Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish

by Marta Perry

  “I know.”

  His voice was so soft it couldn’t have reached any of the others, so close his breath stirred across her cheek. He enclosed her hand in his and squeezed it gently.

  “I know what you wish, Chloe.”

  “You really don’t have to stay, you know,” she said in desperation. “You won’t want to work up on the roof.”

  “I won’t?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Why not, Chloe? Do you think I’m afraid of heights, just because I’m afraid of the water? That’s kind of insulting, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t.” Maybe if she pretended she was snapping at one of her brothers, this would go easier. “But I’m sure you’ve never done work like this before. It’s hard.” Well, that sounded even more insulting. Maybe she should just keep quiet.

  “And hot, and dirty. Especially ripping off the old shingles to get down to something solid.”

  Her surprise had to show in her face. “You do know something about it.”

  He shrugged, picking up a pair of work gloves from the picnic table. “I worked construction one summer. There’s nothing here I haven’t seen before—”

  He stopped, looking at her with something in his eyes she couldn’t interpret.

  “Except maybe you, Chloe.”

  He walked swiftly to the ladder, and a moment later was deep in conversation with her cousin.

  She took a deep breath, hoping nothing was showing on her face to be noted and dissected by these people who knew her so well. What had he meant? Why had he even come today? It just made things more difficult.

  She lifted the heavy picnic hamper. She had to stop thinking about him, about the possibility of a future that wasn’t going to be. But each time she made a decision, Luke did something or said something to change it, leaving her caught once again on the painful edge between resignation and hope.

  “Bring that hamper over here, Chloe Elizabeth.” Gran called to her from the kitchen doorway. “Let me see if anything needs to go in the icebox.”

  Her grandmother had a refrigerator, but it would always be an “icebox” to her.

  “The cold things are in the cooler, Gran.” Chloe obediently took the hamper into the kitchen. At least there she wouldn’t have to see Luke. Maybe she could stop thinking about him.

  “What’s this I hear about your young man?” Cousin Phoebe lifted the hamper lid to peek into each bowl.

  Chloe suppressed a sigh. “I don’t know, Cousin Phoebe. What did you hear?”

  Phoebe’s nose twitched. “Elvira Thompson’s girl saw him in Savannah yesterday. Wouldn’t you like to know what he was doing?”

  “He had some work to do there.” Work he hadn’t asked her to share.

  “Not unless he’s working in a jewelry store,” Phoebe announced triumphantly. She leaned on a chair back, waiting for the exclamations sure to follow.

  No one disappointed her. Gran, Miranda, Chloe’s mother—all pressed around her. Chloe’s heart sank. Whatever innocent purpose had taken Luke there was sure to be twisted out of all recognition.

  “A jewelry store.” Gran savored the words. “She didn’t happen to see what he bought, did she?”

  Phoebe shook her head with an expression of regret. “She couldn’t get close enough for that, but it was a small box. She saw him put it into his pocket.” Phoebe paused. “A ring-size box. Looks like our Chloe’s going to get herself engaged.”

  He had to stop doing that. Luke climbed the ladder Chloe’s cousin held for him, only a fraction of his attention on the rungs. He had to stop letting things slip where Chloe was concerned.

  How much had he shown Chloe in the past week that he hadn’t shown anyone else in the past fifteen years? He didn’t want to count.

  From the day he’d started college, he’d set out to reinvent himself. Reverend Tom and his foundation had given him the means to do that, and he’d gone about it with iron determination. He would turn himself into one of them—one of those favored few who took achievement and power for granted. And a big piece of his plan had involved keeping where he’d come from a secret.

  That had never been a problem, until now. The persona he’d adopted had become a second skin. Until Chloe and her family started peeling it away.

  It had to stop. A momentary panic washed over him. No one back in Chicago knew the truth about his background. What if they found out?

  “You okay?” Chloe’s cousin balanced next to him on the roof edge.

