Chapter 17
I cleaned up our after-dinner litter before the sea gulls could invade the deck.
Retreating indoors, I noticed that dusk was falling. I sat by a window that faced the ocean and watched the dark afternoon orange sky fade to deep pink and pewter gray. The sea was frothy with a gentle salty breeze. I let it caress my cheek as I sat thinking about Mrs. O’Brien and her knowledge of who I was.
I couldn’t figure out how she knew who I was. Wade was the only person on the island who I had trusted with the knowledge that I was a popular romance novelist. I imagine with the right mixture of flirting and threats, she could have tricked Wade into telling more than he should. I wasn’t angry with him. And it wasn’t that I was trying to attain an air of mystery. The reason I was keeping my identity a secret was due to two factors, David and unpredictable fans.
Most of my fans were harmless middle-aged women, who were hooked on hopeless romance books. At one of the book signing of my last novel, “Time Means Nothing,” there was a mild disturbance when four women got into a knock-down-pulling-out-hair fight over the last autographed book. One can never predict how the public will react to the semi-famous and infamous. I had witnessed many incidences of romance readers going wild.
I tried not to listen to the occasional raised voice that drifted up from the boathouse. Thirty minutes later, I heard the squall of tires, announcing Mrs. O’Brien’s departure. I prepared myself for Perry’s appearance. I’m sure his curiosity was stroked.
A few moments later, he knocked softly before slipping inside the house. “Kerrie, I do apologize for Melinda’s behavior. She’s one of those kids that didn’t want a toy until someone else played with it.” He paused, realizing what he had just said and tried to rephrase it, “I mean she’s the kind of woman that doesn’t like the fact that her toss-away is now someone else’s treasure. Damn, that doesn’t sound right…she’s the kind of woman…”
Laughing at his struggle, I reassured him I understood. “I get what you’re trying to say.”
“So…you’re a romance novel writer.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “So you aren’t a freelance writer, eh?”
“I do write articles and essays under a different nom de plume. But mainly I am a romance novelist. I write for Wine and Roses Publishing House under a pen name, Rose Kerrigan.” I blushed as I continued, “I’ve been on the NY Times best seller list a few times. Right now, I’m between books and taking a break.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I bet Wade knows, doesn’t he?” Perry was sitting across from me in a wicker chair. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs with his fingertips touching.
“Would you like a drink? I’m having rum and pineapple juice.”
“Sure, but don’t add much juice. I like my drinks like my women—strong.”
A heavy silence hung in the air as I mixed our drinks. My heart was even heavier, because I wanted to tell him everything but was so afraid too. My trust in men had been shattered and now it was something that a person had to earn. Though Perry had been a solid wall for me to cling too, I still didn’t know much about him personally.
When I handed him his drink, our fingertips brushed. I realized it was the first time that we had touched since the day he carried me down the beach, racing against the rising tide. I remembered his firm grip on me that day, it was comforting and powerful, but tonight’s touch burned me deeply like a blue flame. As I thought back to that day, it reminded me of my pain and weakness, causing me to put the wall back up around my heart.
I looked at him, wondering why I was attracted to him. I knew part of the reason was his strength and his calmness. But from experience, I knew most men hid a side that was undesirable. I wondered what Perry had buried behind those huckleberry blue eyes?
His eyes were searching my face for answers. Taking a deep breath, I replied, “Yes, Wade knows who I am. I’ve had problems in the past with over-zealous fans. I asked that he play down my writing. He didn’t tell you, because I asked him not to tell a soul. You know Wade has a strong since of honor and won’t break a confidence. I’m surprised though that he told Mrs. O’Brien.” Wade was the only explanation that I could come up with, as to how she found out my true identity.
“Do you have any of your books on hand?” His question surprised me.
I hesitated, “Yes, I do. I’ve been taking notes on my last novel. My readers are pressing me for a sequel.”
“May I read it?” I searched his face but it was unreadable. I couldn’t say no, yet I was hesitant to comply. In my heart, I knew he would rush out to the nearest bookstore, trying to find one of my novels. Reading my thoughts, he spoke softly, “Please don’t make me comb the island looking for one of your books.”
