Was that what Jami would be doing? Or would she have Samantha and Holly to keep her company? She had probably made it home by now and was taking Morgan and Bailey for a walk.
A twinge of guilt passed through him. He should have called her. Even if he’d told her off for breaking his trust and said he never wanted to see her again, it would have been more considerate than leaving her hanging. Eventually he would apologize for standing her up. Regardless of what she’d done, he owed her that. Then he could move forward, conscience clear and wrongs forgiven.
Or maybe not. Had he truly forgiven her if he refused to have anything to do with her? It was easy to say, “I forgive you,” and walk away. But was that really forgiveness?
He pushed himself to his feet and moved back up the beach. Maybe forgiveness required more than words. Maybe it required action.
He broke into a jog, energy surging through him. His decision was made. By the time he arrived in Murphy, it would be well after midnight.
But first thing tomorrow morning, he would be on her doorstep, ready to put legs to his newfound faith.
The upbeat strains of Mandisa’s “Overcomer” filled the room, and the early morning sun streamed in through the gaps in the miniblinds. The radio had clicked on twenty minutes ago, but Jami was in no hurry to get up. Holly and Sam wouldn’t arrive for their minigolf outing until ten. Once they arrived in Blue Ridge, she’d look for a pay phone, call Grant, and hope and pray he answered.
She stretched her arms skyward, allowing a huge yawn to take over. She couldn’t roll onto her side. There was a dog plastered to each hip. Bailey inched upward, belly crawling to her favorite location: within tongue shot of any human face. Morgan, refusing to be outdone, eased up to shower the other cheek with doggy kisses.
A series of knocks shook her from her languidness, and both dogs perked up. The frenzied barking began a moment later, and as soon as she lifted them from the bed to the floor, they took off running for the front door. She shrugged into her robe, and before she even made it out of her room, the doorbell sounded. Whoever her visitor was, he or she was awfully impatient.
She padded barefoot through the living room, tying her robe as she went. The instant she looked through the peephole, her heart rolled over, taking her stomach along for the ride. It was Grant. Now she would have the opportunity to tell him the truth, that she didn’t betray him.
That was the only reason she was glad to see him.
She ignored both her stomach and her heart and steeled her mind. Her message said for him to call her. Not show up on her doorstep at seven a.m. No problem. As soon as she set him straight, she would tell him good-bye. Her decision was made, and nothing was going to change it. He’d thought the worst and tried, convicted and sentenced her without giving her an opportunity to defend herself.
She swung open the door and invited him in. “Thanks for coming and giving me a chance to explain.”
“I didn’t come for an explanation.” He squatted to pet the dogs, who were both squealing and wiggling in excitement. Then he straightened and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I came back to try to make everything right. You’ve been telling me life is better when you don’t hold grudges, but it took God and me having some long talks on the beach for it to sink in.” Peace and contentment underlay the smile he flashed her, relaxing the planes of his face and chasing away the hardness she’d often seen there. His talk with God had obviously made a difference.
He continued before she had a chance to respond. “I’m here to apologize. I’m sorry I stood you up. I was angry and hurt when I discovered you had published the things you promised you wouldn’t. But that was no reason for not calling and letting you know what was going on.”
“That’s what I need to explain.” She motioned for him to sit on the couch, and she sank down next to him. “I went through all day Wednesday thinking my Humane Society article had run. I didn’t find out the truth until Hank came in Thursday and complimented me on the other one.”
Grant looked down at her, one brow cocked in disbelief. “You didn’t know?”
“No, I had no clue. I had written a draft of the McAllister article and left it in a folder on my desk. Bernie read it and thought it was so brilliant she decided to swap out the two articles.”
“So it ran a week early. Does it really matter?” The accusation she’d expected to hear in his tone wasn’t there.
“Yes, it matters a lot. It wasn’t supposed to run at all. At least not without your approval.” She sighed and sat back on the couch. “I was having such a tough time with the article I decided to write it the way I wanted to write it, do a few edits, then show it to you Wednesday night. I was pretty sure you would like it and give me the go-ahead. But if you didn’t, I wasn’t going to use it.”
He stared at her in silence, as if he were having trouble digesting her words.
She continued, her tone soft. “I didn’t betray you, Grant, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you going through life thinking I had. I’m so sorry.”
He took her hand in his. “You did nothing wrong. Even when I thought you had, I had already forgiven you.” He let his head fall back against the couch. “I’m not the same bitter man who drove away from here three days ago.”
“I’m glad.” There was a hitch in her voice, one she hoped he didn’t notice. Whatever he said, she couldn’t let it sway her.
“I went to visit my mother. Everything’s good between us.”
“You’re not angry with her anymore?”
“Not really. More disappointed than anything.”
She nodded. “I can understand that.” Except what she felt toward her father was much darker than disappointment. Grant had forgiven his parent before she’d forgiven hers.
He turned his head toward her and smiled. “Guess what else I did when I was home.”
“What?”
“Got out my French horn.”
“How did it go?”
