The Best of Intentions

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The Best of Intentions Page 32

by Susan Anne Mason


  He waited until she lifted her head to meet his kind gaze. “Only God can change a person’s heart, Grace. All we have control over are our own feelings and actions.” He gave her arm a light squeeze. “Perhaps you’ve been seeking forgiveness in the wrong place. Perhaps, my dear, it’s time to forgive yourself.”

  Andrew waited in the Carmichaels’ parlor for Cecilia to come downstairs. He hadn’t spoken to her since their wedding day, and though he dreaded it, he owed her a more formal apology. Technically, they were still engaged, and until they had a candid conversation, Andrew wouldn’t be able to close that chapter of his life and move forward.

  Forward to what, he didn’t know. His future yawned before him like a gaping chasm.

  Too restless to sit, he walked to the large window that overlooked the front yard. The first signs of fall could be seen in the changing of the leaves. Soon the street would explode with color—vivid yellow, red, and orange. It was ironic that the changing of the seasons seemed to mirror a change within Andrew as well. Ever since Grace had left Fairlawn, he’d felt a subtle shifting inside, as though nothing in his life made sense anymore.

  He should be furious that Paul Edison had already moved to Ottawa to oversee the new hotel, yet all he felt was mild disappointment. As for Cecilia, he bore her no ill will. Instead, he sympathized with her position. It couldn’t have been easy to face all those guests and explain why the wedding was cancelled. Her pride would have been severely damaged, which was partly why he’d given her time to nurse her wounds before confronting her.

  “Hello, Andrew. I wondered how long it would be before you came.”

  He turned to find Cecilia standing in the doorway. She looked as beautiful as ever in a striped dress, her blond hair perfectly coiffed. But instead of the icy expression he’d expected, there was softness about her features he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

  “I should have come sooner.” He walked toward her. “Though nothing I say can make up for it, I want you to know I’m sorry for what happened, and I deeply regret hurting you.”

  She gave him a long look. “But you’d do it again if the circumstances were repeated, wouldn’t you?” The statement held no hint of condemnation.

  He hesitated, wishing he could dispute her claim, but he couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

  “I thought so.” She moved to the sofa and sat on the edge, smoothing her dress over her lap.

  “It doesn’t mean I don’t feel terrible. It’s just that Christian’s welfare—”

  “—comes first. I know.” She studied him without calculation, also something new.

  Andrew had been prepared to receive the full brunt of her outrage. This calm, composed Celia left him flummoxed.

  “I’ve done a lot of thinking since that day, Andrew, and I’ve come to some important realizations about myself.” She lifted her eyes to his. “I need a husband who will dote on me. One who puts my needs first—something you haven’t been able to do.” She held up a hand to halt his response. “Secondly, though it might sound selfish, I really don’t see motherhood in my future, and since I know how much having a family means to you . . .” she gave a delicate shrug. “I feel it would be best to part ways.”

  This was the last thing he’d expected. Tears, threats, ultimatums, yes, but a quiet surrender? This was not the Cecilia he knew. His gaze moved to the bare fingers on her left hand and back to her face.

  She reached into the drawer of a side table and drew out a small box, then rose. “I’m returning your ring. You should have it back since it’s a family heirloom.” She held it out to him.

  Frowning, he took the box, opened it to see his grandmother’s ring inside, and snapped it shut. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s for the best really. I doubt we would have made each other happy in the long run.” She laid a hand on his sleeve. “You deserve someone who will love you for who you are, not who they want you to be. Someone who can give you the family you want.” She arched a brow. “Someone like your nanny perhaps?”

  The words seared through his chest like a knife. “Grace is not Christian’s nanny anymore. Not since she took him.”

  “But she brought him back. That should count for something.”

  “It doesn’t erase her crime. I could never—we could never trust her again.”

  Cecilia turned to face the fireplace. “I can’t help feeling this is my fault.” She sighed. “The night before the wedding, I went to see Grace.”

