The Secret Between Them

“Congratulations,” he muttered, nodding at the ring. Then he cleared his throat.

Without looking at Jessica again, without trying to see or judge if there were still any more cracks beneath the facade or even feelings of commiseration with him, as in days of old, he turned and left. After the funeral and the will reading, he hoped he’d never see her again.

* * *

JESSICA TURNED TO SEBASTIEN. “I need to visit the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, she pushed into the bathroom before she lost it.

Kyle is back.

Feeling dizzy and off balance, she slipped off the cheap metal-and-glass ring Kyle had been staring at and tucked it inside her pocket. Kyle had always noticed things about her that others didn’t. If Sebastien had noticed the ring, he would’ve laughed. It was just a child’s gift from her client, little Benjamin Davis, in honor of Valentine’s Day.

Once inside the bathroom, shaking, she headed for the sink and a cold compress, glad she no longer wore eye makeup—hadn’t for years. She no longer did a lot of things since her skating days, but Kyle didn’t know that, either.

She put a paper towel under the faucet and ran cool water over it, then pressed it to her forehead. She should have prepared herself. It wasn’t surprising that Kyle would show up at the Grand Beachfront Hotel tonight. The tall, broad-shouldered Marine. She’d been expecting him at any time, all week long, and dreading it. It was like a churning in her gut. She had so much guilt where Kyle was concerned.

The stall door opened and Maureen Cole stepped out. “Jessica!” she said. Maureen was a real estate agent in town. She’d helped Sebastien with the paperwork for his rented beach house. Someday Jessica hoped they would use her services for a permanent home belonging to both of them.

“Hi, Maureen.” Through the mirror, Jessica gave Maureen her warmest smile. Keeping in control of her emotions was the most important thing.

“You look so beautiful,” Maureen said.

I don’t. I’m fat. Kyle had said so with his eyes. He’d stared at her stomach as if he thought she was pregnant. She wasn’t—no chance of that, though someday it would be an absolute dream to have a family of her own.

“Thanks, Maureen. You do, too.”

Maureen really did look beautiful, with her hair done up and wearing a sexy black dress. Smiling at Jessica, she turned on the faucet and began to soap up her hands.

Jessica turned back to the mirror, swallowing the lump in her throat. She’d wanted so much to look pretty tonight. She glanced at her blouse, her most beautiful garment, exquisitely constructed and embroidered. It was her favorite top and it flattered her face and coloring, but now, if she looked at herself through what she imagined as Kyle’s eyes, all she saw was a chubby, pale woman, no longer young.

The last time Kyle had seen her she’d been a figure-skating princess. Fit and thin to the point of being ethereal.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Looks were such an illusion. In reality, back then she’d been dealing with the hell of her mother’s pressure, coupled with bulimia and control issues. Nobody knew. Kyle had maybe guessed, but—no. She wouldn’t go down that road. Since she’d last seen him, Jessica had been for a long time fighting her own battles, breaking free, struggling through her recovery. Now here she was, a survivor. With a place of her own. A job of her own.

And Sebastien.

She pressed the paper towel to her eyes one last time, as if cleaning a speck from her vision. She was acutely aware of Maureen’s gaze on her. She had to regain control of herself.

Maureen turned off the faucet and reached for a paper towel. “Was that Kyle Northrup you were talking to?” she asked, seeming casual. Jessica assumed there was an agenda. She always assumed that, because it was so often true with people who approached her.

“Yes,” Jessica answered carefully.

“I didn’t recognize him at first with that beard.”

“No.” She wasn’t one for beards, herself. Sebastien was clean-shaven. Never even had scruff, and she liked it that way.

“He still has those beautiful green eyes,” Maureen mused. “I remember him from high school. He graduated in my class year. The hockey captain. Other kids gave me a hard time because of my brother Bruce and his legal troubles, but Kyle never did. He was sort of geeky, shy with girls, but I always thought he was a good guy.”

“Umm,” Jessica said noncommittally. She hadn’t gone to the public high school and wasn’t sure what Maureen was talking about. She just knew that she didn’t want to gossip, about anybody. For years she’d been the topic of gossip herself.

Maureen fished a lipstick out of her bag, still sending sideways glances at Jessica. “He got really big, didn’t he? Filled out. Kyle was in the Marines, right?”

