by Marta Perry
“No, we’re—” What were they? He suspected she wouldn’t be forthcoming to reporters unless there was something in it for her.
“Friends of the family,” Sarah said. “May we see her?”
The woman let out a short burst of laughter. “Reckon you’ll have to go to Bonaventure Cemetery if you want to do that. She died three months ago.”
The depth of his disappointment shocked him. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he wanted to resolve this situation—to find the missing dolphin, to heal the family feud, to bring his father back into the Caldwell clan.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs.—?” Sarah’s voice was soft, sympathetic. “You must have become friends while she lived here. I’m sure it was a loss.”
He was almost equally surprised to see the woman assume the air of a mourner at Sarah’s words.
“Mrs. Willie, Gina Willie. I guess you could say that. I was probably her only friend.”
“She didn’t have any family?” Sarah asked.
“Well, she had a daughter,” the woman admitted grudgingly. “Lived up north someplace though. Didn’t come here much, ‘til her mama got sick.”
“I suppose she took care of all the arrangements after her mother’s death—disposing of her belongings and so forth?” Matt held his breath. Were they actually likely to find some trace of the dolphin at this late date?
“The daughter packed up what she wanted. Left some clothes for me to give away. Emily didn’t have much.”
“I don’t suppose you ever saw a wooden figure of a dolphin, about so high.” He measured with his hands.
“Somethin’ valuable, was it?” The woman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Just something that belonged to the family.” His family. “Did her daughter take it?”
But she was already shaking her head. “Never saw nothing like that.”
He thought of his grandmother, mourning the loss of the dolphin even as she kept the story alive for each generation. He wanted to make this better for her.
“Do you have the daughter’s address?” he asked abruptly.
The woman took a step back, her suspicion flaring again. He could sense Sarah’s tension, as if she wanted this just as much as he did.
“If you’re family friends, guess you’d know that yourself.” The woman snapped the door closed in their faces.
Frustrated, he lifted his fist, ready to hammer until she opened up again, but Sarah caught his arm.
“Better leave it, before she decides to call the police.”
He glared at the closed door. “I don’t like dead ends.”
“At least we found out what happened to Emily. Now that we know the daughter exists, we can find her.”
“I wanted to come home with answers.”
“You did a good thing today, Matt.” Her voice was warmly encouraging. “Don’t beat yourself up because you couldn’t solve a forty-year-old problem in a day.”
He had to smile, because that was exactly what he was doing. He took her arm to pilot her back down the narrow stairs, enjoying the feel of her softness against him.
“How did you get to know me so well, Sarah?”
“Just a lucky guess.” She seemed to try for lightness, but he heard the undertone of emotion in her voice. Worse, he knew that his own had grown husky when he asked the question.
What’s going on with us, Sarah? This isn’t supposed to happen.
But it was.
“Sure you didn’t want dessert?” Matt looked down at her as they left the restaurant overlooking the harbor, and she suppressed the familiar flutter of her pulse at his nearness. “They make a Key lime pie that’s out of this world.”
Sarah shook her head firmly. “I’d burst if I ate another bite. The dinner was fantastic.” Also very elegant. She’d protested that she wasn’t dressed for a fancy restaurant, but Matt had insisted she looked fine and had whisked her inside anyway.
He’d probably wanted to remove the taste of sadness, for both of them. And it was sad. Lovely Emily, the golden girl, had ended up poor and alone, with all her bright promise gone.
Sarah glanced again at Matt’s face as they crossed the cobblestone street along the waterfront. He steered her carefully around a clutch of tourists, intent on seeing every shop in the renovated cotton warehouses, and onto the brick plaza. The lampposts created circles of light in the gathering gloom.
He hadn’t said much about their day’s search—he’d talked Savannah history all through dinner. But the frown lines between his brows told her he still thought about it.
They stopped, leaning against the wall and looking out over the water. A white paddle-wheeler moved slowly past them, white lights outlining its wrought iron railings, a calliope playing. Through lighted windows, she could see dinner being served.
“Nice way to spend an evening.”
“The Georgia Queen,” he said. “Going for an evening dinner cruise.”
Behind them, the bell in the old city hall chimed, then struck the hour. Nine o’clock.
“It’s getting late,” she said. “I should go home.”
“The kids are fine.” His arm pressed against hers where they leaned on the wall. “You can’t rush away without enjoying the view.” He pointed to the island across the sheet of silver water. “That’s Hutchinson Island. The building is the convention center. Down that way is Tybee Island, where the elite of Savannah used to go to escape the summer heat.”
She stirred, remembering. “If Emily’s family had gone there instead of to Caldwell Island that summer, things might have been different.”
“Funny, I was just thinking that.” He frowned absently at a brown pelican that rocked on the current. “Still, you never know. Sometimes I think things would have turned out the same, no matter what happened.”
“Sounds awfully fatalistic.” She wondered if he was thinking about his father and the dolphin, or about his friend, dying far from home.
