“No, not really,” he said. “I mean, they saw it long enough to get mad, like I’d been growing pot in my bathroom or something. But I don’t think they took the time to see it.”
“They have to,” Roxy said. “Sonny, you have to make them. It’s wonderful. It reminds me of . .. family. When the family is young and colorful and bright. Before everything turns gray.”
“You think?”
“Yes. That painting shouldn’t be hidden.”
“Well, it’s not finished. But thanks, Rox. I appreciate it.”
He took a deep, shaky breath. “I’d better take you home,” he whispered with an affected grin.
Roxy looked at him, wide-eyed, surprised that he wouldn’t at least try to take advantage of the situation. The respect in his choice filled her with relief. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’d better get home.”
Sonny took her hand and led her back to his motorcycle.
CHAPTER
MORNING LIGHT SHONE THROUGH the windows in Brooke’s room the next day, offering new hope and an exhilarated feeling that something good was about to happen. Dressed and ready to pursue the finances needed to finish the windows, Brooke took the sculpture and sat down on her bed, holding it in her lap and stroking the smooth lines, quietly absorbing the feel of it for the last time.
She heard a knock and looked up to see Roxy standing in her doorway. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” They were both stiff, awkward. The fight they’d had the night before weighed on Brooke’s heart, making her regret that she had ever confronted her sister. Maybe she should have kept it to herself and tried to find covert ways of helping Roxy out of this hole she had dug for herself.
“Mom just told me about the committee’s decision,” Roxy said. “I’m really sorry. I know how hard you worked on those windows.”
Brooke’s eyes dropped to the sculpture. “We’ll pay you for the work you’ve done,” she said. “They did agree to compensate us for what we’ve already done.”
Roxy crossed her arms and looked at the floor. “That’s okay,” she said. “Just keep it.”
A moment of silence passed, but Roxy still lingered on the threshold of Brooke’s room.
“Did Mom also tell you that we’re going ahead with the project?” Brooke asked. “Without pay?”
“Yeah,” Roxy said. “But I don’t understand how you plan to raise the money.”
Brooke touched the fingertips of the man’s hand in the sculpture, placed her own hand over the woman’s. The thought of letting the piece go made her heart ache. “Nick said someone had offered him twenty-five thousand dollars for this,” she whispered. “That’ll get us started on the windows.”
“What?” Roxy stepped into the room. “Why would you sell that for the stupid people at that church? You’ll never get the money back, and the sculpture will go into strange hands, and the church members won’t even care.”
Tears emerged in Brooke’s eyes, and she looked up. “What else can I do?” she asked. “I’ve caught Nick’s vision for those windows. I feel right on the verge of so many things. I just have this feeling that working on the windows can change my life somehow. And I want to change it. I don’t think I can stand to go back to the way it was before, living day to day, never daring to look ahead. I feel like abandoning the windows now will leave us right back where we were seven years ago—with everything taken away from us because of one woman and her lies.”
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Roxy asked.
Brooke set the sculpture down carefully and ambled to the window. The morning sunlight was shining on her parents’ back lawn. It warmed her face. “All I know is that I have a connection with Nick that I’ve never had with anyone else. Even in high school, I felt it so strong that it almost overwhelmed me. But I never acted on it, not once, and neither did he. He treated me just the way a teacher should treat a student. If we don’t have these windows to do, I don’t know what will happen to us. I can’t stay here, and he probably won’t leave.” She turned around, faced her sister, bracing herself for her reproach, her disgust, her judgment. But this time there was none.
Roxy simply stood looking at her, a frown forming between her thin brows—a frown of deep concern—not of angry disapproval. “But, Brooke,” she whispered, “isn’t the sculpture just as important? He kept it all these years. He could have sold it himself.”
Brooke went back to the sculpture, picked it up, and held it as if it were alive. “These hands represent the beginning,” she said. “But I want more than just a beginning. I want a future.” She looked up at her sister, her mouth twitching in pain as she lifted her brows decisively. “I’m going to sell it today.”
Roxy swallowed, and her face softened, her expression as unguarded and sympathetic as Brooke had seen since she’d come home. “Can I come with you?” she asked.
Brooke tried to laugh, but her effort failed. “I’d really appreciate that,” she said, “because this is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
In that moment it seemed as if Roxy was her little sister again, anxious to join Brooke in whatever adventure she embarked on. Brooke crossed the distance between them and hugged Roxy in a way that she hadn’t done in seven years. Miraculously, Roxy hugged her back. In that hug, all the regrets and injustices and condemnations between them fell away, leaving just two sisters who desperately needed each other’s love.
CHAPTER
HELENA, THE GALLERY OWNER, was busy with a client when Brooke and Roxy first arrived, so while they waited, Brooke led her sister to the wall where Nick’s work hung.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Brooke whispered, holding the wrapped sculpture against her like a newborn baby.
Roxy hadn’t yet surrendered her grudge against Nick completely, so she nodded without saying a word.
