In the Shadow of Lakecrest(53)

“Your dreams are just that. Dreams. I know you wouldn’t hurt Cecily.” Gently, I ran my lips along the rise of his collarbone. “Or me.”

Relief loosened the muscles in his shoulders and neck. “It’s so hard to explain what it’s like, to wake up and not know what’s real.” His hand rounded the curves of my shoulder, my waist, my hip. “It’s more frightening than the dreams, sometimes. But when I see you, I know I’m safe. It makes me love you even more.”

“I don’t want to lose this feeling,” I said. “You and me, together.”

“Me neither.”

Matthew flashed one of his dazzling smiles. The kind that would have tempted me to kiss him if I hadn’t been so intent on what I wanted to say.

“Do you promise we’ll always come first with each other? I’ll do my best to get along better with your mother, but if she keeps bossing me around, I want to know you’ll take my side.”

Matthew nodded. “I will.”

“Lakecrest’s part of the problem, too. You know it is. It’s your home, but it’s never felt like mine.”

“Well, how about we bring the place into the twentieth century? Buy some new furniture, fix up our room however you like. Would that help?”

“It might.”

“Marjorie will have some ideas. She has quite an eye.”

Of course, I thought. Something else she’s good at. Matthew must have sensed my irritation, because he propped himself up on one arm and looked at me intently.

“About my sister,” he said. “Don’t judge her too harshly. We used to be inseparable, and it’s been hard for her since I married. If only she’d find a nice fellow to settle down with . . .”

I remembered what Marjorie had told me in the Labyrinth: Sometimes it felt like I could read Matts’s mind. The wistful way she’d said it.

Matthew wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed.

“You remember our wedding vows? For better or for worse? Well, we’ve gotten through the worse. When I think how terrified I was to tell you the truth about my dreams, all that skulking around to the clinic—God, it’s wonderful to be past it all. To know we can be completely honest with each other.”

He ruffled my hair with his fingers and pulled me close for a deep, lingering kiss. With a sudden twist in my chest, I realized I loved him—really loved him, with a deep, unshakeable certainty. Whatever Matthew had done, whatever his weaknesses, I wanted to live with him, raise children with him, grow old by his side. And I could lose it all, forever, if I gave him what he wanted. Total honesty would mean telling him the one thing guaranteed to shatter his trust, that I was no better than all the other girls who set out to catch Matthew Lemont. It didn’t matter that my feelings for him had changed; he would never forgive the betrayal. I buried my face in Matthew’s chest, afraid he’d see the regret etched across my face.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet,” he said, nudging me gently in the ribs. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

I turned to face him, forcing what I hoped was a convincing smile.

“Redecorate all you want. See if it helps. After the baby’s here, if you’re still miserable at Lakecrest, we’ll move. Buy our own house.”

“Really? What about your mother?”

“It’s not her decision. From now on, you come first.”

I didn’t have to fake a smile this time. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

And I meant it.



Our lovestruck mood lingered after we returned to Lakecrest, but I should have known I couldn’t escape my past forever. A few weeks later, as I sat on the terrace reading a magazine, I heard a distinctive voice drift out from the conservatory.

“Lemonade! Divine!”

Ma always did have a mouth on her.

Matthew, who’d been fiddling with a puzzle next to me, popped up his head and looked at me expectantly. “Surprise!” he said.

I was shocked and furious, in equal measure. Before I could say a word, there was my mother, done up in an enormous hat and a gaudy floral dress, grinning at me like a gambler who’s won the pot. Marjorie and Hannah stood close behind, their expressions unreadable.

Matthew took charge, and thank God. I could barely think where to start.

“Mrs. Moore, such a pleasure to meet you at last. Looks like our little scheme was successful—Kate had no idea you were coming!”

“Aren’t you a trickster,” Ma gushed. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here.” She squeezed his hand, then turned to me.

“Look at you!” She threw her arms around me and let out a sound that was half sob, half giggle. “My little mama-to-be!”

“It’s good to see you,” I managed, as I extracted myself from her embrace. She felt and looked healthily plump, hardly the invalid I’d made her out to be. “I hope you’re feeling better? After being sick for so long?”

“What a trial, you can’t imagine,” she said. “I prayed for deliverance, and what do you know? I feel quite healed. Oh my heavens, look at this view! Right to the water!”

“Please, sit down, Mrs. Moore,” Matthew said.

“It’s Mary to you, dear. I already think of you as my own son.”