On the bedside table was a copy of my last novel, “Time Means Nothing.” Before bed every night, I had been reading it and making notes in the margins for the future sequel. I excused myself and went to retrieve it. I heard Perry issue a huge sigh from the den. I softly sighed, too, holding the book against my heart. I returned to the den to find Perry rubbing his face in a tired manner.
To lighten the mood, I jested, “Shall I autograph it for you?”
Our fingers brushed for the second time that night, as he took the book. My skin felt electrified as the hairs on my arm stood up. I was relieved when I saw a smile on his lips. “I have your name on the lease agreement. Hmmm, I bet it’s worth something.”
“Not hardly! I’m not that famous, yet. Believe me, I’m no Stephen King.”
“Thank heaven for that!” He replied, making me blush again. I don’t think I’ve ever blushed so much in all my adult life, as I did in his company.
Watching him study the book’s cover, I wondered what he was thinking but I was too timid to ask, afraid of what he would say.
He read the title out loud, “’Time Means Nothing.’ I hate that idea. If time means nothing then why are we here?” He sighed, “Melinda is an expert on published books. I don’t recognize the emblem. But I imagine she knows it well. That’s why she knew who you were immediately. I don’t think Wade told her anything, other than you were a writer. Melinda is no longer Mrs. O’Brien, by the way, so you don’t have to refer to her as such. She’s Melinda Jones and works for Banning House Publications in Raleigh. Ever heard of them?”
My mouth fell open, “Oh my, they published my first five novels.” My mind reeled. I didn’t recognize her, but with her working at my old publishing house, I’m sure she’s seen my photo on the honorary wall of best sellers.
Perry’s next comment broke through my musing. “She thinks we’re lovers.” He wouldn’t look at me. Instead he stared at his shoes. My spirits dropped, as I watched a bitter look cross his face. Would it be so bad to be my lover? I quelled the thought for it would get me nowhere.
Retreating indoors, I noticed that dusk was falling. I sat by a window that faced the ocean and watched the dark afternoon orange sky fade to deep pink and pewter gray. The sea was frothy with a gentle salty breeze. I let it caress my cheek as I sat thinking about Mrs. O’Brien and her knowledge of who I was.
I couldn’t figure out how she knew who I was. Wade was the only person on the island who I had trusted with the knowledge that I was a popular romance novelist. I imagine with the right mixture of flirting and threats, she could have tricked Wade into telling more than he should. I wasn’t angry with him. And it wasn’t that I was trying to attain an air of mystery. The reason I was keeping my identity a secret was due to two factors, David and unpredictable fans.
Most of my fans were harmless middle-aged women, who were hooked on hopeless romance books. At one of the book signing of my last novel, “Time Means Nothing,” there was a mild disturbance when four women got into a knock-down-pulling-out-hair fight over the last autographed book. One can never predict how the public will react to the semi-famous and infamous. I had witnessed many incidences of romance readers going wild.
I tried not to listen to the occasional raised voice that drifted up from the boathouse. Thirty minutes later, I heard the squall of tires, announcing Mrs. O’Brien’s departure. I prepared myself for Perry’s appearance. I’m sure his curiosity was stroked.
A few moments later, he knocked softly before slipping inside the house. “Kerrie, I do apologize for Melinda’s behavior. She’s one of those kids that didn’t want a toy until someone else played with it.” He paused, realizing what he had just said and tried to rephrase it, “I mean she’s the kind of woman that doesn’t like the fact that her toss-away is now someone else’s treasure. Damn, that doesn’t sound right…she’s the kind of woman…”
Laughing at his struggle, I reassured him I understood. “I get what you’re trying to say.”
“So…you’re a romance novel writer.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “So you aren’t a freelance writer, eh?”