  “Fine.” Luke took the crowbar the other man held out. Adam, he reminded himself. This was the Caldwell who ran the shipyard. Tall, like all the Caldwell men, but with dark brown hair and a pair of steady gray eyes. “Let’s get this done.”

  He shoved the pry bar under a stretch of fraying shingles. They came up with a satisfying rip. He’d concentrate on what he was doing. He wouldn’t think about Chloe, because if he did he’d have to look at the future, and for the first time in fifteen years he wasn’t perfectly certain what it held.

  The morning fell into a rhythm that gradually displaced the turmoil in his mind. Chloe had been right about one thing—this was the most physical work he’d done in a long time. Playing handball at the club might keep him in shape for the life he normally led, but it didn’t strain the muscles like this.

  He and Adam worked side by side along the stretch of roof, with David and Daniel working a few feet above them. The steady, repetitive movements were oddly soothing, as soothing as the soft Southern voices teasing each other with the ease of long familiarity.

  “Is that all you boys have gotten done?” Chloe’s voice came from the top of the ladder.

  “Fine talk from someone’s who’s been down there lolling in the shade, drinking lemonade,” Daniel teased.

  Chloe pulled the brim of a baseball cap down over her forehead. Her hair, more gold than brown after her days in the sun, curled around it. “Hey, it’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. You can go down and listen to Cousin Phoebe’s gallbladder story, if you want.”

  Daniel shuddered. “No, thanks. You’d best get back down there, Chloe-girl.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m here to give you slowpokes a hand. Daddy wants all the old shingles off before we stop for lunch.”

  “You taking Theo’s place?” Adam asked, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, then putting his cap back on.

  If Theo’s absence while working at the yacht club bothered Chloe, she didn’t show it.

  “I’m faster than Theo is.” She clambered across the roof as easily as she hopped onto the boat. “Give me that pry bar. I’ll loosen while you throw the shingles down.”

  Smiling, Adam held the bar out of her reach. “You’d best help your beau, sugar. After all, the two of you should get used to working together.”

  For an instant Chloe’s face seemed to freeze, as if time had stopped. Luke shoved the pry bar under an edge of shingles.

  “Here, Chloe. I’ll pry them up, and you toss them over the side. Let’s see if we can beat your brothers to the end of the row.”

  That set David and Daniel off, and under the cover of their ribbing he studied Chloe’s face. It didn’t tell him anything, and he’d thought he could interpret her every expression. She frowned at the shingles as she pulled them free and tossed them over the side. She didn’t meet his gaze.

  Maybe she was as confused as he was about what was happening between them. Maybe she sensed, as he did, that they could never go back to the way they’d been before.

  Probably that didn’t matter to Chloe, he told himself. After all, she had roots. She had a place where she belonged, where her people went back for generations. Four generations of Caldwells worked together at that very moment, putting a new roof on a house that had stood on this same spot for two hundred years or so. His carefully created facade seemed a flimsy, Cracker Jack box thing in comparison.

  Sink your roots deep in the Word. Reverend Tom’s voice came from nowhere, echoing in his mind. That’s where you bel
ong, son.

  The Rev had called all of them “son.” All of the ragtag gang of losers he’d taken off the streets had been “son” to him. It hadn’t meant anything personal.

  He seemed to see again Clayton Caldwell and Theo, walking toward the welcoming lights of the big old house, the man’s hand on the boy’s shoulder. A shiver ran along his skin in spite of the heat. That was what he’d always wanted. What he’d never had. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until he came here.

  “All right.” Adam reached the end of the row. “We did it.” He gave Luke a friendly buffet on the shoulder. “Good job, Luke. Time for a lunch break.”

  It was a simple gesture, nothing to make a fuss about. But suddenly he felt accepted. As if he, too, could belong here.

  Nonsense. He dropped the pry bar carefully down to the grass beneath. He didn’t have any need to belong here, nor any longing to. He belonged back in Chicago, in the world he’d created for himself.

  He started down the ladder, trying not to be aware of Chloe, following him down. This was her fault, bringing him here, making him question things he’d taken for granted for years.

