The Knitting Diaries: The Twenty-First Wish / Coming Unravelled / Return to Summer Island. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
started meeting every night in the middle of the lake. They’d sit under the moonlight and talk.”
“They did fall in love, though, right?”
“It wouldn’t be a romance if they didn’t. Except neither of their families wanted them to be together.”
“Did they get married?”
“They did eventually—and guess what?”
“What?” Ellen echoed.
“The Krugers and the Livermores became the best of friends. Dani and Scott now have three children. Let me see.” Tim squinted into the distance. “I believe their oldest daughter is around your age.”
“That is a romantic story,” Anne Marie said, mainly grateful that no one had drowned in the middle of the lake during a midnight tryst.
They spent an hour on the water, the most pleasant, peaceful hour Anne Marie could remember in a long while.
“I’d better get you back to shore if I’m going to have you home before seven,” he said. He sounded as reluctant as Anne Marie was to leave the tranquility of this special afternoon.
“Oh, yeah—I should be back by seven.” Only she didn’t want to leave. The temptation to stay on the lake was almost overwhelming. The sun felt warm on her shoulders; she’d finally begun to relax. Ellen yawned and rested her head against Anne Marie’s leg. “Maybe we could stay a bit longer….”
“You’re sure?” Tim asked, slipping the oar into the smooth water.
Anne Marie nodded. Eyes closed, she raised her face to the sun, reveling in the warmth of late afternoon. The birds chirped, the water rippled, and she could feel a light breeze on her face. She didn’t immediately realize they’d stopped moving. When she opened her eyes, she saw Tim sitting there motionless, both oars suspended above the water.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“No.”
He sounded uncharacteristically serious, and she tried to lighten the situation—whatever it was—with humor.
“Don’t tell me there’s a monster in this lake that’s going to come out of the water and swallow us whole.”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He set the oars in the water again and headed toward the cabin as if he were taking part in a race. Their speed was in stark contrast to the easy, tranquil quality of their earlier ride.
Once they’d reached shore, Tim secured the boat and hopped onto the dock. He helped Ellen up and then Anne Marie. “It’s time I got you back,” he said curtly.
Anne Marie had no idea what was going on. Taking her cue from him, she settled Ellen in the backseat while he stowed their belongings in the trunk. The inside of the car was warm and cozy, and Ellen closed her eyes, dozing off within minutes. Anne Marie got into the car; so did Tim. He braced his hands against the steering wheel.
“Tim,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb Ellen. “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t want to know.”
She placed her hand on his knee, preventing him from starting the engine. “Actually, I do.”
“Really?” He turned and looked at her, his eyes holding hers.
Anne Marie wasn’t sure who moved first. But the next thing she knew, Tim had his arms around her and his lips were on hers.
This wasn’t a soft exploratory kiss—it was hot and hungry, moist and openmouthed, as if they were intent on absorbing each other completely. The kiss went on and on until Anne Marie broke away, breathless.
“Ellen,” she whispered for fear her daughter would wake and find them like this.
“I tried to warn you …” Tim whispered back. His shoulders heaved and he clutched the steering wheel with both hands.
Anne Marie leaned against the back of the seat and closed her eyes, making a determined effort to catch her breath. “Wow,” she gasped, hardly aware she’d spoken.
Tim snickered softly. “You can say that again.” He was silent for the next few minutes. “Now what?” he finally asked.
Anne Marie blinked. “What do you mean?”
“The way I see it, we have two choices.”
“Only two?”
He didn’t respond to the question. “We can overlook what just happened …” he began. “Or?”
“Or we can explore it further.”
“Ellen’s in the backseat.”
“I didn’t mean this minute.” His gaze bore into hers. “You’re the one who has to decide what you want, Anne Marie. The decision is yours.”
It suddenly occurred to her what that kiss was all about. And it wasn’t because he was attracted to her. He’d said as much. Anne Marie closed her eyes once more and pushed aside the exciting sensations that cascaded through her. His touch was thrilling—wonderful—but she couldn’t trust him. He’d taught her painful lessons in the past and she’d be a fool to ignore them.
“You didn’t need to do that, you know,” she said stiffly.
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You kissed me just now because you’re afraid of what I might do.”
“Might do?”
“Don’t worry, Tim. I’ll never block your access to Ellen. She’s your daughter and she loves you. But I also know that if it wasn’t for Ellen you wouldn’t have anything to do with me. And I’m fine with that.”
“Anne Marie, listen—”
“No, please, I don’t want to hear your excuses. Mel suggested the two of us set up a parenting plan and I think that’s a good idea. You don’t need to flatter me with attention and kisses, Tim. We understand each other without playing games.”
His frown darkened. “You honestly believe that’s what the kiss was about?”
She didn’t say anything.
He waited for a moment, then started the engine. “Your silence is answer enough.”
He was angry and upset with her. Perhaps it was best this way.
In fact, she knew it was.
Eight
April 27
I saw Mom and Tim kissing this afternoon! They didn’t know I wasn’t really asleep. They kissed real hard and I was hoping maybe they might want to get married for real. April and I could be their wedding planners! But then something happened, only I don’t know what because Mom and Tim both got quiet. I tried to listen, but I couldn’t understand what they were talking about.
When we got home, Mom said she’s going to knit something for a bride named Courtney, who’s marrying the son of her friend Bethanne. Mom’s going to talk to Lydia, and I want to come along. I want to knit something for a bride, too, except I want Mom to be the bride, just like April and I planned.
When Anne Marie and Ellen returned from Lake Wisdom, there was a message on her home phone, which had been installed Tuesday, and on her cell. A message from Mel.
Anne Marie listened to both with more than a twinge of guilt. While she’d been necking like a teenager with Tim in his car, Mel, the man she was dating, had tried to reach her.
She waited until Ellen was down for the night before she called him back. “Hi,” she said. She knew it sounded tentative—and guilty. She had to