Brooke leaned back against a corner of the wall and gazed at her sister’s sad eyes. “Roxy, I know you don’t like him,” she whispered, “because you think that directly or indirectly he’s responsible for a lot of the hurt in both our lives. But what you have to understand is that Nick was as much a victim as I was.”
Roxy settled her eyes on one painting, and Brooke could see that she made an honest effort to see, to feel the bright poignancy Nick had captured there. “I know about being a victim, Brooke,” she whispered.
“I know you do,” Brooke said quietly. “You’ve been a victim of my scandal, and now, you’re also a victim of a married man who probably promised you the moon and the stars. But he’s married, Roxy, and no matter how you add that up, you come out shortchanged.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Brooke watched Roxy step away, arms crossed defensively as she glanced at other pieces displayed in that portion of the gallery. “Just remember something,” Brooke said. “There’s someone out there for you, who has the same dreams, the same imagination, the same kind of soul. When you find that person, Roxy, you’ll understand how destructive this relationship is now.”
“I know it’s destructive,” Roxy said. “You’re not telling me anything new. I’m hoping not to see him anymore,” she said. “Really hoping.” She looked toward the gallery owner, who was walking her clients to the door, then moved her focus back to Brooke. A shred of a smile glimmered in her eyes. “Sonny’s nice, though.”
Brooke’s surprise at Roxy’s declaration not to see Abby Hemphill’s son anymore, as weak as it was, was usurped by this new development. “Yeah, Sonny’s real nice.”
Brooke smiled at her sister, praying that the enchantment she saw on her face meant that Roxy was allowing herself another chance to find the happiness she deserved.
But before Roxy said more, Helena was free and heading toward them.
“Sorry, darling,” she said, her voice loud now that they were alone in the gallery. “You’re Nick’s friend, aren’t you?” She took her hand and kissed her cheek, as if Brooke was a long lost friend. “That was one of my best clients. Didn�
�t find anything she wanted this trip, though. I could use some new pieces from him. Is he working on anything?”
“A few things,” Brooke said, not wanting to disappoint the anxious woman. “The stained-glass windows are his main priority right now, though.” She felt her heart pounding painfully, like that of a mother offering a child for adoption, at the moment of surrender. “I came to see if you’d be interested in buying something from me.”
“What, darling?”
Slowly, she uncovered Infinity, and the woman gasped.
“He—” Brooke’s voice faltered, and she swallowed. “He told me you like this. That you had made an offer on it.”
Helena’s face lit up as she drew in a deep, reverent breath. Carefully, she took the sculpture from Brooke and turned it over in her hands as if she knew its value vividly. “The sculpture he wouldn’t sell me!” she said. “I begged him for it.” She looked at Brooke, her eyes filled with a new respect. “He said it wasn’t his. You wouldn’t be the sculptor, would you?”
Brooke nodded and wondered if her face looked as pale and lifeless as it felt. “Yes, I am.”
“I see.” Helena inclined her head and offered her a knowing smile. “The last time you two were in, darling, I figured out that you were the woman in Nick’s past. Now I understand why he wouldn’t part with the sculpture. I thought his attachment to it was a little unusual. Especially when it wasn’t his own work. And honey, I offered him a lot of money.”
Brooke tried to ignore the comments regarding their relationship and seized the opportunity. “Does the offer still stand?” she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.
“Does it ever!” Helena said. “I can write you a check right now.”
Brooke looked down at the sculpture and realized that it could fall into a stranger’s hands, someone who didn’t know the history, the pain, the heartache associated with those hands, who’d set it on their mantle somewhere and forget to dust it.
“Do…do you plan to keep it…for yourself? Or do you plan to sell it?” The question came out as broken and wavering as her heartbeat.
Helena set a gentle hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “I’m keeping it for myself, of course. I’ve been wanting it for years. But if an offer comes along that I can’t refuse…” She took the sculpture and let out a low, long breath. “Oh, but it would have to be some offer.” She looked into Brooke’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready to part with it, darling?”
Brooke’s mouth went dry, but still she managed to speak. “I’m sure,” she said. “It’s all yours.”
I can’t believe you did it,” Roxy said two hours later, after Brooke had opened a Hayden bank account for the stained-glass window expenses and deposited the twenty-five thousand.
“I can’t believe it, either,” Brooke whispered as she drove, aware that the color had still not returned completely to her face. She had gone through the transactions that morning in a zombielike daze, doing what she had to do, but refusing to dwell on the pain it caused. “But I have to concentrate on what it will mean in the long run. We’ll have the chance to do the windows. This won’t cover all of it by a long shot, but it’ll get us started until we can think of something else.”
Roxy just looked at her. “And you’ll be around Nick a little longer.”
“Well…honestly…yeah, there may be something to that. But I’m not sure how he feels.”
“The same,” Roxy said. “He feels exactly the same.”
“How do you know?”
“I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you.” The words were uttered without pleasure.
“Well…anyway…it looks like we will be working together for a while.” She breathed a deep sigh and tried to smile. “I’ll drop you off at home before I go to the church.”
Roxy looked out the window, her expression pensive as she chose her words. Finally she looked at her sister. “You know, Brooke, I think this is really unselfish, what you’re doing. And if you still need me, I’d like to keep working at the church. You don’t have to pay me.”