  His feet touched the ground and he reached up automatically to help Chloe. She hopped down the last few rungs, and his arms closed around her.

  He heard the quick intake of her breath, felt the soft, warm, aliveness of her fill his arms, and all his certainty slipped away. Just the touch of her, the memory of her gentleness and loyalty, and his careful plans to keep things normal between them slipped crazily out of his control.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Chloe Elizabeth.” Gran grabbed Chloe with one hand and Luke with the other. “I want you and Luke to do something for me before you go home.”

  Chloe was instantly wary. Anything Gran wanted them to do had matchmaking written all over it, and the situation between her and Luke was difficult enough already.

  But Luke bent toward Gran attentively. “What is it, Gran? Anything for you.”

  Gran dimpled up at him. “Well, now, it’s just so simple it won’t take any time at all. And I’m sure you’re wanting to have another look at the chapel, anyway, since…”

  “Gran, we really need to get home and shower. Roofing’s a dirty job.” If Gran had finished that sentence, it would undoubtedly have had something to do with a wedding that wasn’t going to take place.

  “Now, Chloe, I need the flowers taken into the chapel for services tomorrow. You can surely stay long enough to do that.”

  “Of course we can.” Luke patted her hand. “And I’d love to see the chapel more closely.”

  Her family’s need to matchmake had passed the humorous point. And as for those engagement rumors—Chloe didn’t even want to think about that. She suppressed a sigh. Gran was just being Gran. It wasn’t her fault that Chloe was so uncertain right now about what Luke felt.

  “Okay, what do you want us to take?”

  “Thank you, sugar. It’s too bad the azaleas are about through, but my early lilac is blooming its heart out. And there are a few tulips left that will look nice with them. I’ll just get the bucket and clippers for you.”

  Chloe had to smile at the expression on Luke’s face when her grandmother bustled off. “You didn’t anticipate picking and arranging flowers, did you?”

  His face relaxed in a disarming grin. “I have a lot of talents, Chloe, but flower arranging isn’t among them. You’ll have to do that part.”

  “Seems to me you’re the one who jumped into this. Maybe it’s time you acquired a new skill.” Chloe went to take the bucket and clippers from her grandmother. She’d give her next Christmas bonus to see Luke Hunter doing flower arrangements.

  Then she sobered. If she followed through with her decision not to go back to Chicago, she wouldn’t be there for the Christmas bonus. If she was lucky, she might get an anonymous printed card from Luke.

  “Here’s the lilac,” she announced unnecessarily, as Gran went back into the house, closing the door firmly as if to remind them that they were alone.

  Chloe handed Luke the clippers. “Why don’t you cut a few of those flowering branches from the top, and I’ll get the tulips.”

  “Come on, Chloe.” He snipped a heavily laden branch of the old-fashioned white lilacs that were the envy of every gardener on the island. “This is a small thing to do to make your grandmother happy.”

  She’d heard that rationale before, and look where it had landed her. She cringed away from telling him about Cousin Phoebe’s little bombshell. Maybe he’d never have to know. “You won’t say that when the twins have used up all the hot water with their showers.”

  When they’d filled the bucket, she led the way into the chapel. Luke braced his hand against the weathered wood of the door to hold it open for her. “Isn’t the chapel ever locked?”

  “Not during the day. It is locked at night, since…”

  “Since the dolphin disappeared,” he finished for her.

  She nodded, walking toward the heavy brass vases that stood on either side of the pulpit. “That’s when folks realized crime could strike even here. You can fill those with water from the bucket, if you’re sure you don’t want to do the arranging part.”

  Luke smiled, shaking his head. He put the flowers on the paper she spread out, then poured water carefully into the vases. “How long ago was the chapel built? It looks as if it’s been here forever.”

  “Just about.” Chloe put a branch of lilac into the vase, trying to defeat its natural tendency to flop over. “The sanctuary was built first, back in the late 1700s, and the church school rooms added later. In those days, the islands had a kind of circuit-rider preacher, though he went by boat, not horseback. That’s why they called it St. Andrew’s Chapel, rather than church. And St. Andrew, because he was a fisherman.”