He grimaced at the memory. “Pretty bad. I’ve got to get my embouchure back. French horn is a beautiful instrument when it’s played properly. I could listen to it all day. Played poorly, though, it sounds like something that should be put out of its misery.”
Jami laughed, some of her tension dissipating. “I heard quite a few of those wails in the junior high band room. That’s all the more reason to get back into it before you lose any more.”
“I’ll take it into consideration, quite seriously, in fact.” He nailed her with a look that was playfully stern. “And you’re going to pick up one of those novels you’ve got lying around and finish it.”
“I will. In fact, I’ve already started. I’m reworking what I’d already written, but I should be ready to add new words in a few days.”
“Good.” He squeezed her hand. “Now that I’m back, I’d like to reschedule the dinner reservation I so stupidly canceled Wednesday night.”
She drew in a shaky breath. This was it, the moment she’d known was coming the instant she’d seen him standing on the porch. And saying the words she needed to say was even harder than she’d expected. Because things were different now. He’d let God get a hold of him. And he wasn’t just talking the talk. He was backing it up with actions, offering forgiveness without even being asked. Everything had changed.
But really, nothing had. He was still the same man she’d met in the Holiday Inn parking lot, eager to wrap everything up and hit the road. He was here for now. But what about next week? And the week after that?
She shook her head. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t keep seeing him and having her heart torn from her chest every time he decided to clam up and take off instead of talking to her.
“No?” His face fell. “I should never have left the way I did. When I came here a month ago, falling in love was the furthest thing from my mind. But somewhere along the way, you captured my heart. Now I can’t imagine my life without you.” He brought her hand to his mouth and held it there, never breaking eye contact
.
If her stomach had flip-flopped before, her whole abdominal cavity settled into a quivering lump now. She pulled her hand free and stood to pace the room. She couldn’t let stunning blue eyes sway her. Or soft, warm lips. Grant’s waltzing in and out of her life had to end. Now.
“I’m sorry, Grant. I can’t be with you. I just can’t do it.”
He rose, too. “Jami, please give us a chance. We love being together. I can tell you care for me. And I’m crazy about you. We’ve got to give it a try.”
“I can’t.” Whatever Grant said, chances were good he would eventually walk away. It was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.
Grief-stricken eyes locked with hers. “If you give me another chance, I swear I’ll never leave like that again.”
Hot tears surged forward, but she blinked them back. She had to stay strong. She could no longer let herself be swayed by that smooth baritone voice, the warm smile, those intense eyes. She squared her shoulders, trying to fight the devastating effect he had on her. It was hopeless. Standing there in her robe, her feet bare and hair mussed from sleep, she felt even more vulnerable, if that was possible.
She shook her head and moved to the front door. “I’m sorry, Grant. I just can’t do it.”
He took her cue, and she closed the door behind him, heart twisting in her chest. She could think of all kinds of reasons for giving in to his plea. She loved every moment she spent with him. He accepted her as she was and didn’t think she should change. When he was near, her heart beat with an exhilaration and excitement she hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. No matter how she fought it, she was dangerously close to falling head over heels in love.
And those were the reasons she had said no.
Grant closed the door to his room and slid the key into his pocket. After his early morning visit with Jami, he’d gone to the Grind and conversed with people he didn’t want to see and choked down a Danish he didn’t care to eat. Then he’d tried to return to the house.
But it was too quiet, with nothing to distract him from Jami. Everywhere he went, shadowed images sifted through his mind, and he saw her at every turn. Relaxing in the parlor, sharing a plate of cookies. Walking through the house with a camera strapped around her neck. Sitting in the breakfast nook, oohing and aahing in delight at each of his creations.
So he’d checked back in at the Holiday Inn. It wasn’t much better. But at least he had the TV to provide some diversion. Now he was headed to Brother’s Restaurant for dinner alone, the first of many such dinners if something didn’t change. Hopefully Bernie would think of something. She’d been in his corner since day one. He released a snort. If all he had to hinge his future happiness on was one of Bernie’s harebrained schemes, things were bleaker than he’d thought.
He could try praying. Of course, he had been. Just not very earnestly. It somehow didn’t seem right, asking God for personal favors when he’d ignored Him since kindergarten. Maybe in a few weeks, when he’d logged in some more church services and prayed some unselfish prayers, he would be entitled to some selfish ones.
No, that was ridiculous. It wasn’t a system he had to pay into before being allowed to collect. He remembered that much from his childhood.
Lord, I’ve made a mess of things. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to help me win Jami back.
As soon as he stepped out the lobby door, a green VW Bug squealed into the parking lot. Fiery-haired Bernie bolted from the front seat and made a beeline for him.
“I’m glad I caught you. I’ve been looking for you all morning, ever since I ran into Jami and she told me you’re here.” She stopped to catch her breath. “We’ve got to think of something. You’re crazy about her, and I know she feels the same way about you.” She shook her head. “Your leaving without calling to say good-bye, I’m afraid she took it kind of hard.”
“But she knows what happened. I told her how sorry I am and promised it would never happen again. In fact, before I even came back, she tried to call to explain.” And he’d been an idiot for not answering.