Joined the service because of Jessica’s lie. It still made her feel queasy. For years, she’d dreaded that if something happened to him, it would be on her conscience.

“I...don’t know,” Jessica said. “Kyle and I didn’t keep in touch.”

Maureen cocked her head. Gazed through the mirror with the sort of calculating glance that Jessica, as someone who’d been well-known, had gotten used to spotting. “Do you think he’s the one who stands to inherit the old twin rinks property?”

That must be Maureen’s angle—seeing if prime beachside property will soon be on the market.

“I honestly don’t know,” Jessica replied.

Natalie Kimball, Joe’s lawyer, was also Maureen’s sister-in-law. Maureen could ask Natalie about the twin rinks if she was interested in its fate. Because Jessica was not interested at all. If she had a vote in the matter, they’d tear down the place and repurpose it. She made it a point never to drive past it these days.

“Well, we’ll have to wait and see what happens,” Maureen said, tossing her lipstick tube inside her purse. She smiled again at Jessica. “Enjoy your Valentine’s Day dinner.”

“Thanks. Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too.” Jessica had been looking forward to this dinner all week. Sebastien so often traveled. But he was her boyfriend and this was their one-year anniversary, and he was out in the dining room waiting for her.

Taking a deep breath, she tossed the wet paper towels and pushed her way out the door. The restaurant was bustling. Busiest day of the year, according to a client who waitressed here. Sebastien was leaning casually against the hostess stand, the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. Then he took her hand and led her through the bar area and to a back room, much quieter, with a row of secluded, leather booths near the window. Tables were also set up throughout the space, but the voices were low murmurs, not part of their private world for two. She heard only a quiet tinkling of cutlery as other people dined, and the faint rattle of ice buckets as champagne glasses were filled and refilled.

Now was her moment. The tension in Jessica’s neck subsided. Just before Christmas, Sebastien had casually asked her what kind of engagement rings she liked. She’d thought maybe he would propose to her at Christmas, but he hadn’t. New Year’s Eve passed without a proposal, too. Valentine’s Day—their anniversary—was the most logical day...

Relaxing into the booth, she accepted a goblet of wine from Sebastien.

Over the candlelight, he lifted his glass. His eyes looked deeply into hers.

Usually, she let her gaze drift away. It was embarrassing to let people stare into her eyes for too long. Off-putting. But Sebastien seemed so insistent that this time, she didn’t look away.

“I need to ask you something,” he said.

Her heart was pounding. Would this be the moment she’d been waiting for? Her gaze flicked to the pocket of his suit jacket. No telltale bulge from a jeweler’s box.

She glanced back to his eyes, holding her breath...

“Is everything okay with you?” he asked.

“Of course!”

“You were in the bathroom a long time. I was concerned.”

“Was I? Please don’t be.”

Just then, a loud gasp went up from the table behind her. It sounded like a feminine expression of happiness.

Jessica turned in her booth. The couple behind them were hugging and kissing. The woman had teary eyes. She was glancing with pleasure at a new round solitaire with a platinum band settled around her beautifully manicured ring finger.

Jessica couldn’t lie, her first emotion was bone-deep envy. A longing for what she didn’t have, so familiar from the emptiness of her childhood. But she fixed her smile and turned back to Sebastien. “Isn’t that nice?”

Sebastien’s gaze had shuttered. He’d put down his wineglass. Whatever had been between them in those earlier moments when they’d first sat down, had somehow broken.

Sebastien picked up his menu. “Good for them,” was all he said about it.

CHAPTER TWO

JOE MANSELL’S WAKE was in Wallis Point’s sole funeral parlor, a refurbished Victorian mansion that, one hundred years ago, had been built by Wallis Point’s wealthiest citizen.

Kyle stood in the back, away from as much of the action as possible, feeling suffocated in his suit and tie. He’d wanted to cut out early, but as the only family member, he couldn’t. The funeral director had tagged him the moment he’d walked in the door and pulled him aside, giving Kyle the day’s agenda.

Evidently, Kyle had duties. Joe had planned the whole thing, and Kyle was to stay for the prayer service to speak his part.

He was in hell.

