by Glynna Kaye
“You’re not hoping to win?”
“With your mother running for reelection?” She shook her head. “But it was never about winning. It was about giving a voice to those who didn’t have one.”
Something unreadable flickered through Grady’s eyes. “Then, you’ve reached your goal before a single vote has been cast.”
They stood looking at each other, the conversation coming to a premature close. Was the ache in his heart as heavy as the one in hers? She’d wounded him deeply, if unintentionally. Could she ever make things right with him, even though a shared future wasn’t to be? If only so many people weren’t milling about, people with whom they were expected to get in a final word that might sway a vote. She had much she wanted to say to him. Needed to say.
“We have punch and cookies over here.” Mayor Silas urged them forward.
“Coming,” Grady acknowledged, but didn’t move. Neither did Sunshine.
“Grady,” she said, desperate to speak before the moment passed. “I’m so sorry that—”
“I think it’s for the best that we not belabor the issue.” Sadness filled his eyes—a sadness she’d put there. “I don’t hold hard feelings against you. You were doing what you thought you needed to do to provide for Tessa. But we both need to accept that it is what it is and let it go.”
But she didn’t want to let it go.
“Sunshine! There you are.” Local artist Maeve Malone approached, her arms wide to gather Sunshine into a hug. “No matter what happens at the polls, you’ve drawn attention to the issues surrounding those who don’t make their living from the great outdoors. Thank you.”
Maeve chatted for what seemed an eternity before disappearing into the crowd once more. When Sunshine turned back to Grady, he’d stepped away, his cell phone pressed to his ear and his expression intent.
“Right. Right. I’ll see you shortly.”
When he pocketed his phone, he glanced up, looking almost surprised to see her still standing there. Then he swiftly turned his attention to the crowd around them before she could pick up where they’d left off. “I have to leave. Dad’s taking Mom to the regional hospital.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Dad thinks she’s dehydrated. Electrolytes or whatever out of balance. Either that or an infection. She wouldn’t let him take her earlier today, but now she’s giving in.”
“I’ll be praying.”
“Thanks. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick round through this crowd, then head to the hospital.” He paused, his eyes searching hers. “And, Sunshine—?”
“Yes?” Would he say they needed to talk in private soon?
“Please don’t say anything to anyone about Mom and the hospitalization. They’ll probably stick an IV in her and she’ll be back on her feet before you know it.”
“If anyone asks, I’ll say you had pressing Hunter’s Hideaway business.”
“Thanks.” To her surprise, he reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then immediately released it.
“Remember, Grady, I’m praying.”
Did he recognize what she was saying? That not only was she praying for his mother, but for him, too? Praying God would heal the hurt she’d dealt him and he’d find it in his heart to forgive her even though he could no longer love her?
* * *
As he’d predicted, Mom was back home by Saturday afternoon. Prematurely, in his opinion, after seeing Dad help her from the car in what looked to him to still be a weakened state. How long was she going to insist on going through with this election? Were Uncle Doug and her other supporters putting too much pressure on her to hold out until after the first of the year?
As much as he didn’t want to run for office, it was his concern for Mom that drove his doubts as to the wisdom of that plan. Was it really so important that a Hunter be on the council, an unbroken chain since the founding of the first one? If he refused to run in the special election—let his family and their friends down—would that provoke Mom into dropping out of the race or would she keep up the fight to remain in office?
He had a night of heavy-duty praying ahead of him.
“You’re deep in thought.”
He looked up from his desk to see Grandma Jo in his office doorway. “Busy times, Grandma.”
“They are indeed.” She approached and he rose to pull up a chair for her. “Your mother is resting comfortably now, glad to be home.”
Grandma sat down, but he remained standing. “How long do you think she can keep pushing herself like this?”
“Elaine is a very strong-willed woman.”
“At what price?” His words echoed those of his father as he found himself pacing the floor. “Who cares what that council does when she’s fighting for her life?”
“I can’t argue with you, Grady.” Grandma sounded resigned. “But it’s not my decision. You know your father wants her to step down, but he won’t tell her what to do.”
“Maybe he should.”
“That’s not how the two of them have operated for almost forty years. I imagine you’d like your new friend to drop out of the campaign, too. But are you telling Sunshine to do that?”
He halted his efforts to wear out the carpet. “What she does is none of my business.”
“I thought from what I saw at the cookout a few weeks ago and from what your father said recently that there might be a relationship kindling.”
“Not anymore.”
“Care to talk about it?”
“Not really.” But he might need Grandma Jo’s help to piece together irrefutable documentation that Walter Royce had never owned so much as the foundation his cabin had been built on. Reluctantly, he moved to shut the door to the hallway, then sat down at his desk once again. “Your grandson’s legendary ability to spot a woman taking advantage of him took another hit.”
Concern darkened Grandma Jo’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything, so he continued.