  “I know. She told me the next morning. She also told me that you would never accept Christian as your son. That you threatened to send him to boarding school.”

  Cecilia whirled around. “She did? And you were still willing to marry me?”

  He shrugged, not proud of his blindness where Grace or Cecilia was concerned. “I told her I’d never let you do that. And I wouldn’t have.” The clock on the mantel chimed the hour. He took in a breath. “Since we’re being honest, I should tell you my chauffeur came to inform me that you offered to pay him to seduce Grace. I suspect framing Grace for stealing your necklace was your backup plan.”

  Guilt slid over Celia’s features, and she hung her head. “I’m sorry, Andrew. It’s just that I was desperate. . . .”

  “It doesn’t excuse what you did.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Cecilia lifted her chin, a bit of her sass returning. “So is that the reason you came? To tell me what a horrible person I am?”

  “To hold you accountable, yes. And to resolve matters between us.”

  A resigned expression settled over her features. “Well, consider yourself relieved of your obligation to me. You’re free to do whatever you want with your life. As am I.” She twisted a curl around one finger, avoiding his gaze.

  He stared at her profile, her conciliatory attitude making sudden sense. “It sounds as though you’ve already made plans.”

  “As a matter of fact, I have.” She walked to the window and pushed aside the curtain. “Paul Edison has asked me to marry him . . . and I said yes.”

  Heat blasted through Andrew’s chest as old feelings of resentment rushed to the surface. “Are you doing this to punish me?”

  She let the curtain fall as she turned back. “I never understood the rivalry between you, but no, Andrew. This has nothing to do with revenge and everything to do with love.”

  His mouth fell open. “You love him?”

  “Is that so hard to believe when you’re obviously in love with Grace? And don’t bother to deny it. I think I knew before you did, which is why I was so determined to get rid of her. Now I understand the futility of trying to control another person’s emotions. Paul helped me see that.” She gave a rueful smile. “Once I got over my wounded pride, I found I was actually relieved the wedding never took place. So you see, in reality, you did me a favor.”

  Andrew shook his head, unable to fully comprehend the complete change in her demeanor.

  “Paul loves and accepts me for who I am, which is a rare gift. If you’ve found that with Grace, don’t let a mistake on her part rob you of the life you could have together. No one is perfect, not even her.”

  Andrew remained silent, unable to deny the truth of her words. Grace had always accepted him for exactly who he was. Her admiration had made him feel like he was the man God had intended him to be. But was it enough for him to ignore what she’d done?

  He scrubbed a hand over the new growth of beard and nodded slowly.

  Cecilia gave him a small smile. “Don’t overanalyze the issue, as you tend to do.” She raised herself on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “May you find happiness, Andrew.”

  “Thank you, Celia. I hope you’ll be happy too.”

  As Andrew left the Carmichael estate, his thoughts swirled in his head like the leaves blowing about his feet. Before he could come close to making any decisions about his life or his future, there was a long-overdue stop he needed to make.

  CHAPTER 41

  Andrew stood before the mammoth family headstone
in the St. James Cemetery. Dappled sunlight filtered through the remaining leaves on the trees, bathing the granite marker in a soft glow. He scanned the engraved names of his ancestors until he came to the one he sought.

  Francis Oscar Easton

  1891—1918

  Killed in action

  Taken too soon

  Andrew removed his hat and stared at the stone, not entirely sure why he’d come, only knowing that he had to in order to finally have peace.

  He hadn’t had the chance to reconcile with Frank before he went off to war, and even when he came home on leave, Andrew hadn’t made amends. Why hadn’t he tried harder to bridge the gap between them when he knew his brother might never return? He’d allowed years of bitterness and jealousy to harden his heart, when he should have put their differences aside and reached out to him.

  “Forgive me, Frank. I never should have let my resentment come between us. It wasn’t your fault that Father loved you more. I always envied your charisma, your passion for life. But you broke our parents’ hearts, and I’ll admit I hated you for that.”