  “The islands were pretty isolated in those days, I guess.” Luke walked slowly from one stained-glass window to another.

  “Not only then. The bridge to the mainland wasn’t built until the 1960s. Before that, folks had to be self-sufficient here.”

  He turned to look at her. “They still are, aren’t they?”

  His steady gaze made her uncomfortable. “I guess.” Was she self-sufficient? Or had she lost that when she left the island? Maybe she’d never really had it. Maybe she needed to come back to find it.

  “Where was the dolphin?”

  She indicated the shelf reluctantly.

  Luke touched the empty bracket, as if it would give him an image of the dolphin. “All this time,” he murmured.

  “My father didn’t have anything to do with it,” she said instantly.

  “No.” His frowning gaze met hers. “I’m sure he didn’t, Chloe. But he’s been keeping quiet about it. And you can’t say it hasn’t hurt him, at least, even if no one else was hurt.”

  That was more people wisdom than she’d expected from Luke, and it stilled her snappish response. “I suppose so,” she said slowly. “I’m afraid the first Chloe isn’t too happy with her descendants, if she knows.”

  He came to stand next to her, looking at the flower arrangements. The red tulips stood sentinel among the flowing white lilacs. “Nice job.” He frowned. “If any part of your grandmother’s story was true, that Chloe was a remarkable woman.”

  “Strong women.” The words felt bitter in her mouth. “The Caldwells are known for strong women. Gran, my mother, Miranda—they’re all good examples.”

  “And Chloe?”

  Her gaze slid away from his. “I’m afraid the strain ran a little thin when it got to me. I can’t live up to all of that.” She shrugged, not knowing why she was saying this to him, but finding it impossible to keep the words back. “I guess that’s really why I left the island in the first place. I needed to find someplace to belong where no one expected that much of me.”

  She stopped, horrified at herself. Why on earth had she said that to Luke? Exposing her emotions to him was just too dangerous. Luke probably didn’t know it, but he had t
he power to wound her with nothing more than a look. And she’d just made him a present of her most carefully guarded secret.

  Luke discovered he was holding his breath, and he let it out slowly. Chloe had opened her heart to him in a way he’d never expected, probably never experienced. She’d let him see into her soul, and he couldn’t kid himself that she did that easily.

  He faced a choice, and the silence grew between them as his mind veered from one to the other. His natural tendency was to say something neutral, something polite, something that by its very nature denied the importance of what Chloe had done. That would preserve the boss-secretary relationship between them.

  Or he could answer her as honestly as she had spoken. That was dangerous. That would open some part of him to her, exposing vulnerabilities he didn’t care to admit.

  But it was too late, wasn’t it? They could never go back to the way things had been before. They could only go forward.

  He took her hand. It was small in his, but square and capable. “You’re underestimating yourself, Chloe.” He couldn’t stop at that. He had to find the words that would take the hurt from those golden-brown eyes. “And leaving didn’t work, anyway, did it? As long as you had to stay away to prove your independence, you weren’t really independent.”

  She frowned as if assessing his words. Her lashes swept down, veiling her eyes.

  “So coming back showed me for a fraud, is that it?”

  “No!” He tightened his grip. That was the last thing he wanted her to feel. “Coming back showed you that you never needed to go away at all. I didn’t know who you were back in Chicago, do you understand that? It was only after we came here, after I saw you on your island, that I understood the real Chloe.”

  She focused on the flowers, as if she wasn’t ready to meet his eyes. “I’ve always thought I should be more like Miranda and my mother—strong, serene, a calm center no matter what’s happening around them.”

  “There are different kinds of strength, Chloe Elizabeth.” He touched her stubborn chin, lifting it so he could see her eyes. “Your mother and sister are admirable women, but I suspect you take after your grandmother, instead. Feisty, loyal, determined. You can’t tell me that’s not something to be proud of.”