“Really?” Brooke asked, taking her eyes off the road long enough to gape at Roxy. “You’d do that?”
“Yeah. I’m out of school the rest of this week, and then I can help weekends and after school sometimes. I think I’m going to quit my job at City Hall.”
The sweet, forgiving offer was like an injection of positive energy that made Brooke’s smile more genuine. “All right, Roxy. You can work today, if you want.”
For the first time since she could remember, Roxy answered her smile. They drove to the church in silence as a sense of well-being washed over Brooke. She had the money to get a substantial start on the stained-glass windows. Already, in her mind’s eye, she could see the surprise and delight in Nick’s eyes when she told him.
And that, she realized, was worth ten Infinities.
CHAPTER
YOU SAID YOU WEREN’T FIRING US,” Nick reminded the pastor as they sat in the office at St. Mary’s, figures and projected cost estimates spread out on the table. “If we come up with the money ourselves, we can go ahead with it, right?”
Horace rubbed his loose jaw and straightened his heavy glasses. “I don’t like it,” he said gruffly. “It doesn’t seem fair. You and Brooke don’t have that kind of money.”
Nick leaned forward, anxious to get his point across. His eyes were alive with conviction. “Horace, I’m going to get the money. Now, are you with us, or not?”
A grin stole across Horace’s face. “Yes, I’m with you. If you’re willing to put yourself on the line like that, not even Abby Hemphill can stop you.”
Nick took Horace’s hand and shook it heartily. “You’re a good man, Pastor.”
“And you, my friend, are a devoted artist. I really believe God is going to bless your sacrificial spirit.”
A knock sounded on the office door, and Nick leaned over and opened it, laughter still in his voice as he greeted Brooke and Roxy. “Great news,” he sang out before either of them could speak. “Horace gave us the go-ahead.”
“Then we’re in business!” she said. “I just opened an account and made a deposit this morning.”
Nick got up. “What? A deposit?” His smile began to waver as she brandished the bank book she clutched in her hand.
He took it, opened it, and read the amount. “Twenty-five thousand? Brooke!”
Brooke stemmed his questions with an outstretched hand. “Don’t worry,” she said, laughing and winking at Horace. “I didn’t do anything illegal.”
“But Brooke—”
Brooke cut him off and turned back to the pastor. “So, I guess we have enough to get a good start on the windows, anyway.”
Horace let out a boisterous laugh and shook his head. “That ought to quiet Abby.”
Brooke laughed, then looked back at Nick.
“Brooke, I have to know where you got this money,” he said quietly.
Brooke’s smile vanished. “We’ll talk in a minute,” she said, restoring her smile and taking Horace’s arm. “I’ll walk you out, Pastor.”
Nick watched her disappear with Horace, then turned his suspicious eyes on Roxy, who stood mutely just inside the door.
“What did she do, Roxy?” he whispered. “Where did she get it?”
She shook her head and said, “It should come from her. It’s really none of my business.”
The significance of the girl’s evasion hit him boldly in the heart. “She sold it.” His voice was weak, as though the truth had knocked the breath out of him. “She sold Infinity, didn’t she?” Roxy stood motionless, but Nick came toward her, forcing her to answer. “Didn’t she?”
“She had to.”
“I knew it!” he shouted. “How could she do that? How could she when I told her that I would get the money?”
He threw down the bank book and pushed past Roxy, out into the hall and past the construction crews working inside the church. He paced back and forth in front of the door, watching through the window un
til the pastor drove away. The moment Brooke was alone, he rushed into the parking lot.
“You sold it!” he shouted, bolting toward her. “How could you do that?”
Her face filled with confusion. “Nick, wait a minute,” she said, stepping toward him. “I did what I had to do! We needed the money, and now we’ve got some!”
“I told you that I could come up with the money. You didn’t have to do something so drastic.” Angrily, he strode toward his old Buick and opened his car door.
Brooke yelled, “Nick, where are you going?”
He closed the door and started the car. Before she could stop him, he was out of the parking lot.
CHAPTER
BROOKE WAITED AT ST. MARY’S for the rest of the day, hoping Nick would come back, but when darkness finally swallowed the old church, intruding in the workroom and making her feel more isolated, she realized that he didn’t plan to return.
Where had he gone?
She thought of going home, but couldn’t bear the thought of facing her parents and opening herself up to their scrutiny and probing questions. She had called Nick’s house so many times today, but he wasn’t home. He was somewhere nursing his anger, his pain…but why selling the sculpture had caused him such anger, she wasn’t sure…
Everything always came back to that sculpture. Like a magnet, it drew the two of them together but also had the power to repel them. How could something so sweet create such bitterness?
Quietly she walked through the church, wishing, praying, that Nick would appear before she left and tell her that he understood what she had done, that he appreciated the sacrifice.
“Why don’t you just go buy it back?”
She turned and saw Roxy standing in the doorway, watching her pace. “I can’t,” she said. “We do need the money for the windows.”
“There must be another way to get it,” she said. “Nick must know of one.”
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