“It’s a long story, but almost unbelievably, Sunshine is Walter and Flora Royce’s great-great-granddaughter. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. How extraordinary.”
“She came here to prove a story she’d heard from her grandmother—that Hunters cheated Royces out of the property that’s now Hunter’s Hideaway. She came here not only to prove it, but to cash in on it. And some of the information she gathered to help her she got straight from me. She played me, Grandma, just like Jasmine did.”
“I’m sorry to hear this, Grady.”
“No more sorry than I am.”
“You were coming to care for her, weren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. And her daughter.” The hopes and dreams he’d harbored for a too-short time filled his mind. “I can’t believe this happened again. What is it about me that tells women I’m a sitting duck to be taken advantage of?”
“The problem isn’t you, Grady. It’s the women.”
“I’d like to believe that, but evidence to the contrary is mounting.”
“Sunshine confessed to you, then, that she intends to press the family for money if she can prove this family story?”
“She admitted that’s why she moved here in the first place. Of course, she now denies that she’d have gone through with it.”
“Do you think she’s telling the truth? That perhaps meeting you—even falling in love with you—could have changed her plans?”
“You have no idea how much I’d like to believe that, but it’s a little hard to swallow, don’t you think?”
“Maybe not. You’re a fine young man, Grady. One most women would find it difficult not to fall in love with.”
Yeah, right.
“She admitted her original plans in coming here. That’s a point in her favor.”
“After I almost dragged it out of her.”
“I imagine it wasn’t something easy to admit. We all make mistakes, wrong decisions, but we don’t always have to confess them to someone we want to think highly of us.”
“You sound as if you believe her.”
Grandma rose from her chair to look down at him. “I don’t know whether to believe her or not. I just don’t want you making a decision based on pride and misunderstanding.”
But the decision had already been made.
And after he’d pushed Sunshine away that night, reeling from the blows both she and Jasmine had dealt him, he didn’t deserve another chance even if he wanted one.
Chapter Nineteen
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Grady?” A scowling Uncle Doug, standing among those crowded into Grandma Jo’s living room after lunch on Sunday, sounded none too pleased. Undoubtedly he wouldn’t be the only one who’d resent Grady’s decision once word got out.
So be it.
“I think I’ve made myself clear,” Grady concluded as he looked around the room where he’d gathered his extended family and a few of Mom’s closest supporters. “I appreciate your confidence in me and that you believe I’d serve our community well if voted in during a special election. I understand, too, the honor it’s been for our family to have had a long, unbroken tradition in Hunter Ridge leadership.”
Uncle Doug folded his arms. “You understand that honor, yet you’re letting us down.”
He didn’t want to argue with his uncle. He’d prayerfully made his decision, and nothing would dissuade him. “You can view it that way if you choose to. But I don’t think anyone in this room will argue that in the past I’ve been willing to make sacrifices I’ve believed to be in the best interests of a family I love. This time, however, I’m being true to myself—and to the God I answer to.”
Uncle Doug snorted, eyeing the room to look for those who might share his sentiments. “You’re following your heart and sticking this town with the likes of Irvin Baydlin or Sunshine Carston?”
“As always—” Grady refused to sound defensive, knowing what he was about to say wouldn’t set well with some “—our family and friends will make their own decisions. But I truly believe that Sunshine Carston will serve this community with fairness and integrity. I encourage you to vote for her. I will be.”
As the old saying went, you could hear a pin drop.
With a meaningful glance at Grady’s mother—looking fragile this morning, but nevertheless as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders—Dad rose from where he’d been seated next to her on the sofa. He approached Grady and thrust out his hand.
“Thank you, son. You’ve made what your mother and I also wish to share that much easier.”
What was he talking about?
Dad looked at Grady’s mother with love in his eyes, then at those gathered around them. “I’m here to officially announce that Elaine will be resigning from the town council Monday morning—and withdrawing from the election, as well.”
Several in the room gasped.
“See what you’ve done?” Uncle Doug took a step forward, angry eyes fixed on Grady.
“Now, Doug.” Dad held up a halting hand to his younger brother. “Elaine and I made this decision last night, before Grady had come to any conclusions of his own. You can’t hold him at fault. Blame me and Elaine if you want to blame someone. We decided if God wants her whole and healthy, we’re going to do all in our power to keep her that way. And the town council just doesn’t fit in the picture.”
“I can’t believe this.” Uncle Doug turned incredulous eyes to Grandma Jo. “Mother? What do you have to say about this? You’re just going to let Dave and Grady make this ill-advised decision for all of us?”
Everyone turned to a grim Grandma Jo rising to her feet, and Grady once again admired the regal, almost aristocratic bearing of his grandmother.
“I do have something to say, Doug.”
Relief momentarily passed through Uncle Doug’s eyes before he shot Grady an I-told-you-so look.