Kyle shifted onto his good leg. Maybe he had a bad attitude where Joe was concerned, but Kyle still hadn’t forgotten years of his stepfather’s verbal abuse. Joe had been like a drill sergeant. The fact that Joe had been a Vietnam veteran might have explained it, but didn’t excuse it, in Kyle’s opinion. Still, after Kyle had attended boot camp himself he’d understood Joe a little more.

Joe had always needed that sense of order and discipline. A world where the rules were clear and the consequences for breaking them were set out.

But Kyle had always thought Joe had taken it too far. He’d been rude and angry most days, and Kyle didn’t want to be angry, not like him.

He shifted his weight to his other side.

A lot of people had shown up for the service, and Kyle was taken aback by the show of love and support for the cranky old man. Then again, Joe had behaved like a good guy to mostly everybody else. He’d liked to sit in his office in the front of the rink and listen to anybody who came to him with a problem. Jessa Hughes, for one.

“He wanted to be cremated,” Kyle heard one of the mourners say. “Didn’t want people seeing him in a casket.”

Joe’s ashes were in a gold urn on a central table covered with a maroon cloth. A photo of Joe, a candid, taken at the rink about thirty years ago judging by the haircut and his youth, sat beside it. It was a good shot, and it captured what a good guy Joe could be. A lump formed in Kyle’s throat.

The funeral director, Henry, brought over Reverend Ellsworth to introduce them both.

“Joe chose two scripture readings and a song,” the reverend informed Kyle. “He asked if you would please read the Twenty-third Psalm. Are you comfortable with that?”

Kyle stiffened. He hadn’t been to church since his mom had made him when he was young. After she’d died, he’d sort of been against it. Joe had, too. Kyle was lost, and he wasn’t ever going to be found.

“Reverend Ellsworth will be giving the eulogy,” Henry said.

“Fine,” Kyle replied. “I’ll do the psalm reading.” Psalms were short, after all.

“Then we’ll be ending the service with a song that Joe chose. Are you familiar with the Byrd’s Turn! Turn! Turn! Lyrics taken almost verbatim from the Book of Ecclesiastes.”

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven, Kyle thought.

He hadn’t known that Joe had embraced religion again. Kyle just wanted to get through this day. Honestly, he’d been through too many military funerals these past years, and each of those had been a special kind of suck, but this one...it reminded him of being a kid at his mom’s funeral. Twelve years old. Standing beside Joe. Joe had arranged that one, too. Kyle had been too devastated to be of much use. He’d thought his life had ended. In a sense, it had.

Henry led him to stand before Joe’s gold urn. Henry was a tall, polite man who was good at his funeral director job. His demeanor was calm and peaceful, so composed at dealing with bereavement. Comfortable with death.

Kyle gritted his teeth.

People that Kyle had forgotten approached him to offer their condolences. Mostly these were people from his old rink world. Guys who’d run the Zamboni, the snack bar. Lots of skaters and hockey players. They all shook Kyle’s hand.

There were a bunch of mourners Kyle didn’t recognize, too, but they looked like figure-skating people. Joe’s rink had two ice surfaces. Technically, the place was called the Wallis Point Twin Rinks. One rink had been mostly used by the local figure skating club. Periodically they hosted competitions and then they would take over both rinks. And when there were hockey tournaments they took both rinks, too. That was Kyle’s world back then. He’d wanted nothing more than to be an NHL player, but once he’d joined the Marines, it had pretty much been out of the question to pursue anything like that.

Where was Jessa—Jessica? Or her mother? Kyle had forgotten to ask about her when he’d seen Jessica yesterday.

“Hey, Kyle. It’s good to see you,” one of Joe’s former employees said to him. Johnny David was his name. “What have you been up to?”

“Marines,” Kyle said.

“Wow. You still active duty?”

Kyle shook his head. “I work for the DoD now. Department of Defense.”

“I heard you live in Florida.”

“No. Maryland.”

“You still play hockey?”

His pulse sped up. He was especially cognizant of his leg. “Yes.”

He did play hockey, in a wounded veterans league.

But that rink was an hour’s drive from his job. To run a league here, at his own ice rink, would be heaven. And he was quickly realizing that he’d never fit in here, except on the ice. And now, only on the ice with other guys who knew what it was like. What he was going through.

Johnny David prepared to ask Kyle another question, but Kyle was saved by the touch of a hand on his shoulder.

