by Marta Perry
He jogged after her, clutching the hood that the wind tried to rip from his head. This was no spring shower. The rain didn’t come down in drops, it came in waves, as if someone were emptying buckets of it. The wind tore across the island, shrieking in his ears. It bent palmettos and whipped Spanish moss into a wild dance.
They pounded up the steps, and Chloe wrestled with the knob. In an instant they were inside. He slammed the door and could hardly believe the sudden silence with the storm locked outside.
“Nasty.” He looked at the rain, pounding against the windows as if it wanted to break in.
Chloe shrugged out of her slicker. “Typical. It won’t last too long, but we’re stuck here until it eases up.” She took a couple of steps into the room. “Theo? Theo, are you here?”
Nothing answered her but the clatter of rain and the howl of wind.
Luke hung their wet slickers on the pegs by the door. He looked around the large room so that he wouldn’t look at Chloe, standing there with her hair tumbling in her face and a lost look in her eyes.
“This is nice,” he said. He might have said homelike, except that he’d never known a home like this. He’d seen it the last time they came to the island, but he’d been so preoccupied with his idea that he’d barely noticed the surroundings.
A brick fireplace dominated one wall, and hooked rugs brightened the wide, weathered floorboards. Worn, overstuffed chairs and a couch seemed to invite him to sit. The bookcases under the windows overflowed with everything from children’s books to a fat old encyclopedia.
“Yes, it is.” Chloe’s reply sounded absent.
She obviously still worried about her brother, and he was suddenly ashamed. He knew why he wanted to distract her. Not because it would make her feel better, but because it would make him feel better. He didn’t want to deal with her emotions.
He crossed to her, reaching out to take both her hands in his. “Chloe, it’ll be all right.”
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I just want to find him.”
“I know.” His fingers moved to caress her hands almost without his conscious intent. The pulse in her wrist beat against his skin. He wanted to tell her Theo would be fine, but he couldn’t say anything. All he could do was look at her and long to hold her in his arms.
Chloe looked on this place as a sanctuary, but it was dangerous to him. It made him too aware of how he’d closed himself off to God. Of how he’d tried to close himself off to Chloe. Neither of those efforts was working.
Chloe’s heart pounded somewhere in her throat, so that she couldn’t speak if she wanted to. Not that she did. She just wanted to stand there with Luke’s hands enclosing hers and watch the play of emotions in the deep blue of his eyes.
Luke released her hands as carefully as if they were made of glass. He took a step back and cleared his throat.
“Chilly in here. You mind if I start a fire?”
So that was it. She tried to swallow her disappointment. “I’ll do it.”
But he was already halfway to the fireplace. “I might be a city slicker, Chloe, but I know how to light a fire.”
That left her nothing to do but try to forget what he’d made her feel. Or, more to the point, keep him from knowing what she felt.
Her throat tightened. She’d thought she could be content with the status quo, but that didn’t work any longer. She knew now what she should have faced a long time ago. If he couldn’t care for her, she couldn’t go on working for him. She’d be better off making a clean break as soon as possible and getting on with her life.
The future Gran insisted God had for her might well be here. Maybe she’d had to go away to get the experience that would make her valuable to the family.
Flames licked upward from the crumpled paper Luke had lit, quickly catching the dry pine needles from the basket on the hearth. The chill that had permeated the large room retreated.
She cleared her throat. “Would you like coffee? I can put some on.”
“No.” He nodded toward the couch. “Come and sit down, and stop worrying. Your father’s right. Theo’s old enough to take care of himself.”
She moved reluctantly to sit, curling into the corner of the worn couch and pulling one of Gran’s needlepoint pillows into her lap. Hugging it was vaguely comforting, like hugging Gran.
“I guess he is. But he’ll always be the baby as far as I’m concerned. I’ll always feel responsible.”
Luke put a piece of split wood in the fireplace with as much concentration as he’d give to an annual report. The glow from the fire lit his profile, touching the frowning dark brows, highlighting his high cheekbones and determined jaw.
“I wouldn’t know about that. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”
Before she could respond, he stood, shrugging as if shaking off the thought. For an instant she imagined he meant to come and sit next to her. Then he propped his elbow on the mantel, leaning against it and looking down into the flames.
“That must have been different, growing up an only child.” She tried to imagine it. “Believe me, there were plenty of times when I could have done without the horde of Caldwell kids. Counting my cousins, there were seven of us, and that often seemed a few too many.”
“Why? I thought your family was picture perfect, Chloe Elizabeth.”
She couldn’t tell whether that was mockery in his voice or not, and she hugged the pillow a little tighter. “I guess I felt lost in the crowd. People would say, ‘Now, which one are you?’ as if I didn’t have any identity of my own.”
Some emotion she couldn’t interpret seemed to darken his eyes. “That’s nonsense.” His voice roughened. “They all love you, Chloe. Even I can see that.”