Grandma Jo gave Grady’s mother a tender smile, then fixed her gaze once again on her second son. “What I want, Doug, is to keep Elaine with us for as long as God grants us that privilege. If that means the Hunters relinquish the town council seat, then so be it.”
“Now, Mother—”
She turned abruptly from Uncle Doug’s appeal to look at Grady, her steady gaze filled with love. “Thank you for your courage, Grady. Courage to stand up for what you believe in despite opposition from those you love and admire most. You’ve not allowed yourself to be pushed down a road where God doesn’t want you to go. I love you and I’m proud of you.”
Her gaze continued to hold his as he returned her smile.
“Thank you, Grandma. I love you, too.”
* * *
She’d won.
Still stunned at the news, Sunshine’s smile remained frozen following her acceptance speech as supporters cheered and high-fived each other, hugged her and each other. The atmosphere in the restaurant’s private room where her campaign team had awaited the election’s outcome was euphoric, but standing in the middle of the celebrating crowd, it seemed nothing but surreal. And meaningless. She’d won by default, Elaine Hunter having abruptly withdrawn from the race on Monday morning.
“We did it!” Benton Mason’s wife, Lizzie, gave her a hug. “Maybe things will start looking up for the artists in this town.”
“I have no doubt,” a smiling Benton chimed in, his even white teeth flashing in contrast to his dark beard, “that by next summer an art-in-the-park event will become a reality.”
“Hear! Hear!” others around them shouted.
Numb, Sunshine cringed inwardly. She hoped that would be the case. But there were no guarantees. She’d be one voice among five others and Mayor Silas. Half a dozen who might not be pleased to have her in their midst for the next four years. Would people expect more of her than she could deliver? Be disappointed when she might not make a significant difference?
And what about the Hunters? Had the family gotten word of the election results? Were they disappointed that Irvin Baydlin had been beat out by a newcomer?
“Sunshine?”
She stiffened at the familiar voice behind her, then fixing a smile on her face she turned to Gideon Edlow who somewhat reluctantly thrust out his hand.
“I guess congratulations are in order.”
“For all of us, Gideon. While I can’t make guarantees as to what the next four years will bring, I give you my word that I’ll represent the artists and other community members to the best of my ability.”
He squinted one eye. “No hard feelings?”
The likelihood that he was done with challenging her and that she’d ever be able to trust him were slim, but bearing a grudge would serve no good purpose. “None.”
To her relief, he was apparently satisfied, for he stepped aside to allow other well-wishers in to offer their congratulations.
The remainder of the evening sped by with the mayor and other council members stopping in to offer good wishes and welcome her to the team. Even Irvin came by to concede defeat with surprising graciousness, and Tori allowed Tessa to make a late-night phone call to her mother. Elaine Hunter didn’t put in an appearance, but she did make a congratulatory call and explained that it had been a rough day health-wise, which was why she wasn’t there in person.
There had been no mention of her son.
It was after midnight before Sunshine, restless and tense, could slip away from the noisy, crowded, too-warm room. In the quiet of the restroom she stared into the mirror at her reflection—into the face of an expressionless stranger. Where was the triumphant, glowing countenance of someone who’d just been elected?
Well, I
won, Lord. Now what?
Although Elaine had pulled out at the last minute, her own win hadn’t been entirely by default. A surprisingly healthy number of votes cast in her favor had by far trumped Irvin’s, so at least that meant others outside the artists’ community had backed her. Supported her. Clearly, a number of Elaine’s supporters had switched loyalties when she’d bowed out, as well.
But although Sunshine hadn’t expected to win, the victory felt hollow without Grady at her side. She clearly recognized now that searching for the truth of her grandmother’s tale and running for office hadn’t been about money or winning. It was about a need to belong. To have roots.
But it wasn’t to Hunter Ridge that her soul truly longed to be connected. It was to her Lord. I am the vine, you are the branches...for apart from Me you can do nothing.
Reluctantly, she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the chatter and laughter of those still celebrating coming from the main room. Maybe if she went outside, got a breath of fresh air, the tension that gripped her would ease?
Pushing open a glass door, she exited onto the shadowed porch, grateful for the stillness of this postmidnight hour. It was chilly, but the wind wasn’t blowing, and her wool skirt and jacket provided an element of protection.
She moved to the edge of the porch to gaze up at the starry night. At this high elevation, the pinpoints of light glittered more sharply than in lower regions, a breathtaking sweep across the dark expanse above. A reminder of God the Creator, who was in control. A God who still had plans for her—good plans—even though that seemed far from her reality now.
Hey, girl, she chided herself as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm them, you won a seat on the Hunter Ridge Town Council.
That had to be a God thing, didn’t it?
But, ungratefully, it wasn’t enough. If only she could go back in time and rearrange her life. Purify her motive for coming to Hunter Ridge and abandon the selfish pursuit to unearth the truth about the Hunters and her great-great-grandparents before she’d even gotten started.