“Kyle?” A slender woman smiled at him, a pretty blonde he vaguely recognized. “I’m Natalie Kimball. We spoke on the phone.”

Natalie seemed nothing like any lawyer he’d ever pictured—she was sweet-faced, thin and slight, soft-spoken. He shook her outstretched hand and nodded at her, saying nothing.

With her other hand, she curled her hair back over her ear. Natalie wore a hearing aid.

He felt himself relaxing.

“This is my husband, Bruce Cole.”

Bruce reached over and shook Kyle’s hand, too. Bruce was older than Kyle; his face wasn’t familiar, though Kyle remembered the name—he’d been blamed for the tragedy of his best friend’s automobile death.

Kyle noticed the heavy gold ring Bruce wore. “You went to the Naval Academy?” he asked without thinking.

Bruce nodded. “I’m inactive. I work in IT now, at the Portsmouth Navy Yard.”

Kyle guessed that Bruce hadn’t seen combat. Still, Bruce was military. He understood. Kyle nodded back at him.

Get through this, Kyle thought. Just get through this. If it weren’t for the will, he probably would’ve skipped town already.

“I, ah, don’t see Jessica Hughes here,” Kyle commented to Natalie.

Natalie glanced over the crowd. “You’re right. Maybe she stopped by earlier.”

Kyle had been here since before the doors had opened. Jessica hadn’t come earlier. “Maybe she’s not feeling well.”

Natalie tilted her head at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“I saw her last night, I thought maybe she was pregnant.”

“Really?” Natalie looked surprised. “Did you say that to her?”

Oh, hell. Had he screwed up? “She had a ring on her finger. A guy was with her. She was wearing a baggy top and...”

“Trust me, she’s not pregnant,” said an authoritative-sounding blonde who popped her head into their three-person circle.

“That’s my sister Maureen,” Bruce said, nodding to the blonde. Kyle remembered Maureen Cole. They’d been in a lot of the same classes in high school.

“Jessica’s not married or engaged, either,” Maureen said to Kyle. “I know, because I leased a beach house to her boyfriend, and I ask about these things. If you’re interested.”

“No,” he said flatly. “I’m not interested.”

They all looked at each other. Great.

But Natalie smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Kyle. Things will be fine on Monday.”

He shook his head. He’d just made their appointed meeting at her law office that much more awkward.

“Where are you staying?” Natalie asked him, taking him aside.

“The Grand Beachfront Hotel.”

“Would you like me to give you a ride on Monday?”

“That’s okay, I have my truck.”

“You drove up from Maryland?” Natalie asked.

He stared at her. “I wanted to be ready in case there’s anything I need to move to or from the rink to take it over quicker.”

Natalie’s eyes widened. “Have you given notice on your job down in Maryland?”

“I’m hoping to do that on Monday, ma’am.”

Natalie gazed at him for a long time. Then she smiled. “That’s really good to know, Marine.”

* * *

JESSICA HAD MEANT to go to the funeral.

She’d dressed in funeral clothes: a black skirt with boots and a long dark coat. But when the street had forked and it had come to a choice between steering her little orange Volkswagen toward the funeral parlor and taking the road that led to Sebastien’s house, she’d chosen Sebastien.

She parked in his driveway, not exactly sure what she was doing. She felt knocked off-kilter about their Valentine’s Day dinner. After she’d turned around to watch the couple behind them getting engaged, it had been as if a switch had shut off in Sebastien. And for the rest of their dinner, he had been disconnected from her. Oh, he’d kept up polite conversation—he was a corporate marketing professional, after all, great with making small talk—but when he’d driven her home, he’d been quiet and pensive. And he’d begged off coming in for coffee. He had a full day on Saturday, he’d said.

So had she. The funeral, for one thing. She owed it to Joe to attend. But...this thing with Sebastien was bugging her. He was her hope for her future. Her dream, her safe place. She hoped that Joe would understand she needed to set things right with Sebastien before she paid her respects to him.

She stared at Sebastien’s black Nissan, parked in his driveway in front of her. She and Sebastien had never had a misunderstanding or a fight before. He was usually so easy and laid-back. He never asked her about her old life as Jessa Hughes and she didn’t ask him about his past, either. She’d thought that had been a great part of their relationship.

