by Marta Perry
“If it were my family,” he said evenly, “I’d think about how much they’d benefit in the long run. They will, you know. There’ll be more business for all of them once a resort hotel comes in. You know that as well as I do.”
She nodded slowly, her face still troubled. “I suppose I—”
“Hey, cousin.”
Chloe turned, her face lighting with pleasure. She pulled away from him to hug the man who approached, abandoning their conversation in an instant. “Matt. I haven’t had a chance to talk with you yet. How are you?”
Luke leaned back against the porch rail, searching for patience, as Chloe and her cousin caught up with each other. This one was Matthew Caldwell—Chloe’s grandmother had introduced them earlier.
Chloe turned back to him, her arm still around Matt’s waist. There was no stiffness in her as she leaned against her cousin. Apparently her guardedness was only for Luke.
“I’m sorry, Luke, I’m forgetting my manners—” The turn of phrase was an echo of her family’s speech. Chloe’s cultivated urban tones were dropping away, and she probably didn’t even realize it.
“You’ve met my cousin, Matt Caldwell, haven’t you?”
Luke nodded. Matt had the strength and height that marked all the Caldwell men, but his dark eyes looked as if they’d seen too much, and there was a somber cut to his mouth when he wasn’t actively smiling at Chloe.
“We already talked about Matt’s reports from the Middle East. A tough spot to be in right now.”
Matt nodded. “And Gran’s told me all about your new beau, Chloe Elizabeth.”
Most of it imaginary, unfortunately. The thought startled him. Unfortunate that he wasn’t Chloe’s beau? No, of course it wasn’t. Chloe was the last woman in the world he’d become involved with, for more reasons than he could count.
“So how long are you staying home this time?” Chloe’s tone was teasing. “Long enough to satisfy Gran?”
Matt shook his head. “I have to head back right away. And you should know nothing short of settling down in Caldwell Cove for life would satisfy Gran.”
“Good idea. Maybe if you were here, Gran would stop teasing me to come back. You could become the publisher of the Caldwell Cove Gazette.”
“You know, some day I might just do that. But not today.” Matt tugged gently at a lock of Chloe’s hair. “How soon are the two of you leaving?”
Luke caught a sudden, almost anguished look from Chloe. Then she smiled, and he thought he must have imagined it.
“We’re going to hang around for a while,” she said as easily as if they hadn’t just been arguing about it. “Luke’s decided to take some vacation time.”
“That’ll make the family happy. Well, I’d better get back to the second cousins. I haven’t given Phoebe a chance to interrogate me yet.” Matt held out his hand to Luke, hugged Chloe again and turned away.
The screen door banged behind Matt, and Chloe turned to Luke, straightening as if she faced something unpleasant.
“I guess that means we’re staying.” He watched her, wondering what she was really thinking.
“I guess it does.” She shrugged. “I don’t seem to have much choice, do I.”
“You always have a choice, Chloe. I think you’ve made the right one.” He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. His fingers touched her cheek, and the warmth and softness of her skin seemed to radiate up his arm.
He had a choice, too. If he were smart, he’d choose not to touch her again, not to take too much pleasure out of playing the role of her boyfriend. He suddenly realized the smart choice might be a difficult one to make where Chloe was concerned, and that surprised and disturbed him.
“Chloe, love, don’t forget to water these in.” Chloe’s mother put a flat of marigolds into the trunk of the car the next morning.
“I’ll take care of it.” Chloe hovered, impatiently holding the trunk lid, ready to snap it down. She wanted to get moving before Luke came out and volunteered to go with her.
But Sallie Caldwell lingered, her strong, capable hands brushing the flowers and releasing their spicy aroma. “Have you talked to Theo since you’ve been home?”
The question caught Chloe off guard. “Well, of course I’ve talked…” She frowned. Theo had been elusive yesterday. “I guess not much. Why? Is something wrong?”
Her mother looked up, and the sunlight gilded her cheeks and brought out the warmth and welcome in her golden-brown eyes. Chloe felt a fervent hope that she’d be as lovely when she reached that age. Her mother never seemed to age, even after five children.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Theo’s always been such an open child. All of a sudden he seems to be keeping secrets. Something’s troubling the boy, and I don’t know what.”
“Adolescence, maybe.” She remembered how she’d been at sixteen—full of dreams and impatient to get on with grown-up life.
“Maybe it is just that. But he might confide in you. Will you see what you can find out?”
“I’ll try.”
Her mother’s smile broke through. “Well, I know you’ll give him good advice, whatever it is.” She touched Chloe’s cheek lightly. “It’s good to have you home.”
Her mother was talking to her like another adult, instead of a daughter. It felt odd but gratifying.
“I’ll try to catch him alone and see what’s up.” She shifted her hand on the trunk lid. “I probably ought to get going. Gran will be waiting.”
Nodding, her mother stepped away, and Chloe closed the trunk. She jingled the keys in her hand. “I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you going?”
Chloe jumped at Luke’s voice, the keys slipping through her fingers. He made a lunge and caught them, tossing them lightly in the air and catching them again. He lifted his eyebrows as if to repeat the question.
