Alice Sharpe - Wife On His Doorstep

“Don’t stop!” she squealed as Captain Vermont slowed and approached the curb.

He flashed her an annoyed frown. “But that’s the place. Your mother said it was white and—”

“I grew up here. You think I don’t know my own house? Don’t you see? It’s Robert’s car. He must be here. Keep going.”

“But, Megan, Miss Morison—”

“Just keep going!” she demanded as she saw Robert step in front of the living room window, glass in hand.

Her mother was entertaining him! Knowing how Megan felt, her mother had nevertheless invited Robert Winslow into the house and given him a cold drink—no doubt cranberry juice and gin. What a traitor! Her own mother cavorting with the enemy! How dare she!

“Turn down here,” she told the captain.

He shot her a quick look before following her directions, traveling another half a block along a dark, empty side street before pulling up to the curb. Sighing heavily, he turned to face her. “Now what?” he asked, his voice a lot drier than the weather.

Megan wanted him to keep moving. Her heart was beating so fast it pounded in her ears and she had the irrational notion that somehow Robert had known that the green vehicle rolling past the house belonged to Captain Vermont and that she was inside. She fought the desire to turn around to make sure he wasn’t running down the street after them.

“Now what?” he repeated.

Megan glanced over her shoulder. The side street was empty save a few million raindrops that splattered on the pavement and ran in torrents down the gutters.

“I can’t believe my mother is visiting with that man.” She was practically fuming.

“Obviously they’re waiting for you to come home.”

She took a steadying breath.

“Are you ready now?” he asked her.

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“To go back to your mom’s house—”

“Heaven’s no!” she screeched. Oh, how she yearned for her lost apartment, for the solitude she craved, for time to curl into a ball and sleep, sleep, sleep. With that option lost, the next best thing would be a motel, but she knew her credit card would tilt any machine it was run through. Unless the department store she still had credit at had suddenly gone into the business of renting beds or she could find a place that charged less than fifteen dollars, she was out of luck.

She lowered her voice. “Would you mind taking me to Uncle Adrian’s house? It’s not far.”

The captain’s silence filled the truck as surely as a ton of mud. Rarely in Megan’s twenty-six years had she felt as isolated as she did at that moment. This man’s silent condemnation of her character cut her to the quick. With the speed and warning of a flash flood, her emotions overcame her, enveloped her, coaching yet more tears from her eyes and a hopeless sob from her throat.

Temporarily oblivious to anything but her own pain and frustration, Megan was startled when she felt two strong hands grip her shoulders. She looked up to see that the captain had moved close to her. Slowly, cautiously, he pulled her toward him, folding his arms around her. She was so miserable she lay her head against his hard chest, the edge of a black button biting into her cheek. He slowly patted her on the back, she assumed to offer comfort, and oddly enough, his embrace did just that—it comforted her.

There was a feeling of safety to be held so gingerly, so carefully. He smelled like fresh air, and the warmth of his exhaled breaths touched her bare neck. It was with a sense of alarm that she suddenly noticed she was enjoying his attention. She straightened immediately. She would not leap from one man’s arms into another’s, even if the current pair were strong and welcoming in their hesitant, gentle way, and even if these arms were offering nothing but solace.

He released her immediately, but she could feel his eyes on her. She felt set adrift, anchorless and thoroughly alarmed. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He gave her a napkin that had escaped the fast-food restaurant cleanup.

“I don’t even know your name. Your first name, I mean.”

“Jonathan,” he said. “John.”

“John,” she repeated.

“Are you feeling better now?”

She nodded. “I’m really not like this, weepy and everything. Normally, I’m very controlled.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, his wonderful voice sounding anything but sure.

“I’m sorry I’m such a pain—”

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said, cutting her off. “I was rude. I’d chalk it up to stress or fatigue, but I believe you’ve cornered the markets in those departments. No, please don’t cry again, Megan. Okay, where does your uncle live?”

She willed the tears she could feel burning behind her eyes to stay put. “Three miles east of here, even further out of town. I know it’s late—”

“I live another ten miles east of that, so you can see it’s no bother. Besides, in few minutes you’ll be with your uncle. Family, that’s what you need at a time like this. The welcoming embrace of your family. Just tell me when to turn.”

He hadn’t said it but what Megan knew he meant was three more miles and he’d get this crazy woman out of his car and out of his life!

The drive was made in silence. As Megan was reluctant to get back on the main street, she guided him through the back roads, which made the drive twice as long, but if he noticed the discrepancy, he didn’t mention it.

Until recently Uncle Adrian had lived in a condominium right in the heart of Portland. Business problems had forced him to downgrade his life-style, so that now his address was rural. In fact, it would be almost impossible to imagine any place further removed from his former abode than his present dwelling, a little tract house so close to the street there wasn’t even room for a sidewalk.

Well, that wouldn’t last, not now that good old Robert had bailed the business out of a hole. Soon, thanks to Robert, Uncle Adrian would be moving back to town. That was, if Robert didn’t rescind his help and leave Uncle Adrian high and dry—Good grief, what in the world had made Megan think she’d be welcome here?

It was too late to change her mind, though, she decided after another peek at John’s profile. He yawned into his hand and rubbed his temple, and she sat back, prepared to take on Uncle Adrian.

“It’s the pink one,” Megan said, gesturing to the humble little house right before she caught sight of the gray car pulling into the narrow driveway. Red taillights flicked off as she watched, and the driver’s door opened. Robert dashed between the car and the house.

“Don’t stop,” she snapped. “Don’t stop!”

“Not again?”

“I should have known. Robert isn’t the kind of man to sit by the telephone while another person affects his fate, especially me. He’ll keep checking everywhere he thinks I might go until he finds me.”

The captain kept driving. “How did he get here before us?”

“I took all that time blubbering,” she mumbled.

Half a mile down the road, John pulled the truck to the curb, turned off the ignition and once again stared at her.

“You can’t avoid your family forever,” he said softly, his voice comforting now, warm and easy, all hint of sarcasm gone.

“I can try.”

“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to face them.”

“Listen, John,” she said boldly. “Sooner or later I will face them. Sooner or later, I’ll tell them all to back off and leave me alone. I’ll rebuild my life, hold my chin up high and be a role model for women everywhere. But why do I have to do it tonight? Why can’t I have just one night to sort out my thoughts and get my life back in order? Is that so much to ask?”