Suddenly queasy, she turned her rearview mirror toward herself. She looked terrible, pale and drawn. She pinched color into her cheeks. Found her tube of lip gloss in her purse and smeared it on.

She glanced at Sebastien’s front door. Since his car was in the driveway, he very likely was home. She was sort of hoping he’d see her out here in the cold and come outside and kiss her. Act as though everything was okay, as usual.

But it wasn’t. She was the one who would have to be brave, who had to face whatever it was that had gone wrong. She got out and knocked on his door. She didn’t even have a key.

He answered, dressed, a coffee mug in his hand. “Jess? Don’t you have a funeral to go to?”

She nodded, miserable, standing on the doorstep feeling more alone than ever. “I’d rather talk to you.”

Immediately, he opened the door. “Come in.” Instead of his normally easy smile, he wore a quizzical expression. He was in his bare feet, and she gazed down at them as she walked in.

He took her coat and draped it over a leather couch. She never got over how spectacular his rental house was. On the beach, it had views of the surf. The ceilings were high, and in the kitchen, everything was gleaming modern stainless steel and white marble and real wood. The complete opposite of her dingy little winter rental in a drafty apartment beside a gas station.

Without asking, Sebastien went into the kitchen and came back, pressing a warm mug of coffee into her hands.

“I’m...sorry about last night,” she said. “It’s pretty obvious there’s something wrong between us. It feels like there’s a big distance, and it’s scaring me.”

He sat at right angles to her on the leather loveseat, so close his knees brushed her skirt. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, too.” He frowned into his coffee. “Honestly, Jess, I wonder if I even know you sometimes. You get so closed up tight that I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

She expelled a breath. She’d been hearing that most of her adult life. She made a small laugh. “I don’t want to be like that with...the man I hope to marry.”

Sebastien froze for a moment.

“You did make hints,” Jessica said gently, setting down the mug. “At Christmas. You asked what kind of engagement rings I preferred.”

Sebastien nodded. She couldn’t read his face exactly, but he took her hand in his.

“I don’t want to be a controlling person,” she continued, “so I didn’t push. I know better than most what it’s like to be pushed. My mother...” She paused.

“It’s pretty obvious this funeral is stirring something up in you. That’s all I wanted to know about last night.”

She removed her hand from his and smoothed her skirt. It was more than Joe’s death and Kyle’s presence that was bothering her. It was as if she’d been propelled into the past, feeling helpless and broken again.

“You never explained this Joe person to me,” Sebastien said. “And there’s a will reading? Are you inheriting something from him?”

“I don’t know.” She stood and paced, irritated with herself. “I’m sorry. I’m just...I don’t like to talk about the past or my family.” She glanced at him. “Honestly, you don’t like to talk about yours, either. And I’ve never pushed you about it. I assumed that was part of why we get along so well.”

He smiled gently. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about them. Later.”

Okay. She couldn’t get out of this conversation. She had to go there and trust that he’d be fine with it.

“So...you know how I used to be a figure skater?” she said. “Well, I trained at the Wallis Point Twin Rinks. Did you know that?”

He grinned at her. “It’s on your Wikipedia page, Jess. Your skating career is pretty much an open book.”

She winced. She hadn’t ever thought about that, though she supposed it made sense. The big thing she’d loved about Sebastien was that he never pressed her about those days, specifically that one incident that strangers still occasionally came up to her and offered sympathy for.

“You were America’s sweetheart,” Sebastien said. “You got injured and had to pull out of your final competition just before the Olympic Games. When you cried on live television, everybody in the country cried along with you.”

Jessica sat down again. “That was a really bad time in my life, Sebastien.”

“I can imagine. It’s why I never asked you about it.” He sipped his coffee and gazed at her over the rim of his mug. “I thought you were over it. You never bring it up, so I assumed...”

She’d honestly thought the pain and guilt had dissolved, too. Until Joe had shown up in her physical therapy office and then had written her into his will. Kyle coming home had been her tipping point.

She closed her eyes, overcome with guilt so sharp it stabbed into her solar plexus. She felt dragged right back to age seventeen. Crushed. Under everyone’s thumb, panicked and alone, and handling the situation all wrong. She’d better pull herself out of that place if she hoped to salvage all that she’d so painstakingly built for herself since then.