Tears stung, and she blinked rapidly. “I’ve let them down. I should have done something about Theo, and I didn’t.” She bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “This is my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” Luke shoved himself away from the mantel as if it took an effort. Two strides brought him across the hooked rug to stand in front of her. His body blocked out the light from the fire. “It’s not your fault.”
She shook her head, feeling the tears hot on her cheeks. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand that you’re a good person,” he said. “I understand that you’re beating yourself up over something that’s not your fault.”
“It is my fault.” She dashed away the tears impatiently. “Theo looked up to me the same way I looked up to the twins. I had a responsibility.”
“That’s who you are, isn’t it, Chloe.”
He sounded almost angry, as if she’d given the wrong answer to a question.
“Like it or not, you’re a Caldwell. Everything you are is tied up with family.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Her own anger flared.
“Nothing. Everything.”
Before she could guess what he was about, he grasped her hands and drew her upright. Gran’s pillow tumbled to the floor.
“You’re Chloe Elizabeth Caldwell.” His voice had gentled, and his hands were warm and strong on her wrists. “I’m just figuring out who that is, after all this time.”
She looked up at him and her breath caught. He was too close—his gaze on her face was too steady. If she let herself look into the depths of his eyes, she’d get lost and never find her way out. But she couldn’t stop.
His hand lifted, very slowly, and he touched her cheek the way he had that morning. But this time he didn’t pull away. She swayed toward him, as if caught in the tide.
His touch moved across her cheek gently, but it left heat in its wake. His fingers slid into her hair, tangling there. And then his lips found hers.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She didn’t need to think.
She slid her arms around him, feeling the warmth of his skin through the smooth cotton of his shirt. His arms were strong and protective, and he held her as if he’d never let go.
“Chloe.�
�� He breathed her name against her lips, then kissed her again.
This was the moment she’d dreamed about for years. The words pressed against her lips, demanding to be spoken. She couldn’t fool herself any longer about her feelings. She loved him. She had to tell him she loved him—
The door crashed open, sending a flood of wind and water into the room.
Chapter Nine
Luke suddenly stood a foot away from her, and Chloe wasn’t quite sure how that had happened. She was cold, either from the blast of wet air or the fact that she was no longer held in his embrace.
Theo halted on the doorstep, eyes wide, hair dripping. Then he started to leave.
Chloe’s heart clenched at the thought of losing him again. She flew across the room, reaching him before he could pull the door shut. “No, Theo.” She grabbed his arm, and his sweatshirt was soaked. “Get in here. Aren’t you wet enough already?”
She didn’t intend to sound scolding, but the response seemed natural, as if her mother’s voice echoed in her head.
“Sorry.” She hugged him quickly, and he felt stiff and cold in her arms. “I’m just so relieved to see you. You scared us half to death. Where have you been?”
Theo shrugged out of her hug, but he let her pull him into the room. “Around. Can’t a man be by himself in this family for a minute or two without everybody getting involved?”
She laughed a little shakily. “Funny. I was just saying the same thing myself. Sometimes you get overwhelmed with Caldwells, don’t you.”
She longed to hold him, but contented herself with brushing the wet hair out of his eyes.
He jerked away from her hand. “It’s not the same. You’re not the baby.”
Be careful. Somehow she had to get through to him, convince him to go home. But she was weighted down by the sense of having failed him already.
She heard Luke’s step behind her, and his hand brushed hers with a kind of wordless sympathy. “Why don’t you get rid of those wet clothes. None of us will be going anywhere until the weather improves.”
Theo seemed to look at that suggestion from every angle, his eyes wary. Then he nodded and yanked off the wet sweatshirt, letting it drop to the floor. A shiver ran through him. He seemed so young and vulnerable, standing there in his T-shirt and jeans.
“Theo—”
Theo shot her a glare that stopped her words. Theo wasn’t the sweet little baby she’d rocked or the cuddly toddler who’d snuggled close to her for a story. He’d turned into a gangly teenager, hovering on the line between boyhood and manhood. She longed to help him, longed to erase the disappointment hiding behind the bravado in his eyes, but she feared that she couldn’t.
She had to try. “We were worried about you. Everyone was. That’s natural, isn’t it?”
She sensed Luke standing next to her, and it took an effort not to look at him. This wasn’t his concern. This was Caldwell family business.
“I’m not a little kid anymore.” Theo stalked across to the fireplace and kicked at the fire, sending a shower of sparks upward. “I don’t need people telling me what to do. I can decide that for myself. You did.”
She battled to keep her voice level. “I was a little older than you.”
“You left.” He threw the words at her. “You made your life somewhere else, where nobody tells you what to do. So don’t you tell me.”
Pain unfurled, closing her throat. She wanted to say something. But what could she tell him? He’d already decided she didn’t have the right. “Theo…”
Luke’s hands closed on her shoulders. “Chloe.” His voice was low. “Didn’t you say something about coffee?”
She knew her pain was written in her eyes. “I don’t have time for that now.”
“Yes, you do.” His grasp tightened, insisting on her attention. “Go on, now. Make us some coffee. We’ll all feel better when we have something hot inside us.”