“I guess it does.” Now it was his turn to move restlessly. “If I said that to Gran, she would remind me that all things work together for good.”
She hesitated. Matt had just opened a door to her, quite unexpectedly, and she wanted to choose her words carefully.
“You can’t leave out the rest of the verse. ‘…In all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.’”
She felt him stiffen. “What difference does that make?”
Please, Lord, give me the right words. “I’ve come to believe it means that if we’re trying to do God’s will, He can bring good things out of even our mistakes.”
His gaze searched her face, and she thought she read longing in it, instead of the cynicism she’d come to expect. “Is that coming from your own experience?”
A boat whistle came from out of the dark, sounding lonely. She owed him a truthful answer, even though it might be difficult. He put his hand over hers, and his touch gave her the strength to continue.
“What we learned about Emily today—it sounded as if she married for all the wrong reasons. I guess I related to that.”
His fingers tightened on hers. “You didn’t marry for money or position, Sarah.”
She had to smile. “No, certainly not that. But I told you a little about what my life was like with my dad. The constant moving, never having a home of our own, really had an effect on me. I think, now, that when I fell in love with Peter, I was just longing for a home of my own.” She shook her head. “That’s not a good enough reason to get married.”
“What was Peter looking for?” His voice was a low rumble that was somehow comforting.
She thought about the charming, irresponsible young man who’d captured her needy heart. “I think maybe Peter wanted someone to hold on to. Someone who’d be his anchor.”
“People have married for worse reasons.”
“I suppose so.” She shook her head, realizing that for the first time she was looking honestly at her
marriage, instead of trying to surround it with some sort of halo. “I’m trying to say that I might have imposed my dream on Peter. That maybe it never was his.”
“The dream of a home and a family.” There was something strained in the way he repeated the words.
“Yes. Maybe I pushed him to be someone he was never meant to be.”
He laced his fingers through hers. The pressure of his palm against hers was surprisingly intimate. “Peter was a grown-up,” he said. “Whatever happened, he made his own mistakes.”
“If we made mistakes, if our marriage wasn’t part of God’s plan for our lives, He still brought good out of the consequences.” She felt her way through, only realizing what she’d come to believe as she verbalized it. “Even if I was wrong, God was faithful. I have the children. They’re worth anything.”
“That’s true for you. But I can’t accept that the blowing up of that mission station led to anything good.” His voice had turned harsh with pain.
Am I failing him, Lord? Give me the words.
“I know it’s hard.” She put her other hand over their clasped hands, trying to infuse him with her concern. “But we don’t know what all the results of that act are. Maybe we never will.” She was losing him, she knew it. “What would your friend say, if you could ask him?”
For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he let out a breath, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “He’d say, ‘Quit trying to play God, Caldwell. You’re not big enough.’”
“He sounds like someone special.”
“He was that.” His voice roughened on the words, but she thought some of the grief had left his tone, and she took comfort from that. He turned, so that he faced her with only their clasped hands between them. “What about Peter? Are you still making excuses for him?”
She’d intruded into his life, so it was only fair to answer him as honestly as she could. “I don’t know. Maybe I have been.”
“He took on responsibility knowingly. He had a duty to carry it through.”
“Oddly enough, I don’t want to be considered a duty.” She tried to say it lightly, but it wasn’t easy with his gaze probing into her inner heart.
He lifted his hand slowly and brushed his fingertips along her cheek. The look in his eyes made her breath catch, and she seemed to feel that touch through every single cell of her body.
“Loving you wouldn’t be a duty,” he said softly. He touched her chin, tilting her face up toward his, and she knew he was going to kiss her.
She shouldn’t let this happen. The moment stretched out, frozen in time—the gentleness of Matt’s touch, the way his eyes darkened as he looked at her, the treacherous weakness that swept through her.
She should step away. The slightest movement would bring this to an end. She knew Matt well enough to know he’d stop the instant she indicated his embrace wasn’t welcome.
She lifted her face, swaying toward him, and his lips met hers.
His kiss was warm and filled with longing, need, desire. His arms went around her strongly, holding her close.
She should pull away. She didn’t want to. She wanted to stay within the circle of Matt’s embrace and imagine what it would be like to be loved by him, even though her heart knew that could never come true.
Chapter Fourteen
The memory of that kiss warmed Sarah all night and throughout the next morning. She glanced across the office at Matt’s desk. His chair was empty, but she could visualize him so clearly, brow furrowed and dark eyes intent, searching for the elusive fact or the right word to make a story come alive.
Giving in to the urge, she crossed to his desk. She did need the events calendar he’d borrowed the day before, didn’t she? She wasn’t just being silly.
She let her hand rest on the back of his chair. The wood felt warm to the touch, as if he’d just gotten up.
Now, that was silly. Matt hadn’t come in to the office at all. He’d just called to say he had something to do and would see her at the house in the afternoon.
Today was the day Andi had been anticipating all week—the day Matt had promised to let her ride one of the horses. If she’d slept at all last night, it had probably been to dream of galloping through the surf.
