They spent the afternoon with their neighbors, and then had a communal barbecue with everyone contributing food. The men congregated around the large gas barbecue that belonged to Paul and Jeanne Louise’s cottage while the women moved between the cottages making potato salad and macaroni salad and gathering chips and drinks.
Once they’d eaten and cleared away the remains of the meal, the children rushed off with Boomer to play while the adults all settled around another bonfire to talk and keep an eye on them. It was nice. Paul hadn’t enjoyed evenings like this since Jerri’s death. He’d been invited to join neighborhood barbecues and such, but had felt like a fifth wheel and refused. He didn’t feel like a fifth wheel with Jeanne Louise at his side.
“Those look like rain clouds.”
Paul followed John Corby’s glance toward a grouping of large, dark clouds in the distance and nodded, solemnly. They were almost black against the dimming sky as the sun headed for the horizon. Grimacing, he said, “Looks like we’re in for one heck of a storm.”
“Hmmm,” Russell commented. “And they’re moving pretty quick.”
“Well they did say that we were in for a doozy of a storm tonight,” Sharon said with amusement. “High winds, buckets of rain. The whole works.”
“Did they?” John Corby asked his wife with surprise.
“Yeah, Cecily and I heard it on the radio on the way back from London this morning,” Sharon said and then shook her head with exasperation. “I told you that when we got back from shopping.”
“I didn’t hear you,” John said with a frown, his gaze sliding to their dock and cottage with concern.
“You never hear me,” Sharon said dryly.
“Well, you need to speak up, woman,” he teased absently, and then sighed and got up. “If we’re in for a storm, I guess I’d best make sure the boat’s secured and have the boys help me gather up anything we don’t want blowing away.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Russell commented, getting up as well and taking his wife’s hand to tug her out of her chair. “Thanks for the fire, Paul. Jeanie. A pleasure. We’ll do it again tomorrow if you’re up to it.”
“We’d like that,” Paul said easily, glancing to Jeanne Louise as she stood and folded her lawn chair in preparation of taking it up to the cottage. He got up, put out the fire, and then helped her gather the chairs as the other two couples took their things and headed away. They stowed the chairs in their usual spot, and then picked up their own bits strewn about that they didn’t want blown away, towels that had been hung on the line to dry, Livy’s sand pail and shovel, the raft and her water wings . . .
After one last look over the yard to be sure they hadn’t missed anything, Paul whistled for Boomer, who was romping on the shoreline. He then glanced up the side of the cottage to where Livy and Kirsten stood hunched over, poking at something with a stick in the front yard. “I guess its bath and bedtime for small fry.”
“I’ll take Boomer in, feed him, and run the bath while you get her if you like,” Jeanne Louise offered, smiling as she peered toward the two girls.
“Thanks.” Paul nodded and squinted his eyes. “What the hell are they poking at?”
“A dead bird,” Jeanne Louise answered, narrowing her eyes. “They’re prodding, not poking. They’re sure it’s sleeping and are trying to wake it up.”
“Oh God,” Paul muttered and started toward the pair, Jeanne Louise’s soft laughter behind him. He stepped around the cottage just as Cecily appeared in the yard next door and knew she had come in search of her daughter as well. He smiled her way, then glanced back to the two girls and called, “Livy, honey, leave that poor bird alone and say good night to Kirsten. It’s time for a bath and bed.”
Livy turned startled eyes his way, then glanced around and frowned. “But it’s still light out.”
“I know, but it’s late, muffin. Besides it looks like it’s going to rain,” Paul said patiently. “Come on. A bath and bed.”
“You too, Kirsten,” Cecily called. “Say good night to Livy.”
“Okay,” Kirsten said with a put-upon sigh. She then turned to Livy and hugged her. “We’ll play again tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay,” Livy said with a smile, hugging her back. The pair then parted to rush toward their respective parents.
Paul held out his hand, smiling when Livy grabbed it. She skipped along at his side as he led her back around the cottage to the kitchen door. As promised, Jeanne Louise had a bath ready and waiting and agreed easily when Livy announced she wanted her to give her her bath that night.
Paul felt a pinch of hurt that she’d choose Jeanne Louise over him, but he was also glad. His daughter liked Jeanie, and it was obvious the immortal liked her too. He thought that could only be a good thing, and as he leaned in the door watching the two females laugh and splash water, Paul allowed himself a brief fantasy of their being a family . . . of Jeanne Louise staying with them, and Livy getting better and growing up . . . of a future. It was a beautiful daydream that had him smiling widely.
Paul and Jeanne Louise both put Livy to bed after her bath, tucking her in, and each of them kissing and hugging her good night . . . which just seemed to further his fantasy. Paul felt warm and safe and content as he caught Jeanne Louise’s hand to lead her from the room. Once in the living room, he paused and turned to her, then cupped her cheeks in his hands and simply stared at her face. She was so precious, this woman. Somehow she had become as important to him as Livy. He’d give his life for her, just as he would Livy. Each of the two females possessed a piece of his soul.
Paul wanted to express all that, to tell Jeanne Louise how he felt, but he didn’t have a clue how to say it, and in the end simply bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead, each eyelid, her nose and then finally her lips.
When he lifted his head, Jeanne Louise opened the eyes she’d closed as he’d kissed them. They were glowing softly in the dim light, a vibrant silver blue. She smiled softly and said, “I love you too.”
“I do love you,” Paul said at once, relief sliding through him as he acknowledged what he was feeling, what all his feelings meant. He hadn’t known what to say, but in the end it was so simple. He loved her. She’d understood that and she loved him too. Thank God, Paul thought, and then he kissed her again, but this time it was no gentle caress, it was hot, and passionate and demanding. He wanted all of her, body, heart, and soul.
Jeanne Louise moaned and arched against him as they kissed, her hands clasping his shoulders. But when he tore his mouth from hers to seek other pastures, she whispered, “Not here.”