  The wind picked up, blowing Andrew’s hair across his forehead. “I’d always lived in your shadow, and the fact that your death put me in Father’s good graces added to my guilt. Guilt that I was alive and you weren’t, that I actually benefited from your death.” A shudder went through him. “I should have tried harder to get Father to accept your marriage instead of basking in his attention for the first time in my life.”

  He paused to watch a flock of sparrows fly by overhead and land in the nearby trees. Andrew clutched his hat harder as the wind whipped his overcoat against his legs.

  “I hope you can forgive me too for not doing better by Rose. Maybe if I had, she’d still be alive today.” He brushed away the moisture gathering in his eyes. “I’ve kept one promise, though. I’m looking after your son. And no matter what happens, Christian will always be my priority. I love you, Frank. And I’m truly sorry. For everything.”

  He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. So much wasted time. So much unnecessary anger and bitterness. If he’d realized this sooner, would things have been different?

  Movement to the left caught Andrew’s attention. He turned, astounded to see his father coming up the path, a bouquet of flowers in his arms.

  Andrew fought to push back his raw emotions. He’d barely spoken to his father since he’d quit his job and still hadn’t sorted out his feelings about him giving Edison the promotion.

  “Andrew.” His father lacked his usual confident stride. “If I’m intruding, I can come back later.”

  “No, I’m finished here.” Andrew stepped away from the headstone.

  Father laid the flowers at the base of the stone, then shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Your mother feels I need to make peace with Frank. She suggested I start here. I have a feeling she thought you might be here too. The woman has a sixth sense sometimes.”

  An uncomfortable sensation fluttered through Andrew’s stomach. He’d had enough emotional disclosure for one day. “Well, I’ll give you some privacy.”

  “Andrew, wait. Since you’re here, there are some things I need to say. Things I’ve put off for too long.”

  His father motioned to a bench under one of the large oak trees. Reluctantly, Andrew followed, and they both took a seat. Above them, the leaves rustled in the fall breeze. A raven’s lonely cry rang out overhead, but no answering call sounded.

  Father stared out over the rows of gravestones, the lines around his mouth making him look older than his years. “I want to explain why I gave Paul the promotion instead of you,” he said at last.

  “I think you made that clear. Apparently, I’m not reliable enough.”

  The comment still rankled, since Andrew had always prided himself on being the most reliable one in the family.

  “That was said in the heat of the moment.” Father shifted on the bench. “The real reason, the one I couldn’t admit even to myself, is that I want you here with me. I lost Frank and Virginia. I can’t lose you too.”

  Stunned, Andrew could only stare.

  “I hope you’ll reconsider your resignation. The hotel needs you.” He cleared his throat. “I need you. I can do without Paul Edison, but I can’t do without you, son.”

  Something uncurled within Andrew, loosening the tension in his muscles. He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll think about it.”

  A tentative decision now solidified in his mind. “I don’t need to think about it.”

  “I see.”

  “I never really planned on leaving. Like you said, it was the heat of the moment.”

  The lines in his father’s face eased. His lips lifted in a rare smile. “I’m glad. Your mother will be relieved as well.”

  Andrew looked his father in the eye. “You should know I officially ended my relationship with Cecilia today. Turns out she’s going to marry Edison.”

  “I know. I spoke to Paul this morning.”

  “This won’t hurt your friendship with Harrison, will it? He won’t pull his investment out of the new hotel?”

  His father frowned. “You thought our alliance hinged on your marriage? I may be a ruthless businessman, but I’d never manipulate my own son for the sake of a deal. If you believed that, then I’ve been a worse parent than I thought.”

  It seemed Andrew had been mistaken about a few things. “This isn’t all your fault. I’ve made some wrong assumptions based on issues from my childhood.” He twisted the brim of his hat. “All my life I’ve felt second-best because I thought you loved Frank more.”

