He frowned. “No.”
“Don’t be mad at her. She was right to tell me. Gordon, you should have told me. Why didn’t you?”
He put out his hands. “I didn’t want to tell you precisely because you didn’t know.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was surprised Pandora hadn’t told you back when we met. That’s when I swore her to secrecy. That sort of thing never gets hidden in the UK. One’s title follows one everywhere, clouding relationships, making people act false around you. It gets very old, I promise you. Then you came in like a breath of fresh air and took me for who I was. You were fascinated with my work. Not my title. Linnea, I fell in love with you. And I lived in fear that you would find out and it would change everything.”
“I did find out. And it does change everything.”
His face stilled. “Why?”
“You’re a viscount. Gordon, I didn’t even know what that was.”
He laughed and reached out to take her hand. “But that’s exactly why I love you. And I’m not a lord, by the way. My father is still alive. I’m a mere mister.”
“And the only son.”
“Linnea, it’s not all glamour like the movies make it out to be. My family is struggling to hang on to the property for taxes and expenses. We’re barely able to sustain the house.”
“You should marry Pandora. She’s rich. And I think she rather fancies a title.”
He shook his head ruefully. “Pandora.”
“She’s definitely into you. Maybe even loves you.”
“If this was the nineteenth century, I would have no choice. I like to think I have a choice in the twenty-first. Linnea, I don’t love Pandora. I love you. I thought you loved me.”
“I do.”
“You have to choose, Linnea.”
There it was. He was asking her to decide. As John had done.
“Gordon, no matter who I choose, someone is going to get hurt.”
“I’ll make it easier for you,” Gordon said, laying out his cards. “England is my home. I must return. And I want you to come with me.”
She felt a crack in her heart. He’d put it all on the line. It was like Gordon to see things clearly, and to be able to restrain his emotions when needed. Her eager-to-please self leaned toward saying yes.
And yet, her body coiled in resistance. She felt her skin itch. Her heart rate accelerate.
“You’re asking me to make my mind up right now?”
His forehead creased. “I suppose I am. Do we really need more time?” he asked, leaning toward her. He spread out his palms like a player showing his hand. “My project here is ending. And”—his eyes brightened—“I just received an exceptional opportunity in England. I haven’t been able to discuss it with you. I want to.” He paused to fold his hands together, as though to rein the conversation back to the decision at hand. “I love you, and I hope you’ll come with me.”
This time, Linnea didn’t hear his words of love. She heard his demand couched in them. Going with Gordon now meant that his career would take precedence over hers. The worth of his title would supersede her own name. Linnea’s spine stiffened as her vulnerability slipped off like a coat removed. Gordon had told her what he wanted. And his feelings were fair. But it was also fair for her to have her own needs.
She scratched her arm, smiling inwardly. Her body was screaming at her what her mind had refused to hear. Follow your instincts.
“I’m sorry, Gordon. I can’t do that.”
He blinked and sat up. “You’re saying no.”
“I’m saying you are a wonderful man. A man I care deeply for. But I can’t go to England with you.”
“What if I gave it all up? Stayed in America? If Harry could do it, so can I.”
“Dear Harry,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“It’s more than the title, isn’t it?” he asked. “It’s John.”
She shook her head. “It’s more than John. I’ve been telling you this all summer, but you didn’t listen.” She shrugged. “Nor, did I, not seriously.” She spoke slowly, enunciating each word: “I am not ready to make that commitment.”
She laughed shortly. “It’s taken this crazy, mixed-up, difficult, oddly wonderful summer to fully understand it myself. Years back, when I went to California, I lost myself. I returned home broken. I’ve worked really hard since then in my career and with family to find myself again. Actually,” she said, “it’s more than that. I’m just beginning to grasp hold of what it is I need.” She offered a wan smile, hoping he’d understand. “So you see, I can’t say yes to you until I say yes to myself. I’m a work in progress. And I have to continue that work here. In the lowcountry.”
Gordon sat for a moment, gazing at the sky. Then he looked at her with sadness lurking in his eyes. He leaned toward her, and she raised her face to kiss him. But he went higher and kissed the top of her head.
“I wish you great happiness, Linnea.” He rose, then looked at the bunch of roses on the table. “I suppose I should have given you chrysanthemums.” His gaze was tender, his smile brief. “They mean good-bye.”
chapter nineteen
Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
Yet in this year of 2020, there is no hindsight to be had!
THEY GATHERED AT the small dune where years earlier they had scattered Lovie’s ashes. The dune was directly across from the beach house, a spot on the beach where many memories had been forged. As Lovie liked to say, only the good ones. Cara, Hope, and David, Emmi and John, Palmer and Julia, Anna and Cooper, and, standing alone with her dog, Linnea formed a semicircle on the dune, each carrying a rose from Flo’s bushes.
Dawn held special meaning for this group. For Emmi, Cara, Linnea, and especially Flo, it was the early hour of beach walking when the sun broke the shroud of night and the strident calls of birds sang out with hope.
Emmi lowered to her knees and, using a large whelk shell, dug a hole twenty-four inches deep in the sand, the same depth and circumference as a sea turtle nest. When she was done, Cara stepped forward holding the nondescript black box that carried the ashes of the woman they’d known as Florence Prescott. Cara kissed the box, then handed it to Emmi.
Emmi was calm as she pried open the box and, without words, tilted it to let the ashes fall down into the nest-like hole. When the last of the ashes were poured, Emmi moved aside as, one by one, each member of the group tossed her or his rose into the trench.
Linnea was the last. She took a shuddering breath and released the flower, whispering, “Good-bye dear Flo.” Then she too stepped back to join the circle. She watched as Emmi and Cara knelt side by side in the sand to fill in the hole as they would a turtle nest, handful after handful, patting the sand firm when finished. Emmi placed the large seashell, one that Flo had used to dig her nests as a “Turtle Lady,” atop the grave.
Linnea knew that Flo wasn’t in that hole in the sand. She remembered vividly that frightening night when Flo was in John’s arms and looked out at the sea, her face lit up with joy, and waved to Lovie. Linnea absolutely believed that her grandmother had come to guide Flo to the other side. She could feel both of them here now, on this dune with the people they’d loved. And she knew in her heart she would always find them whenever she looked out at the restless sea, or at the clicking sea oats on the dunes, or at every hatchling that eagerly raced home to the sea.