Not that Matt would let the children do any galloping, of course. He’d assured Sarah that this was perfectly safe, and she’d be there to make sure they were okay. Her fingers tightened on the chair.
To be honest, she was acting like a teenager in love, mooning over memories of the night before, rehearsing what she’d say when she saw him again. She ought to have more sense at her age.
But somehow, despite her best common sense, she couldn’t help but cling to a faint flicker of hope. Maybe this could work out. Maybe…
Maybe she’d better get back to work. She opened the desk drawer and took out the events calendar, revealing something blue and shiny. Her heart lurched. Matt’s passport, left handy in his desk drawer in case he wanted it. How foolish was she being, dreaming of family and forever with a man who’d leave again at a moment’s notice?
The sound of the door opening came hard on that thought, and she couldn’t help the irrational flutter of excitement that stirred her blood. But it wasn’t Matt. It was Jason Sanders.
“Good morning, Jason.” She smiled at him, shifting gears in an instant. Jason hadn’t been in the newspaper office since he’d made the decision to withdraw his advertising. His presence had to be a good sign. Maybe he’d reconsidered.
“Sarah, good to see you.” He made it sound as if she’d been avoiding him. He sent a glance toward Matt’s desk. “Matt not working here anymore?”
“He’s out today.” She moved to the counter opposite Jason. “I can have him give you a call later, if you like.”
He reached across to pat her hand. “That’s all right. I’d much rather talk to a pretty woman.”
She resisted the impulse to yank her hand away. The reinstatement of Jason’s advertising would go a long way toward easing the paper’s financial woes, and she’d do a better job of dealing with him than Matt would.
Of course, when Matt finished his investigation of Jason’s real-estate dealings, they might be right back where they’d started. Well, one problem at a time. She fixed a smile on her face.
“How can I help you?”
“You know, Sarah, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to my decision to take my ads out of the Gazette. A lot of thought.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She slid her hand from beneath his and reached for a pen. “Nothing would make me happier than to see your advertising back in the paper. After all, we’re Caldwell Cove’s only newspaper, and your business is certainly important to the local economy.”
“Well, now, it would make me happy, too.”
She sensed a reservation in his tone, and it lit up warning lights. Sanders sounded like a man about to offer a deal.
“Shall we reinstate your usual ad, then?”
He held up a manicured hand. “Not quite so easy as that, I’m afraid. Before I start paying the Gazette for advertising again, I’d want certain reassurances.”
Her heart sank. Maybe it was a good thing Matt hadn’t come into the office this morning. She could imagine his reaction to that. “Reassurances?”
Sanders leaned toward her, his eyebrows lifting. “Did you two really think I wouldn’t get to hear about all the poking around Matt’s been doing? Nosing into my business, checking on the property transfers at the county courthouse?”
Apparently someone at the courthouse had been reporting to Sanders. “Matt is a journalist. Naturally he—”
He slammed his hand down hard enough to make her jump. “That doesn’t give him the right to interfere with my business. You make him stop, and you’ll see my ads back in the Gazette.” He smiled thinly. “Might even do a full-page once in a while.”
There was only one answer to that suggestion. A man with Matt’s integrity wouldn’t change course for all the full-page ads i
n the world, and she wouldn’t want him to.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. Matt makes the decisions about what stories he’ll pursue. Maybe if you explained what you’re doing—”
“I’m not about to explain anything to Matt Caldwell.” His eyes narrowed. “And you’d better hope I don’t have to talk to him, Sarah, or you’ll be sorry.”
A shiver ran along her spine at his tone. Something bad was coming; she could feel it. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean I might have to tell Matt about the little arrangement I had with Peter.” He leaned forward, invading her space. “You wouldn’t want Matt to know your husband took money from me to keep certain matters out of the paper. Now, would you?”
“I—I don’t…” Her mind grappled to come to terms with his words. She wanted to deny it, wanted to say that Peter couldn’t possibly have done anything of the kind. The trouble was that, deep in her heart, she feared he could have.
Sanders took a step back, apparently satisfied with the effect of his words. “Think about it, Sarah. If you don’t want Matt and everybody else in this town to know the kind of a man Peter Reed was, you convince Matt to back off.”
He turned and left the office with an assured stride. The door slammed behind him.
The kind of man Peter Reed was. His words echoed in her mind. Sanders wasn’t kidding. If she didn’t stop Matt’s investigation, Sanders would tell him. He’d tell everyone.
But she knew more than Jason Sanders ever could about Matt Caldwell. She knew the kind of man Matt was—a man of integrity, a man who’d never accept the deal Sanders offered and would never understand someone who did. But if he didn’t—
She put her hand over her mouth and choked back a sob. If he didn’t, the children would know what their father had done. The whole town would know, and things could never be the same. The fragile roots she’d begun to put down for her children would be irrevocably damaged.
She had to tell Matt the truth before Sanders did. But how could she? How could she bear the look on Matt’s face when he learned this?