A Walk Along the Beach(67)

We collected a few personal items from the apartment that I would need for the night. Sean led me back to the car and helped me inside. Neither of us had anything to say as we rode to his place.

As we came through the front door, Bandit leaped up with a bark, excited to see Sean and me, tail swishing from side to side with carefree abandon. I crouched down and rubbed his ears. “Good to see you, too, buddy,” I whispered, as my arms circled his neck and I pressed my face against his.

Sean’s living room was a disaster. His bag was only half unpacked, with clothes dumped on the sofa. Newspapers and mail cluttered the top of the coffee table. After weeks of grueling work and the long flight back to the States, Sean was as exhausted as me, only in a different way and for different reasons.

“I apologize for the mess,” he said, hands in his pockets, embarrassed.

    “No mind,” I said on the tail end of a yawn. “This is what Harper’s room has looked like from the time she was five.”

Although we made an effort to eat dinner, all either of us could think about was sleep. Without needing to point out the obvious, Sean led me to the spare bedroom. I followed behind him, looking into a room that had only the essentials: a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. The bed seemed sterile and uninviting, like one I might see at the hospital.

“Would you mind terribly,” I said, my voice trembling slightly, “if I slept with you?…I don’t want to be alone tonight.” I wasn’t asking him to make love to me. What I wanted, what I needed, was a warm body, a healthy one that I could cuddle against and forget what awaited me in Seattle.

“Yes, of course. I didn’t want to assume…”

“Just sleep.”

“Frankly, at this moment, that’s all I’m capable of myself.”

It was late; we were both tired. Stepping into the spare room, I slipped into my pajamas before I returned to his bedroom and folded back the covers.

“Right side or left?” Sean asked.

I shook my head. It didn’t matter.

We climbed into bed together and Sean gathered me in his arms so that my head rested on his shoulder. Neither of us spoke. I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace, needing his touch, the feel of his skin against mine. His heart beat strong and steady in my ear. Listening to the even beat quickly lulled me to sleep.

At some point during the night, I must have rolled onto my side, away from Sean. I woke with him cuddling me, his arm around my waist, securing me firmly against him. For the first time in weeks, my initial thought on waking wasn’t about Harper, what she needed, how I could best help her, who I needed to talk to, what should be done. Instead I was wrapped in warmth and comfort. Every cell in my body wanted to escape that hospital. If I never stepped into a medical facility again it would be too soon.

    We woke after eight. Eight! This was the first night of solid sleep I’d had since I couldn’t remember when. But eight? I’d planned on being at Bean There when it opened. Apparently, I’d slept through my alarm. Sean had, too.

The moment I saw the time, I tossed aside the covers and scurried out of bed. Forgetting my clothes were in the spare bedroom, I ran around the bed, searching for something to wear.

“Sean,” I cried, waking him.

He sat up and stretched his arms above his head. Yawning, he announced the obvious. “We slept in.”

Well, duh. That was putting it mildly. “I need to get to the café.”

“Give me a few minutes,” he said, sounding far too calm.

Couldn’t he see how panicked I was? I should have been at the shop hours ago. Instead, Sean stilled me, brought me into his arms, and hugged me close.

“Good morning, baby,” he whispered, and kissed the side of my neck.

His touch and kiss calmed my racing heart. I drank in his strength, his calm, wondering how long it would be before I would have the opportunity to be in his arms again. Breaking away from him was hard.

“Dad is coming for me at noon,” I said, not that Sean needed the reminder. The sooner I could return to Harper, the better I’d feel.

I was about to ask Sean when I would be able to see him again when he volunteered his plans for the day.

“I’ve got to unpack, do laundry, deal with the mail, and make my flight arrangements.”

Flight arrangements.

His words fell like lead weights into the center of the room.

“You’re leaving? Again?” The words stuck in my throat to the point that releasing them was painful. I was convinced I hadn’t heard him correctly. Surely there was some misunderstanding. Why would he need to leave again when he’d so recently arrived home? It made no sense.

    He held me at arm’s length, only it felt as if we were worlds apart. “I need to go to Chicago, where Doug lives. The two of us are working on the article for National Geographic.” He spoke slowly, succinctly, as if I should already know this.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

“I won’t be gone long,” he promised. When I didn’t comment, he added, “Trust me, I’m not excited about leaving you again, especially now.”

Swallowing became difficult. Speaking was impossible. It felt as if I’d been sucker-punched.

“It isn’t something I want to do, Willa. But I have to see the rest of this assignment through…”