She’d thought he was safely lingering over his coffee and one of her mother’s famous sticky buns. Looked as if she’d been wrong. “I’m taking my grandmother to the cemetery.” She hoped her tone was final enough that he’d get the message. She didn’t want company.
He opened the car door, smiling. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“I really don’t need any help.” She could feel her mother’s gaze on her as she reached for the keys. “I thought you had some work you wanted to do.”
His fingers closed around the keys. “Nothing that’s more important than this.” He gestured to the car as if inviting her into a coach. “I’d love to see your grandmother again.”
“Well, of course Luke wants to go with you.” Her mother beamed at the man she no doubt envisioned as a future son-in-law.
She was outmaneuvered, and she could hardly make a fuss in front of her mother. “Fine.” She got into the car, trying not to flounce. “I’m ready.”
Luke closed her door, said goodbye to her mother and slid behind the wheel. She inhaled the scent of his aftershave as he leaned forward to put the key in the ignition, and she clasped her hands in her lap. This was going to be a long morning, after a longer night.
She’d tossed and turned for most of it, trying not to wake Miranda, who’d slept serenely in the other twin bed in the room they’d shared most of their lives. She hadn’t been able to erase the memory of those moments on the porch. She’d continued to feel Luke’s strong shoulder as he pulled her against him, continued to hear his voice as he called her his “right arm.”
Right arm. Not what a woman wanted to hear, but it was an accurate description of how he felt about her—and she’d better remember it.
“Directions?” Luke stopped at Caldwell Cove’s single traffic light and looked at enquiringly.
“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks grow warm and was glad he couldn’t read her thoughts. “Just go straight along the water. See the church steeple? Gran’s house is next to the church.”
“Tell me something, Chloe.”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you want me to come with you this mo
rning?”
So much for her belief that he couldn’t read her thoughts. She seemed to be transparent where Luke was concerned. “I just…it’s hard to keep up this charade with Gran. I’ve never kept secrets from her.”
“Never?”
She glanced at him, sure he was mocking her, but found only curiosity in his eyes. “Well, hardly ever. A lot of times it’s easier to talk to a grandparent than a parent about things. You know how it is.”
“No.” He bit off the word, then shrugged. “I don’t remember my grandparents.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine life without Gran. She’s a strong woman. One of a long line.” She seemed to see all those Caldwell women, looking disapprovingly at the current bearer of the name. Maybe, if she’d been able to be alone with Gran today, she could have told her the truth.
“This house?”
When she nodded, Luke pulled to a stop by the gate in the white picket fence. She got out quickly before he could come around to open the door, then joined him on the walk. “Gran has a green thumb, as you can see.” She pushed the gate open, and they walked up a brick path between the lush growth of rosebushes. “Hers is one of the oldest houses on the island.”
The white-frame cottage was like Gran—strong, functional, enduring. Before they reached the black door, Gran opened it, seeming to accept Luke’s presence as routine. She handed him a galvanized bucket filled with seedlings.
“Mind you put that someplace shady. I don’t want those petunias wilting before we get them in the ground.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Luke smiled and held out his arm, as if he spent every day escorting an elderly woman wearing a chintz dress and a battered man’s straw hat. “We’ll take good care of them. And of you.”
Chloe fell in behind as they started down the walk, foreboding growing. Luke being charming was something to behold, and her grandmother, flirting outrageously from under the brim of the straw hat, was even worse.
Please, Lord, just let me get through this morning. The verse Gran had given her popped into her mind and wouldn’t be dislodged. If God did have plans for her future, she suspected those plans didn’t include Luke Hunter.
“And that’s Chloe’s great-great-great-aunt Isabelle.” Gran pointed to the worn headstone. “She kept her family fed and safe right through the war, and that was no small thing.”
Chloe wondered if Luke realized Gran was talking about the War between the States, and then she decided it didn’t matter. He was being polite and acting interested in Gran’s litany of family graves, and that was the important thing.
“Your family’s been here a long time.” There was a note in Luke’s voice that she didn’t recognize, and she wondered what it meant.
“Back to the first settlers,” Gran said with satisfaction. “Caldwells belong here.”
Chloe stirred restlessly. “Some of us have found lives elsewhere, Gran. Maybe we don’t belong here any longer.” Did she? That thought had been in her head too often since she’d been back.
Gran patted her hand. “You belong, all right. Your roots run too deep here to forget, even if you do run off to outlandish places.”
“Matt will be safe.” She knew her grandmother was thinking of Matt’s early morning flight. “We’ll hear from him again soon.”
Gran nodded, then fanned herself with her hat. “Chloe Elizabeth, I’m going to set a spell on the bench. You finish, all right?”
“We’ll take care of it, Gran. You relax.”
“Are you sure she’s all right?” Luke frowned, watching as Gran tottered off to settle on the wrought-iron bench under a live oak. “Maybe we should take her home.”
“She’s not tired.” Chloe knew her gran too well to be fooled. “She’s matchmaking. Giving us a chance to be alone.”
She waited for a sarcastic response, but it didn’t come.
Instead Luke gestured toward the gray stones, tilting across the long grass. “You do this often?”
“What?”
“Come here, plant flowers. Read off the names.”