“She wanted to let you know she didn’t betray you. But anything more than that—” Bernie expelled a heavy sigh. “When Jami was eight, her father abandoned her.”
Grant sank back against the hood of the Bug, the full weight of the situation slamming into him. She had shared that with him. And Bernie was right. He’d hurt her in the worst way possible. He gave a hopeless lift of his shoulders. “I don’t know what to do to win her back.”
“I’ve been racking my brain all afternoon, and I think I might have come up with an idea. We’ve got to get Jami past her fears.”
“I’m here to stay, and I’m willing to do anything to get her to see that.”
“Great. Here’s my idea.” Her eyes lit with cautious hope. “What did you just say?”
“I’m here to stay.”
“You’re not leaving?”
“I’m not leaving. I’ve been tossing around the idea of turning the McAllister mansion into a bed and breakfast and opening a restaurant there. I was going to discuss it with Jami when I took her to dinner. But since arriving this afternoon, I’ve done a lot more thinking, and I’ve made my decision. I’m going to do it.”
A broad grin spread across Bernie’s face. “Well, hot diggetty dog!”
Then the smile faded, and she pursed her lips. Apparently he was going to witness some of that Bernie scheming firsthand.
“So what was your idea?” he asked.
The expression of intense concentration vanished, and the smile returned, lighting her eyes with glee. “Forget my first idea. This one’s even better. Jami’s going to interview you. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Go on.”
“We’ll set it up for Tuesday at seven at Doyle’s.”
He eyed her doubtfully. “She’s not going to agree to meet me for dinner.”
“She’s not going to know.”
“How do you intend to accomplish that?”
“I’m going to tell her she has an assignment, an article on a new business coming to Murphy, and I’ve already contacted the owner and set up an interview. Can you make it?”
He flashed her a conspiratorial grin. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Now that’s a scary picture.” She turned and took a step toward her car, then spun to face him again. “What’s your middle name?”
“Edward, why?”
“Just curious.” She headed toward her car, mumbling as she went. And though she was turned away, her words drifted back to him, bringing an amused smile.
“Hot diggetty dog! I’m so good at this I sometimes amaze even myself.”
SEVENTEEN
Jami stood in front of the hotel room door, staring at its number. She tightened her fingers around the strap of the purse hanging from her shoulder. She wasn’t ready for this. Twice she’d raised her hand to knock, then once again lowered it. As long as the door stayed closed, she didn’t have to face the past, didn’t risk reopening wounds long since healed.
Since her father showed up on her doorstep four days ago, she’d struggled with indecision. She knew what she needed to do, had known from that first moment of recognition. Learning that Grant had made amends with his mother just increased the pressure to throw away every last thread of bitterness and open herself up to reconciliation. And while everything within her wanted to move on with her life as if he’d never reappeared, that still, small voice wouldn’t leave her alone. In fact, it had grown annoyingly persistent.
So here she was, standing in front of door number 112, trying to work up the courage to knock. Besides the Spirit’s gentle nudging, she had questions, and this was the only way to get them answered.
She squared her shoulders and raised her hand once more. A stiff breeze swept through the parking lot and past the front of the building, whipping tendrils of hair across her face and plastering her silk blouse against her side. Another summer storm in the works, one more reason to hurry this
up. She sucked in a huge gulp of air and gave five firm raps on the door.
It swung open moments later, and her father stood just inside. In the light of the fading afternoon sun, he looked much older than his forty-eight years. His brown hair was laced through with silver, the latter having taken over some time ago. Tiny spider veins crisscrossed his nose, and sunken cheeks lent a gauntness to his features. Years of hard living had embedded themselves into the lines of his face.
He swung the door wider, a cautious smile breaking the solemnness that had been there moments earlier. “Would you like to walk?”
Jami nodded, and he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. As he crossed the parking lot, she walked next to him, her heart aching. No, she wasn’t ready for this. And she probably never would be. Lord, help me to do what I need to do.
For some time, they strolled along the side of the road, the same stiff silence between them. She had so much to say, but where would she even start? He’d walked out, left her mother to raise her alone, hadn’t called or written or come back for a single visit. What could she say that would help her truly let it go? What could he say?
She drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes for the brief inhale and exhale. The rustle of branches nearby formed a soothing backdrop to her churning thoughts. Usually the sights and sounds of nature worked wonders to settle her jumbled emotions.
But not today. Her chest grew tighter with every breath, and a golf ball–size lump had taken up residence in her throat. What was she even doing here? Maybe it had been a mistake to come. If she’d waited one more day, he would have been gone.
She turned to look at him. “Why? Why did you do it?”
“Why did I leave?” He met her eyes for a moment before letting his gaze dip to the ground. “Your mother gave me an ultimatum: quit drinking or go. She didn’t want you growing up with an alcoholic father. She was so sure I would just quit. But I knew I couldn’t do it.” He shook his head, shoulders bowed in regret. “Lord knows I’d tried—several times. And I failed every time. So I left, promising myself as soon as I could stay sober for two years, I’d return. Well, the longer I stayed away, the harder it was to come back.”
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