  A pained expression flitted over his father’s features. “Not more. Just differently. I always knew you’d have a fine career ahead of you. You were smart, studious. You had a college degree. Frank was a charmer, but could never seem to commit to anything, to settle into a job. I tried my best to mentor him, but nothing worked.” Regret shone from his father’s eyes. “If I made you feel inadequate, son, I’m sorry.”

  Warmth spread through Andrew’s chest, clogging his throat. Had his own insecurity colored the way he’d viewed his brother and his father? “I’m sorry too, Dad.”

  His father grabbed him in a rough embrace and clapped him on the back. “What do you say we mark this day as a fresh start—for all of us?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Father gave him a long look. “I’ll say one thing about that nanny of yours. At least she owns up to her mistakes—something I’ve been too stubborn to do until now. And she gives some pretty good advice.” He smiled. “Let’s go home and spend time with Christian. I’ll have your mother invite Virginia and”—he rolled his eyes—“Lafferty for dinner. We can celebrate a new beginning for the Easton family.”

  All of Andrew’s pent-up guilt and resentment finally evaporated in the crisp fall air. “That sounds like a good idea.” He rose from the bench. “I’ll see you back at the house. There’s something I need to take care of first.”

  When his father left the cemetery, Andrew went back to the family plot, an idea taking shape in his mind. With a final glance at the names on the stone, he knew what he needed to do to make amends to Frank.

  A gesture he hoped might please Grace as well.

  Holy Trinity Church was as small and quaint as the cathedral was grand. With its plain wooden benches and simple altar, Andrew could immediately see how it would appeal to Grace and remind her of her hometown. He scanned the length of the main aisle, wondering if she still worked for Reverend Burke or if she’d found a new job yet.

  His heart ached just thinking about her. Andrew’s anger had faded once Christian was back at Fairlawn, and without his righteous indignation to cloud his judgment, he found he could empathize with the desperation that had fueled Grace’s actions. If he’d been faced with similar circumstances, would he have done the same thing?

  He’d like to think not, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent certain.

  F
iguring Reverend Burke would be at home at this time of day, Andrew headed over to the rectory and knocked on the door.

  The man himself answered. “Mr. Easton. This is a surprise. Please come in.”

  “Thank you.” Andrew stepped into the narrow hallway. “I’d like to speak to you about a somewhat delicate matter.”

  “Is this about Grace?”

  Even just hearing her name sent more shafts of regret searing through him. “Actually it’s about her sister.”

  The minister gave him a puzzled stare. “Why don’t you come in to the parlor and we can discuss what brought you here?”

  An hour later, Andrew found himself on the sidewalk in front of Mrs. Chamberlain’s boardinghouse, indecision wreaking havoc with his nerves. He had not intended to see Grace again, but the unsettling news Reverend Burke had told him mere minutes ago had shaken him to the core.

  Grace’s mother was dying, and she was leaving to return to England.

  For good.

  That knowledge had unleashed something inside him. Something he hadn’t taken time to examine, instead rushing right over to the boardinghouse. All the way over, Cecilia’s words kept running through his mind. Don’t let a mistake on her part rob you of the life you could have together.

  Now he halted outside the small gated walkway. Insecurity held him rooted in place. Perhaps it was the fear that he might have missed his chance to see her before she sailed across the ocean. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of what he’d do if she was here.

  His insides twisted. The tea and scones he’d eaten at Reverend Burke’s threatened to come back on him. He raked a hand through his hair, his coat now making him overwarm in the mild September afternoon.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Easton?”

  Andrew froze.

  Mrs. Chamberlain came down the stairs, peering at him. “You’ve been pacing back and forth for nearly twenty minutes.”

  Andrew squirmed in his shoes. The only time he’d met the woman, he’d been less than cordial, grilling her about Grace’s whereabouts when Christian was missing. “I was wondering if I might speak with Grace.”

 

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