed. "At least the me I've been the last few years. What about you? Do you really like running your business?"

"I do. It has its bad days, but on the whole it's a good life."

Silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of the water lapping against the boat and the occasional seagull squawking about lunch. Tessa didn't know what to say to Sam. She'd been the one to ask for time alone, but now that they had it, she wasn't sure what to do.

"Tell me a story," Sam said. "The way you used to." He leaned back against the rail. "Tell me about your incredible adventures. Take me to where you've been."

After a momentary hesitation, Tessa found herself telling him about her trips to Morocco and Bali and Indonesia, the swimsuit spread taken on the Colorado slopes in the winter, the parties in Manhattan, the time she'd met the president at a fund-raising gala. She must have talked for half an hour, with Sam only interrupting once in a while to express astonishment or ask a question.

It was like all those days and nights in the treehouse when she'd told him stories, only they were true tales, not dreams. She was different, and Sam was different. Despite his attention, she wasn't sure she was really entertaining him.

Finally, she fell silent. "So that's my life."

"You did it all, Tessa. I'm proud of you."

His words made her heart swell with pride, and she blinked back a tear. Aside from Phoebe, there had been no one to share in her success, no one to say, "I'm proud of you, you did good." She hadn't realized how much she'd wanted to hear that until now.

"Hey," he said softly. "Don't cry."

"Sorry. I just-I missed you, Sam."

"Me, too." His smile faded and his expression turned serious. "When you left there was a big hole in my life."

"I wasn't sure you had any regrets."

"I wasn't sure you had any. Look at you, Tessa. You're on top of the world. Why would you give a second thought to that small-town guy who treated you wrong all those years ago?"

"Because I loved that small-town guy," she whispered. "I did love you, Sam."

"I loved you, too." He hesitated. "I was going to ask you to marry me that Christmas. I even had a ring. It was a quarter-carat diamond, I think." He gave her a wry smile. "I'm not sure you could actually see the stone, but I thought it would work until I could afford something better."

She was shocked by his words. They'd never discussed marriage, never even mentioned it. "Sam, I don't understand. We were twenty years old. We were in college. We weren't ready to get married."

He looked away from her for a moment, then turned back. "I think I knew even then you were slipping away from me, and I was trying somewhat desperately to hold on to you."

"I wasn't going anywhere."

"Yes, you were. Half the male population at college was in love with you, and those modeling agencies were hot to sign you, and then you got that commercial. I knew you were going places, Tessa, and I thought maybe I could stay up with you if I married you. When you didn't come home with me, I knew it was over."

"Why didn't you ask me before I left?"

"I had this wild idea that you might change your mind and show up in time for Christmas. When you didn't, I got drunk."

He didn't have to say the rest, because she already knew it.

"It was still wrong," she said.

"I know."

She thought about all those years ago, wondering she hadn't been a bit vain and self-centered back then. The way Sam made it sound, it had always been about her, but she'd thought he was right there with her, enjoying the same things, only he really hadn't been.

"I guess I could apologize, too," she said slowly. "I didn't realize you were feeling left behind. I thought you would always be there when I needed you."

"You didn't need me, Tessa. I could see that. Oh, sure, we talked about me being your business manager, your agent, but I was a twenty-year-old kid. I might have been good at math, but that was pretty much it. Our dreams were crazy dreams, they were illogical, they were foolish."

"But they were ours. I did need you, Sam. You were my anchor. You kept me grounded. You made me feel like there was someone to catch me if I fell." She paused, thinking about their relations.h.i.+p back then. "From the first day I met you I knew I could count on you not to let me down. And you didn't, until, well, you know."

He leaned forward, staring into her eyes. "I would have caught you if you fell, Tessa, but the truth is-you never fell. Not even after..." He paused, taking a breath. "You just went on with your life. In fact, you made a success of your life without me. You didn't need me then; I doubt you ever did."

"How can you say that? We did everything together growing up. We learned how to kiss, how to dance. We learned chemistry together." She dropped her voice down to a whisper. "I thought the first time I made love it would be with you. We got so close so many times. But we never made love. Why didn't we?"

"You wanted to wait. You always wanted to wait."

Because she had wanted it to be perfect, to be special, and the time had never seemed right.

"I waited too long, didn't I?" she asked. "You needed the s.e.x. That's why you went to Alli."

Sam's eyes darkened. "No." He got to his feet. "Look, Tessa, the past didn't work out the way either of us wanted it to work out. But it's over. We can't go back."

"We can only go forward," she murmured.

His face tightened, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"I want to know who you are today, Sam," she continued. "Because you're clearly not the boy I remember. I see signs of him here and there, but then there's a man I don't know, who's making me confused, unsure."

"About what?"

"About what he wants. About what I want." She stood up and moved over to him. "Do you want go forward-with me?"

The whirring click caught Alli by surprise. She looked up from her calculator and found herself gazing into the lens of a camera.

"Hey," she protested as Jimmy snapped another photograph. "What are you doing?"

"Photographing the hardworking retail shop owner at work."

Alli put a self-conscious hand to her hair. "I must look awful."

"You look tired, worried, a bit distracted." He glanced around the shop, which was currently occupied by two elderly women browsing through the postcards. "And definitely in need of a bit more business."

"It's just a momentary lull before the weekend tourist storm."

He picked up a framed photograph on the counter and studied it. "Nice. I like the parallel between the old man and the sea."

"It was taken by a thirteen-year-old kid named Isaac," Alli said. "I'm the first to show his work, but I don't think I'll be the last."

"I'm impressed." He set it down and waved his hand around the store. "I was expecting cheap souvenirs, and instead I see quality crafts."

"The local talent. We don't have an art gallery in town, so I try to show off their work."

He picked up a slightly lopsided pink elephant and frowned. "Now, this..."

"Was made by Irene Bentley, who is ninety-four years old and still thinking she might be a sculptor when she grows up."

"Maybe for the blind," he said with a wince.

"It's not that bad."

"Sure it is. But you put it out anyway. Why?"

She shrugged, not sure she could explain it to a man as worldly as Jimmy. "Because the people here matter to me. This is a small town. We look out for each other. Most of these artists will never venture even a mile down the highway, but does that make their expression any less important? And who is to judge what's valuable and what's not except the person who's looking at the piece?"

"You feel strongly about it, I can see."

"I just like to give people a chance. Everyone deserves that."

"Except perfect beautiful people like your sister?"

"Well, Tessa doesn't need a chance. She already has it all."

Jimmy didn't reply, he simply gazed into her eyes with an intensity she didn't expect from him.

"You have a nasty habit of staring," she told him.

"Just trying to figure you out."