Leave me alone with him. She could hear the words he didn’t speak. Let me try.
When did she start hearing the things he didn’t say aloud? She wanted to argue, but he couldn’t do any worse than she seemed to be doing.
“All right. I’ll have it ready in a few minutes.” She tried sending him an unspoken message of her own. Be careful. Be gentle with him.
He nodded as if he understood, and squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. “Go ahead. We’ll be fine.”
Theo stood at the fireplace, his thin figure outlined against its glow. His weight hadn’t caught up to his height yet, and the vulnerable curve of his neck made her heart ache. She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes and headed for the kitchen.
Once safely out of Theo’s sight, she didn’t have to hide her anguish. She closed the door, then leaned back against it. Oh, Lord, what am I going to do?
Was she pleading for answers about Theo? Or answers about Luke? She didn’t seem to know. She pressed her hands against her cheeks. They still felt hot, as if Luke’s kisses had left a permanent mark.
No. She pushed herself away from the door, reaching for the coffeepot. She couldn’t think about Luke, about what his kisses meant, not now. If she started, she’d be overwhelmed, and right now she had to concentrate on Theo’s problems. She’d already failed him once, and she couldn’t do it again.
She put heavy white mugs on a battered tin tray, then stood holding it for a moment, sending up another prayer. Please, Lord. Give me the words.
Rain spattered against the kitchen window, reminding her of the tears she was determined not to shed. Theo was her brother. The responsibility was hers. She didn’t expect any help from Luke.
She took a deep breath and started to push the door open. Then she heard Luke’s voice and froze.
“…just don’t think running away is the answer.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew anything about it.” Theo sounded as stubborn as their father. “Guess you probably never had to run away in your life.”
“Never?”
Luke’s echo had an odd sound—one that would have warned her off in an instant. She held her breath. Should she go in? Or was it better to let whatever was happening between them run its course?
“I ran away more times than I can count—” Luke’s voice had gone flat, and she had the impression he forced the words out.
“And I didn’t have a place like this to run to, I can tell you.”
“But I thought—”
“You thought I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Thought there was nothing in my life to run away from. Wrong on both counts.”
She couldn’t see him from where she stood with the door half open between them, and she wanted to. She wanted to know why he’d said things to Theo that he hadn’t said to her in six years.
“Tell me this, Theo.” Luke’s voice had firmed. “Did running away make the problem disappear?”
“Guess not.” Theo’s response was a sulky mumble.
“Most times it doesn’t. Here’s something I learned the hard way. A man doesn’t run away. A man stays and faces trouble, no matter what it is. Running away—that’s kid stuff.”
Chloe clutched the tray, waiting for Theo to flare up at him or to run out the door. He did neither. She counted the seconds until she heard his long intake of breath.
“Guess maybe it’s time I went home and talked to my daddy about this.”
She pushed the door a little farther. She could see Luke’s grave expression as he put his hand on Theo’s shoulder.
“I think that would be a good idea,” he said.
Chloe blinked rapidly as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Luke had done what she hadn’t been able to do. He’d shown an insight she’d never have believed possible from him.
In fact, she still didn’t believe it—not from the Luke Hunter she knew back at corporate headquarters. This was a different Luke Hunter. Maybe, given the man he’d shown her since they’d been on the island, she could even believe his kisses meant something.
S
he pushed the door the rest of the way open and carried the tray to the coffee table. “Coffee is ready now. Anyone want some?”
Theo stood, squaring his shoulders. “It’s starting to clear some.” He nodded toward the windows. “We ought to be getting home.”
“Maybe so,” she said, trying not to let emotion show in her tone.
She looked beyond her brother to Luke, knowing that everything in her heart must be clear in her eyes. He met her gaze with a look of perfect understanding.
Her breath stopped. They knew each other. They looked into the depths of each other’s souls, and they understood each other. Whatever relationship they’d had in the past, it was transformed now beyond all recognition. There was no going back.
“There’s my daddy.”
Luke could hear the tension in Theo’s voice as they approached the dock in front of the inn. He put a steadying hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Chloe pulled back on the throttle, and the boat bounced over the waves. The setting sun touched her hair with gold as it painted the horizon in shades of crimson and orange.
“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.” She nodded toward the sky. “Looks like it will be a good day tomorrow.”
She was as tense as her little brother, he decided. She just hid it a little better. All three of them watched her father’s spare figure climb to the dock from the small boat and stand waiting.
Theo shot Luke an anguished look. “You…you’re not going anyplace now, are you?”
Actually, he’d been planning to do a quick disappearing act. The Caldwell family problems were none of his business, and he certainly couldn’t pose as an authority on what families were supposed to be.
But Theo seemed to need him, and Chloe was looking at him with perfect confidence that he wouldn’t desert them. So he guessed he was staying.
Chloe eased the boat into position, then tossed a line to her father. He wrapped it without a word. There was a moment of awkward stillness. Then Luke pushed the boy gently toward the dock. They might as well get this over with.