He obviously didn’t understand the Southern attitude toward cemeteries, and she wasn’t sure she could explain it in a way that would make sense to him.
“Gran would say it’s a shame to the living if the family graves aren’t taken care of properly. I’ve been doing this since I was a little girl. We all have. It feels natural to me.” She touched a worn stone, and it was cool beneath her fingers. “This was the first Chloe.”
Luke knelt, frowning at the faded words. “What’s that beneath the dates? I can’t make it out.”
“Her Bible verse. ‘May God grant you His mighty and glorious strength.’ All of us have our own verses.” She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “It’s a family tradition—a scripture promise to live by. Gran gave each of us a verse on our baptism, just as her grandmother did.”
He stood, and he was very close to her. “What’s your verse, Chloe?”
She looked up at him, wanting to turn the question away with a light comment. His blue eyes seemed to darken, staring into hers with such intensity that she couldn’t escape, and he took both her hands in his. Her breath caught in her throat.
“It’s from Jeremiah.” She forced the words out, trying to sound natural. “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord. ‘Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.’”
“Hope and a future,” he repeated softly. “That’s a nice promise, Chloe Elizabeth.”
The lump in her throat was too big to swallow, and she could only nod. It had been a mistake to bring Luke Hunter here. She should have known that it would be. Things had changed between them. They’d never be the same again.
But they’d also never be the way she sometimes wished they would be. Somehow, she had to accept that.
He had to stop letting these people affect him so much. Luke drove toward the inn after dropping off Chloe’s grandmother, trying to dismiss the feelings that had crept over him in the cemetery. Trying to tell himself the whole thing was maudlin, or quaint, or silly.
It didn’t seem to work. He glanced sideways at Chloe. She wasn’t really that different here than she was in Chicago, was she? Maybe not outwardly, but inwardly…He felt as if he’d opened an ordinary-looking package and discovered something rich and mysterious.
He couldn’t erase the sense that she’d introduced him to a new world, a world where family meant something other than a collection of strangers held together by law. Those moments in the cemetery had moved him in a way he’d never experienced, and he didn’t know what to do with those feelings.
He’d like to categorize this whole visit as an expedition into the sticks. It could be an amusing story—something to entertain his acquaintances at the next cocktail party or gallery opening. He tried to picture himself talking about Chloe’s family and their quaint customs. He knew instinctively that he never would.
Okay, he’d accept that. But he’d also accept the fact that none of this fit into his real life—not Chloe, not her family. He didn’t understand them, and they’d certainly never understand what he came from. He had to get things back to business, and he definitely had to trample the insidious longing to share more of himself with Chloe.
“Looks as if your father’s just coming in.” He drew up opposite the dock and watched Chloe’s father jockey his boat into position.
Chloe was out of the car before he could go around and open her door. “Come on. We’ll give him a hand.”
She jogged onto the dock, and he followed reluctantly. The water was higher than it had been the last time—meaning the tide was coming in, he supposed. Waves slapped against the wooden boards, making them vibrate uneasily beneath his feet. The salt air assaulted his nostrils, and the expanse of sky made him feel vulnerable and exposed.
He didn’t have to like it here. He just had to look at it through a businessman’s eyes, so he could make the right deal.
“Hey, Daddy.” Chloe grasped one
of the dock supports and leaned out to take the line her father held, then made it fast. “Any luck this morning?”
“Nothing running.” Clayton Caldwell cut the engine. “If we depended on my fishing to put food on the table, our bellies would be bumping our backbones—”
He glanced at Luke, and Luke read reserve in those clear eyes. Clayton hadn’t decided what to make of him yet.
“Hop down and secure that aft line, Luke.”
The small boat bounced, bumping against the dock, and Luke’s stomach bounced with it. Hop down? He didn’t think so. But saying no would declare him either a rotten guest or a wimp, and he didn’t like either of those alternatives. Steeling himself, he took a step forward.
Chloe nipped in front of him and stepped nimbly down into the boat. “I’ll get it, Daddy.” She grabbed the line and looped it around the upright. “Have to show you I haven’t forgotten how.”
“I didn’t think that, Chloe-girl.” Clayton stepped easily up to the dock, then leaned down and pulled Chloe up next to him.
The man must be close to sixty, but his muscles seemed as hard as those of any bodybuilder. Clayton’s level gaze rested on him, and Luke discovered he felt smaller under that calm stare. He didn’t like it.
Chloe hugged her father, pressing her face against the older man’s white T-shirt. “You’ve been saying the same thing about the fishing ever since I can remember. We haven’t gone hungry yet.”
Her father squeezed her, then released her. “Must be about lunchtime. You two coming?”
“We’ll be along in a minute.” Chloe leaned against the railing as if the dock’s movement was as common as the ascent of an elevator. She waited until her father was halfway up the crushed shell walk, then turned to him.
“Are you all right?”
“Of course I’m all right.” He didn’t sound authoritative, just irritable. But he didn’t care for the way Chloe looked at him—as if he needed her pity. “Let’s go.”
Chloe caught his arm, and her fingers were cool on sun-warmed skin. “You’re afraid of the water, aren’t you?”