“I do write articles and essays under a different nom de plume. But mainly I am a romance novelist. I write for Wine and Roses Publishing House under a pen name, Rose Kerrigan.” I blushed as I continued, “I’ve been on the NY Times best seller list a few times. Right now, I’m between books and taking a break.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I bet Wade knows, doesn’t he?” Perry was sitting across from me in a wicker chair. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs with his fingertips touching.
“Would you like a drink? I’m having rum and pineapple juice.”
“Sure, but don’t add much juice. I like my drinks like my women—strong.”
A heavy silence hung in the air as I mixed our drinks. My heart was even heavier, because I wanted to tell him everything but was so afraid too. My trust in men had been shattered and now it was something that a person had to earn. Though Perry had been a solid wall for me to cling too, I still didn’t know much about him personally.
When I handed him his drink, our fingertips brushed. I realized it was the first time that we had touched since the day he carried me down the beach, racing against the rising tide. I remembered his firm grip on me that day, it was comforting and powerful, but tonight’s touch burned me deeply like a blue flame. As I thought back to that day, it reminded me of my pain and weakness, causing me to put the wall back up around my heart.
I looked at him, wondering why I was attracted to him. I knew part of the reason was his strength and his calmness. But from experience, I knew most men hid a side that was undesirable. I wondered what Perry had buried behind those huckleberry blue eyes?
His eyes were searching my face for answers. Taking a deep breath, I replied, “Yes, Wade knows who I am. I’ve had problems in the past with over-zealous fans. I asked that he play down my writing. He didn’t tell you, because I asked him not to tell a soul. You know Wade has a strong since of honor and won’t break a confidence. I’m surprised though that he told Mrs. O’Brien.” Wade was the only explanation that I could come up with, as to how she found out my true identity.
“Do you have any of your books on hand?” His question surprised me.
I hesitated, “Yes, I do. I’ve been taking notes on my last novel. My readers are pressing me for a sequel.”
“May I read it?” I searched his face but it was unreadable. I couldn’t say no, yet I was hesitant to comply. In my heart, I knew he would rush out to the nearest bookstore, trying to find one of my novels. Reading my thoughts, he spoke softly, “Please don’t make me comb the island looking for one of your books.”
On the bedside table was a copy of my last novel, “Time Means Nothing.” Before bed every night, I had been reading it and making notes in the margins for the future sequel. I excused myself and went to retrieve it. I heard Perry issue a huge sigh from the den. I softly sighed, too, holding the book against my heart. I returned to the den to find Perry rubbing his face in a tired manner.
To lighten the mood, I jested, “Shall I autograph it for you?”
Our fingers brushed for the second time that night, as he took the book. My skin felt electrified as the hairs on my arm stood up. I was relieved when I saw a smile on his lips. “I have your name on the lease agreement. Hmmm, I bet it’s worth something.”
“Not hardly! I’m not that famous, yet. Believe me, I’m no Stephen King.”
“Thank heaven for that!” He replied, making me blush again. I don’t think I’ve ever blushed so much in all my adult life, as I did in his company.
Watching him study the book’s cover, I wondered what he was thinking but I was too timid to ask, afraid of what he would say.
He read the title out loud, “’Time Means Nothing.’ I hate that idea. If time means nothing then why are we here?” He sighed, “Melinda is an expert on published books. I don’t recognize the emblem. But I imagine she knows it well. That’s why she knew who you were immediately. I don’t think Wade told her anything, other than you were a writer. Melinda is no longer Mrs. O’Brien, by the way, so you don’t have to refer to her as such. She’s Melinda Jones and works for Banning House Publications in Raleigh. Ever heard of them?”
My mouth fell open, “Oh my, they published my first five novels.” My mind reeled. I didn’t recognize her, but with her working at my old publishing house, I’m sure she’s seen my photo on the honorary wall of best sellers.
Perry’s next comment broke through my musing. “She thinks we’re lovers.” He wouldn’t look at me. Instead he stared at his shoes. My spirits dropped, as I watched a bitter look cross his face. Would it be so bad to be my lover? I quelled the thought for it would get me nowhere.
penned by Painter Lady at 9:52 PM
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