Harbor Street (Cedar Cove #5)(97)

Again she nodded.

“My father doesn’t tell me what to do—or who to love. I make my own decisions. Got it?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. I love you.”

Rachel hung her head. “Don’t love me. Please, don’t love me.”

He lifted her chin so she couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze. “Sorry, it’s too late.”

“But…”

“Are you going to argue with me?”

“I…oh, Nate.” She threw her arms around him. “I missed you, too—so much.”

He sighed deeply, and slipped both arms about her waist, lifting her off the ground. “It took you long enough.”

“I’m frightened,” she whispered. And she was. If they permitted this relationship to continue, the time would come when she’d have to meet his family. It went without saying that they wouldn’t approve; there was absolutely nothing to endear her to his parents. No status, no wealth, no education to speak of. She’d been raised by an aunt who’d died when she was nineteen, and she’d been on her own from that point forward. Dogs at the pound had a better pedigree than she did.

“I don’t have any family,” she said, ashamed to admit this to a man who had such an important one.

“You’ve got me.”

“Do I?” She sighed. “Why do you make this so hard? Why won’t you just let me go?”

“Because you’re worth keeping. Now, no more arguing. We’re going to talk.”

Reluctantly she agreed. He drove them to the Pancake Palace, where they sat in one of the old-fashioned booths. They couldn’t stop staring at each other. When the waitress came, they both ordered coffee and banana splits, but the ice cream melted and the coffee grew cold before they even noticed it.

Finally Rachel reached for her spoon, then put it down again. “All right. Seeing that you’re the one with the big ideas, where do we go from here?”

“Right where we left off when I shipped out.”

“And where was that?”

“We were dating. You were my girl, and I was your bachelor prize.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nate, that sounds like something out of a 1950s movie. I should be wearing saddle shoes and a poodle skirt, and we should be listening to Bobby Darrin.”

“I’m sure they have some Bobby Darrin on the jukebox here,” he murmured.

“What about Bruce?” she asked.

“I think it might be a good idea if you told him you won’t be seeing him anymore.” Nate leaned all the way over and pressed his lips to hers. “You’ve already got one steady,” he said. “You don’t need two.”

Steady? Sandra Dee and Frankie Avalon were going to waltz in here any minute.

Still, she knew what Nate meant—and she knew he was right. Jolene would be unhappy, but Rachel’s confused relationship with Bruce simply couldn’t go on.

Forty-Nine

Allison woke to the sound of a light tap on her bedroom window. Her heart flew to her throat and she gasped. It could only be Anson. She didn’t care what time of day or night it was, she had to talk to him. In her eagerness to get to the window, she nearly fell out of bed.

Sure enough, Anson stood there in the yard, his shoulders hunched against the cold March wind. In the faint moonlight she could see that he wore his black coat and watch cap and was peering into the darkened room. When she approached the window, he stepped back. Without question Allison opened it for him.

“Anson,” she cried. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you.” It was two weeks since she’d seen him, that day in the mall. He hadn’t been to school. None of his friends seemed to know where he was. He’d vanished; no one had seen him anywhere. When she broke down and phoned his mother, Mrs. Butler didn’t show any interest or concern.

Anson didn’t answer nor did he climb inside her bedroom, as he had the last time he’d visited her in the middle of the night.

“Come in,” she urged. “It’s cold.” She moved aside, but he remained out in the wind and the cold. “Anson,” she said, “get in here! You must be half frozen.”

“No!” He shook his head wildly. “The only reason I’m here is to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Her mind was spinning. “Why? Where are you going?”

He shrugged as if that was of no significance. “I don’t know yet.”

Allison rubbed her hands up and down her arms, shivering with cold. “Come in. We need to talk.”

Again Anson refused. If anything, he moved back another step.

“Please,” she added softly.

He considered it for a moment. “I can’t,” he finally muttered. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He seemed to steel himself against her. “Like I said, the only reason I’m here is to tell you I won’t be seeing you anymore.”

The shock of his words felt like a slap across her face. “You don’t mean that! You can’t mean that.” She swallowed down the hurt and disappointment. “I love you.”

“Well, don’t,” he said sharply, as if her confession had angered him. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m a loser. I’m not going anyplace but down.”