“Andrea, nothing you have told me changes the way I see you. If anything, it makes me realize how amazing you really are. You’ve made a wonderful life for yourself.”
“I’m broken,” she whispered.
“We’re all broken. We’re only human. Some wounds only God can mend. If we let Him.” He took her hand. “I haven’t been so good at that myself. But I’ve been thinking perhaps I’m ready to try.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently.
She flinched at his touch, and her abrupt withdrawal made him feel like he was falling off a cliff. He scrambled for purchase on the slippery edge, tasting desperation. He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “I don’t know what comes next, Andrea. But I’m willing to figure it out.”
Tears sprang to her eyes again, glistening in the dim light. “Jamie, I might not be able to have children.”
If he had been falling, now he was jerked to an abrupt stop. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. “Because of the miscarriage?”
She wasn’t looking at him again, but she nodded. “They were overaggressive because I could have died. The damage is probably irreversible. No one knows if … It could be difficult. It could be impossible.”
And like that, everything else fell into place. The respectable men she could date would want families of their own. The ones who didn’t care were the ones who wanted something she wasn’t willing to give. No wonder she’d devoted herself to work. Why set herself up for heartbreak?
He moved carefully, not wanting to spook her. This wasn’t a discussion anyone had until they’d been dating for months. Not just a few days and a few kisses into an acquaintance that might not have a chance to develop into more. But he didn’t have the time to let things unfold naturally. “There is more than one way to build a family, Andrea.”
Her tears were back. Before they could spill over, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her slowly and carefully, handling her like a breakable thing. When she pulled away, her wondering look did terrifying things to his insides.
He clawed back to some sense of normalcy. “What do you say to a quiet movie in tonight? I imagine I could even find us some popcorn to go with it.”
“That sounds perfect.” She rose from his lap and settled herself a safe distance away on the bench once more.
“My laptop is still down at the cottage. Do you want to stay here and play while I go get it? I won’t be long.”
“If you don’t mind. Jamie?”
“Yes, love?”
She smiled and reached for his hand. “Hurry back.”
His heart lifted. He retrieved his keys and quickly exited the front door. Just as he closed it behind him, Andrea’s melody started again, this time with a hopeful lilt.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Andrea played with half a mind, teasing out a melody on the piano. It was easier than facing the swell of emotion in her chest. Other than her sister, she’d never told anyone the full story of her relationship with Logan. James hadn’t seemed shocked. If anything, her admission had drawn out a tenderness for which she’d never dared to hope.
Telling the story should have made her feel better, but it still didn’t completely ease the burden on her heart. She’d thought when he knew how little she could offer him he’d pull back and make it easier on the both of them. Instead, he’d kissed her with such aching gentleness her insides twisted into knots.
Her fingers stilled on the piano keys. We’re all broken. We’re only human. Some wounds only God can mend.
She sighed. It wasn’t that simple. Maybe James could put his problems behind him that easily. Or maybe he hadn’t. It wasn’t as if he had his life together. He could barely speak to his own brother, and it sounded like he wasn’t on the greatest terms with his mother, either. Plus, there were plenty of issues left over from his broken engagement with Cassandra. He was hardly a model for God’s healing grace.
I haven’t been so good at that myself. But I’ve been thinking I’m ready to try.
We’re only human.
Maybe it was unfair to expect him to have his own life figured out just because he claimed to have faith. Whatever his faults, he was kind. Funny. Intelligent. He made her smile, and her heart felt light when she was with him. That couldn’t be bad, could it?
She went back to the piano, playing simple exercises automatically. She was trying to rationalize something that was patently irrational. James was absolutely wrong for her. His job, his lifestyle, his wealth—all warning flags when it came to men. And still, everything in her strained toward him when he was near, had since the moment she met him.
Tires crunched on gravel outside, and the quiet hum of a motor died. When James entered the front door again, she was midway through the seventh movement of Schumann’s “Scenes from Childhood,” a lovely, simple piece that fit the wistfulness of her mood. There was a reason it was subtitled “Dreaming.”
She didn’t look at him, and he stood near the door until she finished. Then he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and moved onto the kitchen, giving her space to think.
She could learn to love this man.
A groan slipped from her mouth. That was definitely enough Schumann for now.
“What’s wrong?”
Andrea jumped to her feet and almost knocked over the piano bench. She quickly righted it and moved into the kitchen. James had the popcorn and some oil heating in a heavy, lidded pot on the range.
“Like to do things the old-fashioned way?”
He smiled over his shoulder. “The microwave holds no challenge for me.”
“Does anything cooking related hold a challenge for you?”
He held out an arm, and she went to him. He pulled her to his side and squeezed her waist. “Be careful. I might start believing you’re fond of me.”
“Hard to believe after all the grief I’ve given you, isn’t it?” He was backing off, and she was grateful for it. There had been far too much intensity today. She couldn’t handle any more tonight.
James dipped his head to peck her lips. “You’ve never been any grief. Well, today at least. You were awfully feisty when we met.”
