“Not me,” Linnea said. “It makes me feel less afraid. Hopeful. To think that Lovie came to Flo when she needed her.” She looked up at him. “Don’t you find that comforting? It gives me hope.”
John walked a few paces before replying. “Do you want to know how it makes me feel?”
“Of course.”
“No. Forget it.”
There was something in his voice. A breaking point. “John, tell me,” she urged.
They’d reached the corner before Linnea’s house. John stopped walking and dropped his arm, letting the blanket slip from their heads. The fine mist seemed to glisten under the light from the lamppost. She looked at him, his clothes as soaked as hers. His hair clinging wet to his head. But the light in John’s eyes burned like a flame.
“All this talk of life and death,” he began. “Ghosts…” He ran his hand through his hair, pushing the locks from his forehead. “A damn pandemic is haunting us every bit as much as any ghost. It’s the goddamn Grim Reaper. None of us knows if it’s going to get us. We could all die tomorrow.”
“That’s bleak.”
“Is it? Not for a lot of people right now. Not for Flo.”
Linnea cringed. “We should go.”
“Wait.” John sighed. “I don’t mean to be grim. Just the opposite. What I mean to say is…” He took a breath. “That every day is meant to be lived. Fully. With our eyes wide open. Our senses on full alert. Not wasted. Or squandered in doubt or self-pity.”
There was a long silence while they stared into each other’s eyes.
“You asked how all this makes me feel,” he continued. “It makes me feel shocked straight. Even afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid I’m going to die without you knowing that I still love you.”
Linnea’s lips slipped open in a silent gasp. She stared into John’s eyes, two intense green flames, and couldn’t feel the cold.
He took a step toward her and held her against his chest, so tight her breasts crushed against him. She knew the smell of him, the taste of him. She felt desire welling as he cupped her cheeks and lowered to a kiss…
“No!” she cried, pushing back from him, her breath coming hard.
John stared back, his eyes glazed.
“I won’t do this again!” she cried.
“Linnea, I—”
“I don’t trust you when you say you love me. You have no right to tell me that now,” she shouted at him. “It’s too late.”
He took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. She slapped it away. Unlike Flo’s, her memory was still sharp.
“You broke my heart!”
He moved his hand to his head and raked his hair, momentarily stunned. “I’m sorry. I was a fool. Please…”
“No.” Tears flowed down her cheeks, mingling with the rain.
“I can only say this once,” he told her, wiping his face with both hands. For a moment he stood with his palms covering his face. Then he dropped them, and he looked at her, his gaze boring into hers.
“I’ve always loved you. That was never the issue. I was afraid. I didn’t think I was ready. But when you left, you took everything good with you. Any chance for happiness walked out that door with you. For a year I tried to get you to listen to me, but you wouldn’t answer my calls. My e-mails. My texts. I even wrote you a letter. When I didn’t hear from you, I didn’t give up. I thought, okay. You needed time. Linnea, I never gave up hope. But this spring, when it came on a year, I couldn’t wait any longer.”
He paused and made a sound of exasperation. “I didn’t come here for some conference! I came here for you. I knew I’d run out of time. I had to be here, to tell you how I felt, before some other guy realized how amazing you are and swept you off your feet.” He paused. “And I was right.”
“What did you think would happen?” she asked, daring him to answer.
“Not the goddamn virus, that’s for sure. I could not believe my rotten luck. I was stuck in that carriage house able to see you from the window, but not talk to you. But then came hope in the form of a little girl. And a paper airplane. She made a connection possible. A tenuous beginning based on us being friends again. I grabbed hold of that. I knew you felt something for me.” His smile was sad. “You’ve never been very good at hiding your feelings.”
“I do have feelings for you,” she cried. “And I wish they’d stop.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re never going to want the same things I want.” Her voice broke.
“I do,” he said, taking a step closer.
Linnea took a step away.
John put up his hands, as though steadying a wild horse about to bolt. “I’m ready,” he said. “Linnea, I swear, I’m full-on ready to take it all on. I want to commit to you. Commit it all. My love. My life. Every day I have left on earth, I want to spend with you.”
Linnea put her hand over her mouth and shook her head.
“Don’t choose him, Linnea.” He pounded his fist over his heart. “Choose me.”
Linnea stared at John, at the water dripping down his face, his green eyes catching the light from the streetlamp. John’s eyes were wet, and she couldn’t tell if it was the mist or tears.
“I can’t,” she choked out.
She turned on her heel and hurried across the street toward the warm lights spilling out of her beach house. Behind her she heard John call, “Linnea!”
* * *
LINNEA RAN UP the front stairs into the house, tears flowing, soaked to the skin. She pushed open the door and stood gathering her wits, dripping on the floor. Anna and Cooper looked up from the sofa. Gordon rushed from his chair to her side. He took hold of her hands.
“Your hands are like ice.”
Cooper was at her side. “Is it Flo?”
Linnea tried to catch her breath. “She… she’s home.”
“Thank God,” said Cooper.
“She’s not well.”
Gordon held her close. She knew he misunderstood her tears. He thought she was broken up about Flo.
“It’s all right,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Flo’s in good hands now. She’s safe. That’s all we can do for the moment. But you—let’s get you into some dry clothes.”
Pandora stepped from the kitchen. “I’ll make you a cup of hot tea.”
The door burst open again, and John rushed in. Like Linnea, his hair was dripping water and his clothes were drenched, and he was dragging a wet wool blanket at his feet.
Pandora rushed back into the room carrying a teakettle.
John stood wide-legged, breathing heavily, and looked around the room, momentarily fazed by seeing the group staring at him in curiosity. Then he focused on Linnea, in Gordon’s arms, and a spark of jealousy flared in his eyes. He dropped the blanket, took a step forward, and grabbed Linnea’s hand, pulling her from Gordon’s arms.
“We’re not finished yet,” he told Linnea.
Gordon pushed John’s chest, shoving him a few steps back. “Don’t touch her.”