Andrea elbowed him, and he chuckled. “Stop! I’ll burn the popcorn.”
“It’s not even popping yet.”
On cue, the first kernels snapped in the pan, followed by a cacophony of pops. He gave her a knowing stare. “It’s a gift.”
“You’re always so humble.” She grinned, her pensive mood evaporating, and moved away to rummage in the cabinet for a bowl. She set it on the counter beside him.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
Her heart gave a little leap at the absent-minded endearment, and her mind wandered to what it would be like to hear it from his lips every day.
No. Can’t go there tonight.
“Butter or margarine?” She laughed at his incredulous look. “Sorry I asked. Butter it is.” It took a quick look in the refrigerator to remember the marble crock on the counter where Muriel kept the softened butter.
James seasoned the popcorn, dumped the whole mess into the bowl, and swept a hand toward the living room. “Your movie awaits. If I can remember how to plug in the computer. I don’t usually watch on a big screen.”
“That one I can handle.” She’d done enough presentations to have this kind of technology down pat. Within minutes, Andrea had a cable hooked between the laptop’s video output to the TV’s input. “What are we watching?”
“It’s a surprise. You sit. I can do the rest. My fragile male ego can’t handle any more of your extreme competence.”
Andrea laughed and went back to the sofa. “Right. Your ego wouldn’t suffer from a little deflation.”
“Ouch. You don’t pull punches.” He apparently had the movie set up, because he flipped the light off and hurried back to the sofa as the main titles
came up.
Andrea smiled slowly at the familiar opening. “North by Northwest?”
“I figured you should have a chance to prove why it’s the greatest movie ever made.”
“A Hitchcock film starring Cary Grant? I shouldn’t have to argue the point. Handsome, charming, and looks great in a suit.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re talking about Grant and not Hitchcock, but those are pretty big shoes for a man to fill.”
Andrea smiled at him. “You stack up pretty well from where I’m sitting.”
He grinned and put his arm around her. “In that case, sit a little closer.”
Andrea settled in beside him, his arm draped over her shoulder, and let out a sigh of contentment. She wouldn’t spoil this moment by thinking about what had to happen next. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent a quiet night at home watching a movie with a man, free of pressure or expectations. Had she ever? She hadn’t been particularly experienced when she met Logan. He’d loved Manhattan’s nightlife, and they always had to be seen at the hottest clubs and parties.
Like James.
Still, that didn’t feel like the whole truth. She couldn’t reconcile the paparazzi hound with the man who made popcorn and streamed her favorite sixty-year-old movie simply to give her a reprieve from the intense emotion of the day. He surprised her time and again with his sensitivity.
The day’s emotional rollercoaster had taken its toll, and before long her eyes burned from the effort of focusing on the screen. Somewhere after the scene where Cary Grant’s character was framed for the murder of the UN delegate, Andrea’s eyelids began to drift downward. She shifted against James for a more comfortable position while he traced patterns on her arm in long, lazy strokes.
“Time to wake up, sweetheart.” James’s soft tone penetrated the fog, and she pried her eyes open. She blinked at the flicker of light from the television, disoriented. The movie was over, and the evening news was playing at a barely audible level. She lay against his side, legs curled up on the sofa beside her. At some point, he had apparently covered her with a blanket.
“This is the second time I’ve fallen asleep with you.”
“I’m beginning to think it’s my personality.”
She smiled and brushed her messy hair from her eyes, enveloped in a pleasant haze. “You make a nice pillow. A little hard, maybe, but warm.”
“Are you ready to go then? Serena and Muriel got home a while ago.” James eased himself out from beneath her and stood, then pulled her to her feet and planted a kiss on her forehead.
She should feel self-conscious about the fact his family had seen her curled up on the sofa with him, but she was too sleepy to care. She stifled a yawn. “You may have to carry me to the car.”
“Gladly.” He helped her with her coat, but she could barely focus through her sleep-drugged brain to coordinate the movement of her arms. She blinked against the grit in her eyes and followed him out to the car, where she huddled into the depths of her coat. After their warm cocoon on the sofa, the cold, damp air sent waves of shivers through her.
When James walked her to the door of her cottage minutes later, he lingered, as if he were reluctant to say good night. Andrea didn’t think. She simply slid her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He pulled her close and returned the kiss, slow and sweet and filled with as much tenderness as she’d felt from him.
He pulled away first and touched his forehead to hers. “Good night, Andrea.”
She smiled, still sleepy but now thoroughly happy. “Jogging tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t you rather get some rest?”
“It’s my last day on Skye. I want to see the sunrise one more time.”
“Jogging it is, then. Sleep well, love.”
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. He’d used the address casually before, but now she thought he might truly mean it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Andrea woke before dawn, and her heart began racing before she could consciously identify the reason for it. Then the events of the day before came rushing back to her.
She cringed when she recalled how she’d wept on James’s shoulder. What must he think of her today? He had been sweet and understanding, but what else would he do when faced with a crying woman? Still, thinking of how she had fallen asleep against him on the sofa and awakened to his touch ignited a deep ache of longing in her. She wanted that sort of companionship so badly it hurt to breathe.
And today was her last day in Skye.
She rolled over and buried her head in her pillow. She was stupid. She had known this was just temporary. She had known it when she let him pierce her armor and see the life she had built was just a shield to protect a heart that couldn’t bear to be damaged again. She had risked it knowing full well the consequences, and now she would pay the price.
The idea of dragging herself out of bed for her usual yoga warm-up sounded less and less appealing. Instead, she took her phone from where it charged beside the bed and plugged in her earphones. Her favorite Mendelssohn composition flooded out, and she burrowed deeper in the covers, letting the music wash over her.
She woke much later to the glaring spill of sunlight through the windows and squinted at the clock on the nightstand. 10:13. She jerked upright in bed and pulled the earbuds out of her ears. Jogging. James. She’d slept through their morning date. She reached for the room phone and dialed his extension, but the line only rang.
Irrational panic seeped into her chest. What if he’d decided he was completely insane for getting involved with someone as damaged as her? What if he’d had the night to think about what she’d told him and decided he didn’t want to deal with her baggage?
She didn’t even try to convince herself she didn’t care. She swung her legs out of bed, thrust her feet into her slippers, and shuffled to the door. She peered out through the crack. The wagon was still there, but a note was taped to her door.
Andrea pulled it off and unfolded the plain sheet of computer paper. What she assumed was James’s handwriting, surprisingly precise and angular, slanted across the page.
Andrea,
I came by this morning, but you didn’t answer. I didn’t want to wake you. I have business in Portree, but I’ll be back this afternoon. I left the keys to the car in case you want to get out. Be sure to stop by my room when you wake up. Door’s unlocked.
Love, James
Her eyes lingered on the last words, and the knots in her stomach relaxed a little. That didn’t sound like he had fled, only that he couldn’t wait around for her to wake up.
She bathed and dressed quickly, too curious about what waited in his cottage to dally. Still, she felt like an intruder when she let herself in.
A smile spread across her face. He had set the kitchen table for one with dishes and flatware and a clutch of wildflowers spilling out of a teacup. A scrap of paper on the plate said, Look in the fridge. Water for tea and bread for toast are on the counter.
She opened the small refrigerator with anticipation. A glass of orange juice sat beside a bowl of yogurt and a small dish of fresh berries. She withdrew them with a smile and carried them to the table. Then she made herself a cup of tea from the electric kettle he’d left filled by the range and popped two slices of bread into the toaster.
What could she say about a man who would go to such pains to reassure her she hadn’t scared him off? She hesitated for only a second before she pulled out her cell phone and found the number James had programmed in.
He picked up on the third ring. “Good morning, Andy.” She could tell by his tone he was smiling. “Did you find your surprise?”
“I did, thank you. I’m sorry I missed our date.”
“You deserved some rest. I’m sorry I couldn’t stick around. I didn’t want you to think—”
“I know. You’re swe
et for being concerned.”
Silence stretched, and Andrea belatedly realized he was probably in the middle of something important. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“Not at all. I’ll be finished here in about an hour. We can be on our way to Inverness around one. If you’re bored, you can drive up to the house. I’m sure Serena would like to see you.”
“Sure, thanks. I’ll see you soon.”
Kind as his family was, Andrea didn’t feel like spending the morning up at the house, so after she ate breakfast and washed the dishes, she set off toward the water’s edge. The air carried a hint of warmth today, and the clouds that mounded over the mainland and spread erratically over the sound were of the fluffy variety, not the thunderheads that had followed them for the last several days. Regret gnawed at her midsection as she looked out onto the smooth blue waters. She had fought tooth and nail against this place, but it had wound its way into her heart without her noticing. Much like James had stolen into her heart and claimed a piece she had thought was lost forever.
It was ridiculous, impossible even, to have these sorts of feelings for someone she barely knew, but it made them no less real.
She walked along the shore, her feet sinking into the damp sand. She gathered smooth pebbles and bits of driftwood and tossed them into the water, watching them splash and disappear beneath the dark surface. She took out her phone, intending to snap a picture of the scenery, then shoved it back into her pocket. James was right. Whatever images she captured couldn’t hope to reproduce how she felt here, standing on the edge of civilization, watching the glimmer of sunlight on the water and feeling the salt breeze on her face.
Tomorrow, she would be back in New York amidst the towering skyscrapers of steel, stone, and glass, enveloped in the night sounds of horns and traffic with the drift of exhaust and garbage on the air. Could she ever see the bustle of home the same way again?
She wandered back up to the hotel, and her heart lurched when she saw James’s Audi parked beside the Green Monster. Belatedly, she realized she’d never bothered to put on makeup and had barely brushed her hair. She changed course swiftly toward her own room, but she only made it a few steps before James’s door opened.
Five Days in Skye: A Novel Page 21